Chapter 457 - Trials and Tributions VII

  Aurora cleaved at Vel’s glowing sword. She used the weight of her body and delivered a series of overhead swings in an attempt to drive the spider from her realm. The individual strikes were fierce enough to rattle the mountains, but even so, they cked the power to prevent the war goddess’ advance.

  Vel emerged from the hole with a smile, a wide, demonic grin that screamed of her pn’s success.

  Two of her shoulder cannons fired at the moment of her advent. One shot was aimed at Violet. The other, at Sylvia. The projectiles were lightning fast—Cire never would have been able to keep up had she not pumped her head full of divinity the moment she first tried to kill the spider’s servant. Though, even without the additional aid, the attacks were easily read. She’d seen them coming from far away and long created a set of portals to see them redirected.

  Vel clicked her tongue as she zily blocked another of Aurora’s strikes.

  It wasn’t like Aurora was weak.

  She was a goddess, an ancient, mighty goddess beloved by a nation of warriors. Her cleaves were so thick with mana and divinity that Cire felt like she was going to drown, so absurdly heavy that the pressure they released was blinding.

  And yet, Vel parried them without the slightest hint of exertion. She wasn’t even looking at them. Her eyes focused on Cire; she put up a perfect, stalwart defense with one arm zily extended.

  “This is your st chance, Cire,” she said. “Swear yourself to me. Become my servant, and I will forgive all of your previous transgressions. Continue to resist, and I will show you what it means to defy a god.”

  Her eyes glowed, turning a deep gold as she voiced the threat. But it had no effect. Cire brushed it off with a ugh, her own eyes alight with the same glimmering radiance.

  “Never.” The decration came with her usual stare, cold and piercing as the midwinter night.

  It clearly wasn’t the answer she wanted. But for once, Vel didn’t suddenly break down and start compining about everything going south.

  “Fine. Then I’ll just have to show Virillius your corps—”

  She shut up and turned around right as Aurora roared. Her runic tattoos glowing, the winter goddess lifted her axe overhead and flooded her veins with divinity. It pulsed from head to toe, intertwining with her mana as it flowed into the magic circle beneath her.

  Everything within range of the circle was immediately encased in a pilr of true ice that extended up into the heavens, and Vel was no exception. She was locked, stuck in the magical prison, while Aurora continued her attack unhindered.

  And yet, the arachne did little but sigh. The excitement vanished from her face in a heartbeat, giving way to rampant disappointment as a meter-wide pink ser descended from the heavens and swept across the ndscape. It tore through the veil that guarded Aurora’s domain, cleaved past the castle’s divinely-reinforced walls, and melted the frozen pilr. The beam embraced both divine beings, freeing one and charring the other.

  But though burned, Aurora showed no signs of slowing. She struck with all of her might, delivering a blow that could have parted the world.

  A blow that Vel caught by the bde barehanded.

  The divinity that the strike discharged did little but to highlight the difference between them. Though Aurora’s chest was heaving, though she’d spent enough magic to flood the mountains’ ley lines, Vel was stuck wishing for a tougher opponent.

  She shattered the prison in the same motion as the goddess’ axe, crushing both in her hand with a small surge of godly might. And then, silently, she returned her gaze to the serpentine party. All ten of the buster rifles attached to her wings suddenly unhooked themselves from their holster. Their rear ends glowing, the funnel-shaped guns began flying around the room, darting to and fro as they unleashed their beams from all different directions.

  For the goddess, they were equivalent to zy swats—weak, casual attacks without much power behind them. That much Cire knew from the time that Vel had tried to test her. But with her full strength unleashed, the individual bolts burned hot enough to melt straight through Cire’s bones. She doubted that Sylvia’s barrier would fare much better.

  Mounting a defense was nearly beyond her means. The beams were faster than her body, and she couldn’t open enough portals in time. To make matters worse, the guns themselves refused to move when she pushed them. They were part of Vel’s body, bits of flesh still joined to her mind, coated in metallic shells. Having inherited the goddess’ magic resistance, the funnels refused to budge..

  Her only choice was to predict when each gun would fire and redirect the projectiles as soon as they left their barrels.

