CHAPTER SEVENTY

  Through an obscene amount of experimentation, he’d come to several very interesting conclusions. Both on the nature of life energy, and how it interacted with his talisman craft. The most pertinent of his discoveries being, that, when combined, the two were extremely volatile, deadly dangerous, and decidedly hostile towards his eyebrows. The very first time he’d powered a scorching talisman with burning life energy, the explosive wave of super heated air had very nearly melted his face off.

  That particular pair of eyebrows merely the first in a long string of casualties…

  In essence, life energy allowed his lesser runes to punch up a tier in terms of potency. Lesser runes packing as much destructive power as their basic runic counter parts. Though, given the nature of the scarlet energy, there was no delayed reaction, or order of operations to speak of.

  Effectively turning his talismans into a grenade which exploded the second he pulled out the pin. Though, in practice, it was more like a brief field of aspected mana which flared brightly, powerfully, before dying all at once. Effectively making it something of a double edged sword.

  Because while, on the one hand, the second he ignited the life energy, all the runes drawn on the talisman went off simultaneously. On the other, the second he ignited the life energy, all the runes drawn on the talisman went off simultaneously! Irregardless of where or how they happened to be oriented. To create a similar effect, without short circuiting the entire thing, would require such a convoluted sequence of runes as to barely be worth the time or effort, let alone all the paper and ink.

  And, if it weren’t for one thing, it would’ve remained nothing more than an idle curiosity.

  The impetus rune had always been something of an outlier, in so far as the others were concerned. It wasn’t force, per say. Nor was it acceleration. It wasn’t even movement, really, so much as it was a transition from one state of motion to another. Whether that be sitting at a standstill, or already moving at a fair clip. Impetus, for all intents and purposes, was the kick in the pants which ran roughshod over the status quo.

  The invisible force which lit a fire under the plodding march of forward progress.

  In retrospect, the similarities were almost obscene they were so obvious. In conjunction with acceleration, impetus transformed these uncontrolled eruptions of power, into rocketing projectiles. While the burning of impetus itself actually had a multiplicative effect on the effects of ignited life force.

  The end of the charcoal colored talisman flapped in the wind. The bloody glow of its arcane scribbles staining his fingertips red where they maintained purchase. For the briefest instant, it was as if the world itself were holding its breath. Before, with a sharp…

  CRACK!

  The demonic looking talisman vanished in a flash of crimson fire.

  To put it in laymen’s terms, impetus, plus life energy, plus a whole crap ton of runes, equals leaping elemental force wave go boom.

  The talisman was consumed, his fingers were mangled, and a focused cone of runic pandemonium streaked forth like a homing missile.

  Which, on paper, sure! It sounds great! All well and good, in fact! Of course, that’s only while laboring under the rather pertinent assumption that I’m actually allowed to hit anything!

  His sparking, crackling, and otherwise calamitous brainchild tore through the air like a homing missile, only to whiff completely when that gods forsaken Priestly Beggar was shunted away—yet again!—just in the nick of time.

  The wave of force going on to impact the ravine wall with a grand detonation of stone and lichen.

  Richard growled. The lousy healer, meanwhile, appeared somewhere else mere moments later. Whereupon the balding shadow wraith—with his moth-eaten sack for a clergyman’s robe—immediately began healing those of its cowardly companions who’d retreated to the back line.

  It’s almost bitter sweet, this feeling…

  The fact that he finally had hair in which to tear out in frustration, yet circumstance, the vindictive wench, still insisted on making things difficult.

  Resetting the bones of his hand with his teeth, he saw the blade flash before the attack had fully registered. Richard plucked a random sword from his leftmost spatial ring. A gleaming, jewel encrusted monstrosity intercepting the downwards swing of the longsword with a reverberating…

  CLANG!

  Their brief clash sending a shower of sparks flying. Blades locked, the two strained for leverage. As they did so, Richard found himself staring up into the dull black eyes of the human-like wraith. The guy’s long hair spilling from his loose ponytail to caress the stubble shading his square jaw. The muscles of said jaw currently clenched with the exertion. Arms trembling from the strain.

  Richard, for his part, retrieved another mana crystal from his storage, bit down on it by way of compromising its structural integrity, before dropping it to the ground where it vented mana like a pressurized leak.

  They parted. Lunged. A series of strikes exchanged in rapid succession, with Richard placed on the back foot from the very beginning. He backpedaled. Parried. Good leverage adding to the aptly nicknamed “Sword Guy’s” heavy blows, while the wraith’s footwork was nothing shy of impeccable. If he let him, Richard was sure the wraith could’ve run circles around him. Not that he would have, mind you. You know, were he ever given a chance to breathe, that is.

