Michael Adams
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Cheep!? 166
🕑 Added 2023-05-15 19:30:55 +0000 UTCIn the center of Riizen, another fight was raging. The Dawr Invasion had been expected and none of the defenders were surprised to find that they were persistent, but they did not fear any possibility of defeat. They were proud, but they were also aware of the differences in their power. The Dawr possessed only so many tier fives, and while Riizen had their own high tiers in reserve, the Dawr would be loath to make the first move. The side that made the first move would, invariably, put themselves forth for the first counter-attack, one that could potentially be devastating.
What they were not at all prepared for was the emergence of Sliver Peak’s beast-horde, least of all the fact that their Mountain King was leading the attack. The Ash-Wyvern, Keranthun, was a powerful tier six. He had lain waste to the wall and much of the battleground on the side of the city where he’d made his appearance, and on his fell wing, completely changed the state of the siege.
Every tier five on the enemy's side stepped up, and Riizen’s forces had no choice but to answer with like numbers where they could.
The problem was, they couldn’t. They were outnumbered, and not all of Riizen’s tier fives were warriors. Moreover, they needed to handle the Mountain King of Sliver Peak, the tier six made a straight line through the city, directly to the only location that led to the pocket dimension that was the mountain’s core, or its peak, as it was known.
Anya and the others knew what Keranthun’s objective was, to invade the core, perhaps attack Riizen himself while he was amidst his meditation, and then seize the mountain’s seat of power for himself. If he succeeded in that, Riizen as it was would be no more.
Knowledge of Keranthun’s objective didn’t mean that they had prepared a way to stop him, however.
Anya grit her teeth as she dodged a spiraling shower of ash and obsidian rain, tearing the carefully chiseled stone floor into shreds. ‘Gods, how I wish Gorm was here.’ The Frost Ursun Patriarch would have been an excellent counter to many of the Ash-Wyvern’s abilities, but even he wouldn’t have been able to deal with the tier six’s blood energy enhanced powers.
In fact, the few tier fives that were actually able to come to them and weren’t also being hindered by the invaders, weren’t exactly all that well suited to dealing with this particular threat.
Anya dodged through another attack with several shards of burning obsidian crashing into her as she did so, but essence and mist rushed through and over her body. Blood trickled from the row of perforations she’d sustained, but she’d finally landed a good hit. Her long, saber teeth flared with power, essence patterns and her own image working in tandem, pushing against the wyvern's own domain with all the cutting, front loaded power she could bring to bear. Keranthun shuddered beneath the attack, his screech cut off by her powerful bite with her long fangs piercing the soft flesh just past his jaw. It would have pinched the windpipe closed had she nut carved right through it.
The tier six lord of the neighboring beast mountain, Sliver Peak, invader in her own lands, her home, reeled with Anya still attached. Simultaneously a dozen superimposed images of Anya’s fanged maw appeared all along his neck and body, bite after bite punching through his superior form in spite of all of the differences between their relative power levels.
Still, she knew it was not enough, the body of a tier five would be able to ignore a wide range of otherwise mortal injuries. A tier six was even more grotesquely durable, and with the blood energy rushing through its injuries, she couldn’t help but swear through her bloodied jaw about the sheer ridiculousness of it all. From the puncture wounds in the wyvern’s neck, ashes and fire roared through the torn flesh, scalding Anya’s mouth.
The gushing smoke and superhot materials hid Keranthun’s next attack until it was far too late to be dodged, and Anya, through many decades of experience, prepared to instead move as much as she could with the attack. Keranthun’s obsidian tail, flanged like a mace, smashed against her, and only her preemptive motion kept it from crushing her spine. Her shoulder cracked under the blow even so, but with essence circulating, she kept the latest of her broken bones from popping too far out of place, though it was no less cracked.
“Now, Bexxil!” Anya choked out through an ash-seared mouth, mists rushing from her body as she pushed with her domain. She and the few other council leaders present were doing their utmost to keep the wyvern from using its own domain uncontested, its image nothing short of sheer devastation that they did not want to have to contend with in the middle of the city. Given how powerful Keranthun was even without it, Anya was not interested in dealing with it being even more unfairly powered up.
