‘After a month of testing, we’ve determined that the Burning Court set is usable, albeit with some caveats.’
‘What caveats?’
The Burning Court are powerful summons, but they drain vitality beyond the scope of our Classes, and invariably try to convince the wielder that William Oh is the cause of any of the wielder’s perceived misfortune.
‘They seriously have a grudge against him?’
‘Milord, the entire set was created from fae who were at war with William Oh. As far as they’re concerned, the war isn’t over.’
So what you’re telling me is, there’s a ‘set’ that hates William Oh…I think I can work with that.
- Conversation between Marksman and his lead researcher
Well, I’ve got a fast and easy solution to this problem, Will thought, switching his axe to his left hand.
He flew out into the distance, gaining several minutes of lead on his pursuers before alighting on the mountainside, bracing his right hand against some bedrock and placing the edge of the axe right behind the ring.
My Resistance is so high that my left hand doesn’t have the strength to do this. I’m gonna have to body slam it with all my…
Why is the blade on the wrong finger?
Will frowned, peering down at the blade, which had somehow unbeknownst to him, become braced against his ring finger rather than his middle finger which bore the signet ring.
Cursed: User is prevented from removing this Relic.
How ‘prevented’ exactly? Will thought. He reoriented the axe blade on the correct finger and prepared to slam down on it…
When he checked his orientation, the blade was on the wrong finger again.
Ah, damnit, it’s messing with my head.
Will used his self-targeting version of Map to open up a map of his own hand.
He saw his hand splayed out in front of him the size of a building, all the tiny details of the miasmatic structures inside it shown in detail that his eye couldn’t hope to take in. He focused on his finger where the connection…
Didn’t seem to have changed significantly at all.
Shit. I should’ve made a sketch of myself prior to going into battle. Missed opportunity. Loth thought Will was smart, but he felt like if she were here, she would be giving him a disappointed huff.
Foo.
Mostly Will was lucky more than smart. Oftentimes lucky in a way that made him look smart. He’d admit to that.
Okay, so if nothing in my hand changed, then maybe my hand is just a dock where the slotted item connects to, and the actual change is in my brain.
Will opened up a map of his brain and saw his Class was in constant motion, flickering like a fire inside his head.
There was absolutely no way he could figure out what was doing what. This was the first time he’d ever looked at it. Maybe if everything was static and the curse was the only thing moving he could narrow it down, but the miasmatic structures inside were flickering as fast as his thoughts. They probably had to, to keep up with him.
There was no way he could sort out the chaotic mess in his head in any reasonable amount of time.
Maybe if I…
Will kept the map of his brain up and set about cutting off the finger again. The miasmatic structures lit up in his forebrain, along with little spots in the back and middle as he prepared to sever the finger.
An instant later, the activity died down and he was again about to cut off the wrong finger.
…Yeah, I have no idea what that means, Will thought, holstering the axe. He was more likely to lobotomize himself than fix the problem.
What if I… Will’s head turned fuzzy and his thoughts began slipping like thrashing, slimy fish through his fingers as the curse interfered.
Used my Phantom snakes…to…
Right there at the end goal, the thought dissipated.
Will was sure it had been a good idea, but the damned thing on his finger was policing his thoughts.
I’m sure if I had the time I could figure out a way to get it off, but…
Will turned his map outward, spotting half a dozen signatures heading in his direction.
BOOM!
In the distance, thunder cracked in the miasma dimension as the tower Will had attacked Marksman in was struck by a wall of miasma and began melting.
Huh. I wonder if marksman was targeting the sigil he carved into me? Is he actually an archer?
In light of his current state, Will had to make a decision.
I could go back up a few floors and lay low long enough to fix this and resume. The problem is Marksman will never be more unprepared than he is now. facing the man with full kit doesn’t sound like a winning proposition.
…Neither does continuing the fight with this anchor dragging me down.