  “Hey teacher? What’s the eta on operation dance?! Anything to report?!”

  “Answer’s about the same as it was the last time you asked me. I’m working on it. This isn’t exactly easy you know. Especially when you’re made primarily out of soul stuff. Oh, sh-! Double homer on your six!” his master called out.

  Using the momentum of his next parry, Richard spun. Using the barrier chalk wedged between the two toes of his ninja-esque footwear, he drew a semicircle. The swordsman’s next blow glancing off the impromptu barrier. With his back to the swordsman, he saw two balls of liquid shadow rapidly approaching. And behind them, the all black silhouette of a genuine batter. Helmet, iconic getup, and all.

  Even as he watched, Baby Beamer Babe Ruth lobbed another shadowy baseball into the air, his bat held at the ready, before he beamed it with a crisp sounding…

  CRACK!

  “Make that a triple. Wrecking ball at nine o’clock.”

  Richard glanced to his left, clocking the chained wrecking ball which swung around, low to the ground.

  Richard flicked his gaze back toward the incoming projectiles, plucked three regular old leaping force talismans from his storage, and sent them on a direct intersect course. As talisman and shadow collided, burst apart, Richard stored his sword, then pulled a gun from his spatial storage—what ended up being a dinky old air rifle. Batter in his sights, he managed to get off a few shots before the stupid thing jammed. And while he didn’t hit anything but dirt and rock, the appearance of the rifle did preempt the creature to vanish the wraith.

  A relief, if a temporary one.

  Richard spun just as the swordsman’s third strike shattered his hastily drawn barrier. It’s forth strike aiming to cleave him down the middle. In his periphery, the two ton wrecking ball rapidly approached. Richard hurled the gun in the wraiths handsome face, took a small step backward, and vanished in a puff of gray smoke.

  Sword Guy’s blade cleaved cleanly through jammed gun and smoke bomb alike, dissipating the latter while bisecting the former. Annoyed, the swordsman made to take a step back, away from the massive ball and chain combo currently barreling through the air.

  Only for a number of leaping binding talismans to plaster its feet to the ground, whereupon they held fast. The swordsman first yanked, then frantically struggled, before he finally turned to greet the wrecking ball’s arrival with a look of resignation. Sword raised in a futile gesture.

  The wraith vanished shortly thereafter, though not before Richard thought he heard the distinct sound of a concussive impact. Though whether it was the result of his sword or his skull cracking was anyone’s guess. Regardless, he was sure the doc would have him patched up in no time.

  Richard sent another of his Mark 1’s in the direction of the Priestly Beggar. He missed. Because of course he did. When the creature could teleport his minions off to Lala-land at the drop of a hat, it was kinda hard not to.

  This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  BANG!

  The ground where the blessed baldy just recently vacated swiftly reduced to a smoking, sparking, rime covered crater.

  Richard bit down on another mana crystal before spitting out the venting remains.

  “Look lively now!” his teacher called out. “Looks like Lady Elizabird as just left the infirmary, so expect a feathered surprise any second now. Would also appear your biggest fan is inbound, so that’s exciting. Three o’clock.”

  And the worst part was, he couldn’t even try again! No, he was far too busy being jumped by an elven archer, a rotund burn victim, and a bird woman who could’ve been at home in an elegant eighth century ballroom.

  Little Red? Big Bones? Lady Elegant?! Oh my! Well isn’t this a surprise! Really, to what do I owe the pleasure?!

  Big Bones closed the distance far too quickly for a guy his size. He didn’t run, so much as he rolled. Rotund midsection acting as a massive wheel of sorts. Like Hatchet Man, he too resembled a melted Ken doll. Only, instead of hatchets for hands, he had war-hammers. Like two massive blocks of cement on the ends of his wrists. And while you might’ve expected all that extra weight to slow him down some, for a big guy, he was surprisingly agile.

  With what he could’ve sworn was an actual “boing” the wraith bounced high up in the air, before bringing his massive war hammers around hard in a spinning downwards arc. Off and to the side, something stirred from behind a large bolder. The elven archer’s sharp eyes boring into him from beneath her little red hood.

  Or, well, he liked to think it’d once been red anyway.

  Richard took a step—Jika-Tabi of the Wandering Ronin carrying him back a dozen paces, at the cost of a decent chunk of his rapidly diminishing mana pool.

