NOVEL NEXT 2.12: Whispers
A hail of purple, ghostly projectiles flew at him, forcing him to abruptly change his trajectory as he considered his approach.
The onslaught wasn't stopping, and Ethan couldn't relax for a second as some of the projectiles behaved inconsistently. Some exploded into a mist of mind-addling smoke. Some tried to home in on him, while others burst into flames or exploded. At first, Ethan was bewildered by what he was facing, but quickly figured that the spells must have been taking something out of the implanted individuals and imbuing them into the projectiles.
An impressive and dangerous magic. The issue was that it wasn't stopping.
How was he casting so many of the damn things without a break?
Another barrack was ripped to shreds as Ethan flew around it. The fact that the tier-2 wasn't running out of mana was understandable, but casting so many spells back to back without breaks? It took Ethan a couple of seconds to cast fireballs back to back, but this man was sending three spells out every second. Ethan had counted, and while the man's smile had faded a minute ago, he didn't seem to be straining much.
The tier-2 was annoyed, of course. He kept twitching and talking to himself, though Ethan could only see the lips moving, but he couldn't focus too much on just one opponent. Glancing down and around, he scanned the smoking, burning camp. Ever since the start of the assault, Ethan hadn't been hit by another crossbow shot, which told him that the individual had either got the hell away from the fight or he was waiting for him to lower his guard.
Ethan whipped an arm out and sent all three of the fireballs on his crown toward the tier-2. He didn't bother using the wand anymore. Even though his Prime wand allowed him to punch spells aside, the sheer number of them ended up blowing up the fireballs. The Prime wand's ability was not limitless, so he was better off not wasting Essence.
He basically needed to close the range.
Ethan dipped low before he flew high once more, spells trailing after him. It was an amazing exercise to improve his flight. But he couldn't enjoy it, not when he could guess where the variety and the prodigious amount of mana were coming from. Not when he knew why the prisoners he'd freed had been so gaunt and lifeless.
Ethan dropped out of the sky, banking sharply to the left as the whispers and wails flew above him, surprising the armadillo-man from the sudden change of direction. He hadn't forgotten about him, but while Ethan would address the tier-2 in a second, he would rather not have any other threats to distract him. Especially considering the man was trying to inch his way toward his boss.
Maybe blasting all those spells would tire him out, he guessed as red-runes shone across the lance.
The armadillo-man crouched, elbows raised to guard his neck, and Ethan inhaled deep, drawing on the mana toward his throat as he swooped closer. Air rushed about him, and his target grew larger in his sight while the purple projectiles whistled by and at the last second, he dismissed the wings and dropped down into a thrust.
The lance met the plates on the man's stomach, metal meeting the incredibly tough hide, and the hide cracked first. Not by much, but the give was good enough for the lance head to sink half an inch or so. Ethan triggered the explosive charge and followed it up with a literal roar as he let out the breath he was holding into a narrow jet of intense fire.
Cutting off the flow to [Breath Gland], he sprinted to the right and jumped up in the air, wings unfurling again as the ground was torn up behind him from the purple spells of the tier-2. Ethan circled, a surprised frown on his face as no notification came through.
No crossbow bolts either. I think he ran, Ethan thought as he gazed into the clearing smoke. The armadillo man was finally visible, curled up in a smoking ball with his hands around his head, screaming with wild eyes as purple light crackled along his charred flesh.
Ethan swooped down to finish him off, and one of the purple projectiles suddenly swerved away from its sibling. Ethan rolled away, eyes still on his target, but the projectile banked toward him and before he could re-adjust, it cracked him in the joint of his right wing, breaking the bone and melting a hole into the leathery membrane.
Ethan grit his teeth from the pain that flashed into his chest as the spellform was broken, and his brows furrowed as the gibbering, plaintive whispers filled his ears. As he fell down toward the armadillo man, he felt a bout of nausea steal over him, and if his resilience hadn't been as high as it was, he was sure his vision would have been swimming.
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But it was high enough, and the discomfort was not enough to distract him from finishing up the job.