  And she managed just that. Some of the more conveniently pced sers, she even threw back at the goddess, but they bounced off a forcefield yered directly atop her body. It only shimmered when struck, otherwise remaining perfectly invisible.

  It helped that there was a pattern—a clear goal that the sers were hoping to accomplish—even if it was one that only fueled her rage.

  “Sylvia! Run!” said Cire.

  “Huh!? Why?” asked the fox.

  “She’s targeting you!” shouted Cire. “Run back to Llystletein! Have Alfred protect you!”

  “Bu—”

  “Now!”

  “Don’t do it!” shouted Panda. He suddenly appeared in the space behind them. “Hop through a portal, and you’ll die! There’s another god fiddling with the fabric of spacetime!”

  The sers stopped soon after he made the statement. The buster rifles continued to hover around the group, moving as quickly as ever, but they refrained from firing.

  “What do you think you’re doing?” asked Vel, with her eyes narrowed. “I explicitly instructed you not to help them.”

  “Sorry,” he said, with an unapologetic shrug. “Tides have turned. I’m jumping onto a more profitable ship.”

  “Fine then. Have it your way.” Vel heaved a sigh before lifting a hand and clenching her fist. A glowing pink symbol—a banner-crossed spear—appeared on the back of her hand. “Constantius Augustus. I command you, in the name of Vel, Goddess of War, to perform your duty as expressed in the champion’s covenant and enact my will. Kill all in this room not sworn to my service.”

  An identical mark manifested on Panda’s palm. Bright blue chains erupted from within it and seized his body as a burst of golden energy shot up his arm and overwhelmed his circuits. A giant magic circle appeared beneath his feet while a puppet’s cross brace appeared over his head. Cire recognized the spell, not only because of its fame, but because she’d often invoked it.

  It was a more potent version of the phenomenon that occurred when forcing a bound party to obey one’s will. By Flitzegarde’s rule of contracts, the subservient individual would be made to perform their duty to the best of their ability, their own thoughts be damned. Such was the concept behind a royal decree, and so too did it drive the retion between a god and their champion.

  That was simply a part of the deal. In exchange for a portion of their power, the god would gain the ability to strictly and systematically force their wishes upon those to whom they were bound.

  Panda no longer had a choice.

  He would have to fight, to unleash all of his might and fulfil the order that he was given.

  As Vel’s champion, as her mortal representative, he would carry her will, lest he could seize control of her strength and steal it.

  Or at least, that was how it was supposed to go.

  “Nah, I’m okay.” Panda, however, was subject to no such manipution. He simply flicked his wrist a few times, as if he were trying to dry it off, and dulled the goddess’ mark. The chains vanished as the pure energy faded from his circuits. The symbol, likewise, had its colour stolen, returned to its ink-like form. He had dispelled her order in its entirety. All without a hint of effort.

  In reality, it was nowhere near as easy as he’d made it look. It was only by timing a series of complex rituals with his decration that he’d attained his freedom. And even then, the process had cost him 97 of the 231 ritual mages at his disposal.

  The simultaneous deaths were sure to raise a number of brows. He couldn’t revive them. Even if unwilling, they were sacrifices. Their souls were cimed by their gods—wrenched forever from his grasp. At the very least, he had tried to spread them across the many nations that he had infested over the millennium he’d spent gathering his power. Still, there were too many of them for the incident to be outright dismissed.

  Not that it really mattered.

  As was the case when he spent 618 years buried in ancient texts, when he toiled for 279 years training under the rooster, and when he’d dedicated his everything to his singur purpose, the moose found his investment worthwhile.

  To see Vel with her mouth agape, to see her truly shocked, was precisely to overcome an impossible check with a string of perfect twenties.

  “You broke one of Flitzegarde’s most powerful spells.” Vel’s eyes remained wide open, even as she parried another one of Aurora’s attacks. Perhaps having lost all interest, she finally returned a counter, thrusting hard enough that she sent the ice goddess spiraling through the castle’s walls. She pressed a hand to her face in a failed attempt to cover the wide, satanic grin that stretched from cheek to cheek. “You broke one of Flitzegarde’s most powerful spells.”

