M.S. Davidson
patreon
66. The Deluge
🕑 Added 2025-09-29 16:00:14 +0000 UTCA heavy knocking slammed against my bedroom door, tearing me out of a very comfortable sleep. The knocking wasn't polite—it was the kind that meant urgent news now.
Cass's voice cut through the door, vibrating with barely contained excitement. "Ben! Get your ass up!"
Beside me, Katie groaned and burrowed deeper into the pillows. "Tell her we're dead."
"Can't. She sounds like she's about to explode." I summoned clothes from soul-space as I cracked the door open, keeping my body strategically positioned to block Cass's attempt to peek inside.
She stood there practically bouncing on her toes, already fully dressed and radiating a manic energy that meant either incredible news or complete disaster. Her eyes immediately darted toward the bed behind me.
I stepped into the hallway and shut the door, with finality. "What time is it?"
"Dawn. Perfect time for juicy details." That predatory grin was more lecherous than I expected. "Come on, spill. How was—"
"Cass."
"Fine, fine." She waved me off, but the grin never wavered. "But we're talking later. Right now? Much bigger news."
Red came bounding down the hallway like a furry cannonball, launching himself at me with enough enthusiasm to knock over a smaller person. His morning lick-assault was thorough and merciless.
"Why are we up at dawn?" I asked through dog kisses, scratching behind his ears. "The matches don't start for hours."
"Seeker event scores are posted." She grabbed my arm, already pulling me toward the main parlor. "And Ben? We need to talk. Now."
That tone made my stomach drop. I pulled a steaming cup of coffee from soul-space, taking a fortifying sip as she led me through the corridors.
The massive blue scoreboard dominated the parlor wall like a monument to either triumph or humiliation. White lettering sprawled across it in precise handwriting, but what made my eyebrows raise wasn't the board itself—it was our names sitting pretty at the very top.
"Holy shit," I breathed.
"Read the numbers," Cass commanded, pointing with the intensity of a drill sergeant.
Malcolm led individual scores with eighty-eight out of a hundred. Cass scored seventy-nine. My sixty-six made me wince until I saw the bonus breakdown.
Malcolm: +12 for speed and precision with the guiding stone.
Cass: +7 for damage dealt and efficiency against the Ash Stalker. Mine looked... different.
+15 for "drawing sustained monster attention while protecting teammates"
+1 for "first monster kill"
+5 for "mana beast familiar contributions"
+7 for "creative gadget usage"
-2 for "potion consumption during combat"
That brought us to 278 points. But the last line made my coffee cup slip:
Team Coordination Bonus: +30 Final Score: 308
At the bottom, in bold white numerals: 1
"We're winning?" The words came out strangled.
"More than winning," Malcolm called from across the room, emerging from a cupboard with enough food to feed a small army. He tossed Red a chunk of cheese, which disappeared midair with surgical precision. "We broke the Bridge event record by eleven seconds. Word is spreading that you can pull monster attention like a real Guardian—you’re going to have a list of people who want to hunt with you."
I laughed partly from relief, partly from disbelief. "If getting my ass kicked is what wins tournaments, I'm stocking up on healing potions."
"About that..." Cass pulled a cloth off the side table with theatrical flair.
The mana core underneath was gorgeous—not as massive as the Brine Tyrant's, but easily soccer-ball sized and practically vibrating with mana.
"From our friend the Ash Stalker," she announced. "Thea says it's worth at least forty gold mana coins."
"And we just... keep it?"
"Split it three ways," Malcolm confirmed through a mouthful of bread. "Tournament prizes include monster loot. Could be cores, orbs, or if we're really lucky, a mana heart from a Class-C."
"Wait, we could handle a Class-C?" The idea seemed insane.
Malcolm shrugged. "You've advanced two full cultivation stages since landing here. Back during the Carapax attack, you didn't even have mana sense. Now you're a Seeker—twice as fast, twice as strong, probably twice as reckless. I think they underestimated us for the Adept bracket."
"So we could fight a Class-C?" Cass's eyes lit up with dangerous enthusiasm.
