Chapter 109: Anti-Magic
Saying that I lock eyes with the sumeen is perhaps inaccurate. They don’t have eyes, just those thin holes that seem simultaneously meant for sight and smell? I can’t quite tell what they’re meant for, not that I care.
The sleepy-looking mage steps forward, shattering yet another spell tossed at her, and striding towards Thatch at an unhurried pace. Somehow, that seemed to give the other wayfarers more bravery.
It’s the first time they get breathing room, too, which is troublesome for us. By now the smoke is denser, so it’s hard to see, and a few of them are coughing, but none of it touches the sumeen. They just stride forward, unbothered.
I watch for a moment, as the wayfarer’s rally, properly activating their abilities and drawing weapons that had stayed sheathed before. As the surprise of our attack fades, and some of that panic is beaten away. The magic Syvles cast to enhance their fear dissipates, and when Inu tries to infect them with pain, that, too, fails.
Then, I step forward.
The sumeen turns to me, and cocks their head, curious. “You. What is that strange skill on your vessel?”
Slowly, I smile. “Dispel it and find out,” I say.
Humming in amusement, the sumeen does just that. A wave of power floods from them, mana pouring from their vessel to activate the spell. It flows towards me, a gentle wave drifting through the air - and is met by [Deconstruction].
[Deconstruction 14 > 15]
The skills are so different, yet so similar. Theirs is a gentle unravelling. Mine is a toolbox and a knife, slicing through nodes of stabilities. Their head tilts further as the attempt at dispelling falls apart. It took a chunk of my mana, but I see the amusement on their face. “My, my. This shall be entertaining.”
My mana brushes against them. I make sure just one last time.
[Unmaker, lv. 51]
Strong. Much stronger than me. Strong enough to ascend another floor, and yet, weak enough for me to beat. Because I prepared a few tricks. Slowly, I look at them. The summeen hums a sad tune, and mana brushes against me, too.
“How… strange,” they hum, gently. “You are strong, and yet weak.”
That makes me tilt my head. “What makes me weak?”
A shiver passes through the unmaker’s body. Their limbs twist, splitting and turning into four razor sharp blades. And they move. Far, far faster than me. A blade plunges at my eye, until Kuro solidifies, stopping it in mid-air.
“You are slow,” they say. “But you control shadows?”
I look at her, the way the blade shakes as my shadow-bond holds it up. It quivers, a whisper away from my eye. They’re fast, and strong. Kuro can barely stop the blow. Another blade slams towards my side.
A solidified plane of mana stretches across my skin, then disintegrates into strings of worthless effort. I blink, the attack sinking into my side, scything through my flesh as I step backwards. I grab the arm and push it aside, but it feels like wrestling with a bear. I cannot budge the sumeen.
“You are weak,” they hum, amused. “You are slow and unfocused. You will be unmade at my hands.” They scythe two more blades towards me - at my shoulders, strangely. Are they trying to bleed me slowly? How bizarre.
Throughout it all, I just stare. Yes, they’re fast. Yes, they're strong. Much stronger than me. But, in that, there lies a truth.
I have more mana than them.
The blades streak through the air, whistling, humming like the person they’re being swung by. The sleepy mage engages me in close combat. I try to manifest a sword, only to have it undone. I attempt to deconstruct their unravelling of my spells, but my toolbox is scattered across the ground.
For a moment, the attack almost lands. Then, [Suppression] lances out like an arrow.
A lightning fast, tiny spell. It cuts into their shoulders, weakened by the splitting of the arms, and I step backwards. For a moment, the sumeen just stands there, blood dripping from a blade, as if a puppet on strings. Then, the suppression breaks, and they shake free.
They stare at me, six holes directed towards me with curiosity. “What was that?” they ask.
I smile. “No idea what you’re talking about,” I say.
At that, the sumeen hums with curiosity. “Show me again,” they demand. Another shift elongates their legs, and their steps grow swifter, and another suppression weakens a joint just as they step within range of me. I step forward, and kick the lengthened knee, feeling something bend and snap. Then, a hammer blow sends me staggering backwards, my head ringing like a gong.
Blood streams from my nose, just a bit. The flesh-shifting is a natural ability, and not one I can break yet, but that’s okay. The sumeen now regards me more carefully, and with a slight limp. In exchange, I hold the knife wound in my side, my body aching.
