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-oOo- Chapter 67-oOo-
“Benjamin Turner of the West Mountain Mining Group,” a dark-haired man introduced. “It’s an honor to meet the Cloud Princess.”
Benjamin was thickly built, with broad shoulders and a barrel chest. The businessman held out a hand, a salesman’s smile on his face. Irritated, Sylvia took the offered limb, her high heels clopping on the deck of the Cumulus.
“Sylvia, please,” Sylvia said, completing the firm shake. Didn’t she surrender her governorship to avoid these niceties? “How goes the platinite business, Mr. Turner?”
Benjamin Turner preened.
During their brief exchange, Sylvia’s digitized soul had completed a search. Mr. Turner had entered the netherworld five years ago. Two years later, his newly formed company – the West Mountain Mining Group – bought the rights to a platinite vein just outside of Axis. The government’s only mandate was that they must transform the vein into a renewable resource. Since then, the West Mountain Mining Group had expanded production to 150 tonnes a year.
Which translated to 5 million experience points, in the form of consumables, for those gamers with a metal affinity.
Sylvia had signed the deal herself. Not that she personally remembered doing so. Her government had even gone so far as to provide funding, money Benjamin Turner was slowly paying back.
“Last year, we completed our third upgrade, but we still can’t meet demand,” Mr. Turner said proudly.
The first generation of gamers received carnivorous consumption at the start. The second generation had to buy it with merit points during their first consolidation. If they weren’t willing, the System offered a chance to reinforce their existing elemental predisposition instead. This was actually quite a good option. Not only did it increase digestion speed by a small amount, it allowed gamers to double-dip, meditating and consuming resources at the same time.
And, on a societal level, it reduced the pressure on the phantasm population. Which was important, because the guilds and companies had driven most of the stray beasts from Axis.
“You’re doing well for yourself, then,” Sylvia commented with polite disinterest.
“My West Mountain Mining Group cannot compare to your Swift Brooms, Miss Swallows. To say nothing of the legendary Wells and Swallow real estate company headed by Silas Wells,” Benjamin replied enthusiastically. The dark-haired man stroked his well-trimmed beard. “Have you heard the wild stories they tell about you? People say you once tore off part of a plane with a single spell, created all the gates in the Cloud Island Wilderness, and started a war between Heaven and Hell. There’s even a crazy myth claiming you drove back the dragon to claim Axis.”
Mr. Turner laughed. Sylvia’s pastel pink eyes were dull. Three of those things were arguably true.
“My fans are fond of exaggeration,” Sylvia said blandly.
They were on the Cumulus.
The airship was docked in Viridian City, hull tied to a tall tower. Most airships couldn’t land wherever they pleased. Flyts, which often had masts protruding below the keel, were particularly limited. For this reason, ports would provide large towers with a central elevator to which the ships could connect.
Likewise, many ships had tenders, small boats which would bring people from ground to deck.
While Benjamin and Sylvia stood off to the side, airmen were busy loading the ship with cargo. The Cumulus was heading north to Windroost before its stop in Skyhaven. There, in that final port, the cargo would be loaded into a streamer. The more durable ship would cross the 100 kilometer wind gap between Pyrinas and Starlight.
Neither of these locations were Sylvia’s destination. Instead, their raid party would depart when the Cumulus reached the edge of Axis.
“Did you buy your way in too?” Mr. Turner suddenly asked.
…
This guy seriously knew nothing about her.
Over the last decade, the Cloud Island Wilderness had developed a clear definition of company versus guild. Guilds were organizations which sought merit. They chased quests and strove for personal improvement. For this reason, guilds would often deploy small teams called ‘parties’ when resolving quests, hoping to maximize merit.
A company, by contrast, focused on cash. When solving a problem, only the cheapest method would do.
Swift Brooms was a company. Viridian Blades was a guild.
Obviously, people weren’t content to just have one or the other. Gamers wanted to have their cake and eat it too. This got a little tricky, because merit points couldn’t be transacted. But where there was a will, there was a way.
The simplest way to get a twofer was to arrange jobs that doubled as a daily task. This way, employees would collect their salary and merit at the same time. Of course, no company would leave money on the table. Merit was a benefit and benefits were leverage. Using this leverage, the company could drive down wages and pocket the extra cash.
What Benjamin was talking about, however, was the inversion of this process. Since guilds chased merit, they were often short on funds. So, from time to time, the guilds would sell quest slots to wealthy individuals, in effect trading merit for money.
With a flash of steel wings, a samurai landed on deck.
“Everyone here?” Tobi yelled.
From various positions on the ship, the raid team gathered. There were six men and two women, including Tobi and Sylvia. A gender mix like this wasn’t unusual. Guilds were roughly 70% male on average. Combat roles were even more testosterone heavy, with the ratio tilting toward 80%.
There was an ongoing debate in the forums as to why this happened. Sylvia’s personal theory was that nature, nurture, and bigotry had all played a role.
Men were attracted to war and adventure. The why didn’t matter, it was a fact. As a result, women who joined guilds had to deal with a sausage fest. Which could be off-putting, to say the least. There were real cultural differences between men and women. Beyond this, there was the ever present concern of harassment and assault. Sure, the majority of men were decent. Sylvia knew this better than most, having once been a man herself.
But, so what?
Who ate at a restaurant where they’d gotten food poisoning twice? Negative experiences loomed larger than positive ones. If only one percent of men acted like animals, women would rightly be wary when joining a group of jacked up, adrenaline junkie bros.
It was no surprise then, that the all women’s guild Fantasia was on a rapid rise. Sylvia had never worked with them, but she understood Esmeralda had provided financial support.
“Good, I see all seven of you,” Tobi said. Without his helmet, the warrior’s Japanese features were made visible, mixed as they were with an Anglo-Saxon ancestry. “I’m not one to mince words, so I’ll make this quick. Our mission is to reclaim Everwhite Pass. And that means killing Snowgrave and scattering his swarm.”
Tobi projected a blue System window for everyone to see.
