In my hyperawareness, I noticed a drop of blood splash on the ground by my feet, a result of unkempt nails digging into my palm. The mages cleared space with volley fire while simultaneously ducking replies. What should have been carnage looked nearly sterile. The violence on display lacked the expected collateral damage, with the destruction mostly limited to intended targets. The dissonance reflected my own mental state, further fueling the fire within. A knife edge of psyching myself up while maintaining restraint.

  Drip.

  My inventory was at 12 magical blades, 2 physical and a slag-shield sword.

  Reserves were full. I had 200 internal energy and 500 in the coin-tank. My debuff had long since faded

  The enemies were something similar to the conspicuously disappeared ice-lancers, but bigger and more varied. No snowstorm accompanied them.

  Drip.

  There was a theme too. It was fantasy medieval. The Errant fielded spear armed frozen footmen, chilly centaurs with dual icelances for arms, glassy javelineers and of course crystalline ice mages, because why the fuck not? At least they were disorganized, just doing whatever they could. This didn’t involve crossing the river, for reasons still unknown. The back and forth held an allure, inviting thoughts of dancing between the hail. Not yet.

  Drip.

  One of our mages cowered behind the ridgeline. Elias went over and shoved him back. Whatever he told him worked and the guy returned to ducking and shooting while icicles of all kinds passed overhead. Some simply missed, others had been deflected. Not all, with many dissipating in pieces after blocking impacts smashed them to smithereens. Those inspired a desire in me, of seeing the same happen to our enemies. Hold.

  Drip.

  We’d taken some wounded in the two dozen or so exchanges but nothing a quick mending couldn’t fix. I didn’t even have to do it myself, had a guy for the job nowadays. The missing bits would reform. A loud shattering impact sounded, followed by a scattered wave of toothpick sized shrapnel shards thudding into the ground all over the place, albeit harmlessly. Unlike my blades, destined to annihilate everything in their path. Soon.

  Drip.

  My vision narrowed. God, I wanted to fight. The Errant weren’t so much retreating as that the process of elimination left those closer to the tree line alive. Dreadlocked Kwame, part of the mages, seemed to get fed up with both the stragglers and merely taking potshots. He sent a perfect white line into their midst, where it split up into more white lines. Each headed for an individual Errant where they diverged into yet more lines and then again, making the enemy look like a weird graphical glitch in the process. Damage originated from said lines, as all the straggling Errant suddenly dissolved. It was a disappointing display despite its efficacy. Not brutal enough.

  Drip.

  The Errant stopped walking up close a few minutes ago and put up barriers of ice and whatnot as cover. The intermittent barrage of energy balls, snipes and scattershot became less and less effective. It wouldn’t be long before the cost started outweighing the benefit. Kwame had gotten good. He dodged shit left and right, actually walking out a zigzag in the open to close the distance and gain some range. A suspended thread constantly trailed his center of gravity, and he occasionally displaced himself along it. Breathless called him back, since he was starting to have a little too much fun. Good, leave some for me.

  Another drop of blood met the earth.

  Elias’ voice boomed.

  “Go, go, go!”

  The knife edge fell away, and I went.

  Some semblance of tactical consideration refused to die out. My first target was grabbing Walt’s buff. He conjured a translucent wall along the muddy groove that gave out his enhancement upon crossing.

  The speed fighters spread far out to our flanks, taking a curving path which converged ahead of me. They used the extra distance to build up speed. When my group neared the bank, one with a disheveled former viking haircut came to a sudden stop and threw the heavy spear he lugged along at a murder holed ice wall near the tree line. The whole barrier shattered on contact. The other speedster crossed.

  A tape-like strip of energy linked him to the binder who ran alongside me, in case he needed to be yanked to safety. The thrower ran out of sight, circling around. No obstructions to my plan emerged from the river. The speed fighter landed and we jumped shortly behind at full speed. Since the crossing went according to plan, the lagging speed fighter would take over my role while my nurtured need consumed me. Independent action called. Sling bullets flew past between us and connected with the exposed Errant, chipping bits off them. Scrapes belied the true danger as dents widened while disintegration ate away at the struck. Centaur Errant responded immediately, rushing out from within the tree line to contest our beachhead, preceding the footmen.

  I forewent all restraint, truly loose now. Instinct carried me, flinging into the battle with abandon. I reveled in the figure I must have struck with suddenly a sword in hand at the apex of my leap, held up and forwards as if commanding a cavalry charge. The rush of air pulled me into the speed as a deca-launch shot me up into a second arc. The rest made landfall as my flight crested the parabolic peak. The others were forgotten. I never felt more alive as during the split second of float, well above the combat zone, where everything crawled to a standstill as I mentally tagged every instance of movement near the trees.