The stat penalties were dragging his stats down precipitously. The penalty to his acuity hurt more than anything, since his Phantom Hand Relic was boosted by it.
I should probably kill that girl. Will thought, realizing that she’d pulled the switch when his fist touched her cheek. I should…but I won’t.
There were certain actions that simply crossed the line. Killing girls who didn’t want to be there was one of them.
Killing boys was negotiable if they were dicks.
Hide and fix my kit, and come back to a much stronger Marksman…or stay and possibly bite it?
Fortress of Mind has been destroyed and returned to the user.
Will’s skin went cold, his pinky finger aching as Brianna’s Manifested Relic returned to him.
12 hours to repair.
I don’t have time. Destroy it. It’s not taking it off, is it?
Will brought the blade of his Phantom Snake down on the ring with everything he had. The Phantom snake swerved off course and missed the ring by a hair’s breadth, burying itself in his finger, on the wrong side.
“DAMN!” Will shouted, healing himself with a potion.
Will could head back up right this second, but he would be leaving a vengeful enemy at his back and a hostage situation to his front.
Brianna had been the last line of defense. The one who had been supposed to lay low and only move if everything was going to shit. If the Relic that he had customized specifically to patch her only weakness had been destroyed…
This is really bad. Marksman is about to get everything he wanted.
…Fuck it. He’s not gonna live to see it.
Going back up wasn’t an option until Marksman was dead, so speed was the name of the game.
…It always is.
Will crouched down, disappearing as he rushed towards Marksman at sub-sonic speed. The supposed archer was approaching the tower he had just destroyed, scanning the wreckage for Will.
Yeah, he doesn’t know where I am, he just assumed the mark he placed on me was still attached.
OH! Marks-man. He’s not an archer. He places marks.
True, the man was wielding a bow, but Will was willing to bet that it wasn’t the cornerstone of his build. Marksman had been entirely confident of his victory after placing a single mark on Will.
What is it, some kind of auto-hit, resistance bypasser? Damage multiplier? Curse?
Will hadn’t directly fought a cursemonger since Colin five years ago at the tournament in Akul, so he was probably out of practice.
Will approached Marksman from behind at sub-sonic speed, shooting silently through the air only seconds ahead of the ones tracking him.
“Milord!” a voice called from behind Will, warning Marksman.
Marksman whirled around and a sigil shot out of his hand, burning the miasma in the atmosphere with malicious intensity as it sped towards Will’s chest.
Coiled Strike
257 Charge remaining.
Will wound up his axe and spun, turning his back towards the oncoming sigil then teleported backwards, just far enough to put himself behind Marksman.
Will strained every fiber of muscle across his entire body as he unwound, channeling every ounce of force he could muster through his tomahawk.
A shield popped up momentarily, then shattered. The axe plowed through the fragments of shield and bounced off Marksman’s neck, sending a shock through Will’s wrist.
Far below, Will saw a large, heavily armored man topple to the ground on his map, his head spinning away from his body.
“A damage chain?” Will asked. “You’re really just increasing the body count at this point.”
“Trying to sound reasonable after attacking a man in his home unprovoked!?” Marksman snarled in what appeared to be righteous indignation.
Give this man the High Ring award.
“You know I read the letter on your desk, right?” Will said.
“You’re mistaken!” Marksman shouted with utter confidence. “I would never do such a thing! You must be under someone’s influence!”
Will frowned and ran through his Memory Key.
There was no smearing of reality that indicated the breaking of mental control…so either Will was still under something’s control or this guy…
Is a huge asshole.
In his time as a Lord Will had come across a few people who would deny obvious reality with such confidence that it made you doubt your senses.
And he hated every single one of them.
“You know what? You’re right.” Will said. “I might be mistaken. Silly me. Maybe you didn’t have a letter on your desk telling your subordinates to kill my people if they became inconvenient to your plan to make a set out of the giants under my protection. Tell you what:”
Will brandished his tomahawk.