Snowgrave – Arctic Crypt Butterfly [C-V/Low]
Type: Nether BeastLv: 784Hp/Mp: 5,175 / 7,060Atk/Def: 660 / 150Celerity: 150%, 325% awarenessDominion: 430
Abilities:
Large (40% SR), Death Song, King of Winter, Ice Magic, Psychic Magic, Lord of Cold Mountain
A year prior, Snowgrave had swallowed Everwhite Pass. The nether beast had refused to move a single inch since that event, clinging to the territory with his army of forty-thousand arctic crypt butterflies. The butterflies themselves were trash mobs rated C-I/Low. A noob could kill one with a stick.
The problem?
Arctic crypt butterflies exuded an aura of cold and sleep. An aura which harmonized with the others of their species, increasing in both power and area as the number of butterflies grew. With the legions Snowgrave brought, the combined aura was strong enough to freeze Sylvia solid in as little as twenty seconds.
To make things worse, the butterflies could burn their mana to amplify the aura’s impact.
“We’ll be operating in two groups,” Tobi continued. “The first team will be led by me. We’ll be tasked with killing Snowgrave then tracing his soul to his nest. The rest of you, short the princess, are to focus on reducing Snowgrave’s swarm.”
Several players nodded. The professionals had read the mission brief.
Also…. Princess. Princess. Princess. Sylvia endured the curse when it was cast by Emmy, but she was sick of hearing the word from random members of the public. What rot had gotten into peoples brains that made them pass that ridiculous bill? Besides, that title was supposed to be for ambassadorial purposes!
Though, Sylvia herself bore some responsibility. She was standing here all pretty in her adorable Spring Blossom dress, after all. With such style, what else did she expect? If Sylvia were on the outside looking in, she too would dub a girl like her a ‘princess’.
…
No way! She refused to accept it. Damn rationality, Sylvia would sooner admit she was a magical girl!
“Alexander and Nathan will be with me,” Tobi continued, pointing at a blond warrior and a robed hunter. “Rowan will be in charge of the rest. Now that we’re settled, let’s get the introductions over with. I’m Tobi Takahashi, battlemaster dreadlord. Level 749.”
The weeb’s voice carried well-deserved pride. Tobi had reached the vaunted number three on the level charts, his position was just behind that of Sylvia and Esmeralda. A rank he’d obtained by Awakening then punching through to the third consolidation. Even in Hell, someone of his power would garner respect.
To reach this level so quickly, the cosplay samurai showed he had more than mere talent. He had dedication. And that was worthy of respect.
… but it didn’t change the fact he was a weeb.
Also, Tobi’s core level couldn’t be much higher than 600.
Alexander stepped forward next. He was a tall, blond man with broad shoulders. “Ravager,” he announced. “Level 653.”
Ravager advanced from Tier II barbarian. What made this class unique was a trait which let them burn ki and mana to enhance their speed. This buff multiplied with nearly all arts and equipment, making ravagers swift and deadly.
By contrast, Tobi’s Tier III battlemaster, which emerged from fighter, granted a trait which enhanced battlefield awareness. A very useful ability for a leader. As for what edge lord traits he picked up when his battlemaster transformed into battlemaster dreadlord? Sylvia hadn’t the slightest idea.
Nathan moved next. The hunter had dark-red hair, his face obscured by the hood of his robes. Beneath the man’s thick coat was seen a chain vest.
“Nathan Wagner. Metal conjurer, level 601.”
Conjurer derived from the hunter class path, not mage as most would expect. This Tier III class was reached by first becoming a Tier II elemental soldier. The conjurer took an interesting spin on the soldier’s elemental energies, allowing them to blend life more deeply into their living mana. This let them ‘summon’ elemental minions after making a blood essence sacrifice.
There were limits, however. These minions couldn’t be more than half the conjurer’s level while the total sum of levels must be less than the conjurer's own. This restriction could be broken with the right skills and resources. If the minions were converted into true phantasms, a conjurer could create hundreds or even thousands of servants. It was just a matter of time and cash.
Regardless, Nathan was only carrying three. Sylvia spotted the burning snakes peeking out from his robes.
“I’m Rowan Sanders.” A man who looked around fifty stepped forward. Rowan sported a full head of salt and pepper hair. “Sentinel, level 560. Stick close to me and I’ll ensure you’re protected.”
Every party dreamed of a sentinel ally. Sentinels were another Tier III variant of the fighter class. Their unique trait was barrier mysticism. This was a kind of innate ki-release paired with a layer of natural magic which let sentinels project all manner of wards and protections. These constructs didn’t just cover the user, a sentinel could just as easily guard anyone in close vicinity.
If Rowan was good, his party would stand firm until the man’s mana ran out. Against weaker foes, anyway. Snowgrave could punch right through a level 560 sentinel’s defense.
A raven-haired woman spoke next. The girl was five-foot six and dressed in gothic leather armor.
“Charlotte Reed,” she introduced. “Shadow mage, level 476.”
Shadow mages stemmed from the Tier II shadow hunter class. They were, in short, mage assassins. What they had was a shadow aspect well. A class feature which massively improved their magical endurance.
“Theo,” a man in blue robes said. He flashed a smile. “Evoker, level 508.”
And finally, the team had an actual mage. An evoker received an improved inner grimoire which better combined with the System’s Networked Grimoire feature. This allowed the smooth and brainless priming of spells, removing the need to study runes and magecraft. It was no wonder, therefore, that evoker was the single most popular Tier III mage class for gamers outside the Moonlight Academy.
After Theo, it was Mr. Turner’s chance to speak.
“Benjamin Turner,” he introduced. The dark-haired man flashed a professional smile. “CEO of the West Mountain Mining Group and beast tamer, level 409. I want to say, I’m truly thankful to all of you for bringing me on this mission. For years, my company has provided cultivation resources to the brave warriors of the Cloud Island Wilderness. To stand among our heroes is an honor.”
