Brent Stinebaker
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24 Surprise
🕑 Added 2025-06-05 15:49:36 +0000 UTCThe gap between a Pathless mortal at the height of their natural potential and an Advanced Pathebearer who just started their journey isn’t that large. For warriors, it just seems like they’re a little stronger, a little faster, their weapons a little bigger. Mages are even more embarrassing. Most of the other magi in my company didn’t have maxed out Pathless Physicality. They’re slow, they're sloppy, they get hurt and sick easily, and their magic isn’t anything remarkable either.
At the first level of Pyromancy, your mana field is little better than a broken matchstick. As you get up past the tenth level, you can create a small but focused torch. Still not impressive—but at least you aren’t useless. That’s why, during your initial enlistment, you’re supposed to develop other skills as well. Skills that help the army you’re with—skills you got from the university.
That’s why I sometimes question the term “War Mage.” Frankly, if judged by what I did the most at the start of my career, my role would have been Combat Engineer from all the bridges I collapsed and the fortresses I raised from stone. And frankly it aligned with my actual Path better. I was supposed to be an architect, after all. Except after your elder brother betrays the nation and turns, jobs and prestige flee easily as well.
But then things get different if you hit Adept. Most don’t. Even more find themselves bottlenecked there for life. But that’s where everything changes.
Sure, some of us mages are still barely Advanced for Physicality and have bones made of glass, but as our magical skills hit their first Skill Evolutions, souls change. What we’re capable of changes. I thought I was powerful after hitting 40 in Geomancy. I ripped open the earth and made it eat a troll. Then, I got to 51 one, and suddenly, Geomancy became Warden of Stone—and I found I skipped a Tier for that skill. I was now a Master.
Suddenly, I wasn’t marching with squads anymore—I was with the real monsters. Adepts and more. This is where I saw the true separation begin. Together, my new comrades and I moved entire towns and cities across the land. Lone Adepts were dispatched to slaughter nests filled with hundreds of monsters or close smaller Primal Gates. Masters were regarded as an artillery brigade unto themselves—mage or not. And of the few Heroes I did see… well, they might as well have counted as an army in one.
I still remember seeing my wife for the first time—how small she seemed. How bright her smile. And then, when the battle started, I watched her draw that rusted old saber she got from her grandfather—and when she cut, she split the clouds above with one blow, and parted a distant mountain with another…
-Memoirs of a Master-Tier War Mage
24
Surprise
“I can’t believe I agreed to this shit,” Adam muttered, marching toward a wide-mouthed exit with a miserable scowl on his face.
“Shut up, prisoner,” Shiv said, chiding Adam while remaining in character. “Move your feeble legs and thin calves.”
“Don’t felling judge my calves—it’s—it’s genetic! They’re lean! It’s lean muscle!” Adam’s offense and outrage were pretty well acted. Until the Young Lord continued to mumble bitterly about his calves not growing even after focused exercise. That’s when Shiv realized Adam was actually offended.
The sheer amount of noise they were making drew out several cloaked figures into the exit ahead. Each of them wore a bird-styled helmet. Most were crows, but Shiv could see a few ravens among them as well. There were also those who looked like sparrows, shrikes, and… some other types of bird he didn’t know. Blackedge was a place that was absolutely festering with eagles. As such, lesser birds like pigeons were nonexistent. Even the rats that lived in Blackedge were either quick, sneaky, extremely large, or a combination of all three.
“I have him,” Shiv growled as deep as he could, shoving the Young Lord slightly. They added a bit more dust and dabbed bits of blood onto Adam’s lip to make it seem like there was a struggle. For Shiv, he just wrapped a crow’s cloak over his exoskeleton and placed a larger crow’s helmet over his existing skull-helm. He expected them to notice some issues with him soon—but not before Valor and Adam distracted them a bit. “I captured one of the surfacers helping the order. They were in the tunnels—the others are fighting still. They will need support.”
Two of the ravens looked at each other, and Shiv had the feeling they didn’t buy any of this. Before he could reassemble the bone drill he had taken apart and hidden all across his body, Valor spoke and this time, several of the enemies took a step back in surprise.
“Release me, slave of the Stolen Throne,” Valor spat. It was embarrassing to realize that an ancient man trapped in a dagger possessed more gravitas and performance artistry in him than both Shiv and the Young Lord. Shiv guessed Valor had a lot of time to practice. “Release me, I say. Do this, and I will not visit death upon you and your blood when I am inevitably freed.”
