Chapter Four Hundred And Sixty Nine – 469
You've Fully Consumed A Monster Core!
You Gain:
+1 STR
+1 PER
Pit warbled contentedly to himself, happy with his harvest. So many monsters had died within the waters around the Redoubt that the waters looked like they were on fire, with all of the black smoke that steamed from the surface. Finding and getting to a corpse before it broke down had been easy when they field was filled with them, but as the hours passed and less beasts dared charge their position, Pit found it harder and harder to catch the cores before they broke apart completely. The black smoke tasted awful, and twice he had a core trash itself in his mouth. Disgusting.
He clawed up onto a boulder that once sat atop a low hill; now only the peak of the oblong rock was above the waterline. Pit shook himself, shedding droplets from his fur and feathers before stretching his wings wide in the waning moonlight. A bare half sliver of Yyero's light hung above the rocky horizon, but it was more than enough for his evolved eyes to pierce the night. Pit could make out all eight of their Manaships that were now anchored near the Knight's Redoubt. "Close, but distant enough so they can't stab us in the back," as Harn had put it.
Eight of their ten ships had been moved across the Caleph Pass, with the last two still in progress. The how of it didn't make much sense to Pit, except that Beef had worked with the Chanters and the mages to create a sort of moving platform of chitin and water. Sigils were involved, and Pit never really understood that stuff. He left all that to Felix.
Felix, meanwhile, had gone and had a chat with that Knight Commander lady. And that nice Gnome too. They'd been talking for hoursthe whole time Pit had been fighting and eating, in factleaving everyone else outside the walls of the Redoubt. Most of his friends were here now, though most stayed on the boats. Only Vess had stepped out, mostly to fight, though also to inspect a few of the more prominent Fathom spawn. She had been concerned that the Slaughter Nettle was so similar to the Depthwurm, as she had heard it described quite differently in her studies.
"The Fathom corrupted creatures to make them more draconic," Vess had said to Pit. "A plant Type had been made into a serpent with oozing tendrils, and bark shaped into a facsimile of scales. Obscene."
The Fathom spawn were also rotting slower than others, perhaps due to the water, though both Pit and Vess were unsure. Vess had wanted to ask Isla, but the woman was hanging back at the Pass along with Zara. So instead she'd had Pit haul a few of their carcasses out of the water and onto the ship for inspection and observation. Pit had done so, though he'd grumbled the whole time. He had been hungry, after all.
They'd had plenty of opportunity for more, as it turned out. The monsters had resumed their attacks not an hour after the Slaughter Nettle had died, rushing from the depths in a swarm. Throughout the night they had fought them back, Felix's Claw taking on the brunt of the assaults. The Knights and Gallants provided the occasional strike from behind their shields, but little more than that.
Pit had simply shrugged and joined in the fray, happy to keep the experience to himself.
All kinds attacked, not just Fathom spawn, but there were always a handful with every wave and they were always more powerful. Pit still wasn't the best at reading their Affinities, not like he was with Felix, but amid all the rage he detected fear and pain. Like the Fathom spawn were spurring on the others. So on they came, relentless and unending for hours.
The Claw was good at killing though. So was Pit. He'd heard more than a few of them exclaim at a new level, and Pit himself had earned two, boosting all of his stats up once more. He now sat at level sixty-nine.
Nice. He settled back on his haunches, checking on his Skills. They were leveling well, though his focus had been on his ranged and flight Skills more often lately.
Bloody Gnaw (E), Level 73
Hurricane Rasp (E), Level 74
Howl At The Dark (E), Level 68
Gloaming Shroud (E), Level 49
Etheric Concordance (L), Level 82
Dawn's Advent (E), Level 77
Tempest Fugit (L), Level 76
Cold Resistance (C), Level 39
Mantle of Tumult (L), Level 74
Thunderwing (L), Level 65
Poison Resistance (C), Level 32
Dawn's Advent and Tempest Fugit had earned him twenty-five points in Intelligence, ten in Willpower and Intent, and fifteen points in Resonance and Dexterity. Surprisingly, Poison Resistance had also leveled, netting him a simple three points in Endurance, Vitality, and Strength. That coupled with his leveling bonus had his core humming with System energy, thrumming through his channels with an electric glee. It was enough that Pit wanted to dive back down and hunt for more cores, to press his Skills that much harder.
