Hyperion Evergrowing

Level up! Class [Adept of Self Restoration] is now level 12!

From healing your body from damage sustained in battle, while in battle, and coming out on top you have gained a level!

+1 to [Might] +1 to [Willpower] +1 free point!

New class skills available! [Extract Ailment] or [Delay the End] or [Life Orbs]!

Mana reinforcement progress 40%!

In the brief moments between battle Leif checked over the system messages he had received. There were new skills, none of which seemed immediately vital for him to pick immediately, though he didn’t have the time to thoroughly go over the impressions they gave. [Delay the End] was, judging by its name, something that could likely save his life in a pinch, but he wouldn’t pick it unless he felt it was necessary.

What he could do however, was put the free point he had gained from the level up into [Alacrity], bringing the attribute up to a flat seventy. He mentally commanded the system to close as the portal hub loomed into sight, breaking free from the mist, its sheer size making the structure unable to be fully hidden now that he and Marcus were closer.

The battle seemed strangely quiet around the building, the sounds of conflict distant and echoing ominously across the island. Leif saw why as Marcus’s hand landed on his shoulder, the man pointing to a thin strand of crimson connecting two hollow stone buildings. There were more, hundreds, thousands of them, they littered the area like spider webs, each almost invisible and razor sharp. When Leif focused, he could faintly make out the vitality contained within each strand.

“Blood.” He said aloud, stepping in front of Marcus and leading the way forward. “And there are people in the nearby buildings, quite a lot of them.”

A tall figure emerged from the mist, their hands clasped behind their back. They were human in shape, and their appearance would suggest the same, if not for the fact they were entirely comprised out of blood.

“Hello there.” The blood clone of Vevosis said, though its mouth stretched into a wide smile instead of moving in tandem with the words. The entity's face was much like that of the original, only the thing’s teeth were sticky and entirely crimson. It held up a crystal device, and only then did Leif realise that the clone itself hadn’t spoken, instead the Spire Head’s voice had come from the object it was holding.

“I’m afraid this locale is currently off limits. Students, please step into one of the nearby buildings, you will be safe within.” The shard of crystal projecting the voice glimmered, and the words shifted to a more dangerous cadence. “Invaders, you have made a terrible mistake attacking my island, but you will go no further.”

“It doesn’t recognise you.” Marcus said, hopping from foot to foot. “Hey! Will you stop us from getting to the hub?” The clone, or rather, the magical communications device shimmered once more, repeating the first part of its speech.

“It’s most likely a recording of some kind. Is there anyone else in our way?” Leif telepathically sent to Marcus. The [Seeker] raised a hand, and a moment later he shook his head.

“Possibly. I can’t sense deep within the portal hub building, but I think there’s only this clone between us and there.” He replied aloud.

“Okay. What are our odds of getting past this thing?” He sent.

Marcus chewed his lower lip, wobbling his head from side to side. Leif felt the man’s anxiety, his resolve, and more than a little confidence. They could do it, but they would have to be quick. “If we do this.” Marcus said, drumming his fingers against his leg and glancing behind them to see if any invaders were coming. “We need to get off the island before anyone realises what we’re doing. Also, we shouldn’t leave the people here undefended, so let's try to not kill this… gentleman.”

Leif shot the bloody copy of Vevosis an assessing look, his analysis attempt bounced and he rolled his neck. Something burnt in the distance, staining the mist a dull, smokey orange. The scion lowered himself, golden arms fanning out to either side of his body. The clone spread its arms as if imitating him, its grin widening, stretching unnaturally. Leif focused on [Alacrity] with his core skill, sharing the attribute increase with Marcus. Then he ran forward.

Immediately dozens of sanguine strands of blood lashed out towards him, the razor thin line flickering out of the mist. Mentally Leif saluted the clothes he was wearing, and plunged head-first into the crimson wires. They cut at him, blocked his path or wrapped around his limbs. Strips of fabric fell to the ground, and the distant sensation of damage reached his awareness. Golden arms dissolved where they had been severed, but new ones sprouted from his back and sides to replace them.

A wooden sword materialised out of his spatial ring, the weapon beginning to glow with amber vitality, reinforcing it against damage. Leif swung, and whatever bloody strand he connected with using the sword flashed gold and snapped. For its part, the clone had hopped backwards, orbs of red hovering above its head, each quivering as if in anticipation. A familiar cold sensation gripped Leif by the insides, but unlike back at the temple he could resist the clone’s attempt to seize control of his body. The bloody mimic of Vevosis could clearly copy many, if not all of the man’s skills, though to nowhere near the same level of power as the original.

Purple lightning flashed behind Leif as he charged forward, trading ten hits for every metre of ground gained. Arcane energy streaked overhead, surging towards the clone. A flowing barrier of blood materialised to protect it, but the lightning bounced off, jumping to nearby wires of blood, charring them, revealing them and in some cases destroying them entirely. The crimson orbs blasted forwards as the clone continued to retreat into the forest of strands, two aimed for Marcus, three towards Leif.

