Reflections on the Warpath - [An Isekai Progression Fantasy]

Lyra ran towards the trees, leaving Ezekiel for Akira.

Without Vega, the kid would've died in his second fight. She trusted him to get the job done.

A crunching boom thundered from the east. Lyra ignored it. She followed the crimson flashes, clanging metal, and bursts of flame flaring out from the jungle to the west. Drawn to the echoes of Jay's battle, and hunting after his opponent.

Dozens of twins, barely outlined in faint grey and seen by her eyes only, entered the rainforest. Each a potential future. They filtered through the trees, all hunting for signs of Amaya.

Panicked footsteps pounded into the jungle floor. Lyra caught a glimpse of Jay to her right. She ignored him.

Her perception narrowed onto only herself. Her future.

More twins poured out of her body, their ghostly forms thinning as Lyra strained her foresight. They leapt over roots, eyes scouring both the dirt and the trees for any clue to Amaya's location.

One died.

The rest vanished.

Lyra ran towards her death, tracing the footsteps her twin had cast mere moments before. She knew that Amaya would attack soon, exposing her location.

Lyra gripped both her weapons. Ethereal arms overlayed her physical ones. Hidden explosive power ready to react the instant a puppet appeared.

A piercing whistle sliced through the air.

Lyra dove to the ground, diverging from the future where she'd seen her own death.

A metal boot sank into the dirt. Lyra spun around and leapt towards the puppet. She'd seen this one before. Ironclad was one of Amaya's most used puppets, although the suit of armour had clearly seen better days. It stumbled away from Lyra, hobbling on a mismatched, bronze leg that had clearly been taken from another puppet.

Its right arm looked scavenged too, its lithe bronze form clashed with the bulky steel armour that made up the rest of the puppet. From the elbow down, it didn't even have a left arm.

Lyra speared her rapier into the joint by the puppet's hips. A twinned rapier instantly jerked aside, prying the two metal plates apart.

She wasn't finished.

The ethereal rapier shone bright orange from within the puppet. An explosion along its blade blasted the puppet apart from within.

Next came Lyra's axe. She slammed it into the puppets neck before an ethereal orange twin pushed further in.

It detonated, tearing the Arcane Knight's head from its body.

"Well done!" cried Amaya from behind. Lyra spun around as Ironclad's mismatched plates clattered to the ground. She couldn't tell where Amaya's voice came from. "New powers! I'm sure your big sister would be so proud that you're following in her footsteps."

Lyra pressed her stone-cold fingertips into her weapons, locking her jaw and refusing to rise at Amaya's mock enthusiasm.

Her eyes narrowed, scanning the forest for any sign of the puppeteer.

A red flash poked out from the canopy, arcane strings holding another puppet aloft. The puppet descended towards Lyra. Faded bronze limbs, like the ones attached to Ironclad, poked out of the puppet's purple cloak. Unlike its master, the puppet's hood was pulled back, revealing a mannequin's featureless face that stared lifelessly back at Lyra.

Five more puppets descended, all identical, all held up by glowing crimson strings.

When Amaya next spoke, her shrill voice emanated from all the puppets at once.

"I've been waiting for this moment."

Lyra glanced at each of the puppets surrounding her. An orange tinted twin slowly stepped out from her body, watching her back.

"So have I."

Akira stabbed Jiki into the dirt.

As much as he wanted to fight with both swords, he was far more comfortable with one. His new sword was far more than a simple blade anyway.

A prismatic longsword crystallised within Draeven's hands. The One Man Armoury marched forward, cutting off Akira's space.

Akira raised Juryoku in a cross guard, glancing at his other opponents as Draeven swung his sword down. With the numbers stacked against him, Akira couldn't afford to lose sight of his enemies. Against Ezekiel, one mistake meant death.

Crystal fragments splintered off Draeven's sword, prickling Akira's face with their microscopic barbs.

Akira parried the sword. He dropped his left hand to his quiver.

Draeven swung again.

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Juryoku rose to block the strike.

A one-handed block wouldn't hold forever. Luckily, it didn't have to.

Akira curled his fingers inside the spatial quiver. The cold, denatured steel of the mangled Conqueror's fist pressed into his palm. He drew the buried blade and flicked it at Draeven.

The gladiator aborted his attack. He leapt away and sneered at Akira's thrust from outside its range.

But Akira's attacks were never that one-dimensional.

He flicked the knuckles into the air and pushed on the steel itself, propelling the spinning electrons within towards Draeven's neck.

If Akira truly thought about what he was doing, he'd realise that not only was the attack impossible, but completely contradictory to everything Akira knew about magnetism.

So he didn't think.

He pushed.

Akira didn't have time for science anymore.

The steel accelerated. A quicksilver flash snaked by Draeven's feet, slicing through the grass as it streaked forward.

Damn.

Akira's focus pivoted to Ezekiel's oncoming blade. His push wavered. The Conqueror's fist slowed down as his control loosened.

Do I just take the hit?

Thoughts of Vega's final fight tore through Akira's mind. Ezekiel's skill stealing didn't seem as insidious as Amaya's human puppet technique, but Akira hadn't seen its full power.

He couldn't risk it.

Akira relinquished his push on the deformed steel knuckles. He reached out for Jiki and pulled himself back. Ezekiel's sword swung harmlessly through air as Akira accelerated towards his second sword.