Ethan landed with a thud and lunged, thrusting the lance's point through the man's unprotected side. The dark, pearlescent spear-tip punched through the thinner hide, and triggered the explosive effects once more. When the notification rang in his ears, he sprinted to the side and began closing the distance with the tier-2.
The projectiles tore through the wooden walls of the last barrack as Ethan ran around the building, wood cracking and crunching behind him as he took a sharp look around for the crossbow-wielder before he accelerated. Activating the ability of the Horns of the Juggernaut, Ethan broke out from cover as the barrack crumbled behind him.
A haze of golden light glittered about him, overlapping the protective flames dancing along his bronze scales as the horns shone with an ominous red light. His body felt sturdier. Heavier. Ethan sprinted in a straight line toward the tier-2 man and without pause, he braced, arms raised as the wand was pointed at him.
Then the purple spell hit.
In and by itself, the impact did practically nothing to his momentum. With the weight given to him by [Draconic Skeleton], coupled with the magic-sapping power of the [Scales of the Bronze Dragon] and the empowered speed and toughness of the horns, the physical damage of the purple spell was as effective as spit impacting an oncoming train.
But what if the spit was corrosive?
Something seeped into his forearms as Ethan's scaled feet cracked the cement below them. He was only a few yards away from his target, but more and more of the purple magic hit him, and more and more of it seeped into his body, slithering past his scales.
Into his soul. Into his mind.
Whispers. Wails. Purple lights were now at the edges of his vision. It somehow felt like they'd been there forever, and they pulsed, growing more prominent every time the spells splashed on his arms and body. A certain numbness came along with the altered visioon, driving a chasm between himself and his senses, as if the magic was creating a layer separating his spirit and consciousness from his flesh, and at the center of it all, two purple eyes, twisted into a maniacal mask of anger.
The voices, the… madness was making the last few steps feel like miles. But while his eyes wanted to slide away from his target, while even his thoughts staggered, something within him didn't budge. He met those eyes, and he refused to look away.
And most importantly, he refused to stop.
Ethan roared, the air igniting around him as he drew on the spirit of his path. On the energy he felt deep within him, the ever-moving, raging river that symbolized his stubbornness and single-minded purpose, and instead of letting that energy suffuse his body, he pulled it deeper still, surrounding his heart and spirit against the unhinged laughs and wails that wanted to encroach on everything.
The noise disappeared instantly as the energies of the Zenith state coursed through his soul, and Ethan lunged, [Draconic Caws] burning as they tore the air toward the man's chest. The tier-2 tried to dodge to the side, but Ethan did not relent, and with a twist, he swiped with his other hand, extending the claws so that every talon was nearly twelve-inches long.
And he got him.
A snarling grin spread across his face as Ethan felt the claws cut into the man's flesh before his momentum carried him past him. Ethan collided with the cabin in an explosion of wooden debris and quickly, he deactivated the Zenith state, saving whatever remained of it and instead, he activated one of his traits.
Scorching Ascendency spread out of his chest and down his limbs, instantly filling his body and soul with strength as if he'd just imbibed a burning hot, honeyed and spicy elixir. His flames surged along his scales, the latter growing thicker. His bones grew heavier, and mana surged into his chest, his capacity to both hold and regenerate suddenly empowered.
Ethan tore himself out of the debris, and breathing deep, he scanned for his target, quickly finding the tier 2.
The disfigured man had the purple wand raised in his right hand, while his left was laying at his feet, fully severed. The man's ribs and severed nub pulsed with purple magic, the flesh bubbling and squirming as red and purple blood seeped out, and Ethan bared his teeth as he started walking.
Fast healer, he thought as he began filling his lungs with air.
"Who…sent you?"
The man's voice was halting, echoing as the mouth across his body spoke at the same time as him. Not all of them spoke with him, though. Others let out breathy moans, begging for help, or just laughed. A joyless thing that made his hair stand on ends. As for the eyes, they swiveled about, some staring at him, while others frantically looked in all directions. The man's own stared at him. One was fully purple, staring at him, while the other had gone completely white.
"Is it… the general? Did he send you? You… You are… no…sol—"
Ethan opened his mouth and engulfed the abomination in flames.