At Anya’s call a Voldt ripped through the air, his claws extending with force and a keening noise that rang in her ears. Bexxil’s quill-covered form was bloodied and burnt in many places. The mists that Anya emitted swirled around him, obscuring him from vision. He’d taken several blows already that would have crushed any other tier five – Anya included – but it was through sheer tenacity and stubbornness that the many armed, ferret-like creature continued to fight.
The wyvern snorted derisively, barking out a short blast of black-lit fire in the direction of the mists, a roiling, superheated ash storm that measured in tens of meters. If it weren’t for the fact that Scillaz had already managed to inject his peculiar ability-hindering venom, the wyvern would have had an even greater advantage, not that it needed more. That feat had cost Scillaz dearly to pull off, but he’d survived. And then was immediately forced to hold off the reinforcements that attempted to aid Keranthun.
The ash storm rolled over the mists—and revealed nothing in its wake.
Keranthun spun, blood energy suddenly surging along its body, and in spite of herself Anya growled in annoyance. From out of thin air, Bexxil’s actual location was suddenly beset by several rapid strikes from the wyvern's tail with the flanged mace of obsidian crashing into the quilled-councilmember. Keranthun’s tail hammered down with strike after strike upon the location. Bexxil aborted his attack after the first good hit, but he had taken that strike straight in the chest, and the sounds of bone cracking had easily reached Anya’s ears. The rest of the strikes resounded out like the wyvern was trying to break through a slab of metal, but managed to gouge bleeding furrows in Bexxil’s tough hide with every strike. Each time, though, quills fired from his back, seeking the wyvern unerringly.
Unfortunately, they lacked the same potent power of Anya’s own assault with her teeth, given how ridiculously layered her attacks could be.
Mid-flight, though, the quills suddenly surged with speed, and Anya knew then that the old kobold, Karrak, must not have been dead. She’d certainly thought he was when the Wyvern bit through half of his body. Even that was a little much for a tier five to shrug off, but if anyone could figure it out, he could.
She pushed the rushing sense of relief down, though, as she continued to struggle through the titanic headache that beat from within her skull to force her image to wreath Bexxil once more.
“Not this time.” The wyvern hissed, ignoring the empowered spines that counter attacked him from Bexxil. The tips bore into its body with Karrak’s empowerments, eliciting a sharp snarl of pain, but Keranthun the Ash-Wing was not to be deterred. Blow after blow rained down on the councilman, a blast of superheated ashes intermingling with the barrage. Blood energy rushed across the wyvern’s body, enhancing its speed as though it were an entire pattern on its own, with yet another function pushing the quills out of its body. The injuries inflicted by Anya were beginning to close, along with the dozens of others that the council of Riizen had subjected it to.
Blow after blow continued to rain down, until the sound of metal tearing filled the air, and Bexxil’s howl of frustrated agony rang out, followed by the Voldt suddenly flying back, an essence empowered tail-strike breaking whatever remained of his defenses.
Given the way his limbs flopped in midair, Anya guessed that his defenses were the least of what had been broken.
“Now, where did that little one get off to?...” Keranthun flared his wings outwards, the many tatters and slashes mending before Anya’s eyes. She had been through many battles, A seasoned veteran in fighting things that would have destroyed many of her own power at the time. She had always come out on top of the odds, no matter how stacked they had been, and while she admittedly hadn’t been challenged in several years, this was something she didn’t think she’d have ever been prepared enough to deal with. A tier six, empowered to ridiculous degrees, with incredible, death-defying regeneration, and a seemingly bottomless reservoir of power…
‘We would need all of our tier fives to stand a chance…’ Anya thought, feeling tired, but resolute in her final stand. Gorm of the Albedo Clan, and the others that were capable, were all dealing with the tier five Dawr and the other beasts that had come from Sliver Peak. It was a small blessing, at least, that Keranthun did not abide those with power that were not able to be controlled through his tyranny. Those tier fives that he had brought with him, while certainly not weak, were not made of the same stuff as her own kin.
