Book Three - Chapter Twenty-Two (Patreon)

Anastacia’s eyes widened, manic grin faltering as she twisted free of his grasp only inches ahead of a flying dagger aimed squarely at her throat. She cast Alarion a wary look, then followed the weapon’s path into the sky as it twisted ninety degrees, raced forward a short distance, then pivoted toward her once more.

“What—” she began, her words cut short as a deep wound opened across her neck.

Echo dove toward her, growing to its full size during the descent. Anastacia reared back, ripping her body free of Alarion’s grasp, but it wasn’t enough. Metal shrieked against metal, her right pauldron carved clean through—even though his weapon was still several feet away.

But she wasn’t the only one with powerful equipment.

Echo — Thrice-Shifting Imperial Greatsword of Idle Sympathy [Epic]

Description: A miniature Imperial Greatsword created to match the aesthetic tastes of Alarion, Ward of the House of Hunger. It bears the sigil of the House of Hunger in its core, an onyx fragment of a True Heart in its pommel, and has been doused with Oil of Refinement.

Requirements: None

Type: Weapon

Enchantment: On mental command, this weapon can shift between a miniature state and that of an Imperial Greatsword ideally sized to the user’s current height and strength scores.

On mental command, this weapon can shift its bonded user to its current location. This costs a variable amount of MP depending on distance traveled. The effect is instantaneous.

On mental command, this weapon can shift the temporal state of its attack forward or backward by up to half a second. This costs a variable amount of MP depending on the duration shifted. The nature of this temporal shift varies on whether the weapon is thrown or used in melee.

When not drawn for more than 24 hours, this weapon begins storing energy. On mental command, this weapon can release its stored energy as either a physical enhancement or a ranged attack. This weapon can store up to 30 days’ worth of energy. If the weapon is drawn but its stored energy is not released, this weapon still loses half of its stored energy.

Note: This weapon has been set with a Vestal Stone of Dancing. This weapon has been Refined with a Rank II Oil of Refinement and cannot be upgraded or refined by any item of equal or lesser Rank.

—

Vestal Stone of Dancing [Epic](Rank III)

Description: A clear blue Vestal Stone with milky white imperfections throughout.

Requirements: None

Attunement Cost: 20

Type: Vestal Stone

Enchantment: Provides three daily uses of the metamagic enhancement skill: Empower Magic.

Ability Bonuses: INT +10.

The Vestal Stone and Oil of Refinement were final ‘gifts’ from Or’Valde, courtesy of Alarion’s looting and questing powers, respectively. The latter had enhanced every aspect of Echo, from its sharpness to the speed of its size changes—along with giving the sword a powerful, single-use attack that the hoarder in Alarion was forever loath to use.

The former was so much worse.

Alarion had been on the wrong side of dancing and all-range attacks twice in his young life, first with the Duke and later with Or’Valde. Both had nearly killed him, and he could empathize with Anastacia as she ducked, weaved, and summoned a new set of longswords to try and fend off the gnat buzzing around her.

But his weapon was so much worse.

Despite being an outside addition, the [Vestal Stone of Dancing] felt almost tailor-made for the Thrice-Shifting Imperial Greatsword. By changing its size, Alarion could alter its speed and impact. Using the time-shifting effect, Alarion could turn near misses into deadly wounds. And of course…

Bssht.

Alarion fell from the sky directly overtop of Anastacia, smashing through her makeshift guard with the full weight and might of Isha. The girl was quick to counter-attack, but found nothing but air as Alarion flickered again and delivered a staggering kick to the back of her knee.

He was gone before she turned to face him, attacking from the side, then the front. She abandoned fighting him directly, focusing on where he would be—on Echo—and he made her regret that by staying in place to attack. Sometimes the flying sword kept its distance; other times it savaged her from unpredictable angles when she made the mistake of ignoring it.

Fighting Alarion alone was hard enough; fighting him and his sword at the same time was an exercise in insanity.

But then, Anastacia wasn’t all there.

“Is that really all you have?” Her white teeth glistened red as she batted Echo back with one sword and harried Alarion’s offense with the ruin of a second. She was bruised and cut, her armor damaged and hissing, but she was undeterred. “Because I still have skills left over, and that thing won’t dance forever.”

“Echo, return,” Alarion commanded, backpedaling to open a gap between them. She was right; he had mere seconds left on the enchantment and the fight wasn’t going to last long enough for him to get a second round.

They were both breathing heavily, both bleeding and sore. Theoretically, Alarion held an advantage in staying power: he could still refresh his stamina with [Valentina’s Energetic Embrace] and heal himself with [Intermediate Mend Body], but the practicality depended on Anastacia’s Will.

