The smell of iron filled her nose and the taste of it her mouth, mixed with the acidity of her own stomach. The Iron Pills were needed as a catalyst, to help repair and reinforce her right arm and to shore up the tremendous Metallum cost for what she intended to do next.
With the two of them separated for at least a little while longer, she found herself watching and listening; Von Wickten either knew that taking potshots at her wouldn’t help, or he didn’t care to try taking that opportunity.
“Hrrrn… I defy you to explain what is wrong with possessing slaves, both of you!” he howled, his eyes darting around the room to search for the Lady in Red, who had just emerged from behind her shield of pillars. “Newman! Karmesin! Why do you pretend that this is not the rightful way of things? That we are able to capture and hold those weaker than ourselves and exert our will over them, is that not the purest expression of cultivation?!”
Zel could scarcely believe how genuine he sounded; truly, this man-shaped impurity tumor couldn’t process the idea of ever being in the wrong. She was willing to bet that he wouldn’t concede the point if she defeated him with brute force, that his talk of power was predicated solely on his own desire to exert power over others rather than any sort of real survival-of-the-fittest philosophy.
“We are not animals. A cold, beast-like world where weakness is a sin, where the weak exist to be exploited…” she began, only pausing to contain the rising disgust, to stop herself from veering off into a derisive rant… An effort in which she mostly succeeded. “That you hold such perverse ideals is only proof that you are hollow, that you so utterly lack in all else you feel the need to form your entire being around what power you can scrounge up and steal, knowing deep down that you lack what it would take to actually become strong.”
As the exchange went on, she willed her Tablet to send out a short-range message on Tablet-specific frequencies, effectively informing all four of her compatriots. It wasn’t an actual, worded message, but rather a mnemonic impulse signaling her intent to use a single, specific breathing technique; It was something that she had devised in the months after the Blue Moon War in her efforts to replicate the supremely pure and supremely concentrated form of Fulgur that she’d been imbued with when she had channeled the Living Storm, solely for the purpose of achieving a likeness of that same heightened state.
STORM CONQUEROR’S BREATH: SEVEN STEPS TO PETRICHOR
Type: Breathing Technique Support
Trigger: At-Will While Fog-breathing
Effects: Ultra-High-Purity Fulgur Synthesis
Advancement: Nourish Thundergods
“Seven gods, seven seals, seven steps taken on the path to truly usurp the heavens. This is the mountain-shattering triumph of scientific cultivation.”
Where Engine Breathing - and near enough every other breathing method - processed a breath once before proliferating it into the body as usable essentia, this method would pass a single breath through each of her seven Thundergods in sequence, gradually purifying and distilling the power produced until, at the end, would emerge a primordial storm-force purer than any found in nature.
With each metaphorical step she ascended one of her braids would come alive, each animated solely by the continuous essentia bleedoff from its respective Thundergod.
It was slow, impractical for combat use, and entirely impossible to conceal, producing bright flashes of lightning inside her chest and the unmistakable smell of ozone from the very first moment. Zel just needed to keep him busy for a short moment, being painfully aware of how difficult it was to actually begin the arduous breathing exercise, which she chose to snag by deceit. Another issue was that the breathing exercise took some time to complete, during which time her lungs would be almost completely occupied, with a single breath burned for another purpose setting her back. This was among the reasons for her transmission: A call for help.
“I shan’t justify myself to you! What do YOU know of how I’ve struggled, what I’ve given up for my post?! All these things you accuse me of, these demons, I’ve tried fighting them, but they never stop! These urges, they never subside - they only grow stronger as one progresses upon the Path of the Dragon! This alone is sufficient proof that what I am is the very embodiment of a true cultivator, that you are but a pretender!” came Von Wickten’s reply, accompanied by the redoublement of his efforts to smash down Red’s pillars, one which was patently successful thanks to the sheer bulldozing force of his tail. A pillar finally gave in under his force, and he grasped its crumbling mass in one hand, swinging it about in uncannily good synchronization with his tail and other claw as he tried to crush, slash, or otherwise kill Zelsys.
Dodging for her life as she loaded a fresh shell into her arm-cannon, she had already taken the first step: One of her braids had come alive, and the smell of ozone was about her. The pillar crumbled in Von Wickten’s grasp when he tried to swing it, and in his rage, he just smashed down one of the four stone columns of this chamber and grabbed it for a club instead, leaving Zelsys with enough time to take a shot at him, the slug embedding into one of his already-cracked scales, widening the gap. She leapt over a low swing of the pillar and jumped off it, just barely avoiding being splattered by a blast of flame, only for the entomodragon’s tail to come darting in… And to be smashed aside by a rapidly-rising pillar. Zel had already reloaded by this point, loading another Type-1 shell and firing it mere centimeters above the previous one’s spot.