He held himself back, though, as the Knights atop the nearby walls started to make moves. His bond to Felix brightened suddenly, as if he were a sun passing from behind a cloud; a sensation no doubt linked to the wardings in that strange command chamber, Pit surmised. Making logical connections like that had become a great deal easier for him, now that he'd evolved, just as it had been a bit easier not to panic when Felix faded slightly originally.
Felix? All good? he sent.
All good. A sensation of vague annoyance accompanied the words from his Companion, but that vanished quickly. How did the fight go?
Pit sent him a bundle of sense memories, a trick they'd learned long ago, encompassing the highlights of the fight. At least as far as Pit was concerned. Fight went well. We won. I don't think any of the Claws died.
I hope not. A pause. Can you go get some people for me, bud?
Pit tilted his head. Who?
Atar. Zara. Alister. And as many of the Arclights as you can. I'm gonna need some help.
Pit crouched low before leaping upward, a blast of air Mana sending water away from his boulder in a hectic crash as he shot into the sky. He angled himself toward the Manaships. Help with what?
Just some civil engineering.
The dawn was coming quickly and with it, a miracle.
Or so Mr. Veil promised. Or was it Nevarre? His names were as numerous as his apparent titles.
Mage. Warlord. Autarch.
That had been a surprise to the Prioress, but the expression on the Knight Commander and her second's faces had been almost worth it. They all recognized his true name, of course; Alessa doubted anyone of any importance had forgotten the abrupt message from near on a month back. Of a new Lord laying claim to a Territory that existed on no one's maps.
The last part had been a bit of a frustration for her scribes. The Mender's prided themselves on their records and though most of it was dedicated to the healing arts they still had substantial tomes written on the various Territories around the Ghreldan Hills. Far from exhaustive, they still covered at least ten Territories in their annals, but none bore the name of Nagast.
A mystery, and far from the only one. Such things seemed to spring wholesale from Mr. Nevarre's shadow, such as how he manifested such deadly armor at will, or the manner of artifact he bore that allowed his clothing to change at a moment's notice. The man had gone toe to toe with the Slaughter Nettle, thrown into the water under its immense weight, and emerged virtually unscathed. And oddest of all: rumors pointed to the fact that he and that Dire Hound were somehow tied together. That he...emerged from the Hound during its mad flight from the Knight Commander's chamber. A Hound that now resembled those fabled rumors of a Chimera.
"A remarkable man. What does he intend to do now?" she wondered aloud.
"Save our town, he said," Covain sneered at his back as they walked toward the outer walls of the Redoubt.
"I heard his words, Knight Covain. I simple wonder at the intent behind it."
Covain grunted and Alessa raised her eyebrows in surprise; that was as much agreement she'd ever gotten out of the woman. "I'll admit, his forces have helped us. My Knights are clear on that. But to be so arrogant as to single-handedly save our town...from what? The depths themselves?"
"Something like that."
Covain started, her hand gripping her pommel hard enough to creak the Journeyman steel. Mr. Nevarre was dozens of paces ahead of them, already at the walls and gazing out toward the half-flooded remains of Bogfeld. Alessa swore she could see the hint of a smile before he turned, and his expression returned to one of calm consideration. "Who leads the Gallant Lotuses?"
"I do," Covain said. "Beneath the auspices of the Knight Commander of this Redoubt."
"Alright. Can you loan me as many as you're able to?
The details on the Autarch's plan had been vague, and in fact he had gone silent a number of times during their conversations, only to resurface a time later with strange assurances. Honestly, Alessa was not sure what to make of the man, except that he seemed earnest and willing to help them. He also seemed equally unwilling to accept payment for his actions, whatever they ended up being.
"Might I have your word, your Oath, that they will not come to harm?" the Knight Commander asked, stepping forward from somewhere behind the Prioress and her second.
"Nothing I do will hurt them, I swear," he said.
"Not by action or inaction?"
"I swear on my power and Authority," Felix Nevarre said, and the world hummed in response. Alessa watched, aghast, as Tris winced beneath the sheer weight of that Oath. How much Authority did this man hold? "You...are you okay?"
"Fine, Mr. Nevarre." Tris straightened, and the impassivity of her office settled across her features again. "I have your Oath. You may have all Gallants that wish to aid you."
"Thanks. That should make this sight easier," he said. "I'll need them all in the city in the next quarter glass. Sound good?"
