Immanent Ascension

“Gotta be fucking kidding me,” Kashtiliash said. He held his sword in front of him, the tip resting on the ground, the steel obscured by layers of gore.

Behind Xerxes, Katayoun exhaled in something that combined a whimper and a groan.

“Kat,” Gandash said, “can you cast Slow Death?”

“I don’t have enough melam,” she replied.

“Shit. Xerk, what about you?”

Xerxes, holding his sword like Kashtiliash, looked down at his component pouches. He had nothing but the residue of stibnite talc, but a full pouch of crabnickel powder. “Singular Lethality only. And I’m almost out of melam. But I have the breakthrough pill. And… Kash and I, we trained for fights like this. We have a special move.”

“Swordmasters’ Vengeance,” Kashtiliash said.

The gigantic female Abhorrent took another step. The other two joined her.

“Take the pill,” Gandash said. “And do the move. We’ll only have—"

The lead Abhorrent lunged forward, clasped her hands into a hammer fist, and tried to crush Gandash out of existence. He dodged to the side, landing on his side and skidding through the dirt as he barely avoided the blow. The monstrous woman’s hands crushed the earth where he’d stood moments before.

“Kash, there!” Xerxes barked, pointing at a spot a few cubits away.

Kashtiliash threw his sword into the sheath on his back as he ran to the spot.

The female Abhorrent stood straight, snarling.

Xerxes, ignoring his protesting muscles and weariness, lifted his sword and sprinted forward. Kashtiliash cupped his hands, and Xerxes planted his foot. He jumped, and the bearded mage heaved upward, giving him added momentum.

Xerxes shot straight up, bringing his sword with him in an arcing slash.

The blade ripped into the Abhorrent woman’s neck and sliced up through her jaw. The momentum, coupled with High Seer strength, ensured the blade kept going, devastating her cheek bone, cleaving her eyeball, and shredding through her forehead. She shrieked demonically as the blade flew out of the top of her skull, trailing black blood and gray organic material.

She lurched backward, swatting at him with her massive hand. It connected, launching him to the side, where he slammed into the ground and slid across the earth, barely keeping hold of his sword the entire time.

The giant Abhorrent spat words in her language as she stumbled to the left, reaching up to the massive wound going from her neck to the top of her head.

She took a step forward and waved her free hand. Her fingers became dozens upon dozens of white tentacles that shot toward Xerxes. That was when Kashtiliash slashed the tendon above her heel. The tentacles faltered as the giant woman dropped to a knee. She half-fell forward, just managing to use both palms to keep herself upright.

Ribs aching, Xerxes got to his feet just in time to lurch out of the path of another stream of white tentacles from one of the other Abhorrent. They curved around in midair and swept toward him again. He barely was able to swing his sword out awkwardly to sever about half of them. The unsevered portions backed away.

A loud thump was accompanied by a blast of dust as the first Abhorrent collapsed on her face and twitched.

“And that’s Swordmasters’ Vengeance,” he growled. But there were still two to deal with, and he felt weaker than ever. Jamming his hand into an interior pocket, he grabbed the breakthrough pill, put it between his teeth, and bit down. Instantly, a tsunami of melam coursed into his chambers of energy.

The Abhorrent closest to him, whose tentacular fingers he had just severed, stepped toward him. More white strands shot through the air. He swung wildly while jumping to the side. Most missed, but not all. One strand stabbed into his abdomen. Another grabbed his ankle. He felt himself being dragged across the ground.

At first, he wondered how he would form a third chamber of energy in the middle of the fight. Then he realized the pill was doing it for him. Not only was a massive current of melam surging into the depths of his being, but also, that melam was automatically performing a series of Flushes, while simultaneously building the new chamber walls.

Fifteen Flushes left.

He just had to survive long enough for the effects to play out. His back scraped on the ground as the Abhorrent woman pulled him toward her.

Katayoun appeared, slashing him free with her short sword.

“Get back, Kat,” he growled, lurching up onto a knee.

His eyes darted to the other side of the clearing, where Kashtiliash’s fists burned white as he launched wild blows at the other Abhorrent. Gandash had cast a spell. Two of the wolf-type Abhorrent were harrying the monstrous female’s ankles.

Twelve Flushes left.

He shifted attention to the one in front of him. Was this a stage three juvenile? Or four. Regardless, it was only a few weeks ago that he, Kashtiliash, and Teucer had struggled to take one down when working together. How could he possibly deal with one by himself?

One thing seemed clear: the brain was a good target. To get within range, though, he would have to get her head down lower.

Feet and ankles.

Trying to summon strength, he gripped his sword with both hands, ran forward, and swung at one of her ankles.

She lifted her foot, and his sword hit nothing. What was more, the blow threw him off balance, and he nearly fell.

Ten Flushes.

White strands flew through the air. But not toward him. Toward Kat.