“The cage!”
“The Cage of Valor Thann!”
“He Who Stills Eternity!”
“The Blade of Sublime Darkness.”
“Lifesplitter. Deathbreaker.”
Titles left the lips of these masked assassins in hushed and awed tones. Several of them bowed to the stone dagger outright as the ravens approached to take Valor from Shiv’s hands. “Stop!” the dagger commanded as he heard them draw near. “Do not approach me. Take me to your master. I wish to hear the purpose of your presence—from the true mastermind.”
The ravens froze. All of them looked at each other, but said nothing. Not even sign language. However, the gap of silence was long enough to fill a conversation, and Shiv realized something that filled his guts with ice. They have a mind mage with them. They have to. Shit.
Well, it was a good thing that Uva hardened Shiv and Adam’s minds to some extent. It wouldn’t hold against a focused mind mage’s attacks, but it should make their surface thoughts less obvious and let them endure a hit or two.
“If they’re not a Master,” Uva finished. She studied Adam and especially Shiv with worry. “Another Adept I can confidently overcome. But a Master…a Master I might only be able to stall. And for how long, I cannot say. It depends on how developed of a Master they are.”
Right now, Shiv had a very bad feeling about what lay ahead.
As they entered the room, Shiv continued shaking Adam about while the Young Lord did his best to act outraged. He spat insults and saliva at the agents of New Albion, and several of them regarded him with something bordering on amusement. However, a few noticed something wrong with Shiv as well—and their eyes followed him across the room.
This scheme isn’t going to last long. When it all goes to hell, I’ll splatter whoever I can and go hard after the mind mage—get as close as I can before proceeding to the next step. I’m not taking any chances. His rough outline of a plan lasted until he was led into the cavern proper. There, he saw Yunni again—her hands shaking as she slotted what looked like a golem’s mana core into a large mechanism. The construct resembled a beating heart in a sense, and took up a considerable amount of space. It was bulbous but uneven, and inside countless oscillating spell shapes ground against each other. Shiv also noticed all the wires fusing it to the surrounding webbing. It was connected to the spatial tunnel somehow, and he had a feeling if it went off, something terrible might happen to all the teleportation anchors.
What worsened Shiv’s nervousness were all the different tunnels leading into this cavern. The space here was wide, but there were many exits. Shiv wondered if they led to other chambers—or elsewhere. On the level above, countless more agents looked down, bows and exotic barrel-looking weapons in hand. Valor was right. If they rushed in, this would have been a mess. Especially with so many enemies holding the high ground at multiple angles.
Then, Shiv saw something that made his heart pump faster. One of the Trapdoor Weaveresses was still alive, kneeling next to a tall, white-cloaked figure. The stranger in white was like an aberrant spot in the near darkness. The way they held themselves—they way they barely moved at all—made Shiv feel a growing sense of wrongness.
The thing with most skills, aside from those of the magical variety, was that they were hard to detect. Not without specific soul-accessing machinery. You didn’t know if the older looking man you insulted was some kind of Adept brawler who could put a hole in a steel wall until he actually did it. This is why it was illegal to not declare your Tier when someone requested it in the Republics. Because a whole slew of silly deaths ripped through the noble families, brought on by the arrogance of powerful Masters and offended Adepts.
Suddenly, Shiv felt a presence prod at his mind. Uva’s spell held, but he felt a distinct crack somewhere. Then, suddenly, the stranger in white was looking at the Deathless and the Young Lord. Even Adam flinched back in surprise. He didn’t see the bastard move either.
The stranger in white wore a mask different from all the others—it resembled an owl’s face. Rather than being made of metal, it was a solid chunk of focus crystal with two holes for the stranger’s deep, green eyes. “Ah,” the owl spoke. She sounded mature and measured. But also aloof and powerful. “And what is this? Do I spy Young Lord Adam Arrow here? How… unexpected.”
“You know me?” Adam sneered. “Then you know who I am. You know—”
“I know that Blackedge is being besieged right now by Vicar Sullain and his Avenging Faithful. I know that your father is the main reason your town is still standing—and that reinforcements will be blocked for some time because the other noble families yearn to see your upstart branch removed.”