But in the face of Keranthun himself… Anya had no answer left.
“The coward can wait,” Keranthun shrugged its wings, turning its attention down to Anya. Even at their fully expanded sizes, the Wyvern still stood three heads taller than Anya, though she was not built with size in mind. Still, she had to admit that the cracked, red-flesh of the Ash-Wyvern with smoke billowing from its fanged maw was intimidating, even if size were not a metric she was considering.
Size was a metric she was considering, and so she had to say that Keranthun cut less an intimidating image, and more a terrifying one at that moment.
“But you, dear Matriarch, you have my attention.” The Ash-Wyvern sneered down at her.
In spite of everything, Anya was not afraid. “Big words, from one who allies with such filth and relies on borrowed power. Dawr and a God? Should I be flattered that it takes so much for you to be even willing to step foot upon my mountain?”
For a second, the Ash-Wyvern stood stock still, as though processing what she said, before it sneer warped into a look of unrestrained fury. Keranthun surged forward, fast as a flashbomb, and whipped its tail against Anya’s side before she could even muster any real defense. The Matriarch grunted in pain as several ribs cracked, and sprawled along the council chamber floor.
Even if she had any essence left – which she decidedly didn’t, running on dregs after fighting the tier six with ridiculous power reserves – she didn’t think her defenses would have mattered all that much. Keranthun battered her again and again, just as it had done to Bexxil, keeping the blows light enough to only break some bones - and to hurt.
The realization lit a blaze of impotent fury in her heart. If the bastard was trying to get her to apologize or beg, he was absolutely dreaming.
“You—you all, always so ‘superior’,” Keranthun seethed, “All of these resources, rich in essence, and this is all you amount to. What little we have we have fought for, become strong for. For everything we gain, we have experienced strife, yet all of you on this mountain? You grow fat and weak off of the plentiful bounty. You forget what it’s like to compete, what it’s like to be truly strong.”
“And yet, you’ve been at the tier six bottleneck for even longer than my husband,” Anya couldn’t help but quip, even though her chest and jaw ached hellishly for the speaking. “And yet, you’re strong. Certainly.”
Keranthun nearly flew into a rage once more, but narrowly restrained himself, though Anya knew not why, “I will become tier seven. It is inevitable, especially with the power of this mountain added to my own. With their cores fused, I will be able to create an even richer essence environment. At that point… Who could stop me?”
Anya huffed a choking laugh, “If you think that is all it takes to rise to tier seven, you are vastly inept.”
This time, the wyvern did strike her, sending her groaning and rolling across the floor, her bright fur marred with blood and ash.
“Where is the entrance to the core?” The wyvern snarled, “It must be here, now where is it!?”
Anya’s eyes lit up in realization, even as she bit back a scathing laugh, “Oh, you poor fool. You invaded Riizen without even knowing where the aperture even is?”
The wyvern stepped on her chest, and Anya didn’t manage to choke off the garbled cry of agony that lanced through her, “I will find someone who will tell me. If it is you, perhaps I’ll even allow you to live, so long as you swear obedience. Though, even if you do not, I'm sure someone will tell me where the aperture is. Or, if all of you would rather die painful and meaningless deaths, I’ll start tearing this place apart to find it. It’s an inevitability.”
Anya struggled to breathe through the pressure on her chest, and attempted to form words. The wyvern waited a few, petty moments longer before lifting his taloned foot.
After gulping a few lungfuls of air, Anya only grinned with her fanged, smiling maw, “I am the only one who knows exactly where it is. But, that doesn’t matter, since you won’t need to ask.”
Keranthun was about to lash her once more, when he saw her laughing, even though more of her body was broken than not. The wyvern stood in confusion, before he felt a sudden warp of essence all around him.
Above him, the air distorted, an eclectic ripple of essence that surged from several hundreds of cleverly concealed sigils that no longer hid the very thing he was looking for. Instead of happiness, though, Keranthun felt his guts grow heavy with dread, as the being that ruled this mountain stepped forth from the aperture.