Covain nodded. "It shall be done."
Soon the Gallants stood within the square outside the Redoubt's city gate, at least two hundred of them. They were joined by more than three times their numbers from the Autarch's ships, all of them wearing armor and cloaks emblazoned with a blue eye upon the back. A symbol of House Nevarre, Alessa supposed. But a part of her wondered at that. What House holds so many soldiers, all of them trained in the magical arts? Her gaze lingered on the ships, the last two of which having joined their brethren over the last short while. Life Mana surged among the ships, evidence of hundreds, perhaps thousands within. Does he travel with his entire House? Why? And from the disastrous Expanse? He had been close-mouthed about what happened in the desert, only telling them that Ahkestria had survived and that an impossible ocean now filled the entirety of the Territory. What other wonders does this man have hidden away?
She soon found out.
Two men in robesone in a blue a few shades darker than her own, another in blackwalked among the Gallants and Nevarre's mages, dragging inscription tools in the stone beneath them. A trail of bright Mana was left behind, blue and red-tinged white, forming into a complicated series of glyphs and sigils that Alessa could not follow. The Priory did not use sigaldry apart from the most common of sigils, not out of disdain but a lack of educationlearning sigaldry was a Skill that could only be leveled under the influence of a major guild, after all. The Priory of the Blessed Fen was independent, and as such relied far more on the time-proven traditions in their herbalism and practical medicine, with a bit of alchemy on the side. So when a city block-wide array suddenly lit with wave of shimmering Mana, Alessa was just as astounded as all the rest.
"W-what are they doing?" Covain asked. "The Gallants look to be in pain."
"That's a siphon array at their feet," Tris offered, nodding down into the square. "They're getting their Mana drawn on to power the larger formation. Standard operating procedure for Protector's Guild forces when using large-scale sigaldry."
"Fascinating. But what is it doing?" Alessa asked. She also made a mental note to ask the Knight Commander how she knew about the Protector's Guild. They were a major one, but their presence wasn't well felt in the Hills.
"Look," Tris said, pointing at the far end of the High Side. "Can you not feel it?"
There, the waterline that defined the flooding damage of Bogfeld was rippling as if a great wind was pushing it back. Soon that rippling manifested into looping swirls of aquamarine light, and each loop twisted and coiled, pressing harder against the water itself until it began to creep backward with greater and greater speed. Before long, the tide had risen into a wall of liquid twenty feet high, shoved back along the streets of Low Side until it splashed into the outer wall of Bogfeld...and out of the town entirely.
"Master Tier magic," Alessa breathed. But who cast such a thing? She had seen no one.
"Is that was the formation is doing? Does that allow them to mimic a Master Tier?" Covain asked. Alessa couldn't tell if the woman was horrified or excited by the prospect. "Imagine what we could do with such power..."
"No. That is not the purpose of the formation," the Knight Commander said. "I think...I think this has just begun."
By the gods, the woman was right.
Felix Nevarre walked into the streets, just beyond the range of the formation, and pushed his hands down into the streets themselves. He shattered cobbles with his fists, but didn't flinch, and instead a vast presence unfurled from around him. Dark brown glimmering with green-gold and deepest blues pressed visually before them, forcing Alessa to blink in order to understand what she was seeing. Her Skills allowed her to view life Mana, and she recognized it's green-gold radiance, but the other two were not among her attuned elements. He was wielding three different Mana types, all at once, so powerfully that everyone could see them manifest as a cloak that hung around the man.
Covain pointed, looking more and more like a gawking schoolgirl. "The walls! They're repairing!"
Tris gritted her teeth, her hands shaking on the edge of the battlements, and not from nerves. "Not only the walls."
A rumbling filled the air as minute explosions rocked the town; small things, but loud, as the ground itself shifted upward. The Autarch hunched, that presence of Mana pouring into the earth once more as the ground shifted again. And again. Now the formation wrapped about his feet, sigils forming as if by themselves upon the cobbled streets, until the gathered payload of siphoned Mana was sent hurtling into him as well. Through him.
Span by span, stride by stride, the town of Bogfeld lifted from the waters, until every inch of it was a dozen strides above the waterline. Alessa could only watch, speechless and immobile.
"Incredible," Tris whispered.
Covain ran a dry tongue across her lips and shook her head. "A miracle."
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