He knew it suppressed offensive magic directed at her, but could she use it to smother unwanted healing as well? If so, could he defend himself with [Act of Will], or wait out the remainder of her MP? Even if he did, who was to say that [Valentina’s Merciful Embrace] was limited to one use per day? Or that Anastacia hadn’t also learned [Energetic Embrace] or some other restorative magics?

There were too many variables. And even if there weren’t, outlasting Anastacia by playing keep-away wasn’t the sort of victory that would satisfy him.

He wanted to wipe that grin off her face.

“Everything I have left is dangerous,” Alarion admitted at last.

Anastacia’s eyes twinkled with mischief as she rolled her shouldes. “Mine too. But I’m a big girl. Are you?”

The insult was so childish that Alarion couldn’t help but laugh.

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Alarion said.

“Likewise.” Anastacia tilted her head as a sign of respect, then dropped her sword and stretched her arm out to the side. “Full Equip: Viscount!”

The axe that fell into her hand was almost comical. As tall as she was and with a head as large as her entire upper body, it was an exercise in excess. As though it were the answer to a universal question: How stupidly large can an Awakened weapon truly be?

That large.

Yet despite its size, the weapon was of an entirely different kind to her previous arsenal. It was enchanted, for one thing: its haft sparked with power, and its blade glowed a dim purple. This was no trifling toy, no exotic weapon pulled out to spice things up for her. Viscount was a weapon made for her, with a dark sheen and mechanical aesthetic to match her armor.

Alarion thought he heard a distant ‘no’ as the two squared off. A wave of malaise washed over him as Anastacia activated a skill, and he saw her shiver as his own [Fatebound Curse] returned the favor. He’d have to remind her to be careful with anything precious for the next few days, as she’d have negative luck in the thousands until it expired.

There was no sign, no tossed coin or shouted announcement. The two of them locked eyes and charged.

Wounded as she was, Alarion had to be careful. He needed to invest enough into [Orphan’s Fated Strike] to make this decisive, but not so much that he killed or maimed her.

And he had to trust that a battle maniac was making a similar calculation.

The distance closed between them. Twenty steps. Ten. Five. Three. Two—

Kali hit Alarion from the side like a mountain that had learned to sprint. The two of them bounced and rolled through the grass, something snapping in Alarion’s shoulder in the process. Masculine shouting echoed in the distance. Cyiar, reading Anastacia the same riot act that Kali was just beginning.

“Did you get dropped on the head as a child?”

Well… her bodyguard was probably more eloquent.

—

It took nearly three hours for the healers to clear up the worst of the damage Alarion had taken and release him back to his quarters where Nessa regaled him with what he’d missed.

The broken collarbone—courtesy of Kali’s rushed tackle—was far from the worst of it. Burns, punctures, contusions, and internal bleeding were all listed on his status with severities ranging from minor to moderate.

That was one of the problems with having a skill like [Reject the Pain]. Pain could be debilitating, but it was also informative. Alarion had no idea that he’d ended the duel with just under 40% of his HP, let alone that he’d taken so many conditions that it would take weeks to heal fully.

Not that Anastacia was much better. She’d been whisked away for private care after the duel, but he’d caught enough gossip in the aftermath to know that they’d been neck and neck up to the end.

Legally challenging a peer to a Three-Quarters Match meant Anastacia needed to have a skill like his [Indomitable Resilience] that would allow her to dip below 0 HP and survive. But outside the heat of the moment, Alarion realized how stupid he’d been. [Orphan’s Fated Strike] wouldn’t have killed her, but maiming yet another Vitrian daughter wasn’t going to earn him any friends.

Even Kali hadn’t expected him to be that stupid.

Still, it wasn’t all bad. For a ‘friendly duel’ the gains had been considerable, especially after months of incremental improvement.

Skill level increased. Orphan’s Fortitude is now Level 8. VIT +8.Skill level increased. Shatter Magic is now Level 4. STR +18. WIL +18.Skill level increased. Near and Far is now Level 7. LUK +12.Skill level increased. Act of Will is now Level 4. LUK +14.Skill level increased. Reject the Pain is now Level 6. VIT +10.Skill level increased. Pathforger’s Mastery is now Level 8. STR +10.

Congratulations, your Fated Warrior Class has advanced to Level 36! STR +108. AGI +108. VIT +108. INT +108. WIL +54. PER +108. LUK +108.

It was too bad the fight had ended in a draw—an Ancient rarity reward would have been the icing on the cake—but at least he hadn’t been penalized with a [Broken Vow] on top of his injuries.

“—and yeah, long story short, Archer thinks he should get to keep the wagers, Lilith’s bet notwithstanding,” Nessa finished.

“She really bet on a draw?” Alarion asked.

“Actually, she bet on a draw by intervention,” Nessa corrected with deep annoyance. She did not, under any circumstances, ‘want to hand it’ to Lily’s prognostication skills. “A lucky guess, nothing more.”