"Not solo. They're building-sized nightmares. But later events might pit multiple teams against one. Joint operations." Malcolm grabbed another piece of cheese. "That's why they do the exhibitions—show us what we might face."
"Speaking of which," I checked the light streaming through the windows, "when do those start? I want to see Erik's team in action."
"Always time for breakfast first," Cass declared, already elbow-deep in the cupboards.
Red trotted toward the hallway as Katie wandered in, hair resembling a bird's nest and her eyes at half-mast.
"Heard there was food," she mumbled.
Malcolm handed her an empty plate without comment. She began constructing what could only be described as an architectural marvel of meat and bread.
"So," Malcolm said with studied casualness, "are you two... together? Meant to ask yesterday, but timing seemed off."
"Yep!" Katie's response was immediate and cheerful.
I choked on my bread, doubling over in a coughing fit that sounded like a dying engine. Malcolm looked satisfied. Cass exploded with laughter so hard she nearly fell off the couch.
"Ben, you okay?" Cass gasped between giggles.
"I said I needed to know I was staying before—" I started.
Katie waved dismissively. "Well, you're winning. Good enough for me." She said this through a mouthful of food, completely unbothered by my ongoing respiratory crisis.
"What just happened?" I managed.
Malcolm clapped my shoulder as he stood. "Don't know how it works on Earth, but when a Gaian woman says you're together... you're together. Congratulations."
I couldn't help laughing and tossed Red another piece of meat, which he caught with the skill of a professional athlete.
Cass beamed at Katie. "Good to see you back to your old self. It's been too long."
I winced at the implied reference to Katie's late husband, but she just nodded with quiet certainty.
"Ben has that effect on people," she said thoughtfully. "Cass, you're finally a Seeker after struggling for ages. Now you're teamed with Malcolm. It's like we were all drifting and Ben became the... dough holding us together." She paused, face scrunching. "That sounded better in my head."
"Way too much credit," I protested. "Two weeks ago, Cass found me in a spirit realm wearing a curtain."
"With zero clue about anything," Cass added. "Now curtain guy's winning tournaments in Sylvarus. Like I said—when you stop cooking, you kick ass."
Katie grinned. "I noticed that pattern. Every visit brought another ridiculous story."
"Where's Henrik?" I asked suddenly.
"Skulking somewhere, probably," Cass shrugged.
I took a long sip of coffee to hide my expression, but Malcolm caught the scent.
"Is that...?" he started.
I pulled a second steaming mug from soul-space and handed it over. He accepted it like a holy relic, his face transforming after the first sip into something approaching religious ecstasy.
The door exploded inward.
Thea barreled through like a tiny tornado, Darla waddling behind with what could only be described as apologetic dignity.
"Holy shit-baskets, you're actually winning this clusterfuck!" Thea announced, immediately attacking our food supplies. "Keep this up and we'll all be swimming in coin."
She approached the mana core with the focused intensity of a predator spotting prey.
"Oh yeah. This'll do nicely..."
Before anyone could react, she scooped up our hard-earned prize and vanished it into a mana sanctum.
"WHAT THE FUCK!" Cass erupted, shooting to her feet. "That's ours! We killed that thing!"
Thea's grin was toothy and menacing. She'd clearly been waiting for exactly this reaction.
Darla oinked with what sounded like long-suffering patience. "As your liaison, Thea's responsible for securing your winnings. She's just... having fun."
"Fuck-sticks, Darla, let me enjoy myself," Thea protested. "Look, unless you need immediate coin, I've got plans for that core. Something way more fun than selling it. You interested?"
The predatory gleam in her eyes made every survival instinct I possessed start screaming warnings.
"What exactly did you have in mind?" I asked immediately regretting the question.
Her answering grin promised either legendary glory or spectacular disaster.
***
The spectator area was a masterpiece of marble and luxury that would have made Roman emperors gasp with envy. Dozens of ornate tables filled the space, each surrounded by plush seating and crowned with what looked like miniature battle recreations in living stone.