With the boost to his [Alacrity], Marcus danced between the projectiles, his eyes glowing, one arm wreathed in purple energy. Leif let the first orb detonate against his aegis, caught the second on a pair of crossed golden arms, and cut the third one in half. Blood sprayed, burning against him as the shield flickered and died, it seeped into his body, oozing between the tiny gaps of his smoothed out joints.

The cold feeling of his blood freezing within him seized Leif, but only for an instant. The red of the clone’s skills were drawn deeper inside him, were absorbed, consumed, converted. The clone’s eyes narrowed, the hand that was yet to let go of the communication crystal tightened its grip. Leif cut through the increasingly thick web of blood blocking his way forward, grabbing, slashing, ripping and tearing a path towards the portal hub. A bolt of arcane power raced by his head, the arcing bolt of lightning leaping between the strands of blood, burning a tunnel towards the entrance, and by extension the sanguine copy of the Spire Head.

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With a final leap forward an ivory fist grabbed the clone by the throat, smashing it up against the curved archway. It leered at him, deforming and bubbling. It looked less and less human by the second. Leif wanted to syphon it dry, to drain every drop of vitality from its being and throw it aside. But the clone wanted the exact same thing, its power trying to subvert, influence and control. Amber blood trickled down Leif’s body from a hundred tiny cuts, and that blood flowed up towards the copy of Vevosis, the clone’s deformed grin manic, its red eyes twinkling.

A single drop made contact with its form, and the clone shuddered, rippling like the surface of a pond. The crystal device flashed, then Leif smacked it out of its hand, the construct shattering against the floor. Leif pushed it back, then let go, releasing the clone to make distance. He could feel a tiny part of himself within it now, swirling among the mass of life-force within it.

“We need to go, right now.” Marcus said, neatly ducking under two strands of blood and side stepping past a third. Marcus glanced at the still bubbling clone, then he zapped it with his power, channelling arcane energy out of his gauntlet. The clone sizzled and spasmed, writhing as purple lightning coursed through it.

“I thought you didn’t want to kill it?”

“It’s a skill construct made out of blood, it can probably regenerate. I’d bet my… I don’t really own anything of value. But I’d definitely bet on it. Also, this attribute boost is amazing, I feel so light.”

Leif mentally cancelled [Benevolent Actions], feeling the slight amount of strain from using the skill. He shot one final look at the clone, then turned and ran through the halls of the portal hub. Behind him Marcus followed, grumbling about feeling sluggish. They passed dozens of students hiding within the corridors and hallways of the building, and the crowd only grew the closer to the actual portal they became.

A haggard looking member of faculty was shouting directions, trying to get the press of people, many sporting injuries, to move into the side rooms so that access to the portal could be made easier, but the sheer number of humans streaming into Dimid from the Pellus portal, and even some of the other islands was alarming.

“Shit, if it's this bad on this side of the portal, I can’t imagine how bad it will be on the other side.”

“We have to get through, somehow. Is there another way to reach Lutum?”

“Not if you plan on swimming several kilometres.”

“Damn.” Leif said. He focused his aura. If he couldn’t force his way through, he could step up and direct the flow of traffic.

===

People screamed as the Pellus portal hub quaked, shaken by the battle raging all around them. Roy had his arms around his sister, and was hugging her for dear life. He thought if he let go he might get swept up in the sea of people jostling for position, everyone desperate to get through one portal or another.

“I’m scared, sis.” He whispered into her shoulder. Lucia replied, but her words were drowned out by a loud roar and another world shaking rumble.

Someone pushed them from behind in an attempt to get passed, and whoever they were, their [Might] was high enough to bully their way forward. People shouted and wailed, some trying to follow the path being forged by the aggressive student.

“You need to stay here!” A guard was shouting. “There are attacks on all the islands, the safest place is to remain here!”

His words were immediately undermined as the ceiling cracked, a massive chunk of stone falling from above. It was blasted into dust a moment later, but the hole remained. A figure with chains wrapped around their arms and neck leered down at them, his eyes dull and lifeless. He raised a hand, pointing it downwards, towards the hundreds of helpless, trapped students inside the hub. Roy clenched his eyes shut as the sound of rusted metal scraping against rusted metal split the air. He screamed, Lucia screamed, a hundred voices all cried out at once, their wails only adding to the cacophony.

Through the pain and terror Roy opened his eyes a crack. He was the only one to see the man with the chains get swept away by a wave of oily grey water. With the man’s sudden departure, the sound vanished. But in his place was a pervasive, uneasy sense of otherworldly dread. It wasn’t much of an improvement.