Adam clenched his jaw. “You—”
“I also know a few more things. Such as how the Auroral Council is divided in focus and interest. Some of them yearn for another war—but with whom? Of this they cannot agree. And others, well, they wish for peace. But they also might want to see your father dead. Because it would spite a rival so nicely. And then there is your father’s main benefactor. But that one is also indisposed. Desperate to hold the Republic together even as all his former friends betray their ideals day after day after day…”
The owl paused and chuckled. “I am afraid that no help will be coming for some time, Young Lord Arrow. Not for you. Not for your town. And not even for your father.”
“You’re lying,” Adam said, hissing through his teeth. “My father is a hero to the Republic. The Republic never abandons its heroes.”
“Oh, but that’s all they do. And that’s the least of what they do. Tell me, what do you think happened to veterans of the Abyssal War? Hm? Oh, right. They don’t teach that in your history. Do you think all your warriors and mages forgot an entire five-year campaign filled with blood and misery naturally?”
“Shut up!” Adam shouted. He struggled against Shiv’s grip, and the Deathless had to apply some effort to hold him. The Young Lord was well past acting now. He was genuinely enraged. “Shut your tainted lips! I won’t hear such slander—”
“But that is not up to you,” the owl said, sounding confused. “How can it be? Are you a Master-Tier? Are you powerful enough to command me? Do you hold my loyalty?”
Adam didn’t answer these questions, choosing to glare with eyes of pure hate.
The owl remained indifferent. “No. None of those things. So you have no choice but to listen. Or until and your friend here stops with whatever foolish ploy this is.”
Shiv felt his stomach drop. Well, he wasn’t expecting this to last that long, but being seen through so fast—
“A skilled Psychomancer has shrouded the two of you,” the owl continued. “And the shrouding is not of my technique. Still. It is good—though inefficient in places. My compliments. I expect to be instructing her soon. And I can feel that it is a her—and I can feel a great deal more affection from her… invested in you rather than the Young Lord.” She walked toward Shiv. A loud rumbling noise sounded from the construct Yunni was completing.
The blackmailed Umbral let out a sob as she declared the completion of her task. “The bomb is armed. Now… my son.”
“He will be released. Into the care of New Albion.” The owl said, barely concerning herself with the Umbral.
“What?” Yunni said. Her eyes were wide with confusion. “No, you said—”
“That he would be release. The contract did not state to which nation or what wards. And New Albion is rather fine this time of year. Don’t worry yourself. Your song will end soon, but his will begin. He is quite a talented boy, all things considered—a talented boy in a society that is… inconsiderate of him. But such is the case when you base your structure off spiders. They barely consider their own males sapient. Best that he be given ample opportunity and a finer place to grow.”
“No!” Yunni cried. She blinked, and her face took on a look of primal rage. “I did everything you asked—” Her words ended as a shriek that would follow Shiv into his nightmares. In a second, she went from angry to agonized as her eyes rolled back, and she toppled, foaming from the mouth. Shiv’s Biomancy sensed she was still alive, but her brain was burning up. If her temperature keeps climbing—
Before he could strike the owl with his mana field, Valor spoke.
“Enough, Lady Harkness. Release the woman. Release her child as well. Show a fraction of the honor your grandmother did, and stop debasing yourself before me.”
For the first time, the owl seemed human. She took a step back and her white cloak fluttered—Shiv could see no armor on her body either. Just a pure white suit. “My, is that the Great Valor Thann I hear? So our eagles are accurate for once. You have struck a bargain with the Composer, consigning yourself from prisoner to slave. How… disappointing.”
“Your grandmother would have called you the same,” Valor said with a sigh. “For a moment, I wasn’t sure… that’s why I waited and listened. I couldn’t believe it was you. But the more you spoke, the more I heard her voice. You sound just like her. But the way you act—”
“Your friend, Lady Lara Harkness died years ago, I’m afraid,” the owl—a certain Lady Harkness of New Albion—said. “Framed, imprisoned, and murdered in front of the ignorant masses like cattle by the throne of the Child Queen Alice.” Harkness laughed. “Eternal may she reign.”
“And so you became this in revenge?” Valor asked, his voice tense with disbelief. “You joined with the Faceless Queen and aided in her reign of terror?”
“Is that what our revolution was?” Harkness said. “When I took revenge, it was an ugly thing born of trauma. But when you murdered your own mother—and slit the throat of your baby half brother before her—that was a tale of dark revenge.:
“I make no excuses for my past. But that does not absolve your present. And it all beside the point because you are no longer slaughtering the corrupt nobility that were selling your nation, but torturing an innocent woman by turning her against her people and tormenting her with the fate of her child. Now. Release her. And release the child.”