  Around fifty five percent left, Richard mused, even as he bit down and discarded another mana crystal in passing. His mana channels ached to absorb the mana it released, but he held them back.

  Not in front of polite company! he chided. What will the neighbors think? Also the several billion aliens who may or may not label you a heretic. Whatever that means.

  The two hammers impacted the ground with the full force of a meteor.

  BOOM!

  The earth visibly undulating from the impact. Shards of stone sent hurtling every which way. Flying at speeds that could easily blind, if not cripple. Richard forced to teleport in short bursts, his procession marked by smoke bombs as he dashed side to side. All in an effort to slip in between the thickest clouds of flying debris. His quick thinking and Borrowed Mileage ability saving him from the worst of it, even if he didn’t exactly come out smelling like roses.

  He screeched to a halt, wanting to preserve his mana, small cuts sealing up in real time. Without even looking, he immediately drew a pair of parallel lines with his barrier chalk. There followed the telltale creak swish as his elven admirer drew her bow and loosed. The first barrier shattered immediately. Luckily the second one held. A barbed arrowhead made of shadow protruding from the fractured glasslike barrier.

  Richard drew several more lines just to be safe. A precaution which was quickly validated when she proceeded to loose a rapid volley.

  Richard snapped his attention to the hammer handed wraith as he pulled himself from the crater, plucked another Mark 1 from his storage—life energy glinting. The second he did so, however, Big Bones vanished into thin air. Richard tsk’ed. Aimed the talisman towards Little Red instead, and was unsurprised when she too vanished.

  Richard took a step and teleported away just before a volley of arrows punched through the smoke bomb he left behind. Where he appeared—surrounded by wide craters, fractured boulders, and open ravines—so too did Sword Guy, Big Bones, and Lady Elegant. Effectively surrounding him on all sides. Sword Guy lashing out with a flurry of blade slashes, Big Bones with a wild series of flailing smashes, and Lady Elegant with her war fans—crescents of cutting wind shearing forth, as she waved them about in some elaborate dance.

  In the far distance, the sounds of chanting could just faintly be heard. A spell causing grasping brambles to spear up from the ground. Whereupon they dug into the meat of his calves to hold his feet in place.

  Ahh! Bathrobe! He’s back! Was wondering where that guy went. Wasn’t the same without you buddy! The fight was almost bearable for a second there.

  “Could really use that eta!”

  “I’m working on it!”

  Even as the pincer maneuver was performed to a T, and checkmate seemed imminent, the sounds of rattling chains alerted him to something high above. The aforementioned two ton wrecking ball casting Richards body in shadow. The crack of a home run nearly drowning out the creak of a slowly drawn bow. As if to make extra sure of his imminent demise. And, just like that, the whole gang was here and accounted for.

  Well, everyone besides their fearless leader, that was. He still had no idea where Hatchet Man had wandered off to. Richard wasn’t scared for himself, so much as he was terrified for Penelope, the little girl still holding on for dear life.

  It was just as death seemed inevitable, however, and as the end seemed nigh, that something fundamental changed. Richard’s complexion turned beet red, his veins became more pronounced, and his skin grew uncomfortably hot to the touch. And while time didn’t slow in a technical sense, for those scant few seconds, he moved so incredibly fast, that it really might as well have. His Gloves of the Jaded Functionary a great help for those three or so seconds. True precision hard to come by at the speeds he was moving.

  A rapid fire deployment of several dozen scorching talismans reduced the brambles impaling his calves to nothing but fading wisps of shadow. Leaving him, in the end, with severe third degree burns. Still, it was far better than the alternative. Richard spun on the balls of his feet. A line of chalk laid down with precision. The barrier sprang to life then was quickly shattered. Richard sidestepping the slowed arrow and shadow ball, even as he let loose a wide fan of countless leaping talismans.

  Leaping force talismans meeting Big Bones’ uncontrolled swings blow for blow. Leaping blade talismans eviscerating the myriad crescents of wind aimed his way. While a barrage of explosive talismans instantly had the swordsman on the back foot. Forced to defend. Dicing each of the volatile talismans from the air before they could blow them all to kingdom come. In the meantime, Richard hurled a number of sticky explosive talismans at the wrecking ball.

  The small handful slapping to the side of the massive thing before going off. Only altering its downwards trajectory by a little, but it was enough. The ball crushing the backpedaling swordsman, and burying itself halfway through the ground, with what he hoped was a sonorous note of finality. Feeling that he’d been in this enhanced state for long enough, Richard spun one last time, let a cloud of sticky explosive talismans fly, like he were handing out confetti.