The scale was completely split in half, now only held together by its attachment to its wearer’s flesh. As she worked her arm-cannon’s bolt, the Fog spraying from its exhaust port obscured her fall to the ground, where she took cover behind an intact pillar while she reloaded a Type-2 shotshell.
A second braid came alive. The stench of ozone in her nostrils overwhelmed all over olfactory sensation and minor muscles all over her body twitched incessantly at random intervals. She was skimming off the top of her Engine Breathing’s output to keep herself at a just-acceptable performance level, but unable to gather any meaningful amount of energy for a technique, she worked with what she had: The Impelling Arm, the armored kinetic dispersal harness which her gun was mounted to, recycled a significant portion of the recoil of any given shell into usable Pneuma, storing it in the pauldron. Two Type-1 shells weren’t much, but if she fired two high-powered Type-2 shells, she figured she’d have enough juice to do something meaningful enough to buy her the time she needed.
The pillar came down right by her side, and as she felt it coming, Zelsys took a chance: She burned the Pneuma stored in the Impelling Arm to cast Graze Pulse on the palm of her hand, intentionally holding it out. Von Wickten was nothing if not predictable in how he swung a weapon. She could scarcely contain her excitement as she felt the influx of Fulgur build, that familiar pressure behind her left eye. As Red uttered some sort of incantation over her Subcore, Zel just turned on a heel and sprinted headlong across the room as fast as her legs would carry her, sliding closeby right under Von Wickten’s left arm and firing her arm-cannon straight into his rear, the recoil sending her skidding backwards, her boots sparking against the stone floor and gouging it with their climbing claws. It produced less of a shotgun effect and more of a directed shrapnel explosion, potent enough to more or less evaporate several grown men or otherwise blow away armored knights with sheer force and volume of shrapnel.
At the angle at which she’d fired that shell, Von Wickten’s scales offered little protection, and a flood of hardened shrapnel burrowed its way right into his skin, breaking what little focus he had and forcing him to pay attention to Zelsys… Who was already all the way across the room by the time he got his eyes on her, much to the mutant’s howling fury.
“Fight me head-on, coward! Do you not believe in true strength when you are not the stronger one?!” he screamed, throwing down his makeshift weapon in petulant rage. He reared back, the ominous glow rising in his chest. Zel didn’t feel the need to answer him, instead only reloading another Type-2 shell. One more and she’d have a resounding answer. She only wondered if she could use this shell to directly negate his breath weapon… Its bolts didn’t move too quickly for her to react to, so she raised her arm and, poised to dodge at the last second, waited.
A bright-burning glob of congealed flame erupted from Von Wickten’s maw, but before Zel could try shooting it down, an iridescent, screaming beam smashed it out of the air, sweeping across the chamber and scoring a wide slash down the entomodragon’s chest before recentering on him, forcing him to raise his tail in defense, upon whose immense plates even this beam splashed.
It was Red.
CRITICALITY SIGN
SUBCORE EMBODIMENT
CRIMSON COMMAND: MASTER SPARK
As her beam began ripping into Adalbert’s tail, he turned to his true nature: Attempting to establish dominance through brute force. His chest erupted with light once more, burning venom dripping from his mouth, the flame seeming to sputter. Despite his foolishness, he at least knew well enough to constantly shift his tail and to move throughout the room to make it as difficult as possible for Red to hold aim on one spot. Not one to turn down a break in this situation, Zelsys willingly stepped back and watched it unfold; her third braid had already come alive, and she could feel the fourth’s awakening quickly approaching. She noticed a strange thing, besides Vic’s injured state: A faceless effigy of Red, still there right next to the young man, concealed by her blast shield, the Subcore slot in its forehead gaping and empty.
The Gu centipede emerged from Adalbert’s forehead, and as if answering a question only he could hear, he roared: “ACCEPT.”
The centipede extended yet further, so far that its “eye” could look into one of Von Wickten’s actual eyes. He stared it down, and answered again with a roar, shoving the centipede back in as he did so: “OBJECTION OVERRULED.”
He clearly meant to meet the Red Lady’s empyrean might with his own, brute kind of magic, the light in his chest rising to a blinding brightness as he came to a halt and dug his heels in.