The owl hummed. “Very well. Who am I to refuse the commands of a legend, after all.”
A second later, Shiv felt Yunni’s mind start to cool. She remained unconscious but alive, though her eyes fluttered and blood spilled from nostrils.
“You’re a godsdamned monster,” Adam spat. “You have no honor treating the weak like that. A proper Pathbearer would never debase themselves hurting the small and the helpless. I will have your head for this, you felling vermin.”
But the owl just ignored the raging Young Lord. Instead, she took a few steps closer to Shiv, and he suddenly prepared himself for battle.
“But who are you?” the owl said, pointing a curled finger at Shiv. “Valor Thann does not allow just anyone to hold him. Even as little more than a voice in a dagger, his prestige and legend bear weight. So why you? And who are you?”
“Someone rapidly developing a hate for most birds,” Shiv grunted.
The owl laughed at his words. “Oh, my, this is precious. Truly. This… This is your newest disciple.”
“No,” Valor said. “For now, he is just my friend. If he wishes to learn my ways, however, I will guide him. Especially after what he has done today.”
The woman in white paused. “He has impressed you that much? How? I don’t quite see it?”
“You can find out,” Shiv said with a sneer. With the masquerade broken, he shrugged open his cloak and tore the raven-helm off his head. He released Adam, and the Young Lord took a single step behind Shiv. “I’m ready to do this if you are.”
The owl paused again. “Well. He is fearless. Or very stupid.” She craned her head and hummed. “Adept. At most. But there’s something more than that—a secret skill? A Bloodline Skill perhaps? Or a great Blessing? From the Composer perhaps. No, no, no…” She stopped again as he examined his armor. “Oh, this is precious. Valor, did you put him up to this?”
“Up to what?”
“He’s wearing vestiges of death. He’s clad in armor that resembles bone. Does he not know of the significance of such a look? Does he not know the meaning he invokes.”
Shiv recalled something of that. When Valor explained to him the nature of becoming a lich, they infused a part of their soul into a body with a skeletal aesthetic. Despite what Shiv always thought, it was not an act of undeath and Necromancy, but actually a declaration against death.
The Great Enemy, Valor had called it.
“No,” Valor said, though he sounded proud. “I did not tell him to do this. Shiv. Would you like to inform her why you look the way you do right now?”
“Because bones are easy to sculpt, the exoskeleton’s easy to use, and I bloody well like the felling look.”
The owl barked a pitched laugh. “You jest. You must jest. That’s why? Because you like the look.”
Shiv reassembled his bone drill and let it hover beside him. The Weaveress next to Harkness took a step toward him. The other agents of Albion readied their weapons. “Stop,” she said, like a mother chiding her children. “Let the boy have his fun. System. What a pure and intoxicating innocence you have. Valor… Truly… Really?”
“Truly,” Valor said. “And the vestiges of death fits him. More than you can possibly know.”
“Well. Who am I to doubt the words of a Legendary Pathbearer such as yourself.” She looked Shiv up and down one more time and let out a thoughtful breath. “Ah. I have a guess as to who you are now. You are the other surfacer. The one that killed the rogue operative.”
“Rogue?” Shiv asked.
“Oh, yes. Do you think a raven works for coin? No. The fool ran from us. He kept what he learned and the face we gave him, and decided he wanted to be rich more than he wanted to serve true power. And so he finished a few contracts. And then some Republic nobles took notice—and one of them saw the opportunity to do something very interesting while removing a rival from the board.”
“What?” Adam said, blinking rapidly. “What are you talking about?”
“Oh, poor little hawk. The one that took you wasn’t one of mine. He didn’t belong to anyone in the end. Just the idea of money. But the raven worked for wasn’t of the Abyss, but of your own nation. It all goes back to your father. Poor fool. He did the right thing all those years ago. And he remains punished till this day.”
The Young Lord’s expression became a maelstrom of disbelief and building agitation. Shiv looked around and began noting as many threats as he could see. Damn. Adam was pretty accurate. Fifty-six. He only missed the automatons. Might be something about the machines…
“Still. It was a very impressive showing of… Toughness.” the owl sighed. “I cannot say much for your other skills. You have the Path of someone that takes and endures pain. Were you a slave? Is that why you are so close to these Umbrals?”