Mr. Turner’s short speech was met with disinterest. Only Nathan Wagner’s expression was friendly. Sylvia guessed this was because Nathan liked platinite more than he hated VIP escort missions.
“Cast off and make ready the sails!”
With the captain’s roar, the Cumulus shifted. Ropes were loosed, letting the airship pull away from the wharf using auxiliary power. Sylvia laced her voice with ki, so her words would cut through the chaos.
“Sylvia Swallows,” she said, tone dull. “Starlight witch, level 1342.”
Her announcement earned gazes of respect. Benjamin suddenly looked awkward. Bulky CEO must not have checked the ranker charts. Not that the ranker charts showed her exact level, but the nerds on the forums could make a pretty good guess.
“The Cloud Princess is providing support on this mission,” Tobi explained. “Spells and potions to tilt the battlefield in our favor. She won’t do more than that, to avoid skewing the contributions. Not unless the quest will fail if she stands still.”
To maximize merit, big guilds like the Viridian Blades analyzed quests to determine an optimal party sizes. The goal was to predict the System’s hidden pot. When done well, this process all but guaranteed the gamers would get the maximum merit reward or near it. But that only held true if contributions were reasonably balanced. If one player did too much or another too little, the merit rewards might be halved or zeroed.
Which would fly in the face of a guild’s purpose.
“Okay. Introductions are done so let’s talk tactics,” Tobi said, his voice loud. “With the help of the guild and Mr. Turner, we’ve prepared thirty plague sacks. We’ll use these to trim the swarm. Rowan, I’m putting you in charge of distribution. First, we will – ”
As the samurai spoke, the Cumulus rose into the sky, Viridian City shrinking beneath them.
-oOo-
“It’s cold,” Theo complained, shivering.
Their party was two-and-a-half kilometers into the Northern Tunnel. The first part of the path had been warm and lit. The lights stopped, however, when they reached the side fork which led into a fiery dungeon. If their group had taken the dungeon path, they would’ve enjoyed five kilometers of winding caverns before exiting on the eastern slope.
Instead, they had stuck to the main thoroughfare, a hole cut through the mountains wide enough for three carriages or two trains. The further they walked into the dark, the colder it became. Already, Sylvia could hear a faint lullaby hanging in the air. A psychic trill to match the wintry aura cast by the horde of phantasmal beasts.
Like Theo, Sylvia felt the chill. Logically, she should’ve been worse off. The silver-haired witch was poorly dressed for the occasion, but her superior vitality attribute more than made up the difference.
Tobi held up a hand, bringing them to a halt.
“Everyone, drink your potions before we proceed,” he ordered.
Sylvia had prepared two potions for this raid. The first was the spell crystalline heart in a bottle. With the magic immersed in an alchemical base, it would hold for two hours instead of five minutes. The second was a potion she’d dubbed Summer Heat. The pair of buffs would greatly enhance defense against psychic and cold.
All around her, gamers fumbled with their bottles before guzzling the potions. Sylvia drank hers as well, enjoying liquid warmth as it spread through her veins. The chill air was beaten back while the lullaby fell to the faintest murmur.
These alone wouldn’t be enough. If they were, Snowgrave would’ve met his end a long time ago.
“Charlotte, run ahead and clear the tunnel,” Rowan ordered.
With a cheeky grin, the shadow mage melted into the dark. Sylvia’s gaze followed her motion with her starlight eyes, the gamer’s body made bright by seething ether. Three hundred meters ahead, the black twisted. Toothy maws rose from the abyss, devouring the arctic crypt butterflies filling the entrance.
They continued on their path.
Sunlight brought no warmth as they exited the tunnel. Instead, the glacial chill grew terrifyingly bitter. A sound unheard sang in Sylvia’s ears, a funeral lullaby cast by forty thousand phantasmal beasts. Benjamin stumbled, turning pale. The clawing cold was intense. The psychic magic which came with it was insidious.
“Kind of hard to stay awake,” Mr. Turner said weakly.
An expression of irritation crossed Tobi’s face. Sylvia understood the sentiment. If Benjamin was struggling now, how would he survive once the fight started?
“Allow me,” Sylvia asserted.
Her hand flickered, weaving a complex chain into the rune Shalquaq. Her mana flowed through a pair of bottles, siphoning space and causality. As these energies were catalyzed into law, the silver-haired witch added her edict.
“Auras hold no power here.”
Her magic attached to the sentinel. Wintry chill and psychic song were suddenly reduced.
“Keep your head in the game people,” Tobi barked. “Princess Swallows, head to the tower and set down your magic. Mr. Turner, sooth the swarm. I don’t want to see those insects roused before we enter Everwhite Pass.”
Summoning her broom, Sylvia took to the air.
Everwhite Pass was a company town consisting of no more than a dozen buildings. It had been constructed in the vale between two snow capped mountains. From where the party stood, a gentle kilometer long slope acted as a path down from the Northern Tunnel.
The ground beneath her was blanketed in white.
Wings. Atop the snow and craggy rocks were thousands upon thousands of wings. Arctic crypt butterflies were so thick they formed a carpet, the pure white color touched by sparks of vivid blue. From above, it seemed as though a hundred thousand eyes were gazing up at her.
She shivered.
It wasn’t the cold. It was the reminder. An image danced in her mind, an indescribable, unfathomable existence once glimpsed through crystal water, the Heavenly Will gazing into her soul at the moment of her Awakening. The psychic lullaby preyed upon this weakness, sweet whispers luring her into deathly sleep.
Sylvia pushed it aside. The choking aura wasn’t enough to pierce her defense. At least, not before Snowgrave’s horde had stirred.
Soon, Sylvia floated two hundred meters above a half built tower.
When Access Railways built Everwhite Pass, they’d imagined the town as a logistics hub for goods and hunters. The idea being that airships would dock here instead of Axis, with trains bringing the materials to Viridian City. Personally, Sylvia felt the whole affair was stupid. In the first place, why would airships come here – risking the cloud island eagles – when she’d already negotiated a safe sky corridor with High Queen Telma?
