Mythshaper

My sword ruptured the wiry wing of a corpse fly as its claw ripped through my sweater, grazing my flesh with bitter pain. Even though the damage I dealt was far greater compared to the wound it inflicted on me, I did not possess the impenetrable defence of the [Band of Protection]. I could not fight them with wild abandon as I had done before. Thankfully, the lesson came cheaply.

The common corpse flies could barely scratch my skin with my physical attributes. Unfortunately, the ones that remained within the hallowed dome were mostly the Prestigious class equivalent of these cursed creatures. Their claws could rip through my flesh if given a chance, and the less said about the life-sucking palps, the better.

Most of the warriors had fallen prey to them. Not only did the palps swallow the very spark of life, they drained any power we could muster to fight back. So no matter how fragile a corpse fly was, it was always a harrowing experience fighting them.

With my Zone of Influence and Will engaged in keeping the ward standing, I could not move further than a few metres, nor could I implement any shaping. So swordmanship it was.

Hunting a corpse fly was as simple as hunting the devourers. Unfortunately, simple did not always mean easy. Like the devourers, the corpse flies had the exact weakness, while having even less resistance to arcane or physical attack. That should have made it easier to hunt the blighted bats, if only they did not evade every single attack.

Even with the levitation boots, these cursed bastards eluded half of my strikes. It always meant letting them come unnervingly close to me to deal a blow to their wiry wings. So long as I managed to hamper their flight, hunting them became more manageable. Still not as easy as Mum made it look with her essence threads shredding through their numbers like scrap paper, but it was feasible.

My sword dug into the chest of the fly whose wings I had ruptured. Even with the sword stuck in its torso, it rampaged, lunging at me despite all my attempts to end it. It was only after its claws raked into my flesh a couple of times, and I tumbled over, that I finally seized a moment to end its misery.

I wished aura enforcement came naturally to me. Like essence, it too required Will to employ, and while the battle within me had soothed considerably, most of my will was still engaged in taming the raw essence. All I could manage for now was to gather my aura and wrap it around my sword in a flimsy attempt at enforcing its sharpness. I really need a quick aura lesson from Father right now.

At least enforcing it over my form came easier. It was still crude, wrapped over me like a layer of skin. The massive flies were breaking through the defence with ease. Hell, their claws did not even have to grip me. Even a swat of their wings disrupted the aura flow. Enhanced aura or not, my accomplishment in it was clumsy to say the least.

Well, it saved me from one blow, leaving me with just enough time to either mount my own attack or evade.

With all the fighters present, other than Uncle Dalin and Magnus Julius Daenerys, nobody seemed able to pull their weight against the remaining corpse flies. Headmaster Larius had fallen unconscious after a bunch of corpse flies sucked away his life force, whilst Old Rowin was barely holding on.

I remained close to protect him, even though Delric was there, defending him. I joined him, our swords mirroring the same movement, swatting away the repulsive creature. My eyes met his for the briefest of moments—I thought, though I could not be sure with his helmet on. My gaze drifted to his sword, which shone with auric radiance, glittering smoke threading about it.

"Any tips on aura manipulation?" I asked, launching myself to chase after the disoriented monster.

"Yes," croaked my sparring partner. "Concentrate and pour all your raw emotions into it."

"Emotion?"

"Yeah, fill it with an utter rage that can only be quenched after it kills the monster."

I deliberated over this, unsure how that would even work. Pouring emotion into aura? While both were real, it was not like mixing drinks. Unfortunately, even if I wanted to try that, all the emotions I could muster were fear and worry for my mum and father. The deaths all around me filled me with anguish, but I did not know how that would help.

The crackle of thunder had ceased outside. I did not even see flickers of aura resonances or any glitters of essence weaving. Only a chilling calmness remained, obscured further by the storming wind.

The apprehension made the enforcement worse, so I quickly pushed those thoughts out to reaffirm my grip on my aura. Then a chill ran down my spine. Unconsciously, I flew away tens of metres ahead, and finally saw the demon I had prevented from raking its claw into my flesh. The only problem here was that the Haste had thrust me to where the corpse flies festered. There were still dozens of them, half of them possessing elite class strength.

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As I navigated through them, the demonic bats gave me no chance to retreat, jerking towards me in a mad dash. The single lapse of concentration forced three large flies to block my path. They were riled up after we had picked apart their numbers one by one, neither letting them feed on the people nor letting them leave.

A corpse fly crashed into the barrier as I ducked under its wing. The blade cut into the wings of another, though barely leaving a flesh wound that did not impede its flight. Twisting in its path, it shot at me. I flew higher to dodge. Thankfully, I had already noted the couple of demon flies waiting, as Haste accelerated my pace to avoid their demonic claws or life-sucking palps, whilst the blade cleaved through the wings of the smaller counterpart.