“No. It’s mainly the fact that some assholes planned to bomb the first city I got to visit. It kind of spoils the sightseeing mood.”
“Oh, and there’s that smart tongue. Grandmother always did say you liked the ones with a wit.” Harkness sighed. “But I have question how much of a wit you truly have. You walk in here with a terrible disguise, Young Lord in tow, and deliver the Cage of Valor Thann… To me. Why, it is ironic that you are not a crow in disguise, for you certainly served me better than whatever poor fool of mine you took the mask from.”
“You might think that. I have a different perspective.” Shiv folded his arms, taking a step closer to the owl. She remained in place, but the Weaveress loomed over him. Shiv wondered if the Trapdoor Weaveress was compromised or mentally dominated. Judging from how unnaturally the Weaveress moved, he guessed the latter.
“Well. Tell me about this perspective of yours.”
“First, we planned to come in and get close enough to see your operation. We assumed that between me pretending to be a crow, Adam being Adam, and me having Valor Thann you would let us in deeper.”
“So, you have seen my operation.” Harkness gestured toward the mana bomb. “You see that the moment is close at hand—and that all it will take to collapse Passage’s teleportation network is just simply activating the bomb. Something that can be done with the press of a spell.”
“It also looks awfully vulnerable,” Shiv said. “Lots of complex machinery and intermingling spells. Tell me, will it still work if the threads binding it to the webs around us break?”
“Unlikely,” Harkness said, rubbing her fingers. “But I doubt you or the Young Lord are fast enough. Well. Perhaps he is a close match for a few of my ravens. But close will not do. Not while I’m here. Anything else?”
“Yeah,” Shiv said, continuing. “I also wanted to see the layout of your troops. Looks like a lot of ranged upstairs. All your mages and archers up there—it will be a real shame if an actual warrior managed to make it up and slaughter them.
“It would, but I would ask how a warrior might make it up.”
Shiv ignored her question and looked at the forces she had on the ground level. “And as for your forces here—well, the crows are nothing too impressive. So far, it feels like they’re just here to eat up my time by dying. The ravens? They’re actually dangerous—but you only have five of those guys left. The only surprise I see here is the Weaveress—is she mind controlled?”
“There’s hardly any mind left in the creature, after I—” Harkness paused. “What is this? What are you doing? Why are you narrating—”
“Adam,” Shiv said. “Show her the final step of our plan.”
All eyes shifted to the Young Lord as he… fell backward and huddled up into a ball. Harkness stared at him. “What… Is something supposed to happen?”
“Yes,” Shiv said, grinning at the owl. “It already has. You let Valor distract you with conversation, and what’s worse—you let me get too close.” He ripped off his crow’s cloak. The flesh along his torso promptly tore open, and packed inside his increasingly tumor-consumed body was every last mana and natural explosive his comrades had.
As Valor laughed, a huge blast swept out from Shiv’s body as he launched the bombs he hid inside his own body right at the owl’s face.
***
Shiv grunted as he crammed the last bomb into his stomach and willed his wounds to close. A dense patch of cancers fused over the large incision he made on himself. “That’ll… do for now.” Shiv said, blinking away his lightheadedness. When no one responded, he looked back at the group, and found most of them looking at him with an expression of silent respect mixed with open horror. “It’s not that bad. I’ll be able to last. Trust me.”
“As I felling said earlier, you're bloody demented,” the Young Lord said, shaking his head. The ugliness of Shiv’s wound made him nauseous. “More than demented, you’re insane. I’m glad you’re playing the crow now.”
“Shiv? How is it? Can you hide the pain?”
The Deathless shrugged. “Well, it feels like I’m bleeding internally, dying of cancer, and have ruptured my stomach to hide a few more bombs inside. But compared to getting cooked to death in a teleportation anchor? Maybe four out of ten.”
“Four out of… ten?” a Weaveress muttered in disbelief. “By the Composer… Even if it is true that you can return from death, I will… I must see your nobility reported to the Exalted Mother. Such sacrifice…”
“Yeah, just hand me the helmet and cloak,” Shiv wheezed.
“That does not sound like the noise someone makes when the pain is four out of ten,” Adam whispered.
“It’s fine,” Shiv lied. “Just a natural physiological response. I’ll last.”