I toss a sphere of mana, they reach out to unmake it, I suppress their attempt, just long enough for the sphere to actually hit.
Their skill twists in on itself, targeting my suppression, but that twist reveals its nodes, and deconstruction snakes into the gap.
[Observation 7 > 8]
This time, their skill falls apart before mine does, and fragments of it fall into my epitaph, feeding my mana, their patterns absorbed into my mental library. I breathe in, slowly. The sumeen hums a note that makes my ears bleed and my vision fade for a moment - not from blacking out, just being turned blind.
I shatter the effect, and duck, barely avoiding a scything guillotine, and instead receiving a stab through my thigh and another in my shin. I pour more mana than necessary into a [Suppression] that makes their entire body heavier, suddenly toppling off balance and towards me, then flick it off before they can unmake it.
Their half formed anti-magic hangs in the air, and I shatter it. A mana-dagger forms in my hand, imbued with [Deconstruction]. As they reform their spell, I cut one of their scythe-arms off, splattering blood all over the floor.
My clothes stain red, and the sumeen hums a painful screech. They reach out to annihilate my weapon, robbing me of power, only to find the imbuement tearing their spell apart at the same time. I reach into my pockets, and pull out something rather simple.
It’s a mundane knife. A long, steel dagger, made by Bay. I’ve enchanted it with some durability, and copied a few of the runes from Opal’s blade. This one, they cannot unmake. I stab it into their flesh, then watch them stagger back.
With an angry chitter, their gaze turns to the ground. One of the corpses unravels. Strings of flesh and meat fall away from hovering bones, still covered in blood. I blink. That’s not an ability I thought they’d have.
Despite the holes in my legs, I throw myself to the side, letting a bone dagger whiz by and take a bite out of my ear. I can feel it tear at my flesh, blood and cartilage writhing as if sucked into the thing. It whirls around to stab at me again, and I move to shatter the spell holding it.
The unmaker hums in amusement. Their anti-magic reaches out to stop mine, but [Suppression] streaks through the air, stopping their interference. My [Deconstruction] lands, and the curving daggers clatter to the ground. Their anti-magic arrives, only to find its target gone.
[Nullmage 12 > 13]
They growl for a moment, slowly stalking me, circling. Around them, more corpses begin to unravel, flesh parting for bone. My friends have left enough of those behind. It should be disgusting and horrific, but really, it just… is. Recycling, really, I think. Putting bodies to use.
Regardless of that, though, I decide that it’s time to make more use of preparations. So, with the support and preparation of Bay, I do as I’ve previously done with big problems: I throw a grenade at them.
“Huh?” the sumeen hums, for just a second, before the bomb imbued with all the bits that make my anti-magic work goes off, sending mana disrupting shrapnel in their body while I cower behind a counter.
I hear bone daggers clatter to the ground.
Grenades are wonderful.
Chapter 110: Duel’s Resolution
Before coming back out, I take a bundle of cloth from my pocket. With a quick toss, it falls over my shoulders, covering my sleeves. This is yet another preparation.
Made from Amelie’s threads, woven by Sylves, and enchanted by me, it’s similar in function to what my masterwork for the second floor did. This one is a little lesser in scope, but it should still work. With a quick nod, Sylves dispels the wind around me, and the smoke floods in, wrapping around me.
I quickly limp back out from behind the counter, trying to stay on my feet while knitting the torn muscle back together. It takes a chunk of my mana, and I drain the core Harry filled for me. More mana pours into my core, and I take a deep breath.
The sumeen’s eyes glance over me as I quickly shuffle past, still locked on the counter. Their skills remain disrupted by the shrapnel for another second, then they begin to rise again, casting more magic. I let them, shuffling by for another moment as mana hums through the enchantments.
For a moment, they catch me. Their awareness latches onto me, and the enchantments quiver as their unformed spell targets them, the threads of the cloak fraying slightly. But, by then, I’m behind them, manifesting a knife of mana.
It shatters, and the sumeen hums in victory - only to find that it wasn’t a purely manifested knife, simply a regular dagger wrapped in a shell of magical crystal.
The plain steel stabs into their face, through two of those strange holes as I drag down. The hum turns into a screech as the sumeen thrashes, delivering another shallow slash across my shoulder, and one that scratches against the cloak without managing to damage it, remaining white and pristine.