He tried to fling his sword up to sever them, but it was too heavy.

Several of the strands stabbed into Katayoun.

Eight Flushes.

She screamed as the strands pierced her abdomen, thigh, and neck. He screamed too. The other strands wrapped around her. The Abhorrent sent her flying through the air until she crashed into a nearby tree.

Xerxes’ scream turned into a blistering shout as he slashed at the Abhorrent woman again.

Five Flushes.

This time, his sword hit the mark. It hit her thigh, biting into bone briefly before she kicked it away. The movement of her leg wrenched the sword from his grasp, and it twirled off to the side.

In his peripheral vision, he saw Katayoun lying motionless at the base of the tree. But he couldn’t go to her.

On the other side of the battle, the Abhorrent woman had Kashtiliash in both hands. She yanked at his right arm above the elbow. He screamed. She ripped it off.

Two Flushes.

Xerxes wasn’t able to see what happened to Kashtiliash after that, as the monster he faced aimed another kick at him. He dodged, but the foot still clipped him, sending him spinning in the air to land hard on his hip. More pain lanced through him.

One Flush.

A hand latched onto his arm. Another hand grabbed his opposing thigh. His stomach lurched as the monster pulled him up into the air. A moment later, he found himself face-to-face with the creature.

He could feel that his third chamber had completely formed. He was a Mystic now! Then, just as when he’d experienced his High Seer breakthrough, melam flowed into the chambers like a black hole. He felt his exhaustion waning slightly, and scattered bits of strength building up. It wasn’t going to turn him into a god, but it would let him fight for a bit longer.

The Abhorrent’s eyes were pitch black, her lips red, and her teeth like an animal’s.

“Plk melam-oth,” she said. A long tongue emerged as she licked her lips. Then she stopped talking and looked down at his midriff. She sensed the dramatic flow of melam, as her eyes widened.

He grinned. “Yeah.”

Pinching the fingers of his free hand into a point, he jabbed them toward her eye. The fingers pierced inside, and before she could react, he grabbed her eye socket. Black blood oozed out onto his fingers. She howled and released his thigh to reach her hand toward her face.

Pulling on her eye socket to get her face closer to him, he kicked out, and the toe of his boot hit her temple. He kicked again, while also yanking her head back and forth. She threw him.

He tumbled head over heels before landing flat on his back. It hurt, but his strength continued to build. He stood.

The now one-eyed Abhorrent woman threw her head back and roared.

Spying his sword to the side, he grabbed it. Slashed it at her knee. Severed the leg.

She toppled, and he hacked at her neck. Once. Twice. Three times. Five.

Her head lolled forward, black blood spurting out from the stump. He kicked the body to the left.

There was only one left. Her lips curled into a sneer as she threw both hands out in front of her. Dozens and dozens of tentacles shot through the air.

Xerxes knew he couldn’t avoid them. He couldn’t cut them away. Not all of them.

In two seconds, he would be stabbed through.

He threw his sword. There was no artistry to it. No technique. He just hurled the thing.

Even as the first white tentacular strands stabbed into him, the giant blade whipped end over end toward the female Abhorrent. Backed by the strength of a Mystic, it flew faster than anything an ordinary human could track with the naked eye.

More tentacles stabbed into him. His abdomen. His neck. His thighs. It didn’t hurt, but he knew that damage was being done.

The longsword stabbed into the Abhorrent’s open mouth, and the momentum of its spin caused the blade to cut down, sending cold steel deep into her neck and torso. The white tentacles went slack.

The Abhorrent woman stood there for a long moment, then dropped to her knees. Fell on her face.

Xerxes sagged, gasping for breath. He’d done it. Somehow, he’d done it.

Then a crashing sound reached his ears. Followed by another. He swiveled his head to the left.

Two more gigantic Abhorrent women had appeared. More crashing sounds. There were five total.

He whimpered. His sword was embedded in the corpse several cubits away. His arms were numb. Pain throbbed everywhere. Melam was still flowing into his three chambers of energy, but how could he possibly keep fighting?

He took a step toward the corpse and his sword. That one step took so much effort he didn’t think he could take another. But he had to try. He lifted his foot. The lead Abhorrent jumped, flew through the air, and slammed into the ground between him and his weapon. She laughed. He lowered his foot without taking a step. It was over.

Then a line appeared on her neck. A black line that went from one side to the other. A second passed, and the head tipped to the side and fell off the shoulders. Black blood fountained out of the stump. The massive Abhorrent tilted, then collapsed forward. The head tumbled across the ground like a ball, hitting his leg. He fell to the ground.

It all happened so fast he wasn’t sure what was going on. And he was too tired to get back up. He saw a figure with a longsword. Walking toward the other Abhorrent. He had broad shoulders.

The figure attacked one of the Abhorrent with a Sunrise strike, and despite the sweat in Xerxes’ eyes and the pain that thrummed through him with such viciousness he wanted to cry, he could tell that this person’s form was excellent. He studied the Epitome, and was very skilled. What was more, he had a fancy back sheath.