Then there was the problem of the railroad itself.
The netherworld wasn’t the material universe. Technologies didn’t translate perfectly from one world to another. Yet, Access Railways was talking big about trains without ever having built an engine. Indeed, Sylvia had serious doubts the plan would ever be viable. The dynamics of friction, force, and air resistance just weren’t as favorable in this universe.
But, as governor, she’d allowed it. The Four Roads was an important side quest, and who was she to complain when Access Railways was shouldering a portion of the cost? Sylvia had only objected when it came time to bail the fools out. A policy on which Governor Sanchez clearly disagreed.
Either that, or he was looking for any means, no matter how far-fetched, to break Swift Ships’ growing monopoly on long distance trade. Heh. If so, Sylvia wished him luck because he was going to need it.
Left hand flashing through a series of seals, Sylvia raised her staff. Great flows of mana poured into the glass bottles hanging from her belt. Dust unraveled into ether, gathering into a huge storm of space and causality that roiled over her head.
A giant sigil captured the magic, imprinting upon the world her word as law.
“Magic cannot induce sleep.”“Disease will run rampant.”“The cold cannot freeze the flesh.”
All at once, everything changed. The glacial air softened into a gentle chill, while the lullaby was reduced to a whisper. Three spells intoned, Sylvia waited. She did not wish to go further until the raid team had made its way down the mountain.
A handful of butterflies glided gracefully in the sky below her, none reacting to her magic or her presence. Arctic crypt butterflies were gentle creatures, if only because the phantasms would bury their prey by the mere act of existing. Further away, the phantasms were not so tranquil. As the black dots made their way to the vale, they stirred portions of the swarm. Mr. Turner worked his magic, calming the beasts to prevent an eruption.
Finally, the raid party entered the field controlled by her magic.
Edict was a powerful spell that covered a wide territory. When placed on a landmark recognized by the world’s logic, this incredible breadth would be doubled. Thus, Sylvia’s spell had swept an area five hundred meters in diameter.
Now, she was ready to add to it. This time, however, the asteri would cast out laws less welcome.
“Auras cannot sing in harmony.” “The heat of summer descends upon this world.”“Psychic magic is not welcome here.”“Fire and molten metal beat back the cold.”“No one can fly higher than 50 meters.”
Five laws wrapped the land in their iron fist. The swarm’s lullaby fractured, rhythm thrown into discord. Fire ether flooded into the vale, clashing with the chill induced by the butterflies’ winter’s touch. Then came another shock. Sylvia’s broom lost grip on the sky, for a moment she fell. Then the witch caught herself on a bed of flowers.
The phantasms were not so lucky.
Scores of butterflies plunged through the air, bereft of lift. The phantasmal beasts hit the ground in a heavy p-p-patter. Serenity shattered. Enraged, thousands upon thousands of wings beat. A single butterfly was so quiet its flight seemed to make no sound at all. Forty thousand phantasmal beasts moving as one unleashed a roar akin to a waterfall.
Then, in the sea of blue and white, Sylvia caught a swirl of vivid purple. Magic alight, the shaken aura grew stronger. The worst was yet to come. From the depths of the resurrection pool emerged a giant. Snowgrave. The nether beast’s pale blue wing shed a shimmering haze of twinkling mist.
Temperatures plunged. The thrice stifled lullaby rang out in mangled cacophony.
“■.”
A weave of six runes sank into Sylvia’s skin. Feather light. How nostalgic. She hadn’t used the spell to fly since Orasul Lunii.
Amused, the silver-haired girl leaned back, storing her broom as she watched the battle. A real shame. She should’ve brought a bucket of popcorn.
Rowan’s group engaged the horde, flinging plague sacks into the swarm. Orange gas filled the air, creating clouds ten meters to fifteen meters in diameter. The putrid mist clung to the butterflies as they flew past, white wings wilting into a slough of green and black. The rot didn’t end there. Gas leaked from the dying phantasms, spreading out in a greater fog.
A disease stoked higher by Sylvia’s law.
The rest of the team worked to amplify the ailment. The evoker, Theo, summoned a whirlwind sucking butterflies into the mist before flinging their dying bodies into the throng. Charlotte added to the chaos with the magics of shadow while Benjamin tossed another plague sack. Rowan stood stalwart, his barrier mysticism used to keep the fog from dispersing to the point it lost its effect.
Phantasms died by the hundred.
Plague sacks were extracted from a C-II/Mid phantasmal beast known as the fester fly. These noxious creatures could be found in the jungles of Starlight, along with many of the warmer, woodland territories of Pyrinas.
While the pest team worked the crowd, Tobi’s group rushed for the nether beast.
Samurai and ravager took the lead, a curtain of butterflies rising as they charged across Everwhite Pass. Alexander jumped into the air, a pair of roc wings springing from his back. A single beat sent the blond ravager skittering to Snowgrave’s right even as Tobi lanced in from the nether beast’s left.
Magic swirled.
A storm of white snow exploded from the nether beast, forcing the warriors into quick retreat. Snowgrave floated on the wind with celestial grace, planes of crystalline ice forming beside his beautiful wings. A blazing chain ripped through the whirling white. One of the nether beast’s shields shifted, catching the weapon.
Ice sizzled, releasing a puff of steam as the elements canceled.
The metal conjurer, Nathan, entered the fray. His three serpents sprayed fire to fight back the cold and ice. The redheaded man twirled his weapon, a dagger at the chain’s tip.
Tobi surged into the opening, gale pinion and metal wings granting inhuman agility. Shoo-shoo-shooft. In retort, Snowgrave unleashed spikes of glacial ice.
“■.” Sylvia sounded again, renewing her feather light. As the battle dragged, she shook her head then murmured. “It’d be faster if you just let me blast him or cast a few curses.”
Well. What happened next wasn’t her problem. Already bored by the battle, she lazed back on a bed of petals, summoning a blue rectangle. With intense concentration, Sylvia guided a growing snake through a small territory, letting it feast on delicious, red apples.
