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Salt and Blood - Chapter 88
🕑 Added 2024-11-30 15:49:10 +0000 UTC<< Chapter 87 | Table of Contents | Chapter 89 >>
1.88 - Dark Flames of Justice
Fire is a versatile weapon. You’d think it had no place at sea, but it somehow seems to thrive. When the tide itself is your fuel, there is little that can snuff you out.
-Excerpt from ‘A Study of Arcane Flames’ by Professor Goldspark
The vice admiral’s sword struck the serrated edge of Sevalon’s Revenge like a meteor falling from the starry sky above. Trent grunted with exertion as his arm bent backward.
Fighting against a two-handed sword with a cutlass was a tough job. An icy spear of rot cut through his chest, lancing toward his shoulder.
He didn’t let it sway his grip, having grown used to the aggressive advance of the rot since he’d unleashed plague ridden flames upon his foes. It was the first time he’d truly let the power of the dark sun run rampant in his veins.
While he wouldn’t deny the feeling of carving a fleet in half and watching the rest burn and fester was addicting, the price he had to pay was far too great.
For nearly two decades he’d suffered, battling against the necrotic plague that ate him away from the inside. Because of his strenuous focus it had only advanced a few centimetres, kept contained in his empty chest where he’d been exposed to the artifact.
Yet letting his power run wild just for a single slash had allowed it to eat through his chest and gut, consuming what remained of his healthy organs.
The Mythril Tideheart whined, devouring tidestones like cheap snacks as it worked on overdrive to keep him alive. He didn’t need to last forever, just long enough to let the power of the dark sun burn away the shadow king.
His festering halo flickered and faded away a little further as he drew more of the dark sun’s power into his core. It burned as it ate through his arcane circuits, but he couldn’t help but bask in the unpleasant sensation.
As soon as he’d accepted his life was over, a colossal weight had been lifted from his shoulders. He felt lighter than he had in years.
No longer fighting the corruption, he was free to go wild. His cutlass’ edge exploded in a corona of green light, blasting the vice admiral’s sword away.
The man flew back with his weapon, a trail of black flames flickering on the waves where he’d slid. He hissed and two puffs of acrid smoke blew from the corners of his mouth.
“An impressive showing, Blackheart. Though I doubt you can keep it up for much longer,” he sneered, charging right back at Trent.
Well, he isn’t wrong, Trent thought. But I don’t need all day to put this bastard in his place.
Metal screamed against the serrated tooth as the two men clashed once more.
The ocean itself began to bubble and steam around them as the heat intensified. The dark sun with its searing plague-light slowly shrunk, a potent reminder that no great power comes without a price.
Chester Saff’s abyssal flames slicked across his arms and coated his sword as he swung it over and over, arms straining with every blow.
Neither man could find an advantage, but they were being steadily worn away. As things stood the battle could rage for days without end.
Suddenly Chester’s eyes exploded with dark fire and black smoke billowed from every orifice on his body. Trent didn’t realise what had changed, at first.
But with every exchange, his opponent moved a little faster and struck a little harder.
He couldn’t afford to let his focus slip, but for a moment he listened to his arcane senses, peering at the fabric between the world and the tide. The Shadow King crackled with power, his core like a hungry whirlpool greedily devouring every scrap of energy in their surroundings.
Just the ambient energy shouldn’t be enough to sustain such a draw, which meant he also had his own stash of tidestones. That was no surprise—after a certain level you needed them on hand to unleash your full power.
Even with him pushing himself to the absolute limit, Trent struggled to deal with this rapidly accelerating onslaught. His wrists were numb, rattled by endless shocks as Chester’s blade battered his cutlass.
He didn’t think the vice admiral’s sword was bathypelagic, as Sevalon’s Revenge was, but it had to be close. Then again, more powerful equipment didn’t always translate to greater force.
Another icy tendril pierced the base of his neck as the corruption spread. This time he staggered and a burning blade broke through his guard, carving a deep gash in his bicep.
Black flames cauterised it instantly, but that was far from a blessing. He wouldn’t bleed out, but the agony of having his flesh grilled endlessly was a far worse torture. And the Shadow King’s flames were far from normal.