I drive the dagger deeper, and push it upwards, only to find resistance.
There’s a field there, that the dagger presses against, where it wants to unravel. A push that makes it harder to drive the knife in.
A bone dagger stabs into the back of my thigh, and my leg buckles underneath me. I cling to the knife even as I fall, dragging a long, jagged cut all the way down the sumeen’s face. Another howl of pain makes my ears ring, but I break the darkness before it can take hold of me, even with the pain of the stab arcing through my leg like fire.
With a quick, jerking motion, the unmaker moves backwards. Threads of flesh detach from nearby bodies, weaving around them, covering them, and they hold the carved, bleeding part of their face. I can feel indignation rolling off of them like waves.
There’s a hint of their mantle in the air. The bonus for reaching level fifty, and I smell it in the iron. “What is it called?” I ask.
Grunting, the sumeen hums. “Devil,” they whisper. “You are a devil.”
“I am Ion,” I say. “Do you wish to break in front of me?”
At that, the sumeen staggers back. “Damn you,” they hiss. “Tower’s wrath, damn you.” They step backwards again, towards the exit. My knife is still lodged in their face, and they pull it out with rippling skin. “My mantle is the cocoon of perfection, devil. Take it as payment and let me go.”
Just a hint, I smile. And nod. “Swear you’ll not come back.”
“I swear,” they whisper. “By the tower’s grace, I shall not come seeking revenge for this.”
The air quivers, mana acknowledging the request, and I nod again. “Sylves,” I say.
Her eyes turn upon the sumeen, going entirely black, her pupils expanding until her sclera turns dark. “Run, little singer.”
And the sumeen runs, out the door, past Bay, past Jess, and out of town entirely.
[Class up! Nullmage 13 > 14]
[Level Up! 40 > 42]
As per the usual, all points go into vessel. I see morale break as Sylves’ sinister whisper feeds into the others. Thatch stands amidst corpses with bloodstained fists, and the room is whisper quiet around him. Inu looks almost clean, almost out of place in all of it, unmarred as she is, but the wood of the guild is cracked around her.
Sylves floats, unbothered, with an echoing laugh that sends shivers up my spine. She leans forward, leaning on her hand teasingly. “Any of you still wanna cause trouble? Run, little sweetings,” she whispers.
Unfortunately, these aren’t so fortunate as to escape the traps outside. With the grinding of snapping metal and bones, the stragglers die.
And we move further into the guild.
- - -
Thatch smashes open a door, breaking the nose of a guard behind it. The zoof looks confused for a moment, trying to raise her spear, but before she can even move, a second punch crashes into her face, sending her sprawling on the stairs. Blood spills onto Thatch’s fists, and hot puffs of steam leave his angry face.
Inu moves forward. She steps on a pressure plate, but before it can sink, her own step rebounds off it, and the trap remains inactive. She quickly hops past it, moving further down the isolated dungeon. There’s a reason these guards are unaware, after all.
And that’s all the noises of misery we hear on the stairwell. There are anti-noise enchantments engraved on the door. Yes, I am absolutely going to steal it and use that to make noise-cancelling headphones. That sounds amazing.
In this case, though, the reason is less savoury. Moans of pain and hunger reach up, even as we descend deeper. And deeper still.
Wood starts to become stone, etched with expansion runes. “That’s a lot of money to spend on a bunch of cells,” Thatch notes, unhappy.
“Nothing too costly to maintain a monopoly,” Richard replies, and there are hums of agreement. Behind us, Amelie’s puppets crawl in to fill the stairway, plant bodies and vines slithering over the cobblestone, making sure there is no escape. There is one person down here who must not escape at any cost, after all.
“We’ll kill them for it,” I say calmly. I’ll kill them.
Another guard rushes around the corner, up the stairs to get us, only to crash into the steel wall that is Inu. She bats a blow aside with a half-shield, and the parry staggers the guard for just long enough that Thatch steps forward and slams their skull into the wall. A few steps later we reach the bottom of the staircase.
It opens up into a hallway, wide and spacious, with dozens of cages.
Dozens upon dozens of cages. Each one housing a minotaur, all in shaggy, ripped clothing. Most starved, some leaning against the walls, drooling, others clutching their heads. We walk forwards, seeing half-broken bodies. Some of them have even had their horns splintered or broken. Some appear to have been sawn off.