“I’ll just cut your head off and show it to the guys attacking my Stronghold, and if you’re not the guy in charge, no harm no foul.”
“That’s insane. You’re insane.” Marksman said, unwilling to drop his victim act.
This bastard is willing to play mind games to the bitter end.
“Marksman. In all your scheming, double-dealing, and cats-paw victories, you seem to have forgotten what the role of a Lord. What their purpose really is.”
“A Lord protects the territory and the people he is responsible for!” Marksman shouted, unleashing a flurry of marks that Will wove around. “Not charging into other men’s territory and slaughtering civilians like a madman!”
Two can play at this game.
“Sorry son, that’s wrong,” Will said, shaking his head. “A Lord’s most basic duty is to kill other Lords.”
“…Don’t call me son.” Marksman said, a hint of cold fury peeking out from behind his mask.
If there was one thing that made these aggressive deniers-of-reality react violently enough to shatter their faced, it was poking holes in their ego.
Will held his hands up and shrugged patronizingly as he assaulted Marksman with his Phantom Snakes.
“It’s alright, I understand how it’s easy to get confused. It’s difficult running a Stronghold. Difficult enough to make you think it’s your main job. Lots of reading and paperwork. Although, since your Stronghold is just on the 2nd Floor it’s probably not that har-“
“This Stronghold is the lifeblood of the Tower! Every ounce of supply flows through My Stronghold. Through ME! Akul would be nothing if it were not for the road I paved!” Marksman shouted, Charge building in his body as he prepared his next attack.
Will saw a dimensional transfer incoming. He’d seen the coils of Miasma tucked into an extradimensional space so many times that it was old hat.
The most opportune place would be somewhere Will could never hope to cut off, so the back of the head, or dead center between the shoulder blades to make it hard to dodge.
There it is.
Will watched on his map as a portal opened an inch behind his own head. Even without the map, he would still hear the strained tension of the coils that sounded something like guitar strings sliding across each other.
Will reached behind his head with his left hand and caught the sigil, palm coated in a thin layer of destructive charged miasma. Will crushed the Ability and tossed the shattered motes of miasma aside without breaking eye contact.
Marksman looked away first.
The Lord’s gaze dipped down to the gaudy ring on Will’s finger, his eyes twitching with recognition. An instant later, Marksman was shooting towards the girl who’d forced the ring onto his hand.
Shit.
In a flurry of motion, Will chased after Marksman, catching up to the man at the same time that his backup arrived.
Marksman caught Will’s attacks and managed to scrape him off on his supporters in the high-speed exchange, and the men immediately dogpiled Will three-to-one.
Coiled Strike
252 Charge remaining.
Will used a coiled Strike to dodge the first, setting up a cannonball with the boosted damage from coiled strike to explode the second one’s head while he caught the third in the back with his axe.
An instant later, all three men were tumbling to the ground, but Marksman had already reached the girl.
“Good work Jessica, you only need to swap one more Relic on him and this madman is done,” Marksman said, pulling the cork out of an expensive healing potion and using it on the Rogue Archetype. Her badly bruised and swelling face immediately reverted to something more human as the punch Will had delivered to her orbital bone was undone.
From the outside, it seemed like a compassionate Lord healing the wounds of his vassals, but Will knew it was entirely motivated by self interest.
‘Jessica’ would have an easier time catching Will if she weren’t concussed, and that was the extent of Marksman’s concern for her.
“He’s too fast, and I gotta touch him,” Jessica said, her voice breaking a bit. “And…” She choked up, her gaze landing on the three bloody smears dotting the mountainside below them.
“It’s alright,” Marksman said with a deceptively soothing tone. “Let me handle it.”
Sigils of a different nature formed under both his palms and seared into the girls’ Class, forming two glowing umbilical cords that connected them.
Jessica suddenly shot towards Will, faster than he would’ve thought possible, but it was her expression that gave him pause.
It wasn’t determination, but helpless terror, as if she’d been flung forward against her will.