  Then, without a second glance, he teleported twenty paces away, shot a Mark 1 their way just for good measure, then smoke bombed another hundred paces distant, and waited for the...

  BOOM!

  Richard put out his burning life force. Immediately, a fatigue—unlike anything he’d ever experienced prior to starting on the path of life mastery—hit him like a truck. He struggled to even stand as the waves of fatigue washed over him. His breathing ragged. His vision going in an out of focus.

  “How many of them do you think actually perished in that last attack?”

  “My guess?” Richard gasped. “None,” another gasp. “The creature has already shown himself to be infuriatingly adept at positioning his pieces, never mind pulling them out of bounds when needed. I highly doubt something like that would be enough to catch him flat footed.”

  “Yes, that was my assessment as well. Shame.”

  “Wager I dinged them up pretty darn bad though. Which means, maybe a minute and a half to regroup before we’re back at it again? Oh joy…”

  The debilitated state didn’t last for long, thankfully, although a bone deep weariness still remained. A keen reminder that he’d just shaved off weeks, if not months of his life with that little stunt. Months that he may never get back. Life span and life energy were two different things after all.

  An overabundance of one didn’t necessarily mean an overabundance of the other.

  “You must admit, though, it is a fascinating take on combat, especially for this low grade and level. With those peculiar wraith avatars of his, and his self appointed role as a third party observer, he really is like the conductor of this battlefield.”

  “Are- are you seriously praising him right now?! Literal moments after he nearly kicked my butt six ways to Sunday?! I almost died!”

  “Oh please, don’t be so dramatic. We both know you were never in any real danger. And perhaps if you would stop holding yourself back-”

  “Lalala! What was that?! Sorry, I couldn’t quite hear you!” Richard exclaimed, fixing his master with a fierce expression.

  The spiritual imprint blanched, eyes gone round, he made a zipping motion over his own mouth and threw away the key. Richard rolled his eyes. Straightened. Plucked another mana crystal from storage, only to pause mid-chomp when a small hand gently tugged on his sleeve.

  “Hmm?” Richard turned to face the darling empress. “What’s up?” then his eyes widened. “Oh! Wait, does this mean you’re finished? Have everything you need?”

  In response, the girl gave a firm nod, her amber eyes burning with determination. Richard grinned. Having accumulated all of the ambient mana he’d been drip feeding into the atmosphere through the use of mana crystals, they were finally ready to enact the second part of the plan.

  From his storage, Richard retrieved all five of the gifts he’d promised to deliver. They were legendary items, each and every one of them. And by no means were they low tiered picks. In that peculiar way of powerful legendary items, each of them gave off an aura of sorts. What Richard recognized as their aspects bleeding through to influence the mana around them.

  Normally it served as a bit of cosmetic flare and little else, it’d occurred to Richard, during his year long sabbatical, that, for their resident empress these mana hungry items might serve an entirely different purpose. That purpose being as a perpetual mana aspecting machine. Since all she’d need to do was “feed” them ambient and un-aspected mana, and in return she’d receive all the aspected mana she could want for.

  And if she had enough mana, the traditional use of the items wasn’t entirely out of the question. It was a win win, basically, for so long as she had mana in which to divest into either prospect. Something he’d spent the last however many minutes making sure she’d have, if not in abundance, then just enough.

  “Okay,” Richard had her float from his back—he hadn’t really been comfortable with her there to begin with but she’d insisted—and promptly wrapped his Cloak of Clandestine Conspiracy around her shoulders. “You know what to do. Just like we talked about.”

  She shot him a thumbs up, flashed him a gummy smile, before rocketing high up into the air—legendary items slowly orbiting her, his teacher floating lazily in her wake.

  “Everything’s resting on you now teacher,” Richard called after him.

  “Yeah, yeah. Operation dance like nobody’s watching should be a go. Now get out there and two step your heart out! I’ll just be up there, listening to the confessions of a four month old. Seriously, the things you kids come up with…” his voice tapered off as he shot up after Penelope.

  And, only a few moments after that, the floating infant vanished. Leaving only his master in the sky with his arms crossed. Nodding along occasionally to something only he could hear.

  Richard let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding. She was safe and that was all that mattered. Master would cover the fallout. Now all he had to do was ace his part.

  And so it was that, after nearly a minute had passed, and all eight of the remaining wraiths—Sword Guy having apparently bitten the dust after all—blinked into existence for round four, Richard did the one thing that infernal creature would never have expected.

  He went down on both knees, and surrendered.