Those hold especially strong embers. Inu’s face twists in discomfort. She can feel the suffering and the hatred. The misery that is baked into these stones. I breathe in the stale air, and let the despair fall into my apathy.
No more of this. We’ll end the cruel treatment, at least of this branch, today.
More steps take us past many, many cages. Until, eventually, we find the ones we’re looking for.
“Huh?” Bile asks. He’s wearing a roughspun tunic and pants made from canvas. Just looking at them makes my skin crawl. “You, wha-”
Opal chuckles from a nearby cell. “There they are,” they say, smugly. “Heroes of the moment, eh. Took ya long enough.”
Their face is twisted into a wide grin, despite the caked blood staining it. There is a long, half-scabbed wound across their forehead, and another across their shoulder, heading towards their pecs, but vanishing underneath the crappy shirt. They’re hurt, and yet, they bear it with casual ease. “Told ya, Dar,” they say.
“Friends of my blood sibling,” the wulven warrior nods his head at us. “I apologize for underestimating you.”
“What are you doing here?” Bile hisses. “Run! Get out! While you still can!”
And then, there is the noise of creaking wood in the darkness. “There will be none of that,” a calm, almost amused voice says.
The shadows, almost physical, slough off a figure. It’s a scythian, a tall, gaunt man with raven-black hair, slicked behind his head. His skin is almost sickly pale, and his eyes the kind of soft grey that makes it look almost like the only dark in them is his pupils. His wings are made of onyx, black, sharp shapes.
“No one leaves here,” he says, slowly spreading his arms wide. He’s tall and imposing. He’s also the second person I need to fight, for a very specific reason. “People come here to break, and only leave once broken. I so missed having more toys. You see, I-”
And he talks. Thatch steps backwards, and so do Sylves and Richard. They step very far back, in fact. To replace them, Amelie’s puppets step closer. For the simple reason that her reach is higher than this guy’s abilities. Probably. Maybe. Surely.
While he talks, I take my preparations. And really, it’s quite simply. I drop my attunement loop, and the heaviness of my mana settles into my body. My legs are stiff, but I heal them up enough to work. Then I breathe, and [Select] the guy as an enemy.
As I do so, my mana brushes up against him.
[Mindbreaker, lv. 62]
I take a breath, and as he frowns, mana slams into me. A part of my self cracks.
Chapter 111: Decisionmaking
Inu and me.
Inu, who I despise.
That worthless, piece of trash woman. Deep down, I know that I hate her. I want to kill her. I feel it.
In front of me, that handsome guy who I love smiles brightly. “Come, puppet,” he says, his voice like warm honey against my ears. “You hate her.” I do. I despise that woman with everything I have. She disgusts me. “Kill her.”
And at that, I tilt my head. “What?” I ask.
He blinks. “Kill her.”
“The heck? No,” I reply, confused. “Who does that?”
“You hate her,” he repeats. “So kill her!” His voice is so sweet, and I really like him, so I consider it, but… it really makes no sense. Besides, I’ve made my choice already. I’ve [Selected] her to be nice to. I’ve [Selected] him to…
Huh.
[Selection 18 > 19]
Somehow, I notice I’ve made the decision that this wonderful, beautiful man, should die. I tilt my head at that. Then, I shrug. “Alright,” I say.
“Yes, very good,” he says, then turns to Inu. “And you. Kill that upstart!”
She turns to me. There is conflict in her eyes. She clearly hates me. And then, I see her eyes quiver. Clearly, I notice, she likes me, too. What the hecc? What’s up with that? What a weirdo. I hate her. What a fricken pathetic display. Hatred and love in one? Gross. I want her to leave me alone, to disappear forever, to die.
And yet, instead, because I chose to, I smile at her. “Hey, Inu?” I ask.
“Yes?” she breathed. Her answer is that of someone on the verge of breaking. It comes out breathy and strained, as if she doesn’t know what to think. Torn in two. How strange. How weird. Is she… choosing to like me, too?
“I like you,” I lie. It’s not true. I hate her. I despite her. But it’s the decision I’ve made. So, it’s true. It’s as honest as I can be, because the truth is a lie.