Having suffered the necrotic blight for years he knew what it felt like to have his flesh eaten away. But unlike the blight which was a physical torture, the black flames seemed to burn at his very existence.
Even the flow of his arcane energy as it passed through that arm seemed to writhe and twist, losing a great deal of efficiency.
Over the next few clashes, Chester broke through his guard more than once, but most of the cuts were only skin deep. Skin deep was enough to make him falter, however.
Under the dual weight of the black flames and the rapidly spreading rot, Trent slowly started to lose momentum. In a moment of desperation he did something truly stupid.
But sometimes you needed to take risks when everything was at stake.
It hadn’t been long enough for Yasmin to escape. If Saff won now he could easily catch her and the kids.
Trent glanced in his storage amulet, sighing as he realised that he was about to drain almost thirty years of plundered wealth in a single breath. Then again, a dead man had no use for treasure.
And he certainly didn’t want this bastard to have it.
He squeezed his fist, the sturdy artifact resisting the crushing strength of his core. But it soon relented, hairline cracks appearing along the surface.
It shattered, a gentle arcane ripple travelling outwards as countless tidestones and random treasures he’d collected over the years spilled out into the ocean. He didn’t care about most of it, letting the depths reclaim their gifts.
However, the tidestones barely tumbled for half a second before they exploded into shimmering dust. The fabric of the world shuddered at such a devastating release of arcane power.
With a single inhale, Trent sucked the energy into every single pore of his body. At first it was a refreshing wave of power that refilled his exhausted circuits. The dark sun shimmered and exploded in searing light, returning to its full glory.
Wielding the torrential surge of power, he snuffed out the dark flames of the Shadow King that festered across his body. His wounds didn’t really heal, remaining as cauterised lacerations; a reminder of his weakness.
However, as soon as he put the flames out the flow of his energy returned to normal. Better than normal. He’d barely scratched the surface of the sheer quantity of power he’d drawn into himself.
Skill up!
Arcane Attunement ★46 > ★51
Arcane Resistance ★8 > ★14
You have earned two new traits!
Overflow: Wielding the arcane power of the tide is second nature to you, like breathing or blinking. Your core is able to control a far greater quantity of energy without going wild.
Sturdy Circuits: Having felt the weight of the tide and resisted its touch over and over, your arcane circuits can withstand much more without cracking.
Trent felt the pressure lessen a little as his new traits came into play, but they were barely able to handle the overwhelming torrent of power he’d consumed.
Until then, he’d only consumed three or four tidestones during the battle with Commodore Saff and then Vice Admiral Saff. Yet in that single moment he’d consumed almost fifty.
The problem was, his body had hard limits. His core rapidly filled up and the crackling power whirled through his circuits until they were full to bursting.
But the energy kept surging into him.
Skill up!
Arcane Resistance ★14 > ★16
Endurance ★★1 > ★★2
Chester’s eyes widened when he saw the dozens of tidestones appearing and then promptly shattering. He tracked the wealth spilling into the sea.
A flash of greed appeared in his eyes but he quelled it and the burning rage returned, redoubled as he glowered at Trent. “This is madness Blackheart! You’re condemning your soul to eternal torture,” he cried, smoke pouring from his mouth as his dark flames roared to life.
“I’ve already suffered twenty years of constant torture, an after-lifetime’s worth can’t be so bad,” he replied, a trickle of black blood leaking from his nose.
That was a bold-faced lie. Even as he finished speaking, he felt some of his smaller circuits burst from the pressure as the main channels struggled to contain the raging energy.
Your occupation has advanced!
Plague Duke of the Dark Sun 63 > 64
The dark sun crackled with power and swelled once more, almost as though breaking free of Trent’s control. It wouldn’t be a problem for long, since he planned to give it an outlet. But his foe wasn’t going to let that happen.
Chester’s flames surged to the sky, coating the man in armour of smoke and fire. His sword was a lance of burning darkness and he charged at Trent, swinging it with both arms strained to the limit.
Trent wasn’t ready to unleash his strike yet, the arcane energy still flowing through his rotting chest. The mythril tideheart screamed as even the potent arcane metal was forced beyond what it could handle.
A blade of black flame descended from above as the Shadow King reached him and struck out, intending to end the battle with a decisive blow.
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