by Ivan Kal
His other three tendrils attacked as Emily blocked the acid. Two went down, one toward her leg and the other at her arm beneath her shield. The last slithered around the top and struck at her head. Morgan wished his right hand wasn’t numb and that he could grab one of his orbs, or a knife at least, but he still couldn’t grasp well enough with his fingers to do so. His tendrils found the crevices between the armor and snapped into them, stabbing into her body. Morgan heard Emily gasp as his tendril slithered through to the wrist of her left hand. She tried to evade, moving back, and tearing his tendril from her wrist, revealing what appeared to be blood-soaked pine leaves. The second tendril missed her leg as she moved, but his third scored a cut on her cheek as she jumped back.
She disengaged and looked at him with a strange look in her eyes. Morgan’s acid tendril changed, taking the form of another razor-sharp cutting one. They stood there, watching each other, her left hand no longer grasping her mace, and blood flowing from it down her gauntleted fingers. Her cheek was bleeding red as a nasty cut revealed flesh beneath. Morgan stood across from her, his hands pointed at the ground, one having a glowing Energy Blade extended from it and the other having four wire-thin tendrils curling up from the palm and around him.
Her expression turned angry then, and she raised and slammed the butt of her mace against the ground with her right hand. A quake shook the arena, making him unsteady on his feet. Then in an instant she closed the gap, her mace raised in her single hand and coming down at his head.
Unsteadily, he evaded to the right and she slammed it into the ground. His tendrils struck at her, but her spectral form appeared and swung at him. Morgan raised his Energy Blade to block and felt himself picked up from the ground and flying backward. The Energy Blade flickered out as his energy reserves fell dangerously low. He struck the ground and rolled, getting up to his knees quickly, but not quickly enough. Emily had leapt forward and already her mace was coming down on his head.
Morgan had no time to react. For an instant, he nearly phased, but he knew that doing that would mean losing, as she could probably tell by now when he did so. The others had all told him during their training that once he used it, his eyes went blank. If he did that, she would just stay near him, as he wasn’t moving, and wait for the moment when he unphased and smacked him—and besides, he had maybe enough energy for only one phase left. With no choice he put his right hand on the ground and activated Mass Transfer, pulling from the stone and into himself, hoping to be dense enough to be able to survive. His left hand came up for a block.
Morgan closed his eyes instinctively as Emily glowed, her spectral form superimposing itself on her regular. He only had one thought in his mind: Survive! Then a tearing, horrible sound assaulted his ears as well as a pain unlike anything he had ever felt in his left arm. Then there was a thump, and a shock wave flew into him, making him vibrate with his entire body.
He heard the gasps of hundreds of thousands, and then silence. Morgan opened his eyes and saw why.
Emily’s mace hung in the air above his head, and all around it there was a mass of pulsating matter which kept it from moving further. The mass looked vaguely like a shield made out of entwining tissue that had been struck with something that it had then enveloped. From that shield a thick tendril led to his arm, where the small core of Klyn resided. There was no skin on his arm, nothing from his elbow down, save a small piece that was hanging down from his elbow. It ripped my skin apart, Morgan thought in the back of his head. The mass that had replaced his muscles and flesh had shifted into the shield, leaving only the white bone of his arm: a skeletal arm only held together by thin strands that were twined around the bones themselves. Morgan couldn’t even feel anything past his elbow, let alone move it.
Emily looked at his skeleton, his arm in horror and disgust, and Morgan saw his opening. He phased, spending the last of his energy, and activated Gravitic Stomp. He flashed it on, only for an instant, as his energy depleted completely. As he left the phase he saw Emily on her knees with stone around him cracked in a circle. Klyn, fed by all the extra mass Morgan had taken into himself, shifted, and the shield pulled Emily’s mace away, ripping it from her remaining hand. Then it changed, pulling back to his bones in a grotesque imitation of an arm, dark green and purple. Pulsing, it formed claws at the end of a gnarly hand that elongated beyond his bones.