  The repeated line came with a ugh, a deep, disquieting ugh that echoed through the winter castle. It was almost like a metal screech, like she was grating steel against steel and using brute force to reject the notion of friction.

  “Tell me, Constantius,” she said, as she finally calmed. “Are you prepared to duel me?”

  “Not particurly, nope,” he said. “But let’s just say I’ve got my pns. And as your champion, I’d intended on giving you exactly what you wanted.”

  Vel scrutinized him for a second before finally lowering everything but the weapon she was using to parry Aurora, who had once again returned for a full-blown assault.

  “Fine, I’ll py along,” she said, eventually. “Fail, and I will make you regret it.”

  “Sure thing,” he said. “But don’t you worry. I know exactly what I need to do.”

  Vel smiled. And then, swatting Aurora away yet again, left through her portal with Starrgort in tow.

  Only then did Panda finally rex. His hands trembling up a storm, he practically melted into a puddle. The mias did the same. They breathed sighs of relief, with only Sylvia curiously looking down the hole Aurora had fallen into.

  “Uhmmm, are you okay?” she asked.

  “I am fine,” said Aurora. She appeared from a gust of wind beside them, her body without any of the injuries that Vel had supposedly inflicted. “Did everything go as pnned?” she asked.

  “Yeah, pretty much,” said Panda. “Sorry you had to embarrass yourself, boss.”

  “It was worth it, if it meant lowering Vel’s guard.” She scanned the rest of the room, her eyes eventually settling on Cire. “Now, I believe that much of this crisis has ended. However, it appears that a number of pests have made use of the hole with which she invaded my territory. I will handle Olethra if she intervenes, but the rest, you will have to manage by yourselves.”

  Divinity surged from her body as she spoke, the sheer volume of which was hundreds, if not thousands of times greater than what she’d demonstrated in Vel’s presence. The holy energy leaked into the halls, enveloping the castle and sky in turn before beginning to repair both pieces in tandem.

  “Thank you, Aurora,” said Cire. “But we’ll be fine.”

  Leaving the room, Cire advanced through the castle’s halls, one step at a time as they fixed themselves around her. It was almost like time was reversing. Dust formed pieces of broken rock before filling into the holes and turning back to walls and ceilings. Individual steps formed in front of her on her way down, whilst her body changed and her outfit warped in tandem with the castle’s restoration.

  Log Entry 919108You have leveled up. Your health and mana have been partially restored.

  Your racial css, Caldriess, has reached level 902.

  Your titur css, Witch of the Seventh Tempest, has reached level 170.

  You have gained 149088 ability points.

  Log Entry 919109Achievement Unlocked - The End of Conviction

  There are few feats more impressive than surviving a violent encounter with a deity fully incarnated and even fewer people less likely to achieve it than you. In spite of your foolishness and utter martial incompetence, you have managed just that. Certainly, one could note that Vel extracted but a mere fraction of her strength, and certainly, this pity of hers mitigates the value of your supposed achievement, but so too does the truth of your survival remain.

  The first notifications arrived as her dress fled from her changing form. Her hair undid itself as it was remade from its roots. Each strand bathed in her mana-rich divinity gained the faintest hint of transparency. Together, they let little light through, but spread beneath her, and left to bathe in the starlight, they glowed as would the moon herself.

  She couldn’t have simply left it unraveled while her mother was watching. So maniputing it with her vectors, she crafted a series of half-up curls pulled just far enough to highlight the shapes of her ears.

  Log Entry 919110Heavenly Annihition has regained all missing functionality.

  Your ability to perform mathematical operations has been dramatically improved.

  You are capable of ignoring the concepts of buoyancy and fluid resistance at will. You also may disable these properties for other individuals and objects.

  Her horn leaned out and sharpened, going from a single smooth piece to a jagged thunderbolt that pulsed with excess magic. She could feel her bones changing as well, twisting, warping, bending out of shape as their weight vanished into the aether. The rest of her body soon followed, becoming as light as a feather despite growing a few centimeters taller. Simir increases were applied to her chest, her ears, and her tail whilst her rampant magic rewired her muscles, bolstering their strength without at all affecting their size.