ACCURSED SIGN
LIFE-BURNING FLAME
KODOKU RITE: BLAZE SCHNEIDER
An immense beam of bright-yellow flame erupted from Adalbert’s maw, his jaw opening far past any reasonable limit, the two halves of his lower jaw unfolding so completely they sat perpendicular to his chest… And Red’s Master Spark was not merely being pushed back, but split down the middle. Burning, caustic venom kept splashing off of Von Wickten’s flame, melt-burning pits into the stone it landed on. A look of satisfaction flashed across Red’s face, and with a gesture, her beam winked out. The venomous yellow flame blasted right through her chest, ripping a gaping hole right through where her heart ought to be, much to Von Wickten’s satisfaction and… Relief? He looked terribly relieved when he closed his mouth and put a stopper on the outpouring of flame; relieved and exhausted, out of breath even.
His relief was undermined by the bell-like chuckle of the Lady in Red, from whose injury erupted a deluge of iridescent Fog as the hole just closed itself, leaving nary a mark to suggest it had ever been there. From where she was, Zel clearly saw the injury being transferred to the effigy before it crumbled to dust altogether, the Subcore returning to Red’s hand.
“I’m the duke’s cohort, you can’t hurt me Adalbert!” she cackled. It was obvious she was just making things up, Zelsys recognized that tone anywhere, because it was a tone she herself used when she used this exact trick. “Did you really think you Dragon Knights weren’t implanted with failsafes against such treason?!”
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! Patrons gain access to up to 20 days of advance content, with further expansion planned for the future. So if you want to help fund my crippling addiction to commissioning art, consider reading a couple chaps ahead.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, or even leave a review. Reviews and ratings alike weigh heavily in the eyes of the algorithm (not to mention prospective new readers), so that pretty much means they determine the success of my work. A single review or even just a rating can noticeably influence the novel’s performance, especially when it has few ratings overall like this one does as of me posting this.
Same goes for review voting - the reviews with the most upvotes are the ones that most people will see, so you as readers decide which reviews are legitimate.
Discord for inadvertent spoilers from yours truly HERE.
The smell of iron filled her nose and the taste of it her mouth, mixed with the acidity of her own stomach. The Iron Pills were needed as a catalyst, to help repair and reinforce her right arm and to shore up the tremendous Metallum cost for what she intended to do next.
With the two of them separated for at least a little while longer, she found herself watching and listening; Von Wickten either knew that taking potshots at her wouldn’t help, or he didn’t care to try taking that opportunity.
“Hrrrn… I defy you to explain what is wrong with possessing slaves, both of you!” he howled, his eyes darting around the room to search for the Lady in Red, who had just emerged from behind her shield of pillars. “Newman! Karmesin! Why do you pretend that this is not the rightful way of things? That we are able to capture and hold those weaker than ourselves and exert our will over them, is that not the purest expression of cultivation?!”
Zel could scarcely believe how genuine he sounded; truly, this man-shaped impurity tumor couldn’t process the idea of ever being in the wrong. She was willing to bet that he wouldn’t concede the point if she defeated him with brute force, that his talk of power was predicated solely on his own desire to exert power over others rather than any sort of real survival-of-the-fittest philosophy.
“We are not animals. A cold, beast-like world where weakness is a sin, where the weak exist to be exploited…” she began, only pausing to contain the rising disgust, to stop herself from veering off into a derisive rant… An effort in which she mostly succeeded. “That you hold such perverse ideals is only proof that you are hollow, that you so utterly lack in all else you feel the need to form your entire being around what power you can scrounge up and steal, knowing deep down that you lack what it would take to actually become strong.”
As the exchange went on, she willed her Tablet to send out a short-range message on Tablet-specific frequencies, effectively informing all four of her compatriots. It wasn’t an actual, worded message, but rather a mnemonic impulse signaling her intent to use a single, specific breathing technique; It was something that she had devised in the months after the Blue Moon War in her efforts to replicate the supremely pure and supremely concentrated form of Fulgur that she’d been imbued with when she had channeled the Living Storm, solely for the purpose of achieving a likeness of that same heightened state.
STORM CONQUEROR’S BREATH: SEVEN STEPS TO PETRICHOR
Type: Breathing Technique Support
Trigger: At-Will While Fog-breathing
Effects: Ultra-High-Purity Fulgur Synthesis
Advancement: Nourish Thundergods
“Seven gods, seven seals, seven steps taken on the path to truly usurp the heavens. This is the mountain-shattering triumph of scientific cultivation.”