How envious.
The fight raged on.
Snowgrave’s wings took on a purple hue. The terrible, freezing aura distorted. An even more shocking cold fell upon the area illuminated by the nether beast. Nathan’s serpents bravely flew out in sacrifice, using their flesh, blood, and mana to burn the chill. Snowgrave was not deterred, ice falling like rain. The nether beast’s ether was nigh infinite, thanks to the swirling frost summoned by his swarm.
A swarm that was decaying.
Five thousand butterflies had already fallen. Plague spread through their number, the infection growing by the minute. Not even Rowan’s team was immune, Theo and Benjamin reeled from the sickness. But the festering rot took a heavier toll on the phantasms. Arctic crypt butterflies were fragile creatures. As such, they were particularly vulnerable to the semi-physical contagion.
“Hmm?”
Pausing her game, Sylvia peered out into the distance, ki flickering over her pastel pink eyes. With the art, hawk eyes, the scene jumped four times closer. Two kilometers away, she spotted a tuft of blue hair moving between boulders. Tiffany Lowe. Ay, ay, ay. The plane was still so small and Nimbus Weekly was already poking its nose into everything. How long before Sylvia was dodging the paparazzi?
Since Tiffany was here, there might be others. Sylvia let Resonant Tear dangle on its silver chain. Causality magic resonated with the instrument as though it were an antenna. Track Target: Gamer.
A pulse swept over the world. Most of her party lit up on her minimap, Tobi and the shadow mage Charlotte excepted. The System magic also broke around Tiffany, leaving only a faint distortion. No surprise. Tiffany had always been good at divination and counter-divination.
Lips pursed, she considered. With the help of her digitized soul, Sylvia replayed the wave of magic. While she thought, the silver-haired witch swirled her arm, sending the chain spiraling around her wrist like a bracelet.
“Given there are four people here using anti-divination, I probably should be more thorough,” she mused.
Besides, what else was she going to do? Feed the snake more apples? Snakes don’t even eat apples. That’d be ridiculous. Everyone knows the story of snakes and apples. They’re supposed to end up in the hands of the girl. Where was Sylvia’s apple?
She’d been cheated, obviously.
Humored, the asteri pulled a thread of causality ether from a bottle. The last bits of dust collapsed into nothingness. To this energy, Sylvia added mana natured with void. The twin elements were then catalyzed into their advanced cousin, fate.
“Prying eye, prying eye, show to me whoever here hides from my sight.”
With playful, and completely unnecessary incantation, Sylvia wove a string of two hundred and eighteen runes. The spell was invoked, imbued with extra power so it’d punch neatly through any ward.
A window blinked into existence.
“– -ant me to kill --- rav--er or th- con--rer?”
A voice splintered by static was projected through the System window. Video played on the screen, obscured by glitches and artifacts. Still, it was enough to make out the target. Five gamers, all nestled under a tent covered with snow. Physical camouflage to go with the anti-divination protections.
Sylvia’s gaze swayed to her right, starlight eyes spotting the hidden figures. She smirked. Oh, look. Somebody had come all this way just to ease a little lady’s boredom.
“Take -ut the --njurer fir--.”
Her hand flickered, releasing a chain of runes. The last bit of space ether was drained from her bottle, then mixed with void to catalyze the element realm. A blue-green swirl was torn through the world. Sylvia stepped into her gate.
“Sh-” Voomp. “– it!”
The voice cut briefly as she crossed. The next words were heard clearly through her own ears.
“What happened?”
“Cutie just gated!”
Five heads turned in horror.
Near the summit of a white mountain floated a celestial princess. The maiden’s dress was an adorable mix of pink and black. Her staff, dark wood and chrome twisted into a helix. The weapon’s head was a wire fan, thin metal gripping two crystals: molten ruby and electrified topaz.
Above all this rolled a blaze half as broad as the witch was tall.
“Hello gentlemen,” Sylvia said conversationally. “You looked a little cold, so I thought I’d warm you up.”
With a wild smile, Sylvia let her staff fall. The churning inferno fell with it.
Time slowed.
This was not mere fiction. Ki and psychic energies mixed in her mind, empowered by the transformation realm art mirrored lake sutra. Thought accelerated, her reflexes forcefully brought into sync. In her skull, a psychic pool drained. The fuel for her art. Until it was completely consumed, Sylvia’s perceptions were three times faster than before.
Which provided plenty of time to witness the enemy’s response.
A bulky man shot to his feet. While he rose, living energy poured from his veins forming a thick wall of ice. A frost knight, one of the three hunter classes which stemmed from the Tier II elemental soldier.
The mage beside the knight was just as fast. Lightning sparked in his hands, two weaves of eighty-nine runes completed in a fifth of a second, cast from the wizard’s inner grimoire. Power pulsed out from an internal organ, allowing a burst of strength well beyond the mage’s means. A spellfire duelist. A class branching from battlemage.
Dangerous. Pastel pink eyes narrowed.
“■.”
The mage was fast, Sylvia was faster. The mirrored lake sutra had no influence over ki or mana. It only affected the mind. So Sylvia could see her ice ether flow out, frigid energy pouring from her palace. She caught glimpse as the ether melted into her fifty-seven runes. Crystals formed in midair, expanding in a fraction of a second to form a glacial scale.
Jagged lances of lightning struck an instant later.
B-bang! Boom!
Ice shattered. Sparks of electricity sprayed around her, jagged streams cascading over the barrier of Sylvia’s armor. Air cracked, but the witch beneath was left untouched. In the same second, fire unfolded. A raging inferno washed over the knight’s wall.
With all the light and sound, Sylvia nearly missed a streak of darkness flying around it. A hunter emerged from shadow, his dark scythe slashing toward her delicate neck. Milliseconds behind came an arrow, the glowing projectile punching through the churning blaze.
Sylvia’s left hand completed a seal, a second spell already on her lips.
“~■■.” Ba-Pop-ng!
