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289 - Phantoms vs. Flesh Beasts [Sturmblitz]
🕑 Added 2023-08-26 16:14:55 +0000 UTCZefaris had instantly assigned the new creatures the name of Flesh Beasts, differentiating them by unique design elements. The fact they were numbers of human bodies twisted-together with automata didn’t matter for now; for now, they were just threat factors.
A three-legged abomination with five bladed arms and crossbows in its mouths leapt straight at Zefaris. She withdrew Amaryllis, Pentacle’s weapon spirit, which she had been wielding this whole time. In truth, she had given into a bad habit she had absorbed from Zel: Sandbagging for fun. She wasn’t fighting to her full capability in the slightest, though it was true that she was trying to probe the enemy for how they would react before forming a strategy.
She found it truly ridiculous, that she could just… Will Amaryllis into physicality, where mere months ago she had needed a minute of prep with assistance from a fogging canister to manifest Death’s Lieutenant.
There was also simple trepidation. She had never used Phantoms in real combat, and no amount of training could compare to the real thing. These bioweapon monsters, though, combined with the slowing advance of her forces, were more than enough to snap the barrier like a twig.
The Tripod Beast scuttled towards her like a mobile blender, spewing poisoned bolts every-which way. But then, a brilliant lance of green from the left tore it in half. The Nameless Phantom, so insignificant, heretofore unnoticed, had fulfilled his purpose, and with a salute, began fading away to reload.
That was the Nameless Phantom’s power: To go unnoticed and strike when least expected with overwhelming power. It wasn’t invisible, it didn’t use illusions to hide itself, but instead simply had a knack for escaping notice, specifically the notice of those who were strong, those who were above the common soldier. It was truly, absolutely invisible on a battlefield full of other, insignificant foot soldiers.
A furious howl followed. The controller of that weapon, a woman in red robes, came careening from afar, blood and flesh swirling around her. Three more Flesh Beasts followed in her stead.
“Monsters setting upon us from both sides!” the woman screeched. No… It was more like her shrill, angered voice was being blasted out at an amplified volume. Her body didn’t move in a way to suggest speech, either. “Unlike that other woman, you do not seem insane, so I will ask you this: Who are you, and which sect are you from, that you dare to oppose the Order of Six Truths?!”
“I am Zefaris Newman, Second Elder of the Newman Sect of Willowdale. I presume that the “other woman” you speak of was terribly large, brown, and wielded a segmented cleaver, yes?”
“So it is,” the masked woman hissed.
“She is Zelsys Newman, the Newman Sect’s Founder and Main Elder. I assure you, despite appearances, she is perfectly lucid - if she refuses to negotiate, it means that you or your subordinates most likely spoke to her with the high-and-mighty arrogance typical of cultivators, or, much worse… You likely spoke of mortals as if their lives were worth nothing. Isn’t that why you’re here? Trying to “harvest” mortals?”
While Zefaris spoke, she carried on a brief conversation with Zelsys over aetherwave to formulate her next sentence. She also learned that this figure was utterly identical to another figure on Zel’s side of the battle. Either this was an identity-concealing uniform, or these figures were just even fancier flesh-puppets that allowed the real user to project some of her strength through them.
“What gives you the right? What made you think that they weren’t protected? Did you buy into your own hype, is that it? Did you become deluded into legitimately believing that cultivators are somehow altogether above and separate from the mortal world?”
While she spoke, she holstered Pentacle and reloaded Tempesta. The Red-robed Puppeteer drifted downward and deflated, turning her head sideways, almost like a full-body eyeroll.
“Spare me the moral lecture. You believe the lives of these mortals should not be spent to facilitate our Elder’s breakthrough. The reasons behind that belief do not matter. The only thing that matters-”
“Is power, is that it?” Zefaris interrupted. “Isn’t that what your ilk always spouts?! So be it! If I prove myself stronger than you, will you admit wrongdoing?”
Spirits sprung up around her. At first, Amaryllis and Belladonna, merging seamlessly to form Death’s Lieutenant. Then, two Gun Phantoms and five Formless Phantoms, altogether forming a firing squad. Two of the Puppeteer’s monsters tried to approach, only for the Gun Phantoms to shoot them right away, leaving both of them with a few limp, crippled limbs. Zefaris, not paying the exchange any mind, continued her scornful tirade.
“No, of course you won’t. You’ll scramble and bite like the rabid dogs you are. You’ll even try to appeal to my righteousness, saying that by killing you I would somehow become as bad as you.”
The puppeteer’s third beast, a five-legged thing with several large ballistae merged with acid-spewing mouths, twitched into motion.
“Falling silent isn’t good practice, you know. It’s an easy tell that your focus has drifted somewhere other than the conversation.”
Phantom Manus swirled into existence in front of Zefaris at that same moment. He came into being already holding a defensive guard, with the grip of his long Aquila Calibur above his bent knees, the blade held pointing off-centerline at the ground. It was one of the two versions of the ancient Guard of the Iron Gate, typically only seen in pre-Three-Kings swordsmanship treatises. The Ballista Beast fired, its bolts cracking like thunder as they tore open the sound-speed barrier, only for Manus to cut two of them from the air, stopping the third shot with his own ghostly body. It seemed as if he were unaffected, as he had already lunged forward in a counterattack, a spear of ghostly flame extending from his sword. A flare of the Puppeteer’s own aura, combined with a shift to the side, sent the beam careening into a nearby house. It seemed to only punch a hole through, only for an explosion to blow out the building’s windows and tear open its walls a moment later.
Manus fell down to his knees, mirroring the position in which he had fallen, only to get back up as if nothing had happened, leaving the bolt which had struck him on the ground. The hole which had been torn into him simply closed, and he once more took up the Guard of the Iron Gate.
“Weak,” Zefaris spat. “Weak and delusional. What a waste of people, these puppets of yours. Those mortals could’ve become the same armored soldiers that are taking the city from your disciples at this very moment. Whoever you have for an elder isn’t even worth ten mortal lives, let alone ten thousand!”
Comments
senPIE
Yes put them in their place rise up and crush those who would oppress the working man.