Emily didn’t have the time to react as he swiped with it, tearing into her shoulder armor and then swiping down, ripping her flesh from shoulder to stomach. Klyn changed shape again, this time according to his will, into six tendrils, thicker than his usual ones with razor-sharp tips. They stabbed into her stomach and raised her up. He saw the pained expression on her face mixed in with the horror. She tried to do something, anything, but he didn’t give her the time as Klyn threw her across the arena. She hit the stone hard, and rolled several times before she came to a stop.
Morgan fell to his knees as his legs gave out and the mass he had pulled in snapped back to its rightful place. He watched Emily’s unmoving body for a long minute. Then a loud chime sounded, and he sighed. The healer appeared next to her, and Morgan watched as she blinked her away.
He stood up shakily, his energy burned out and the headache that came with overusing his power already pounding in his head. He looked at his hand. Klyn had settled back into a hand shape, and Morgan saw it change its surface to mimic skin. In a few moments, there was no difference.
Then Ragnor spoke, and the crowd roared. “Winner: Sky Force!”
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
His team met him in the tunnels as he stumbled along. He had been looked over by the healer, but had been pronounced healthy enough. His right hand was slowly getting better, so whatever attack Emily had used had only caused a temporary effect. His energy depletion had no help but rest, and the headache was, sadly, going to remain as well. Ves reached him first, and caught him as he nearly tripped.
“Morgan, are you all right?” she asked. Grabbing his left hand, she looked it over. There was nothing to be seen there, of course. It looked like normal skin, but Morgan knew that it wasn’t. His skin was gone—this was Klyn masquerading as his skin. It didn’t feel any different for it, though.
The others reached him as he answered her.
“I’m fine, really. I have a headache, though,” Morgan said.
Clara placed her hand on his head and looked at him intently. “You depleted your energy, all of it—which is a stupid thing to do, and you know it.”
Morgan did know, as he had burned out all of his energy twice before. The second time had been so bad that he hadn’t even been able to access his HUD. He could see it now, but even thinking about bringing up the flashing notifications made him feel queasy, so he abstained from even attempting it.
“That was some fight,” Vall said as he came up next to him and put Morgan’s hand over his shoulder, helping him walk.
“Yeah, it was,” Morgan agreed blankly. Even talking was starting to hurt.
“She was very strong,” Lucius said. “But you performed spectacularly, and your arm…the symbiont… It was a great weapon.”
“Why didn’t you use it sooner?” Clara asked.
“Didn’t want to give away my trump card until I got to see some of what she could do. Needed to be sure that when I did use it had maximum impact. She did force me to use most of my other powerful abilities faster.”
“I didn’t know that it could do…well, what it did,” Vall commented.
“It can’t normally, it was a temporary thing,” Morgan said. His Mass Transfer ability had put mass into his body, but into Klyn as well—which was apparently considered part of him. The extra mass had allowed it to shift its form a great deal, as ordinarily it could only do several tendrils at a time.
They drew quiet as they realized that Morgan was in pain. They reached the lounge just as the next match was starting, and as they walked through it Morgan noticed that everyone was looking at him, or more specifically at his arm. M
organ ignored the looks and walked over to the where the Last Vanguards stood. He did notice, however, that the Harbingers of Fate were not present—not surprising, since they lost and were out of the tournament. Morgan knew that Emily was not going to take the loss well, and he fully expected to meet the Harbingers again in the future.
As they reached their friends they all congratulated him, and Morgan thanked them. Then, after a bit of a silence, Vrshar coughed uncomfortably. “So, your hand… Crazy, huh?”
Morgan looked at the Gnoll with a droll look on his face, and the man’s ears slanted. “Sorry.”
“So,” Gravough started. “Are you a human, or something else?”
Jelara hissed at him. “Gravough!”
Morgan laughed. “It’s okay, and yes, I am human. It is just my hand that is…different.”