Jay's old weapon continued its trajectory but without Akira's guidance or power the attack was toothless. Draeven jerked his head aside. The blade nicked his ear.

Akira caught his breath by Jiki's side. He glanced at Azrin, confirming the illusionist's location before locking eyes with Ezekiel.

The scarred swordsman barged into Draeven, ploughing him aside while the gladiator cupped his hand to his bleeding ear.

"You gambled your friend's life for that sword. Vega Twinstrike died for it. And now you stick it in the dirt?" said Ezekiel. His flexible sword returned to a slim but rigid duellist's blade. He pointed it towards Jiki.

"Well, if it's just you guys I'm fighting, then I only need one," replied Akira. He raised Juryoku in a flashy defensive stance and put on a fake smile.

Of course, that wasn't the real reason he'd embedded Jiki into the dirt. Akira still wasn't sure exactly what essence the sword used, but it was related to the essence of pulling. When used in conjunction with the essence of gravity, Jiki worked as a great anchor for Akira to manoeuvre the battlefield around.

Ezekiel must have known this too. Jiki's essence had almost certainly amplified Ezekiel's old 'soulsnatching' technique, but Akira played along.

More time talking meant less time fighting for his life.

Unlike the flashes of fire, ash, and lightning pulsing within the jungle, there was no trace of Lyra anymore.

She'd embarked on her vindictive crusade with little thought for Akira. Well little thought other than if he could enact her revenge.

'Can you kill him?'

Not can you survive, but 'can you kill him?'

Akira clenched his jaw, refusing to look back at the jungle. Instead, he stared down his opponents and dared them to fight.

Azrin met his challenge.

The illusionist brushed past both his allies, holding his curved sword out to one side.

In an even fight, Akira wouldn't think twice about defeating Azrin. The illusionist wasn't a terrible fighter, but Akira trusted his experience and perception to see past the illusions.

But experience and perception didn't count for much when he had to keep one eye locked on Ezekiel and the other split between Draeven and Azrin.

Akira matched Azrin's advance. If he stayed in front of Jiki, he'd always have a way to back out of an encounter.

He blinked. Another curved sword appeared in Azrin's off hand.

An illusion.

He blinked again, and then there were four.

A second set of arms reached out from the gladiator's shoulders, each new hand wielding an identical sword.

Akira knew they were just visions but that didn't make them feel any less real.

Ezekiel crept behind the illusionist, dragging his quicksilver sword over the grass. He wasn't close enough to attack yet. Behind him, Draeven stood resting. He fixed his eyes on Azrin with both arms raised, but made no move to throw another crystal spear.

Akira concentrated all his focus onto Azrin. The other two weren't likely to attack.

The illusionist now had six arms wielding six swords. They splayed out like a birdcage of blades as the illusionist ran forward, two steps away from swiping at Akira.

Now which one of you is real?

Akira focused on the two highest arms. The last two to appear. They rose up at a 45 degree angle and Akira reckoned they were the most likely to be illusions. Even lightweight swords were difficult to hold in the air for long; if Azrin wanted to preserve his strength for an attack, he probably wouldn't keep his real sword that high up.

Akira slipped his attention off the blades. He kept wary of them but his eyes had a more important target.

The shoulders.

Jay's old boxing trick worked outside the ring too, nobody could swing a sword without moving their shoulders first.

Akira raised Juryoku to block any incoming attacks and squinted at Azrin's shoulders. They barely moved as he marched forward. They didn't shake, or even droop under his arms' weight.

No chance they're real.

Akira blinked again, and Azrin had four arms once more.

Two down, three to go.

Azrin swiped both his right-hand swords forward. Instead of backing away, Akira lunged forward. Juryoku slipped down to his left, simultaneously guarding against both the swords Azrin held in his right arms.

They kept swinging.

Azrin attacked with his multiple lefts.

Four swords swung towards Akira, but he couldn't panic now.

Juryoku clanged into the lower blade on Azrin's right. The arm above it phased harmlessly through Akira's sword.

Found you.

Akira pushed Azrin's sickle-like sword aside, opening an avenue for attack. He shifted his body, twisted Juryoku towards his opponent.

Akira launched his counterattack.

A glimmer of refracted light stopped it.

Two curved blades swung at Akira's right flank. He blinked. One vanished.

The other morphed into a crystal dagger, Azrin's illusion fading to reveal Draeven's surprise attack beneath it.

Akira aborted his counter, again, and leapt back towards Jiki.

Too late.

The crystal dagger sliced through his kimono, jamming in between his bottom two ribs. Azrin released the dagger as Akira lurched towards his second sword.

Akira ripped the crystal blade from his body and tossed it.

Draeven yelled. The dagger exploded into millions of microscopic blades before it reached the ground.

Akira pressed his left hand against the wound. It wasn't deep, but it was a warning. He couldn't slip up like that again. Not against three people.

A deep sigh escaped Akira's lungs. He tried to keep his breath measured, holding back a heave. An injury was one thing, but Akira stood no chance if his opponents knew how tired he already was.

A burst of brilliant white electricity flashed out from the treeline.

Hopefully a killshot…

…and if it wasn't?

So what?

Akira rolled back his shoulders and puffed his chest into the air, wincing as he strained his injured rib.

So what if nobody came back?

So what if he had to do it alone?

I can't rely on others forever. Not anymore. Not in this life.

I'm already on my second chance.

Vega taught me how to stand tall and fight strong...

Time to make her proud.