  Internally, the changes were far more drastic. Her intestines vanished, joining her long lost bdder in the void. There was no point in keeping them when her stomach could break everything down into magic and absorb the energy directly. The extra space was filled with bone and muscle, though it was impossible to see without splitting her open. All of it was hidden beneath her well-toned core.

  Log Entry 919111Cataclysm Convergence has regained all missing functionality.

  Your health and mana regeneration have been unified with their corresponding pools. As current engine output is set to standard, you will regenerate 100% of your maximum health and mana each second. Engine output may be increased by draining heat from your surroundings.

  Eye-reted features may now be used on any location or target you are able to perceive, regardless of line of sight.

  Log Entry 919112You have sin a level 1900 Aspect of Accused Lament (NOT_REAL!!).

  This feat has earned you the following bonus rewards:

  - 1% ability score modifier- 10000 points of agility- 10000 points of dexterity- 1000000 points of divinity- 10000 points of spirit- 10000 points of strength- 10000 points of vitality- 25000 points of wisdom

  Most obvious of all were the changes to her circuits. Snaking all throughout her body, they dimmed and brightened, pulsing red, blue, and gold in turn as they finally regained their function—their true function. They weren’t only made stable, temporarily shoved into pce with their screaming put on mute. The cracking was all gone. The disorder was all gone. The pain was all finally gone.

  She’d thought that was what she felt when she’d downed Alfred’s potions. But to finally be fixed went beyond even that. The sensation that followed the flow of her mana was pleasant, satisfying, calming. It felt like she was asleep on a soft bed with her head atop a feathery pillow and her body enveloped in a vulpine embrace.

  Gone was the difficulty of maniputing the flow. It went wherever she told it and behaved exactly as ordered. And even when she left it alone, it cycled, calming her nerves as it moved through her form.

  Finally.

  Finally.

  She felt like she was whole.

  Log Entry 919113You have cleared The Dead Dragon’s Den and completed Aurora’s divine trial.

  All curses have been dispelled.

  You have gained 250000 ability points.

  Log Entry 919114You have leveled up. Your health and mana have been partially restored.

  Your racial css, Caldriess, has reached level 915.

  Your titur css, Witch of the Seventh Tempest, has reached level 202.

  You have gained 69772 ability points.

  Her runecloak enveloped her body and became a full suit of armour. A full breastpte that perfectly spanned the width of her shoulders. A long armoured skirt with a hole built for a slender tail. A pair of gauntlets with one finger removed and the individual digits made longer to fit the tips of her cws. Even the helm considered her horns and her ears, though she left that particur piece unworn; she couldn’t stand its bucket-like shape.

  Cut perfectly to fit her newfound size, it was made just for her. Even though it had been sitting in her father’s armoury since long before her birth.

  It shared her colours, white made up the bulk of its coverage, with its highlights and markings drawn in a deep, sapphire blue. Many such lines ran up the length of the armour, further carrying her mana as if an extension of her form.

  Log Entry 919115Your racial css has mutated. You have become a Caldriess (Enlightened.)

  Your ability scores have been increased:

  - Strength increased by 50000

  - Vitality increased by 100000

  - Wisdom increased by 50000

  The upper limit of your divinity is no longer finite.

  Spirit Sorcery has become Animus Magicae 0x00000000001f99a2.

  Your skill is currently unnamed. You may choose to override the system default of Animus Magicae 0x00000000001f99a2 with whatever you choose. If the default system name is retained, it may be changed by another entity at a ter point in time.

  And then there were her eyes.

  They became an ocean of sparkling pupils, coloured and arranged loosely to form the shape that they had held before. They were like a sea of stars, a mosaic of blues, mingled with other shades and colours to form the very nebue reflected in her patron’s.

  But while the gemstones were beautiful, so too were they a mark of bottomless fear.

  It was like the world was reflected within them. The nebue masked stars, old and new, some even freshly formed within them. The stars birthed words, and the worlds held oceans. But detailed as they were, they failed to mask the infinity that y beyond.

  A smile crossed her lips.

  It didn’t matter what they threw her way.

  She was ready.

  Because she was finally, wholly, truly proud to decre herself Cire Augustus.