Re: Tales of the Rune-Tech Sage

CH445 Retaliation I

***

The entire arena was stunned into silence.

One second, Sergeant Lopota was standing victorious—bathed in blood and glory. The next, he was impaled clean through by a single arrow.

The minds of those watching froze.

But not everyone.

The instant the arrow struck, Alex and his party reacted.

"[Great Heal]!"

"[Ice Wall]!"

"[Target Hex]!"

A warm golden light descended upon Sergeant Lopota, rapidly stabilising his shattered body. Almost simultaneously, a three-metre-thick wall of ice erupted in front of him, sealing off the line of fire.

High above, the masked assailant—already in the process of notching another arrow to finish the job—suddenly staggered.

A violent wave of vertigo slammed into them.

Their aim went wide.

The arrow they released flew wildly into the audience instead, sending spectators scrambling in terror.

The hunter forcibly shook off the lingering effects of Mordor's hex and tried to line up another shot.

But the moment was already gone.

Worse—

They were now the hunted.

Swoosh!

Silver loosed an empowered arrow of her own.

Sensing the incoming threat, the hunter twisted aside at the last possible instant.

The arrow missed—but not by much.

The sheer force of it cracked the hunter's mask as it passed, splitting it open and revealing her face beneath.

A woman.

At least… nominally.

Aside from her facial features, there was little that could be described as feminine. Thick, corded muscles wrapped her limbs, her frame hard and devoid of any feminine soft contours or natural endowments.

At a glance, she could easily be mistaken for a man.

"[Beast Totem: Bear]!"

Mogal did not hesitate.

A dense mass of violent barbarian energy exploded from his fist, surging straight toward the huntress.

Still reeling from Silver's attack and off-balance, she had no chance to respond in time.

Bang!

The force slammed her into the rock wall behind her with bone-crushing impact.

Her body crumpled and fell limply to the ground.

But even then, she knew she could not stay.

Forcing down a mouthful of blood, the huntress dragged herself upright, staggering as she tried to flee.

But it was too late.

Boom!

An axe came flying out of nowhere, piercing into her skull, before smashing her into the wall and pinning her in place by sheer force.

"Go!" Alex ordered.

Kavakan—having just finished the huntress—did not waste a second.

He leapt from the private box straight into the stands, the Fury knights following immediately behind him as the audience barely scrambled out of the way.

They moved with practised speed, forming a defensive formation around Sergeant Lopota and extracting him from the arena.

As the chaos unfolded, Alex slowly turned his gaze toward Rolfe and Bram.

"Whose?" he asked quietly.

But both men shuddered.

Alex's pupils had darkened to a crimson deeper than blood itself, and with it came the unconscious pressure of his bloodline—an overwhelming fusion of regality and madness that crushed down upon those around him.

Both men wasted no time.

"It's Brieger."

"She works for Brieger."

They spoke almost in unison.

Alex's gaze snapped instantly to the left—towards Brieger's private box.

There, his eyes fell on the man's face.

Brieger wore an expression of visible irritation. Whether he was annoyed that the assassination had failed, furious at the loss of a valuable subordinate, or seething over both, Alex could not immediately tell. But one thing was clear—

The man knew.

Brieger suddenly felt the weight of Alex's gaze and turned fully toward him. His irritation twisted into a mocking, provocative sneer, as though daring Alex to act.

Alex obliged.

"[Fireball]!"

Without the slightest hesitation, fire-elemental mana surged into submission. The spell formed instantly and shot toward Brieger's private box.

Brieger's eyes widened.

He had not expected Alex to break the arena's rules so openly and so decisively.

Boom!!

A violent explosion tore through the arena.

The inherently destructive nature of the [Fireball] spell made it devastating within confined spaces, and the private box was no exception. The platform shuddered violently, cracked, and then—after a brief, terrible pause—collapsed.

Bang!

The structure came crashing down onto the crowd below.

Screams erupted as dozens were crushed beneath falling stone and timber. Bodies were thrown aside, trampled, or pinned beneath debris as panic spread.

But Brieger and his men were not among the dead.

As ranked individuals, they had reacted instantly. The moment the spell detonated, they leapt from the platform, narrowly escaping before it collapsed entirely.

Using the thick smoke, confusion, and stampeding crowd as cover, they fled.

Fighting a sorcerer in a confined space was suicide.

And more importantly—

Brieger had no intention of engaging Alex in an all-out confrontation without first understanding who—or what—he truly was.

Every time Brieger thought he had grasped Alex's background, the youth revealed something that forced him to reassess everything.

As he retreated, fragments of the earlier battle replayed in his mind.

'Two sorcerers… and a priest…'

'All at, or close to, Gold rank!'

His thoughts jolted violently.

'Where did this monster come from?!'

Due to the rarity—or rather, absence—of Healers on Verdantis, Brieger—and most of those present—had mistaken Eleanor for a priest.

A young female Gold-ranked priest.

Such an existence almost certainly implied high standing within a deity's clergy. That someone of such status was married to Alex alone elevated his perceived identity severalfold.

Then there were the sorcerers.

Seeing even one sorcerer in Camp Red Rock was rare.

Two—serving under a single individual—was almost unheard of.

And what terrified Brieger most was not just their number—but their quality as well.

The stronger of the two was unmistakably solidly within Gold rank. And once again, that sorcerer was young… and one of Alex's wives.

Be it the 'priestess' or the 'sorceress', both women were talents that would be welcomed with open arms, granted the highest recognition and honour wherever they went in the known world of Verdantis.

That such women would marry a man—never mind share him with another—was itself a testament to that man's standing.

And then there was the man himself.

Alex Fury.

A youth who had, from his appearance, barely come of age, yet could casually quick-cast a spell powerful enough to threaten one of the strongest men in Camp Red Rock—and bring down an entire rocky platform that served as a private viewing box in the arena.

There was no doubt.

He possessed Gold-rank power.

'Gold-rank… at under eighteen years old.'

The thought sent a chill down the spines of all who had witnessed it.

Brieger almost regretted his rash actions—almost.

Meanwhile, Rolfe and Bram felt their earlier judgement solidify even further.

'We were right.'

'Only the "sky above skies" could produce such a monster.'

'There is no other explanation.'

While those thoughts echoed silently among the camp's two powerbrokers, the man at the centre of it all wore a deep frown.

Sending Kavakan down with the knights had proven to be a foresighted decision.

The weretiger's sheer presence—his terrifying axe and feral aura—was enough to force a path open as the recovery team moved through the panicked crowd with Sergeant Lopota's injured body.

People would rather risk being trampled in the stampede than stand in Kavakan's way.

The injured Sergeant was swiftly brought back to Eleanor, who immediately focused on stabilising his condition, pouring healing magic into him without pause.

Alex watched the process briefly before lifting his gaze.

The dust had cleared.

Brieger was gone.

"Go after him?"

To Alex's mild surprise, it was Havel—the usually languid followers whose presence he even often forgets—who volunteered first.

Alex turned his gaze toward the direction Brieger had fled.

"Wait," he said.

His eyes unfocused slightly, as if he were watching something beyond what others could perceive.

He remained like that for several moments.

Then—

He smiled.

It was not a warm smile.

It was the kind of smile that made Rolfe and Bram—who happened to witness it from nearby—break into a cold sweat.

"Let's not rush," Alex said calmly.

"He can't escape."

His companions exchanged confused looks. They had expected an immediate pursuit, before Brieger could regroup or fortify his position.

But Alex remained perfectly still.

Waiting.

And a few seconds later—

Someone arrived.

The strange shaman of Camp Red Rock's ruling Copper-skinned Orc clan stepped into their private box.

***