“Mm,” Alarion grunted noncommittally. When it came to Lily and Nessa, it was often best to say nothing. The fact that it hurt to talk made that easier than normal. “Tell Archer to give the money back. The house doesn’t win on a draw. And if he doesn’t listen—”

A knock interrupted his words, causing the two to share a curious glance, then look toward the door. Alarion didn’t have visitors this late, especially when he was wounded.

“I—” Alarion began.

“—lay down,” Nessa scolded, pushing him back onto the couch. “I can get it.”

The Thoughtborn girl padded over to the door and reached for the knob. She still struggled sometimes, particularly when it had been a while since she’d touched something, or when she had no meaningful connection to the thing, but she pulled it open to reveal a somewhat befuddled Anastacia.

“Can I help you?”

“Mothers!” Anastacia yelped, looking around for the source of the voice before using some skill that let her recognize Nessa’s presence. “Oh! I am sorry, you must be…”

“Nessa,” she said, after Anastacia took too long to find the name.

“Yes, of course.”

“My father is resting. I think you should wait until morning.”

“It is fine, Nessa,” countered Alarion. He’d started moving the moment he’d heard Anastacia’s voice, and had managed to lever his body into an upright sitting position. “If she is here, then she needs something.”

Looking at her, Anastacia was even worse for the wear than he was. She had traded her ruined uniform for a plain gray house-robe, which said plenty by itself. Anastacia did not strike him as the sort of woman who would ever show her face underdressed.

She stood on crutches, her right foot bound from toes to shin in a heavy splint. Three fingers on her left hand were taped together in a neat row, and there was a mottled bruise line across one side of her jaw . He didn’t even remember hitting her in the jaw. And from the way she carried herself, those weren’t the worst of her injuries.

[Valentina’s Merciful Embrace] was once per day, then. Or maybe even less. She probably wouldn’t have gone through all the effort if she could heal fresh in less than a day.

“Not exactly,” Anastacia murmured, still staring at the seemingly empty air Nessa occupied. She wore a strange expression, a hint of consternation beyond the usual discomfort of a disembodied voice. “I am sorry to trouble you, Master Serg—”

“Orphan is fine.” Alarion was for his friends, but after that brawl she’d earned a little informality. “I would stand to greet you, but…”

She laughed softly and did her best to skirt Nessa’s presence as she hopped her way into the room.

“I came to apologize.”

Alarion waved her away. “We are past that, I think.”

“Formally, I mean,” she continued, clip-clopping across the chamber until she stood next to the couch. “And I wanted to give you this.”

He hadn’t noticed the folder under her arm until she drew his attention to it. It was a staff dossier, like hundreds of others he’d seen, but marked with multiple red stamps.

“It did not feel fair. Our duel, I mean. I knew what you could do, but you had no idea what I was capable of.”

Alarion couldn’t quite keep the surprise from his voice as he asked the obvious, “That is your unredacted file?”

“A copy, yes. I would appreciate it if you burn it after reading. For obvious reasons.”

“Mm,” he agreed with a nod, momentarily unsure of what to say. “You know you do not have to.”

“It is fair.” She shrugged. “And thank you for not…”

“Judging you?”

Anastacia frowned, then smiled. She laughed and shook her head, more unsure of her own reaction than his words.

“I like it,” she said at last. “Not the killing. Not at all. But the excitement. The challenge. And no one else…”

“Oh, go die in a fire.”

“E-Excuse me?” Anastacia asked, the hurt in her eyes rapidly boiling into something much more dangerous.

“What? Oh. No. No…” If Alarion could have died in that moment, he would have. If he’d had a skill, he’d have activated it. A spell he’d have cast it. “I was talking to her.” He gestured to the empty doorway where his invisible offspring was wearing the most shit-eating grin imaginable. “She was being… disrespectful.”

Specifically, Nessa had been fanning herself, feigning swooning and generally being a nuisance.

“… right,” Anastacia said dryly. The anger had passed, but so had her moment of reflection. “Just… before I go, I would very much like for us to start fresh. Are you familiar with the Tuluus?”

Anastacia offered her wounded left hand with some difficulty, her palm in, wrist stretched toward him.

“I am…” Alarion said quietly, heart in his throat as he struggled to his feet. She wasn’t the first person to offer him the formal reintroduction since Sierra had died. He doubted she’d even be the last. But it felt just as wrong now as it had when Syrus had offered it. Worse, even. “But I am not a Vitrian.”

“That does not matter.”

“It does to me,” he whispered, before forcing a smile.

Rather than offer his wrist, he extended his hand in a traditional Ashadi greeting instead. She hesitated, then took it, clasping her fingers around his wrist with barely a wince as he did the same.

“Alarion,” he told her.

“Anastacia Regethern.” She smiled back.