A pressure, like an electrical storm, a not-so-distant tempest, suddenly appeared all around. For Anya, it felt warm and inviting, like a gentle rain that would mend her hurt and give comfort to those within.
To Keranthun, it felt as foreboding as an endless storm, a wrath of the elements made manifest. And as beams of lightning cracked out from the body of the majestic, blue and white furred sabre-cat, searing through the air yet generating no sound, Keranthun couldn’t help but feel fear.
Riizen had returned, and he was tier six no longer.
A tier seven had been born, and the essence all around him seemed to almost move to his attention.
Desperately, Keranthun marshaled his own image, after having held back enough to leave his enemies alive so that he could interrogate and dominate them. Against Riizen, though, he withheld nothing. His domain expanded with an image of a surging volcano, newly erupting and sending plumes of ash, heat, and deadly fire raining down upon the lands. It was simple, brutal, and effective in its devastation, something that Keranthun had marshaled and used well over the decades. Fire thrust him upwards, wrapping the wyvern in its cinder-filled embrace as he screeched out a battle cry, pushing past the insipid venom as much as he could to blast a cone of fire and superheated ash at his target, intent on dealing as much damage upon him as possible. Blood energy circulated within his body, pushing him faster and faster, set upon a direct collision course with incredible speed.
And then Riizen took a deep, calm breath, and the essence all around him almost seemed to crystallize. His own domain crashed outwards, and Keranthun found, in absolute distress, that his own domain couldn’t beat Riizen’s back at all. An omnipresent tempest with lighting lashing through the sky like gods trading blows, streaked down towards Keranthun. Torrential rain, like an entire ocean was being dropped upon him, smothered his flames, and a shrieking, cutting typhoon carved through his wings and ashen defenses like they were barely even there. Pressure built, and a thunderclap cracked against his body like a giant had just slapped him.
Spears of lighting hit him then, first one, then five, then in the blink of an eye, a hundred. With each one racing through his system and engraving pain into his nerves. The blood energy staggered for a moment, before rushing everywhere at once, propping his body up to activity in spite of the damages it had just sustained.
“Oh? You’re better than I’d heard.” Riizen spoke, his voice sounding almost playful, his aura nearly dancing with a childlike excitement. Then, he turned his gaze outwards, where it immediately settled upon Anya, laying battered and almost entirely broken on the floor.
Any trace of enjoyment with the encounter vanished from Riizen’s face. Fury roiled within his gut, but he did not banter, nor did he threaten.
He stepped forward, crossing the distance between himself and Keranthun with a flash of light and a crack of thunder.
The Ash-Wyvern struck outwards to meet him. Raining blows with his obsidian tail, churning the air with tides of heat and molten glass, bathing his foe in ashen breath, causing all of it to burn with heat beyond heat, such that essence itself could be incinerated.
At least, that was what he wanted to do. Keranthun realized that he did not, in fact, manage to strike Riizen. That his wings did not beat, and that his breath seemed strained.
Anya watched that moment when Keranthun realized that his tail had been torn off, that his wings were shredded, and that his organs were nearly vaporized by Riizen’s lightning claws. She saw that as the moment when he realized that he was not Riizen’s opponent. Not now, not at tier seven. Perhaps, even were they equal, that would have been the case. Riizen was, after all, the undisputed leader of all of the tier fives of this mountain for a reason.
“I am the storm, and all within the tempest is my fury. You flew too close in hubris and found oblivion, wyvern.” Riizen’s voice echoed throughout the city, rolling like thunder. Lances of lightning cascaded outwards, announcing the return of the King, and the ascension of a true Monarch.
Keranthun’s regret did not last long, as lightning repeatedly struck him, again and again, with a dispassionate Riizen watching on as he writhed and screamed, with Bant’s blood energy bringing him back, helplessly, again and again.
Anya sighed with a peaceful expression on her face, glad her beloved was home, and took no small relish in the fact that that damned flying lizard being unkillable might not have been so great a boon to it after all.