The asteri vanished even as an ordinary lightning bolt flashed toward the spellfire duelist. An instant later, Sylvia appeared in a space a hundred meters distant. Realm skip. Her bolt struck, splintering on the mage’s water shield. The rolling flames thrown by her meteor blast were finally dying down.
Sylvia, however, didn’t miss a beat.
“~■~■, ■~, ■■.”
Fingers flashing, she incanted. Ethers of realm, water, ice, lightning, and law whirled around her, six spells woven in less than a second. Three barrier frames were assembled. Water emerged from nothing, swirling into a protective sphere: aqua shell. Ice condensed into a shield: glacial scale. Finally, a ward against lightning was added to the outermost frame: elemental ward.
Vicious smile spreading on her lips, Sylvia drew in ether for her next offense.
“Time out, time out!” a farstrider screamed, making ‘T’ shapes with his hands.
…
Flabbergasted, Sylvia released her mirrored lake sutra. Only a fraction of the pool had been consumed, but if Sylvia let the art relax, the energy needed for her mental acceleration would slowly refill.
“Time out?” Sylvia said in disbelief. She pointed her staff threateningly. “I’m not the governor anymore, so what Laughing Coffin does with its free time isn’t my business. However, you’re the ones butting in on my quest right now.”
Sylvia knew the brown-haired farstrider at a glance. Lucas Moore, better known as ZombieMan02. Lucas was the guildmaster of Laughing Coffin, a dark guild that specialized in player killing. The silver-haired witch didn’t know if this had always been Lucas’s intent or if the stupid name he’d chosen had decided his guild’s destiny.
Many mistakenly thought Sylvia hated the dark guilds. She didn’t. In her opinion, a bit of murder was good for the soul. Gamers often fell into a rut, treating the afterlife like the material world. Death did an excellent job of shaking them up.
Plus, Lucifer had the whole ‘utopia is a video game’ vibe going, and who was she to ruin that?
“No, no, you misunderstand. We’re not asking you to let us go. We just need a moment to get things organized before we fight,” Lucas said cheerfully. “After all, a scene this epic needs some set up.”
…
Sylvia’s pastel pink eyes drifted to her left. There, a first consolidation fighter stood, fingers and thumbs spread in right angles as he gazed between the virtual box drawn by his hands.
They were recording this, weren’t they? As though reading her expression, the lower-level fighter proudly shot her a thumbs up.
“Mason, are we ready?”
“We’re ready, boss,” the recording fighter, Mason, confirmed.
“Then, Andrew, get us started,” Lucas ordered. “You know the drill.”
The shadow manipulating hunter nodded, before dissolving into black. A dark pit expanded over the snow. Andrew was a shadow stalker, Sylvia realized. One of the classes deriving from the Tier II shadow hunter.
Mason took a few steps to improve his angle. Arms folded and expression dark, the shadow stalker emerged from the pool of black.
“We come from the darkness,” Andrew intoned.
““Wielding ice and fire.””
Just after, the frost knight and spellfire duelist jumped into the shadowed space, shooting streams of snow and fire in opposite directions. Lucas flew in right after, leaping over the twin spells. His sword carved through the dark background with a brilliant slash.
“To put you back where you belong!” the guildmaster yelled.
Finally, all four men settled into a pose before adding: ““We are Laughing Coffin! Cloud Princess Sylvia Swallows, prepare for your doom!””
The cameraman panned his virtual view port toward the silver-haired witch. The first notes of boss-themed music blasted out from him, echoing over the snow-covered hills. Sylvia almost facepalmed. Fortunately, she had enormous wit and the mirrored lake sutra to buy her time.
No more than a second later, the witch thrust out her staff. Powerful magic crackled down its length.
“Foolishness,” Sylvia barked. “Faithless mongrels who turn their hand against the order of this world, allow me to teach you the meaning of the word despair!”
Hidden ten meters beneath her enemy’s feet, a cauldron of magma boiled. While Lucas had prepared his scene, Sylvia had prepared a counterattack. Magma surge. And with her shout, the spell erupted.
Ka-boom!
Earth exploded, giving the dark gamers little time to react. But little time wasn’t the same as none, and gamers were far faster than mortals. The shadow stalker moved first, body blending into the dark. Lucas was a step slower. The farstrider threw himself to the side with the help of a common technique called spring step. Though their mage probably sensed the ambush before anyone else, his reaction was the worst. The spellfire duelist summoned a water shield, which against Sylvia’s attack provided poor protection.
The bravest, however, was the frost knight.
Rather than evade, the dark gamer slammed a hand into the ground unleashing a torrent of ice. Good move! Unfortunately, he wasn’t strong enough. The elements of metal and ice clashed then canceled. The plume of cooled stone, however, continued on its path.
A shrapnel blast tore through the soil, smashing straight through the knight. The spellfire duelist was caught on the edge of the weakened explosion. His water shield held for but a moment, then the rocks ripped right through him.
The mage collapsed in a heap of pulverized flesh.
Sylvia’s left hand flickered. Ethers of wind and fire blended into lightning. Bang! A line of jagged electricity pierced through the heart of the cartwheeling knight. The asteri rushed to her right, her high-heeled shoes pushing off air and leaving a wake of petals. Sylvia’s aqua shell resisted the motion, but her sheer strength let her push through.
A bow twanged, an arrow flying from the string.
Dashing across the snow was Lucas, weapon in hand. A second projectile was already notched, arrow filled with the farstrider’s heavy mana. The shadow stalker slid in from the other side, his dark form easily seen against the field of white.
That wasn’t all.
Hundreds of meters away, the snow puffed. Giant bolts were thrown by a pair of obscured ballistas. Between them, the ground burst. A score of cloud island eagles screamed out of a cage to fill the air above. Heh. A double ambush. Or, a triple one, if Sylvia considered how she’d started this fight by ambushing the ambusher. How exciting.
Crack!