Where Engine Breathing - and near enough every other breathing method - processed a breath once before proliferating it into the body as usable essentia, this method would pass a single breath through each of her seven Thundergods in sequence, gradually purifying and distilling the power produced until, at the end, would emerge a primordial storm-force purer than any found in nature.
With each metaphorical step she ascended one of her braids would come alive, each animated solely by the continuous essentia bleedoff from its respective Thundergod.
It was slow, impractical for combat use, and entirely impossible to conceal, producing bright flashes of lightning inside her chest and the unmistakable smell of ozone from the very first moment. Zel just needed to keep him busy for a short moment, being painfully aware of how difficult it was to actually begin the arduous breathing exercise, which she chose to snag by deceit. Another issue was that the breathing exercise took some time to complete, during which time her lungs would be almost completely occupied, with a single breath burned for another purpose setting her back. This was among the reasons for her transmission: A call for help.
“I shan’t justify myself to you! What do YOU know of how I’ve struggled, what I’ve given up for my post?! All these things you accuse me of, these demons, I’ve tried fighting them, but they never stop! These urges, they never subside - they only grow stronger as one progresses upon the Path of the Dragon! This alone is sufficient proof that what I am is the very embodiment of a true cultivator, that you are but a pretender!” came Von Wickten’s reply, accompanied by the redoublement of his efforts to smash down Red’s pillars, one which was patently successful thanks to the sheer bulldozing force of his tail. A pillar finally gave in under his force, and he grasped its crumbling mass in one hand, swinging it about in uncannily good synchronization with his tail and other claw as he tried to crush, slash, or otherwise kill Zelsys.
Dodging for her life as she loaded a fresh shell into her arm-cannon, she had already taken the first step: One of her braids had come alive, and the smell of ozone was about her. The pillar crumbled in Von Wickten’s grasp when he tried to swing it, and in his rage, he just smashed down one of the four stone columns of this chamber and grabbed it for a club instead, leaving Zelsys with enough time to take a shot at him, the slug embedding into one of his already-cracked scales, widening the gap. She leapt over a low swing of the pillar and jumped off it, just barely avoiding being splattered by a blast of flame, only for the entomodragon’s tail to come darting in… And to be smashed aside by a rapidly-rising pillar. Zel had already reloaded by this point, loading another Type-1 shell and firing it mere centimeters above the previous one’s spot.
The scale was completely split in half, now only held together by its attachment to its wearer’s flesh. As she worked her arm-cannon’s bolt, the Fog spraying from its exhaust port obscured her fall to the ground, where she took cover behind an intact pillar while she reloaded a Type-2 shotshell.
A second braid came alive. The stench of ozone in her nostrils overwhelmed all over olfactory sensation and minor muscles all over her body twitched incessantly at random intervals. She was skimming off the top of her Engine Breathing’s output to keep herself at a just-acceptable performance level, but unable to gather any meaningful amount of energy for a technique, she worked with what she had: The Impelling Arm, the armored kinetic dispersal harness which her gun was mounted to, recycled a significant portion of the recoil of any given shell into usable Pneuma, storing it in the pauldron. Two Type-1 shells weren’t much, but if she fired two high-powered Type-2 shells, she figured she’d have enough juice to do something meaningful enough to buy her the time she needed.
The pillar came down right by her side, and as she felt it coming, Zelsys took a chance: She burned the Pneuma stored in the Impelling Arm to cast Graze Pulse on the palm of her hand, intentionally holding it out. Von Wickten was nothing if not predictable in how he swung a weapon. She could scarcely contain her excitement as she felt the influx of Fulgur build, that familiar pressure behind her left eye. As Red uttered some sort of incantation over her Subcore, Zel just turned on a heel and sprinted headlong across the room as fast as her legs would carry her, sliding closeby right under Von Wickten’s left arm and firing her arm-cannon straight into his rear, the recoil sending her skidding backwards, her boots sparking against the stone floor and gouging it with their climbing claws. It produced less of a shotgun effect and more of a directed shrapnel explosion, potent enough to more or less evaporate several grown men or otherwise blow away armored knights with sheer force and volume of shrapnel.
At the angle at which she’d fired that shell, Von Wickten’s scales offered little protection, and a flood of hardened shrapnel burrowed its way right into his skin, breaking what little focus he had and forcing him to pay attention to Zelsys… Who was already all the way across the room by the time he got his eyes on her, much to the mutant’s howling fury.