At the nearest table, three tiny marble figures battled a massive four-legged creature that resembled a heavily armored boar crossed with a nightmare. The little fighters scrambled desperately to avoid being trampled by its charges.
"This is how we watch?" I'd expected something more immersive.
"Old-school viewing tables," Malcolm explained as we settled around one. "The marble figures recreate fights in real-time. Back in Merigold, they have full-color reconstructions with sound effects and everything. This is vintage."
Red tracked every movement on the shifting battlefield with laser focus, as if the tiny figures' lives hung in the balance. When a streak of blue electricity arced from one fighter to the boar-thing, he practically vibrated with excitement.
I jumped at the flash. "What happens if I touch the lightning?"
"You get zapped," Malcolm said casually. "Stings, but it's scaled down. Everything's proportional."
The fighters finally brought down their opponent, and the entire scene dissolved into swirling dust before reforming into a half-sized marble Dara. She bowed with perfect poise.
"Good morning, honored spectators," her magically projected voice filled the room. "Please prepare for the first Adept exhibition. Today's challenge: the Deluge, enhanced with mana bleed zones. Burning mana in these areas will require significantly more effort, and Arcanist techniques will cost substantially more to manifest."
Anticipation rippled through the crowd like electricity.
"Your first team: The Stormfront, led by Adept Felix Aldertree, heir of Elena Windrider and Scion of the Monster Hunters."
Cass’s eyebrows raised at the mention of Felix as an Adept.
Scattered cheers erupted nearby, but a thunderous roar from the balcony above drowned them out. I stood and peered over the railing.
We were five stories up, looking down into a massive sandy arena where three figures stood at the center like action heroes posing for a movie poster.
"Erik Winters, the Ironheart. Adept Monster Hunter."
More cheers followed, warmer and more familiar.
"And Ferris. Adept of the Sentarian Collective, Huntborn of the Third Circle."
The building exploded. Cheers shook the walls, people screamed support, and even in our spectator room, the noise was deafening. Someone behind me shouted, "Marry me, Ferris!" over the chaos.
Apparently, we were watching a local celebrity.
The arena transformed before my eyes. Sand dunes rose from nothing, the ground reshaping into a desert oasis complete with palm trees and wind-swept expanses. The three competitors now stood around a crystal-clear pool, their surroundings so realistic my brain insisted it was real.
I reached out with Valor's perception and was shocked to find I could extend my aura through the space below with minimal effort. The connection was thin but steady, like touching the edges of a dream.
Closing my eyes, I pushed deeper, spreading my awareness until I could sense all three fighters—Felix, Ferris, and Erik—standing at the water's edge, voices low and tense.
"The objective," Dara announced, "is to defeat as many monsters as possible before the oasis drains completely. Oathbound guards are standing by should containment fail."
I opened my eyes as the sand began shifting. Ripples rolled outward like predators swimming through solid ground.
Valor whispered warnings: Class-E creatures, borderline Class-D. Dangerous enough that I wouldn't want to face even one alone, let alone the half-dozen shapes moving beneath the surface.
A hand on my shoulder yanked me back to reality. I jumped.
Cass stood beside me, eyebrows raised. "You good? You went full statue there."
"I can watch through my aura," I explained, still marveling at the discovery. "Feel everything happening down there."
Darla offered a casual oink. "Spreading perception through arena space. Old-school technique from before techno-magic viewing tables. Not everyone has sufficient aura projection, though."
Cass shrugged like that explained everything and returned to her seat. Katie waved from across the room, and I flashed her a quick smile before turning back to the impending carnage.
A shockwave pulsed through my extended awareness as the battle erupted.
Erik stood in his full black plate armor like a tank, while Felix and Ferris wore only their Sylvarus uniforms. Erik had already engaged something that moved wrong—too many legs, covered in ridged spines that looked sharp enough to cut steel.
His warhammer came down in massive arcs, silver aura blazing with each crushing blow. The strikes cracked carapace inch by inch, but then red runes ignited in the sand beneath him like warning fires.
Mana bleed zone. Erik immediately cut his power.