He put on his disguise and prepared for the final bit of his preparation. Uva slipped by the other members of the group. Why she needed to personally administer these spells and not use her field, Shiv didn’t get at first. Then he saw her face. The pattern she formed within Adam’s mind was quick and easy. The Young Lord blinked at her and asked if there was more, but found himself ignored.
Instead, she took a long look at Shiv, and grimaced. “We’re taking too much from you. Every time…”
Shiv chuckled—which proved to be a mistake, as he barely stopped it from becoming a wet cough. “I—I’m getting skills out of this. If anything, I think you’d be in your right to bill me the bombs I’m about to use.”
He stopped talking as she pressed her gauntlet against his head. He felt a denseness fuse around his thoughts. She spent a few minutes longer perfecting his protection compared to Adam.
The Young Lord made his offense known. “What is this bullshit? Do I have to cook her dinner and flirt with her constantly to get the deluxe treatment as well?”
“You are now shrouded,” she said. “This is the best I can do on short notice.” Instead of removing her hand, it ran down and Shiv felt her palm against his chest—right above his wound. He placed his hand over hers.
“I’ll be fine,” Shiv said. “Well. I’ll be dead. But then I’ll be fine again.”
Uva nodded. She looked at him and took a breath. “Dinner. It best be the best food I’ve ever tasted in my life.”
Oh, shit, Shiv shivered. Something in her expression was… terrifyingly exciting.
She removed her hand and took a step back. “You’re ready now. To be… what was that Legend Thann called it?”
“A veteran suicide bomber,” Shiv and Valor replied at the same time, both chuckling.
***
Force, fire, and blood blossomed out from Shiv’s chest. Diamond Shell prevented him from disintegrating—unlike the Weaveress standing right in front of him. Might of Mass allowed him to root himself in place against the force of the blast. Biomancy allowed him to shape the path of the explosion somewhat, directing as much as he could at the owl. And nothing but his own stubborn will kept him conscious through the whole ordeal—even the pain got really bad.
Yep. Eight out of ten. At least.
To his surprise, the owl was blasted off her feet. Shiv guessed her Physicality must not have been that high. However, he didn’t assume she was dead for a second, and launched both his mangled body and his drill after her.
At the same time, Adam, protected from the shockwave by his armor, stopped tumbling across the ground and manifested his bow. He fired in three directions at once. The first person he shot was Yunni—coating her in a coursing shield of water. His second target was the giant mana bomb at the center of the room. He burst part of its core open with a massive arrow. His third bow took part in a massacre; he put shots into the eyes and necks of every crow in the room before moving onto the ravens.
And on the inside Young Lord’s neckplate was a communication brooch—one that transmitted every detail of what just transpired to the Arachnae strike force laying in wait. They came charging in with the sound of the blast, and knew exactly what to expect in terms of enemy force composition, their location, and the position of the primary objective.
The first raven died as ten different spells hit her all at once. The other four moved. One rushed Adam—still laying on the ground—while the other three vanished outright, disappearing into the chaos.
Bodies fell from the floor above with azure arrows covering their faces.
In seconds, the long-time stronghold of New Albion hidden within Passage fell as absolute havoc swept through the ranks of Aviary.
To the credit of New Albion’s agents, they made a fight of things—some more than others. It was also an absurd attack they experienced. They couldn’t possibly sense what Shiv was hiding under his flesh without having another Biomancer overcome his mana field or surprise him. They also couldn’t possibly have guessed that Shiv was casually suicidal—willing to detonate a cluster of explosives while using his own Adept-Tier body as something of a cannon.
Two of the ravens emerged from shadows in an attempt to inflict some losses on the swarming Umbral. They were ripped off their feet by unseen attackers. The Trapdoor Weaveresses ripped the assassins apart brutally and slowly. The last raven toppled over unceremoniously on the second level as a mind mage tore their consciousness apart.
Though they remained whole of body, there was nothing left of their self. Nothing at all.
But though an entire cell of Aviary was slaughtered, the quest remained active, and the Master of the lesser birds still remained. A Master that Shiv did his best to kill. His bone drill shot after Harkness, and he followed soon after. But rather than crash against the webbed walls, the owl halted in midair and drew a rapier from within her white cloak. The blade was like her in a sense—pale and wrong in this black place—and rather than dodging Shiv’s weapon, she struck it dead on.