“Fight me head-on, coward! Do you not believe in true strength when you are not the stronger one?!” he screamed, throwing down his makeshift weapon in petulant rage. He reared back, the ominous glow rising in his chest. Zel didn’t feel the need to answer him, instead only reloading another Type-2 shell. One more and she’d have a resounding answer. She only wondered if she could use this shell to directly negate his breath weapon… Its bolts didn’t move too quickly for her to react to, so she raised her arm and, poised to dodge at the last second, waited.
A bright-burning glob of congealed flame erupted from Von Wickten’s maw, but before Zel could try shooting it down, an iridescent, screaming beam smashed it out of the air, sweeping across the chamber and scoring a wide slash down the entomodragon’s chest before recentering on him, forcing him to raise his tail in defense, upon whose immense plates even this beam splashed.
It was Red.
CRITICALITY SIGN
SUBCORE EMBODIMENT
CRIMSON COMMAND: MASTER SPARK
As her beam began ripping into Adalbert’s tail, he turned to his true nature: Attempting to establish dominance through brute force. His chest erupted with light once more, burning venom dripping from his mouth, the flame seeming to sputter. Despite his foolishness, he at least knew well enough to constantly shift his tail and to move throughout the room to make it as difficult as possible for Red to hold aim on one spot. Not one to turn down a break in this situation, Zelsys willingly stepped back and watched it unfold; her third braid had already come alive, and she could feel the fourth’s awakening quickly approaching. She noticed a strange thing, besides Vic’s injured state: A faceless effigy of Red, still there right next to the young man, concealed by her blast shield, the Subcore slot in its forehead gaping and empty.
The Gu centipede emerged from Adalbert’s forehead, and as if answering a question only he could hear, he roared: “ACCEPT.”
The centipede extended yet further, so far that its “eye” could look into one of Von Wickten’s actual eyes. He stared it down, and answered again with a roar, shoving the centipede back in as he did so: “OBJECTION OVERRULED.”
He clearly meant to meet the Red Lady’s empyrean might with his own, brute kind of magic, the light in his chest rising to a blinding brightness as he came to a halt and dug his heels in.
ACCURSED SIGN
LIFE-BURNING FLAME
KODOKU RITE: BLAZE SCHNEIDER
An immense beam of bright-yellow flame erupted from Adalbert’s maw, his jaw opening far past any reasonable limit, the two halves of his lower jaw unfolding so completely they sat perpendicular to his chest… And Red’s Master Spark was not merely being pushed back, but split down the middle. Burning, caustic venom kept splashing off of Von Wickten’s flame, melt-burning pits into the stone it landed on. A look of satisfaction flashed across Red’s face, and with a gesture, her beam winked out. The venomous yellow flame blasted right through her chest, ripping a gaping hole right through where her heart ought to be, much to Von Wickten’s satisfaction and… Relief? He looked terribly relieved when he closed his mouth and put a stopper on the outpouring of flame; relieved and exhausted, out of breath even.
His relief was undermined by the bell-like chuckle of the Lady in Red, from whose injury erupted a deluge of iridescent Fog as the hole just closed itself, leaving nary a mark to suggest it had ever been there. From where she was, Zel clearly saw the injury being transferred to the effigy before it crumbled to dust altogether, the Subcore returning to Red’s hand.
“I’m the duke’s cohort, you can’t hurt me Adalbert!” she cackled. It was obvious she was just making things up, Zelsys recognized that tone anywhere, because it was a tone she herself used when she used this exact trick. “Did you really think you Dragon Knights weren’t implanted with failsafes against such treason?!”
Akaso
If you’d like to read ahead, consider heading on over to the Patreon! Patrons gain access to up to 20 days of advance content, with further expansion planned for the future. So if you want to help fund my crippling addiction to commissioning art, consider reading a couple chaps ahead.
I’d also greatly appreciate it if you could rate my story, or even leave a review. Reviews and ratings alike weigh heavily in the eyes of the algorithm (not to mention prospective new readers), so that pretty much means they determine the success of my work. A single review or even just a rating can noticeably influence the novel’s performance, especially when it has few ratings overall like this one does as of me posting this.
Same goes for review voting - the reviews with the most upvotes are the ones that most people will see, so you as readers decide which reviews are legitimate.
Discord for inadvertent spoilers from yours truly HERE.