===

Hera sprinted as fast as she could, platforms of light materialising under her boots with every step. The sea shimmered over a hundred metres below her, and dark clouds boiled ominously above. She reflected that it would be nice to have a battle with good, clear weather for once, but the enemy had likely picked to attack when they had specifically due to the cloud cover. That, or they had created it.

Republic ships floated along the coast of Pellus, and tempting as it was to turn back and pick them off, Lutum was in danger, and she had her orders. [Lightspeed Acceleration] triggered in its most powerful state, and her sudden increase in velocity made the air crack around her. The skill was powerful, incredibly so. Ordinarily the skill gradually increased her speed over time, but in the way she had just used it, the sheer speed it granted made fine amounts of control all but impossible. But she didn’t need control, she needed to move. With every second wasted, lives would be lost.

She sensed the approaching figure before she saw him, and the realisation of who it was almost made her sigh. It wasn’t one of Sabline’s wind elementals, the one that had been following after her to relay tactical updates on the battle had been forced to turn back due to the distance from its summoner. Zane, white hair billowing in the wind, eyes wide open and mouth blessedly closed, followed in her wake, his own flight made possible by the sword he was standing on, though the effort to catch up was clearly straining him.

“Hello there Hera, nice day we’re having.” Zane sent telepathically. He almost certainly had an item to allow the feat, because his singular class most certainly didn’t grant him that ability. “They picked me to help out with Lutum, I’m sure you’re grateful.”

She forced down her mix of irritation and relief, but didn’t respond, any words she spoke would be lost in the rush of wind. There were ten Blades, but only eight were present at the Academy. Two per-island had been the snap decision, and they hadn’t had time to sort out who exactly would go where. Her home island was clearly in sight now, though for anyone else it would be little more than a blur on the horizon. She sped up, partially to get there faster, partially to outrun the idiot on the flying sword.

“Woah, not so fast. We’re almost close enough.” Zane sent, and his telepathic message sounded winded. She didn’t slow, so he was forced to speed up. He dipped down below her, then pushed every ounce of speed he could out of his flying sword to raise himself before her. He drew the sword at his hip, and the sky before them cracked, blurred, changed. Space twisted as it was cut into, the world shifting around them as they dashed through the temporary gap.

Then they were there, a hundred metres above the forested hills of Lutum, the flashing of skills lighting up the ground below. Without missing a beat Hera conjured a panel of light before her, slightly angled upwards. She kicked off it, soaring upwards as she twisted, flipped, and conjured her bow. Upside down she created an arrow out of hardened light, drew back the bow, sighted a target, then loosed. Then again, then again. [Reaching Arrows] made the projectiles go further, faster, and travel in more complex ways. [Noble Reflexes] steadied her hand, helping her pick out targets. [Legacy of Battle], combined with her incredible ocular perception helped her find the enemy leadership.

Her [Aura of Gathering Radiance] skill condensed the light around her, empowering her skill constructs, and her [Hard-light Constitution] empowered her body to withstand the strain of doing so much, so quickly. Within seconds the sky was lit with a dozen streaks of light zipping down towards the island below, and the number only multiplied with every passing moment. A swordsman with twisted steel blades died as he kicked in a door and rushed inside, an arrow shattering the dormitory window and taking him in the heart. A flying storm mage looked upwards, their eyes widening in shock as their magic rose up to protect themselves. An arrow slammed into their skull from behind.

A trio of spider-like constructs, each the size of a small shed were crawling over a lecture hall. An arrow of light pierced all three in the glowing red crystalline cores they had hidden under their metallic carapace. A man with smokey wings dodged the two arrows she had sent his way, but was forced to blast apart the next five as he desperately back-pedalled. He blurred, then split into five identical copies even her perception couldn’t tell apart. Near the coast, figures glowing with amethyst light materialised from under the decks of every other ship, each wielding a bow larger than their bodies.

Perceptions locked onto Hera from all over the island, and more and more invaders revealed themselves. They weren’t as strong as her, but they had no doubt been hand picked for their abilities. Abilities that would allow them to check her in a fight, or counter specific skills she possessed. Someone had done their homework, that was flattering. These must be the individuals Sabline had reported as targeting specific Blades, a strategic move by their enemy that indicated significant preparation, intelligence gathering and coordination. Unfortunately the souls below her had miscalculated, or perhaps their leaders had. Because she hadn’t arrived on Lutum alone.

Zane let out a low whistle as he hovered up beside her, casually gesturing down with his drawn sword. “Should I take the beach? Cut off their retreat?”

“No. Protect the portal hub, those constructs are closing in on it..”

“As you wish, ninth Blade.” He said with a bow. Then he cut the air before him and stepped through, his flying sword tumbling through the sky, now absent a rider. Hera absent-mindedly tucked it into her spatial storage before it could fall out of her reach.