  The crescendo peaked. I didn’t care anymore. Remnant thoughts of formations and battle plans went out the window. They were unnecessary. I just needed to feel. And oh, how I felt as the air rushed again when my descent began.

  I felt on edge, scrambling to mentally pick my targets, those forward centaurs which had others following close behind.

  I felt the rush of power, choosing which of their chained charges would fail.

  I felt giddy anticipation. Half a dozen blades appeared in quick succession and rained upon the victims. Rapid double launches heralded the end of their existence.

  And I felt visceral satisfaction at the sheer violence when they connected and pierced the hybrid horsemen through chest and equine spine in a downward shower of shards while the crashing pileup threw a low misty haze of cold chips forward. A sensation of superiority suffused my being.

  Then I felt free, angling a held sword at a gap in the pine palisade. Another burst of velocity propelled me through the branchy crevasse towards the vague octagram of ice mages facing each other in a clearing. Neither gravity nor fear could chain me. These were no longer enemies, merely victims in waiting.

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  I barely even noticed the dry branches tearing apart when crashing through. Swift action repositioned my leading blade. A mental command shot it ahead straight at one of the mages. It burst into pieces with a gratifying explosion when the strike landed. The very sky itself had turned into my domain, begging me to launch thunder upon my foes.

  I felt like a gymnast, twisting in the air. The jolt of my landing failed to faze me and transitioned smoothly into a sprint. Every step along the vertical incline of a tree trunk was followed by splintering wood due to hastily fired icicles, failing to lead my advance. My movement was a lightning bolt descending. Theirs dragged as if weighed down.

  I felt flow upon reaching ground level and lined up two linear double-taps among their jagged circle at a run. Exhilaration swelled as four of the enemy group fell in an instant. Only three still stood and I disappeared into the woods, dashing madly. Trees flashed past while the Errant mages struggled to keep up.

  I felt like a predator as stray lances failed to connect during my circling, their targeting woefully inadequate. An opening presented itself. My stalking ended, their slowness enabled me to approach from behind. Capitalizing on the moment led me directly through the group once more, even allowing me to retrieve my instruments of death and destruction. Instinct carried me towards and then up another tree.

  I felt like an action star, kicking off and back flipping away from the trunk. They attempted to refute my judgement. My attention snapped and a launched blade intercepted the first projectile poised to hit me. Three more quickly annihilated the remaining casters.

  And I felt glory, surveying the frosty carnage and re-stowing the rest of my ammunition. But it wasn’t enough. I wanted more, I needed more. Those at the landing site picked up on it when I emerged out of the forest at a dead sprint. The javelineers turned their attention from the closing mages on the opposite bank and the contained methodical melee on our side towards me, in vain.

  I felt like a dancer, weaving through their throws and blurring through the ranks. Well-aimed flashes of white erased entire rows of their erratically spaced formation until my skill and quiver only had one magic sword left. It mattered not.

  I barely resisted the urge to begin hacking away with it and instead flexed whatever remained of my rationality towards a focus on single targets, taking away legs and pelvises in downwards aimed close range drive-by-and-retrieve combos.

  The melee settled up. I approached the last javelineer at a menacing walk of shifting dodges and slips. It threw and threw its regenerating short-spears in vain, and then it died. The sounds of distant crashing accompanied by a seismic tremble attracted my awareness like a flame drawing a moth. A hand gripped my shoulder from behind, interrupting the beginnings of another battle, of another display of wanton massacre.

  Elias stepped up and looked me in the eye. Understanding passed between us, fostering calm and a return to rationality. We formed up properly and waited as the thunder approached. Another wave of anticipation tensed my entire being. My ammunition along with looted energy were returned to me. Soon after, a wedged charge of centaurs ran into a hail of projectiles. Among the flurry, an arc of six quad-launched swords tore through the front of the Errant squadron, causing another forward-led tumble of breaks and crashes that ripped apart the order of the Errant battle-group and replaced it with prone chaos.

  Our touchcaster activated his marks, detonating prepared ground. The rest of my team waded in, led by a cone shaped pulse of force, shredding everything in its path. It wasn’t even a fight, this was an execution and I laughed while we butchered our foes. Far too quickly to enjoy, the group of thirty or more was reduced to nothing.