That seemed to be enough for them, and they all nodded.
Then Borodar spoke. “You going to tell us what it is? I have never heard of such a skill or ability.”
Morgan looked around at all the other teams, pretending to be looking somewhere else while they listened in. “Perhaps after the tournament, when you buy us that drink you will owe us once we beat you in the next round,” Morgan said. With this win, their next match was going to be against their friends.
Borodar exploded in laughter, and then all the rest of them followed. Morgan shook his head and turned to watch the fight. Fjordstar’s champion was fighting Blaze from the Grave’s. Fjordstar had chosen their Nel, a human-appearing man with a tail trailing behind him, while Blaze from the Grave had a gaunt and pale-faced human, who carried a staff made out of bones. The battle was already underway. The Blaze from the Grave fighter was obviously a necromancer of some kind; he had thrown out bones from his inventory and they had arranged themselves into a horror of bone: a bear’s body ,with the head of some kind of a large reptile, which looked similar to an alligator skull, and wicked claws on its legs.
Then Morgan realized something very interesting. The fighter from Fjordstar was their support. Morgan had wondered when someone would decide to take a gamble, and the current frontrunners seemed to have decided to take that risk.
The necromancer was standing back, while his monster charged at the Nel. But before it could reach him, a solid wall of light appeared in front of it. The Nel was gesturing with his fingers and four more walls appeared, on the sides and above the monster, boxing it in. Then he started running forward. The monster tried to escape, but the cage was too strong. The necromancer looked upset and then threw a bolt of black energy at his opponent, but it was intercepted by a shield.
Then the Nel reached close range. The necromancer had a wand in one hand and tried to bring it up, but the Nel’s hand snapped forward, hitting his wrist and making him drop it. He then used a few quick punches all over the necromancer’s torso before his tail wrapped around the man’s leg and pulled him to the ground.
The necromancer was disoriented and hit his head on the ground, but then the Nel came down with a single strike to his opponent’s head, ending the fight.
“Whoa,” Vall said.
“Clara, we are going to train you to become that,” Morgan said, impressed. The man was obviously a powerful fighter in addition to being a support class.
“I don’t know if I could,” Clara said in disbelief.
The winner was announced, and then the arena cleared.
“Fjordstar are real contenders. With them now using their support and winning, only their most powerful fighters remain,” Borodar commented.
“Yeah,” Morgan agreed.
The next few matches were boring by comparison, and a few dragged out a bit. Then the guards came and it was time for their next fight.
Borodar turned to Morgan’s team. “Good luck, my friends, but we will not be holding back!” He shook his fist.
Morgan grinned. “At least you can’t use Hexna.” Morgan winked at the woman.
“What?” she said, and the others chuckled.
Then they went their separate ways.
Once in their preparation room they discussed who they should pick.
“They will pick someone strong, you know that, right?” Vall asked.
“Of course we know, and we need to respond in kind,” Clara said, indicating that it shouldn’t be her.
Morgan agreed, but they came to a problem then: if they didn’t pick Clara and they passed, then they would be entering the semi-finals with a support still available. He was certain that doing so would be the end for them. But on the other hand, if they did pick her, they could stop here. It came down to their realistic chances of getting to the final, and with the teams Morgan had seen it was unlikely regardless.
Finally, he spoke out. “It should be Lucius.”
“Why?” Vall asked.
“The Vanguards are strong, and we all know much about each other. We need to send our strongest if we hope to pass.”
“If we send him, we probably won’t have a chance to reach the end,” Vall warned.
Morgan nodded. “Yes, but I don’t think we could’ve done it either way. This way, we will at least try to get into the quarter-finals.”
The others nodded, agreeing with his reasoning. When the guard arrived, Lucius walked out.
They rushed back to the lounge to watch, and the Last Vanguards, save for Vrshar, arrived a moment later. They looked at Sky Force and Hexna grimaced.
“Lucius?” she asked, and Morgan nodded.