Who was it?

The figure attacked, dodged a round of tentacles, then lunged in for a stab.

The Abhorrent woman bellowed and unleashed a frenzied flurry of attacks with dozens of tentacular strands.

The swordsman jumped back, sheathed his sword, then reached to a component pouch. He traced a rune, and melam surged with force that surpassed anything Xerxes had seen from a High Seer. Darkness radiated from the swordsman’s hand as he jumped forward and slapped the Abhorrent.

“Purattu,” Xerxes muttered. He struggled to get to his feet.

Not pausing for a moment, Purattu cast the same spell again. Darkness again erupted from his hand as he cast Instant Death.

In Xerxes’ muddled state, it was impossible to recall how much life force the spell would drain, or how the effects would stack.

Xerxes closed his eyes in the hopes of gathering some energy. He heard fighting. The sound of Abhorrent dying.

He sat up and opened his eyes. Purattu obviously had the fight under control.

Katayoun.

Struggling to his feet, he limped toward Katayoun, who was still motionless beneath the tree.

You have to be alive, Kat. You can’t be dead from an attack like that.

Kneeling next to her, he leaned down and tried to spot signs that she was breathing. He saw movement. He reached out and put his finger to her neck. It took a moment to find the right spot, but he detected a pulse.

A bubbling groan reached his ears, and he looked over his shoulder to see that the final Abhorrent had fallen flat on her back. Purattu was on her chest, shoving his sword into her torso. When the woman reached up to grab him, he gave the sword a quick twist, then jumped away.

“Purattu!” Xerxes yelled. Or at least he tried to yell. His voice felt hoarse and weak.

The stocky mage hurried over. “Sorry I didn’t come sooner. Took a bit of fighting to get clear of the Gateway. What’s the situation?”

“Kat got stabbed and thrown. But she’s breathing. Can you help her?”

Purattu knelt next to Katayoun. He felt her pulse, tilted her eyelids up, and quickly checked to see if she had any other injuries. “She’s probably fine, but we don’t have time to wait for her to wake up.”

Now that he was close up, Xerxes noted that Purattu had three component pouches at his belt. Reaching into one of them, the stocky mage pulled out some green sand and traced a rune.

“Minor Restoration,” he said. He touched Katayoun, and healing melam flowed through her.

She shuddered, then opened her eyes. “What…?”

“You’re fine, Kat,” Purattu said. “Your other friends got it much worse, though. Gandash is unconscious over there. I don’t see any wounds, so we’ll get to him last. Kashtiliash, though….” He stood and walked toward the bearded mage.

Xerxes helped Katayoun to her feet. Together, they walked over to where Purattu was examining Kashtiliash.

“Is he…?” Xerxes asked.

“Dead?” Purattu said. “No, you can see him breathing. But this is a damn horrific wound.”

The sight of the bearded mage’s severed arm off to the side made Xerxes feel ill.

Purattu examined Kashtiliash for about thirty seconds. “I’m going to cast Major Restoration,” he said. “The component cost is more than double that of Minor Restoration. And it takes quadruple the melam. But without it, I’m not sure he’ll pull through. Give me his arm.”

Katayoun, the closest to the severed arm, gingerly picked it up and handed it to Purattu.

“Prepare to watch some real magic, ladies and gentleman.” Purattu placed the arm next to the gaping hole in Kashtiliash’s torso, so that the flesh touched.

Then he loosened another component pouch and took out an aqua-colored sand. When he traced the rune, it was obviously much more complicated than Balatu Isten. As the melam infused Kashtiliash, flesh and muscle came alive, reaching out to grab the arm. Squelching and cracking sounds caused Katayoun to look away. Xerxes, fascinated, watched as the spell reattached Kashtiliash’s arm to his body.

About a minute later, a groan escaped Kashtiliash’s lips.

“You’re alive, Kash,” Purattu said. “Can you hear me?”

Kashtiliash murmured something indistinguishable.

Purattu put his hand behind Kashtiliash’s neck and lifted him up. The bearded mage’s eyes opened. “What the hell…?”

Purattu grinned. “I wish I’d come sooner. But it looks like I still made it in time. Good thing I found it suspicious that a whole group of those fuckers just up and started running in this direction. Where’s everyone else?”

“Almost a hundred leagues that way.” Gandash pointed to the east.

“I see.” Purattu stood, then helped Kashtiliash to his feet. “In that case, we have some decisions to make. Some hard decisions.”

----

Note: "Swordmasters Vengeance" seemingly comes out of nowhere. In the edited Beta version, I went back and had the Swordmasters invent this move starting early in the "academy" arc. They practiced it a lot, but this is the first time they ever used it in combat. This is one of many changes made to the Beta version that didn't make it into my original draft.