Lucas’s arrow struck, shattering on Sylvia’s glacial scale. The blow sent fissures through the frozen shield’s center. A second projectile flashed in, already halfway to her. A third left Lucas’s bow, adding to the threat. Taking advantage of the distraction, the shadow stalker emerged from the darkness. She was surrounded, threats flying in from every direction.
Sylvia grinned. Her staff swung.
How nice. She’d been waiting for Andrew to take action. The eyes of the shadow stalker widened, realizing the direction of Sylvia’s attack. Too late. A roiling blaze smashed into the dark gamer’s chest. BOOM! Fire washed the world, but not before Andrew loosed a crystal bottle in her direction. In the haze of heat, glass shattered, sweeping orange with white.
Her barriers quivered.
Ray of Rust, a law magic Sylvia hadn’t seen since her duel in Iacchus. Within this spell’s aura, all manner of magical shields faltered. Basic magics would collapse in a second. Advanced spells might hold for ten.
“■■.”
Not that Sylvia intended to stick around for it. Before the flames left her staff, another spell was already on her lips. The chain of runes wove itself into a glyph: naaleise, a great leap. Realm mana, catalyzed by her core, flooded the sigil.
Cra-chink! – Pop!
Her glacial scale shattered by Lucas’s arrow, Sylvia emerged from the nothingness a hundred meters distant. For a moment eyes of fractal pink reflected the conflagration before her. Eagles spread in the sky, screeching. A broom manifested at her side, held by her right tress.
Then she spoke.
“■~■.”
A second realm skip put Sylvia near the slope with the two ballistas, a new glacial scale at her side. Startled birds and gamers hardly had the chance to adjust before she clenched her fist.
Grave maw.
Forty meters distant, five mighty teeth tore through the earth. The giant bow’s shooter and driver dove out of the way in desperation. Stone jaws snapped closed. Wood turned to splinter, blood spraying as the shooter was crushed and the driver’s arm ripped from its socket.
Shrieking, two cloud island eagles swept over her. Blazing feathers rained down, hitting her aqua shell with a sizzle. Sylvia ignored them, dancing back to reduce the burden on her barrier. She ignored the threats. Instead, Chrome Tempest slashed in the direction of the second siege engine.
“■■, ■■!”
B-Bang!
Lances of lightning ripped through the sky, unleashing heavenly fury. The first seared through the ballista’s body, skewering the driver beyond. The shooter strove to defend. Useless. Sylvia’s sheer power bulled right through his guard, blasting his charred corpse apart.
First consolidation gamers didn’t stand a chance.
Pop!
With expert dual casting, Sylvia realm skipped before the birds could burn through her aqua shell. Lucas, however, had grown wiser. Arrows plunged from above, using a grand arc to give chase. Sylvia shifted her shield. Cra-chi-ploosh! Her glacial scale tanked the first two shots before shattering into frosty chunks. The third tore through Sylvia’s weakened aqua shell, turning the bubble into a spray of water.
Then her broom kicked, a pulse of petals sending the witch weaving expertly around the third.
Mana flooding the instrument, Sylvia rocketed forward. What she held in hand was a platinum grade, second edition Lunam Fuga. This high performance war broom had a peak speed of 275 km/h and a zero to one-hundred acceleration of 1.55 seconds. All this at a weight of 32 droms. The perfect broom for combat, buy it today at low, low price of 45 gold. Special financing options were available.
Sh-shoof.
“■, ■.”
Completing a corkscrew roll, the witch slipped around Lucas’s arrows. Forming two new glacial scales as she went. Eagles cried. A few blazing pinions smashed into armor, shattering the invisible air protecting her. Below, a beast tamer directed the flock, trying to pin her in.
Pointless. Sylvia’s old Academy junker could outfly these eagles. With her faster Lunam Fuga, the witch swept higher into the sky, birds trailing behind her. A lazy chant rang on her lips.
“■■■ ■■■■, ■■■ ■■!”
A circle appeared above the asteri. Into this structure, she fed the elements water, wind, and fire. Catalyzed by her magic, Sylvia drew a stream of the element sky. Brilliant, blue light crackled, cascading down her staff. With pastel pink eyes, she coldly marked all the eagles with her mind.
Ba-raa-aaa-ack!
Barbed lightning split the heavens. A ragged chain ripped through the flock, jumping from phantasms to phantasm. Not even the beast tamer escaped, a smoldering hole torn through his chest. Eagles fell, only to burst into flame as they resurrected.
“■■■ ■■!” Ba-raa-ack!
Who said lightning couldn’t strike twice?
Massacre complete, Sylvia cut down toward Lucas. The farstrider had abandoned any hope of killing her. Instead, he rushed toward Everwhite Pass, hoping to spoil the quest. Sylvia came to a stop a dozen meters in front of him.
“Is that all you brought?” Sylvia questioned, deadpanned. “■■.”
Just to be sure, Sylvia spun water ether and ninety-six runes into an aqua shell.
Laughing Coffin only had three living members left. Lucas, the armless first consolidation driver who’d manned one ballista, and Mason who’d been studiously recording their battle from start to finish.
Arrow notched and bow lowered, Lucas let out a bitter laugh.
“Woah, I’ve heard you were strong, but don’t you think taking out a whole team is a bit much?”
Sylvia gazed down from a five meter height.
“In the netherworld there’s a saying: a novice mage will always lose to a novice warrior, but an expert warrior will always lose to an expert mage,” she informed. “And strength is not just measured by levels. It is also measured in equipment and skill books.”
Needless to say, dark guilds weren’t rolling in merit.
A warrior would only show their full strength after learning a complete set of arts. For offense, they needed a way to hit swift enemies, bust through barriers, attack at a range, and efficiently kill groups. For defense, they required arts to armor, shield, and deflect. Movement was also important, as there were times a warrior needed to close, dodge, fly, or endure.
Hunter classes had a faster learning curve and excellent burst damage. It was no wonder the dark guilds favored them. But this didn’t mean they could be remiss. Natural magic was also a skill. Without training, hunters would perform below their limit.