“Damn, I was sure it was going to be Ves,” Hexna said.
Morgan shrugged and they turned to watch.
Vrshar and Lucius came into the arena, each now wearing their full gear. Lucius bore his lorica segmentata and his two swords. Vrshar had a similar getup; his armor was lighter, but he, too, had two swords—only his were sabers. From their talks, Morgan knew that Vrshar had at least an air alignment, but also that he was similar to Lucius, a combat specialist.
Ragnor asked them if they were ready, and then announced the start of the fight. The crowd whooped as both of them flew straight at each other, wind picking up dust from the floor. They clashed in the air, two whirlwinds of swords. The wind carried them around the arena and they fought in the air. Morgan saw blood splash in the wind, then again, as both of them cut the other. Their swords were moving so fast that even Morgan had trouble seeing them.
Then, suddenly, a burst of spherical fire surrounded Lucius, then expanded outward. It hit Vrshar, sending him tumbling down. Lucius remained floating in the air. His evolved class, when he hit level thirty, was now Thunderer: a step toward what he wanted to achieve in the future. His swords raised to the sky, he snapped them down, sending two wind blades at Vrshar.
The Gnoll created a shield out of thin air and blocked, but Lucius was already moving, swooping down as his swords crackled with electricity. They clashed and sparks flew to strike Vrshar. The Gnoll whined, and then kicked out with his leg, snapping Lucius’s leg back and making him lose balance. Vrshar then stabbed him in the shoulder, and Lucius retaliated with a stab at Vrshar’s thigh.
Vrshar jumped away, the wind carrying him away. Lucius shook his head and followed him into the sky. He stabbed his sword forward and lightning snapped up to strike Vrshar. The Gnoll moved out of its way, then stopped midair, catching Lucius off guard. Vrshar raised both of his sabers high above his head, and then for a single moment his arms bulged, nearly doubling in size. He smashed downward as Lucius came into range.
Lucius tried to block, putting his sword up, but the strike from the sabers was accompanied by a massive howl of wind—and Lucius shot down toward the ground fast. He smashed into the stone, and didn’t move. The chime sounded a moment later, and the healers ran out.
Vrshar came down to the ground as the crowd roared.
Ragnor yelled out. “Winner: Last Vanguards!”
Morgan closed his eyes and sighed.
They had lost.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
They were escorted down and into the he
aling room and asked to wait. A few minutes later, a healer approached them and led them to Lucius, who was lying on a bed and looked to be asleep.
“Will he be all right?” Morgan asked.
“Yes,” the healer standing next to his bed said. “He should wake up soon.”
Morgan looked at his friend. His gear had been removed and placed next to the bed. As he walked over and put it inside his inventory, he heard a groan and he turned around.
The others had all gathered on the other side of the bed.
Lucius looked around and then his eyes focused on them.
“Fuck, I lost, didn’t I?” he asked.
Morgan gave him a sad smile and patted his shoulder. “You did.”
“Vrshar stomped you,” Vall added unnecessarily.
Morgan shot him a look that shut him up.
Lucius covered his face with one palm and sighed. “I’m sorry. You should’ve picked Ves.”
“Don’t be sorry. You fought well—he was just better. I don’t know how well Ves would’ve fared either,” Morgan told him.
“How are you feeling?” Clara asked.
Lucius pulled his palm down and looked at her. “Like shit, but not because anything hurts. I really thought I could win. I didn’t even use my strongest ability.”
Morgan understood his point. Lucius had gained an extremely powerful ability when his class evolved, but he hadn’t had the chance to use it. Vrshar had used an ability powerful enough to win before Lucius did. It was the way that fights between ascended went sometimes.
“Don’t sweat it, we did well in the tournament. I’m satisfied. We gained rewards and we got some fighting experience, which is a win in my book,” Morgan told him.
“What now? We go home?” Lucius asked.
“Now we go and support our friends while they fight,” Morgan said.