  We proceeded deeper into the woodlands, where we encountered several more such squads and slaughtered them repeatedly. The pseudo-mounted Errant were nearly helpless in the wooded confines, slowing with every tree they brutishly staggered through. One engagement bled into the next, all track of time lost while delivering disruptive death into their lead elements. Strips of white cloth laid in ambush along the forest floor wreaked havoc. The centaurs’ momentum tore off entire hoofed feet when the magical fabrics bound them like glue to the permafrost. Then another impromptu minefield went off.

  Speed fighters baited them toward us. Twin lances and chunks of Errant exploded when they struck the immovable, ability empowered form of our endurance fighter. She had ditched the shield, opting for long daggers instead, to no lesser effect as effervescent hexagons covered her entirely. Our power fighters glowed, kicking off from tree to tree in streaks of decapitation and crushed heads. I initiated the onslaught by blowing holes in our opponents from behind obscuring cover. My projectiles drilled through trees, no longer needing line of sight to aim as our hidden assassins’ mark outlined Errant silhouettes to all of our senses.

  I shouted words of wild-eyed encouragement while we waged System-enabled war. Time and time again, we ranged further and further inland, ever closer towards the mountainside. My bloodlust nearly faded in the still aftermath. Until we spotted the likely source of our troubles. In the distance a massive structure, where none had been before, became suddenly visible in its entirety, reaching far above the treetops. A veritable citadel built entirely out of ice dominated the mountainside, reminiscent of something between a sloped star-fortress and the pentagon. The patrols had ceased some time ago.

  Our assassin scouted ahead invisibly and I climbed a high tree for better vantage. Nearly an hour of impatience later, a heartbeat stretched into eternity. A meteoric impact rang far ahead, then another and another. Sections of the far-off countryside were swept away by repeat explosions of splintered wood and a cloud of raised dust as trees toppled.

  Despite the short revival of my adrenaline fueled high, I returned to ground-level and paced impatient circles around the temporary campsite when Elias walked up to me. He was unreadable as always. “I fail to understand why they find me off-putting, when you are so much worse,” he said.

  I stopped to tilt my head up and sideways, looking him straight in the eyes, and then gave him my best slasher smile - tried real hard to put on a sinister tone too. “It’s my disarming personality, you see.”

  He closed his eyes and shook his head. “So much worse.” His words rang true, but in a different context, a comparison to a similar experience in the daggerclaw tunnels.

  Then I broke apart in a giggling fit, at first out of self indulgence, but the afterglow refused to fade. It started as a joke, yet bubbling hysteria dragged on beyond all reason despite attempts to suppress it. Concern overtook humor, as some part of me slowly slipped away. The stubborn mirth only died when several hours later, our assassin still hadn’t returned, undone by dull shock. It salvaged some of whatever mental fracture undermined my sanity. As quickly as it had come, so did it leave. Giving in was a mistake.

  Time to call it. “We're done and returning to the Farm.”

  We’d killed hundreds of Errant. Yet it no longer seemed a victory as we trudged across cold mud in a dusky gloom, with one of our number presumed dead and a few more added to the heavily wounded from among team Firebase. Most of the non-combatants were fine, except for someone in logistics who lost a leg to a stray shot.

  Even so, the path ahead was determined clear enough to continue our journey, especially since we hadn’t spotted any stray Errant among the trees. Although there was still some scouting to be done before we’d bridge the crossing with our baggage train in tow.

  Glancing at my interface revealed my share of the killing had shot me up right to level 100, which graced me with a new box. It counted down to midnight tomorrow. The ascension games were a monthly affair. The spend-to-improve segment of my magical endurance had grown to 112. Our enemies were worth a steady 20c each, or some very sizeable ice cubes. The materials obviously didn’t enter consideration. A part of the combat loot maxed out my coin at 1000 energy. Even though hostilities ended a while ago, keeping my internal supply at a 100 seemed prudent at the time, now 104 from the uneventful hours spent heading back towards base camp. The overflow was deposited safely into the government wallet.

  I wasn’t planning on entering the games tomorrow though, even if some sick part of me thought it would be fun. The after action report wasn’t anything special either, even if we’d struck the mother lode with regards to cost-benefit ratios. Only one fact unsettled me, there were way too fucking many of the icy Errant. And their unusual composition, and the odd behavior, not to mention the long range strike capability of a goddamn building. For everything else, repression appealed over contemplating yet more madness. The world had gone crazy after all, it was no wonder it took me along with it.

  Oh well, at least I got a good night’s sleep.