Finding my Influence growing thinner and thinner as I drifted away, I turned and made my way back to the section. The foul bats plunged at me from all directions, and all I could do was evade them. Sometimes by a few metres, and many times by only a hair's breadth. Any attack from my end proved useless, as I could not utilise my essence, while my aura was flimsy at best, besides protecting me.

Then, unbidden to me, the threads of trajectories appeared. Each corpse fly carried four or five of them. The direction from which they were coming, their eventual turn, and obviously their lines of attack.

For creatures of such strength and speed, their patterns were largely elementary, easier to predict. I guessed that was why they appeared now, after I had gotten through all the tumble of subconsciously recognising their patterns. Even still, my sensory nerves were bombarded with information, as over a dozen corpse flies settled their gazes upon me.

It appeared they decidedly did not like a wingless creature joining them in the air. Dozens of gleaming strands locked onto me, impeding my path, as their psionic chorus blasted at me.

The [Bell of Somnus] protected my mind, as the levitation boots hauled me higher. I twisted and turned through their ranks. My sword cut through some of the lines, but only the lesser of the corpse flies were intimidated by it, whilst even a single bump of their wings or their horrid forms disrupted my flight. Only Haste saved me from their clutches.

Thankfully, I did not have to worry about overspending my essence. The only thing of concern was that—

A tearing force crashed from my blind side, flinging me right back to the cold, hard ground. The levitation boots and gauntlets failed to disrupt the crashing force. My instinct screamed to summon my Influence and my essence threads, but I reined in the thought.

The ground was solid as concrete. It bounced me up a couple of metres, sending all my sensory nerves into disarray.

Worse, the corpse fly did not waste time ceremoniously at all. As soon as I managed to acclimatise my sense of direction, it swooped down to stick its life-sucking palp into my torso.

***

A world of darkness cascaded in all directions, obstructing not only her eyes, but even her domain of consciousness. Ashlyn spread it far and wide, and only met with the perpetual darkness, where only the dark tendrils twisted about, caging her in.

"Jinn?" she croaked, her voice as bare as how defenceless she felt.

"Jinn?" the darkness returned in a low whisper, like wind through a creek.

Ashlyn vaulted over, traversing dozens of metres within the blink of an eye, as a jagged shard of darkness forked out to penetrate the space she had left behind.

She swallowed a frigid breath, clutching her war axe tight.

The darkness twisted, its tendrils drifting, strengthening to point their jagged edges towards her. She was like a bird in a cage, and the owner was a sick, sadistic demon. The splinter edge of darkness closed on her from all directions, like being swallowed down through barbed teeth.

She sprang into motion, evading as many as her ability allowed her to cleave her axe at the rest. She could not see them at all; only her domain of consciousness could identify the harrowing fangs.

For the larger part of her life, her magical senses had always been sharper than her sight, and it was only through that she managed to defend herself.

Unfortunately, there was no end to the attacks. Her essence threads sprang out, thrusting with unreserved force, but the eternal darkness swallowed the golden radiance before any of it came to fruition.

"There's no one to protect you here," the voice boomed with all its imperious nature.

More cracks and dents etched themselves on her golden armour, as the domain of darkness clenched its fangs around her, the darkness invading through the cracks of her armour to draw fresh blood.

Ashlyn clenched her teeth, her soul ward springing out. Already overdrawn from all the exertion, the runic chains revolved around her, driving away the darkness and its jagged claws from invading her.

"I wonder," the daemon's voice echoed from all directions, "for how long you can endure."

Ashlyn tried her best not to be intimidated by the theatrics. It would have been so much easier if she only had herself to worry about. The darkness that invaded her already made her feel fragile and defenceless from all sides. Her golden essence barely managed to keep it at bay.

She snarled at the daemon. She could not see it, of course, but that made little difference. In this place, the Ash Lord was ever present.

"Still not exposing the star phoenix blessing," the daemon cackled. "Perhaps I have gone a little soft on you...

"Not anymore."

The darkness beneath her feet rumbled and swallowed her feet knee-deep. Ashlyn jerked and twisted, channelling all her force to break free. It was to no avail. The darkness clung to her like quicksand, its presence adamant and unshakeable.

But what was more worrying were the tendrils that invaded through her defence and crept their way into her system. Ashlyn thrashed and groaned, revolving her essence in wild abandon, but with each moment, it became increasingly more difficult.

Whilst she struggled, drowning in the chthonic darkness, an illusory figure appeared before her, its palm reaching out towards her face.

Even with the enchanted metal covering her face completely, Ashlyn felt the chill spread across her cheek as it touched her. The face of her helm fell away, exposing a wretched exterior.

In all the darkness, she only found a pair of smouldering eyes, gazing at her with undying hunger.

Dread crawled up her heart, the solemn mask of her exterior lost in the impending doom.

The daemon's claw was about to trace a line on her cheek when her soul ward flung it away in defiance.

"Still defiant." The darkness quailed at the voice, as the macabre figure became more prominent. "It seems I can only break you now."