Smart move. Without the enhanced speed and force, though, he couldn't block the creature's counterattack. A spiked leg slammed into him, launching him backward in an explosion of sand.
Felix and Ferris moved like they shared a brain. Flanking the creature, they unleashed twin lightning bolts that slammed into its body from both sides. The insect convulsed violently, glowing from within as electricity cooked it from the inside out.
One down. Erik was already back on his feet, charging toward two more monsters bursting from the dunes like something out of a horror movie.
Were these things using a strategy?
"One Velomantix eliminated!" Dara's voice shifted into full sports-announcer mode. "These Arcanists have a significant advantage—Sand Mantises are highly vulnerable to electrical attacks!"
Within moments, Erik crashed into the new pair with reckless abandon. His hammer landed blow after devastating blow, shockwaves rippling outward—but the insects barely reacted. They stepped around him like he wasn't worth their time, laser-focused on the Arcanists.
Erik spun, reignited his mana burn, and drove his weapon into one creature's leg with bone-shattering force. The limb collapsed, sending the beast sprawling sideways. Its legs flailed desperately, but Erik didn't give it a chance to recover. He hammered it into the cracked shell and green ooze.
"Two down!" Dara announced with professional enthusiasm.
The second Velomantix bolted toward Felix and Ferris, who stood their ground with raised hands forming complex mudras. But Valor screamed a warning as a third insect exploded from the sand directly behind them.
Their lightning went wide. Both dove aside, barely dodging spiked limbs that crashed into the spot they'd occupied milliseconds before. Erik barreled in again, tackling one attacker mid-lunge like a linebacker from hell.
Two more monsters burst from the dunes.
The pace accelerated exponentially. Within minutes, ten Velomantix surrounded the oasis. The crystal pool was only half-drained.
Then I felt something that made my teeth ache—an intense pressure coiling above the trees like a knot of concentrated violence. Not Grace-level power, but one of the Oathbound guards. The figure hovered just outside the visible spectrum, perched between spirit and physical reality in a way that hurt to perceive.
And then chaos truly erupted.
A massive beetle—red and black, semi-truck sized—exploded from the dunes like a living siege engine. Sand detonated in every direction as it fired jagged crimson spines from its shell like organic artillery. The spines impaled two Velomantix instantly, and I watched in horror as the creatures collapsed into melting heaps, their insides dissolving from heat or poison.
"A Spineridge has joined the engagement," Dara announced with unsettling calm. "This Class-D monster represents significant danger within its classification. Not to worry—Oathbound containment specialists are standing by to prevent casualties."
In the arena, Ferris and Felix fried another Velomantix, electricity chaining to a second in a display of lethal coordination. But they were standing on a twisted ring of red runes that pulsed like a warning beacon.
Felix staggered as the casting finished, nearly collapsing from the enhanced mana cost.
He looked at Ferris. Something passed between them—unspoken but absolutely understood.
Felix reached into his robes and withdrew a clear crystal orb the size of an orange. Without hesitation, he hurled it high into the air while both Arcanists raised their hands in perfect synchronization.
Lightning leaped from their complex mudra toward the ascending orb.
Instead of exploding, the crystal absorbed every bolt and began glowing with increasing intensity. Valor screamed warnings, and my eyes went wide.
I ducked instinctively, barely avoiding an explosion of lightning that seemed aimed directly at my head.
Energy burst outward from the orb in violent arcs like a tesla coil having a seizure. Bolts tore through the arena, ripping across sand and monsters alike. Even our observation tables lit up with wild electricity, arcing into the ceiling before abruptly shutting off.
Screams erupted behind me as my ears rang and my heart hammered against my ribs.
Through the chaos, I watched Erik take a full blast of amplified lightning directly to the chest. He flew backward like a rag doll launched from a catapult.
Then everything shifted.
Air was sucked from the room. The arena warped, the desert fading, mana evaporating in multicolored mist. In its place stood a scorched battlefield, blackened and eerily silent.
Only Ferris and Felix remained standing at the center.
Erik was gone.