Of course, developing a full array of arts wasn’t easy. In the Cloud Island Wilderness, probably only Joshua Sanchez had succeeded. And that was because the governor was one of those annoying freaks who could pick up the manifestation part of an art at the drop of a hat.
“That’s really deep,” Lucas commented. In a blink his bow was up, arrow flying from the string. “I’ll be sure to remember it!”
Sylvia was just as fast. A frozen shield slewed even as a flick of her staff set a buzzsaw in motion. Swirling air screamed across the gap. Crack! A deep gouge was cut into ice. The farstrider dodged, a second arrow flashing toward the witch. With calm composure, the Laughing Coffin guildmaster dashed forward. A bottle tumbled through the air as Lucas’s sword hissed from its sheath.
Sparks danced off the steel blade as the farstrider deflected Sylvia’s scythe.
K-chink!
The damaged glacial scale shattered like glass. Sylvia shifted the second, accelerating to the side. Her fingers flashed, runes dancing on her tongue. With one stream, Sylvia wove the ether of wind. With the other, she manipulated the energies of metal.
“■■■!”
Lucas’s glass bottle exploded. BOOM! Rolling fire washed over her even as a second wind scythe cut through the air. Sylvia’s glacial scale held, but her aqua shell boiled in the face of its elemental opposite. Half blind from the flame, her staff slashed, releasing steel chain.
Cha-chink.
Metal rattled, catching Lucas in its grasp. As the wisps of orange and red fell away, Sylvia glimpsed the farstrider. Lucas’s legs and arms were wrapped by her binding chain, a steel plate covering the poor man’s eyes.
Sh-Shoo – Pl-plut.
Then her wind scythes cut in from either side, dividing the dark gamer into four parts.
Slowly, coldly, eyes of fractal pink turned to Mason. Still recording, the cameraman slowly raised a thumb. Expression serious, Sylvia offered a nod.
“Good work,” she praised.
Bang!
Then she put a lightning bolt through his heart. Because, you know, he was still an apple tart working for a bunch of player killers.
-oOo-
Bestiary
Arctic Crypt ButterflySpecies: Insect PhantasmLv: 35Hp/Mp: 50 / 160Atk/Def: 30 / 10Celerity: 135%Exp: 41
A white-winged butterfly with blue spots resembling eyes. As a phantasm, the arctic crypt butterfly is quite small with a wingspan of 70 centimeters. These phantasms are fragile creatures, so much so that they are easily killed by unconsolidated gamers. Despite this, the beasts are extremely dangerous in swarms.
All arctic crypt butterflies release an aura of cold and sleep. This aura harmonizes with those cast by other butterflies, increasing the area of effect by the square root of the swarm’s size and the potency of the magic by the cube root of the same. This means a swarm of 10,000 can influence an area of 1 km, with the magic being roughly 22x as strong. The scaling reaches its limit when the swarm’s size approaches 100,000.
While the arctic crypt butterfly’s aura is passive, they can use mana to strengthen their power. This consumes 1 mp/s while tripling the effect of Funeral Lullaby and Winter’s Touch. When using mana, the wings of the arctic crypt butterfly glow a beautiful and vivid purple. When in large swarms, butterflies often distribute the active burden, which produces a lesser effect, though not nearly at the linear decrease expected.
Abilities/Traits:
Funeral Lullaby – Inflicts sleep; 10 meters; Build up: (1/s * mult - Integrity/50)/Capacity
Winter’s Touch – Slowly freezes; 5 ATK/s all enemies; 0 to 100 AP over 60 seconds
The Mathematics of Battle Power
Battle power can be crudely expressed as a number. It is tempting to think, because levels are mostly linear, that battle power increases at a linear rate. This is wrong. A simple way to grasp the differential is to model a slugging match between two persons where party A has 100 hp and does 10 damage and party B has 200 hp and deals 20 damage.
In this case, B could defeat 4 of A, if the fights are conducted in series.
But that undersells the impact of levels. In reality, a higher level opponent will also have greater agility and thus be 1.4x faster. Greater speed doesn’t just increase DPS, it improves the success rate of dodges and critical hits. Therefore, every doubling in all around ability is better equated to a 8x to 12x increase in battle power.
This math holds more powerfully when the benefits of traits and equipment are considered. Thus, the following: (which can be reduced to (1+(Lv/100))^3.33)
Level . . Approximate Battle Power
0 . . . . . . 1100 . . . .10300 . . . 100700 . . . .1,000
By applying this math to the current chapter, we can guesstimate relative strength. Sylvia’s battle power is: 7590, while Tobi’s would be rated at: 1239. The Laughing Coffin members, by comparison, would have an individual power of: 210 to 390.
A lazy calculation, thus, claims it’d take between 20 to 35 PKs to defeat Sylvia.
But, this is a gross simplification. Doubling the number of foes doesn’t result in a doubling of battle power. Instead, additional allies augment power in rough accordance to the triangular number sequence. This can be seen by imagining two of A fighting a single B. In this case, B loses 150 hp across the fight, not 100 hp. Thus the following:
Opponents . Battle Power . Multiplier
2 . . . . . . . . . . . . 3x . . . . . . . . . . . . . 1.5x3 . . . . . . . . . . . . 6x . . . . . . . . . . . . . 2x5 . . . . . . . . . . . . 15x . . . . . . . . . . . . 3x10 . . . . . . . . . . . 55x . . . . . . . . . . . . 5.5x
This calculation then has to be amended by tactics. The more numerous party will seek to have all their members constantly attacking while minimizing area of effect counters. By contrast, the smaller party will seek ‘defeat in detail’ by reducing enemy groups into a series of opponents, or by creating scenarios where multiple foes can be eliminated in one stroke.
Therefore, the overall battle power of Laughing Coffin can be estimated as: 3,000 to 12,000 depending on how well they deploy their force. Which is enough to defeat Sylvia, in theory. Alas, her superior mobility, her initial ambush, and the versatility of magic led Sylvia to quickly claim the tactical upper hand.