The tip of her thin rapier greeted the tip of his drill. Then, there was a flash of light that danced across her blade. A flash that extended through Shiv’s drill and his exposed heart as well. The Deathless gave a guttural gasp as he felt a length of metal slide casually through his pumping core. His drill blasted through Harkness. But she faded like a mirage, taking no wounds. As his weapon bounced off a webbed wall, he felt a perfect hole running through its entire length.
And then she stood before Shiv. As if she had always been there. She held her blade at an angle, her other hand behind her back, the stance of a proper duelist. “Well played, boy,” she said, her voice filling with genuine warmth. “It might have cost you your life, but you most assuredly have destroyed my cell.”
She glanced around as her forces were culled, taking in the scene as if she was beholding a street performance.
Shiv gripped her blade and slammed his Biomancy against her. His field crashed against what felt like a mountain. The owl didn’t even react. He adapted. Growing a dense weave of tumors over her rapier, trying to hold her in place as he recalled his drill. But before he could finish his spell, three more blades pierced through his chest at different angles. Three blades held by three clones of the owl. He noted how she avoided striking his ribs or exoskeleton—aiming specifically for his exposed skin.
Shit… really need to patch up that exposure next time…
And then there was another question. He could sense all four owls with his Biomancy. Yet, there was something deeply wrong. All of them were her at the same time. Their biology was the exact same, their hearts beat at the very same pace, and they all mirrored each other in action.
“How…” Shiv gasped. Blood poured out from his mouth. He tried for his drill again—but a fifth clone materialized with a flash of her rapier. This one placed her heel on his weapon—and her Physicality proved stronger than his Biomancy by far.
“Because, dear doomed child, I am a Master,” she replied, her eyes bright with malice and amusement.
Shiv snorted. “So. Think… the raven I killed a few days ago was one too…”
Harkness laughed joyously. “Oh. A delusional High-Adept at most. Perhaps a Master in a single skill. But I am not one of those who believes that simply crossing 100 levels in a skill grants you the right to be called a Master. No. You need to be well-rounded, in your mastery—for every lack is a grave weakness.”
She twisted her blade inside Shiv, and he felt death loom close. Spitting blood on her sword, he pulled himself along her weapon to shove his bone dagger into her neck.
The owl allowed him to do it.
Shiv felt his dagger sink through her soft cloak and hit skin. It was then that his strike was torn brutally off course. Shiv’s right arm came loose from his socket. Before he could cry out, she seized him by the neck, and he felt a horrific amount of strength within her very fingers. It felt like there was some kind of movement redirecting skill infused into her flesh, and a similar power was within her very hands, allowing her to channel impossible amounts of force without moving her body at all.
“How many Master Skills do you even have?” Shiv croaked, more curious than scared.
The owl laughed indifferent to the deaths of her final few soldiers. The surviving members of the Arachnae Order and Adam advanced her one. She let out a relaxed sigh. “It would be quicker to list which ones aren’t.” She down at the stone dagger Shiv shoved under one of his bottom exo-ribs. “Sorry, Valor. This one was fearless and durable—but not too smart. I don’t think you’ll be keeping him.”
“Oh, he will surprise you yet, I think,” Valor chuckled. “Shiv. Show her a messy death.”
The owl cocked her head in surprise. Shiv laughed. And promptly levered his Biomancy to channel all the blood and viscera in his body all over her face.
The so-called Master did not expect that. She also didn’t expect Shiv to drain her vitality—-and for his skeletal armor to continue attacking her immediately after. The act so sudden, so ridiculously audacious that even the system seemed pleased, and saw fit to reward the Deathless for daring to go this far.
Might of Mass > 59
Parry > 23
Diamond Shell > 72
Biomancy > 35
Knife Proficiency > 29
Skill Evolution: Reflexes (Common) > Momentum Core (Master)
Momentum Core > 54
Comments
Inkary
Did that owl happen to be a strix specifically, wink-wink nudge-nudge?
Brent Stinebaker
A little fire magic is called a spark. A little pinch of in your biology is called a stroke.
Adam
The child is from the depths and New Albion is on the surface isn't it, wouldn't the child just die from the light. And I know some might say that was the point then I really do feel there would have been a smug comment about how a little light would do them some good or something to that effect instead of the other comments. Also if mages are supposed to be so limited at low levels why didn't that apply to Shiv, he was poppin body parts right off the bat.
Emerson Fortier
Good shit
Cperkenling
If you can't stay dead - eat bombs, the truest meta.