Parsing my feelings is hard. I breathe, and hold her eyes for a few more seconds. Somehow, she smiles. “I… think I like you too, Snow.”
“What?!” that beautiful, wonderful man says. He’s so damn handsome. I want him to like me. And yet, I’ve decided to be cruel to him. Why. Why did I make that decision? It’s so clearly wrong, so clearly false. “No! Fight! Hate each other!”
I tilt my head. Then, gently, I smile. No, something like this is what my skills are made for. It’s something I usually don’t do. Something I don’t want to do, something I only do for very special people, in very special situations.
But myself? I am a special person. My decisions are utmost. There is nothing more disgusting than not being in control of myself. I’ve promised myself, so long ago, to never do this for others, never do this for those who don’t deserve it. But since it’s me… It’s alright.
I use [Suppression].
I [Suppress] my hate for Inu.
I [Suppress] my love for this man.
[Suppression 20 > 22]
The deep, unending apathy within me rises up, and swallows those emotions that I deem unnecessary for myself. That go against my decisions, that betray the person I wanna be. I am my own master.
Never will I suppress my hatred for someone I decide deserves it. But if I’ve decided to kill someone, then there’s a reason. If I’ve decided to love someone, there’s a reason. My decisions are paramount. They are the top. Inviolable.
[Selection 18 > 21]
I breathe. “I don’t kill people I hate,” I say, calmly. I don’t even hate Inu anymore, so it’s a half-truth, but that’s okay. “I kill people who I decide deserve it.”
Then I step forward, and, smiling, the tough girl near me does the same. I feel her reach into that well of apathy, and pour some onto herself. She also seems to like this guy who wants us to fight, even though she doesn’t want to like him?
That’s okay. I’ve decided to be nice to her, so I help. I reach out, with the knife of [Deconstruction] and sever that like she has.
[Deconstruction 15 > 16]
[Class up! Nullmage 14 > 15]
My vessel grows. Power flows through me. It burns, and I feel that apathy within my chest ringing ever stronger. Somehow, when my feelings disagree with my decisions, perhaps there is a use to it? Perhaps, that cruel, cold, unfair side of me, that makes all my affections thin as paper… makes them stable?
[Epitaph Etched.]
It’s a truth about myself. About the way I feel. And I feel grateful to the man for that. I feel grateful towards him, even as I step forward, even as mana forms in my hand. He tries to break my focus, but that’s pointless. The attempt shatters as he forms it.
[Deconstruction 15 > 16]
I step forward. The puppet arms follows suit. Inu reaches for my hand, and I squeeze hers. She smiles at me, torn between happiness and hatred, though the second is, more and more, smothered by the first. What a tough girl.
“Stop this at once! You love me! Both of you! What is-”
We step forward. The distance between us is small. It feels so large, and yet, it’s just a few steps.
There’s a pain in my head. A disgusting touch upon my brain, that makes blood leak from my nose. “Huh?” I ask, confused.
In front of me, the man screams in terror. “By the tower, what are you?! What… what is wrong with you? You monster! You devil!”
Slowly, a smile spreads on my face. “Y’know, it makes sense why I decided to be unkind to you.”
“You love me!” he demanded. “You love me!”
I nod, smiling. The love is so distant, a whisper, consumed by my apathy. But technically, it’s true. Technically, I love him. “I do,” I say.
A dagger of mana spawns in my hand.
[Solidification 15 > 16]
[Inscription 13 > 14]
It ripples with power. He yells, brandishing the shadows, but the puppets easily hold them at bay. He tries to attack Inu’s head, but it simply bounces back, the mana crashing into his own forehead, making him gasp in pain. Then, that tough girl sends an additional wave into his head, and he writhes.
His focus breaks, but the shadows ripple anyway. It’s a mantle of darkness, almost autonomous, stirring to protect him. A maelstrom of hands and claws that rise from the darkness… spirits and remnants of broken psyche’s he’s left behind. There is a piece of those the mindbreaker breaks that will forever rest with him.
That will forever serve to protect him from those who’d see him broken.
And it doesn’t matter. Puppets and more puppets fight those spirits. A clawed hand reaches for me, but my own shadow expands and growls, and that lie of what once was finds out that true darkness is different from fake.
[The Creeping Darkness mocks the attempt at mimicking its powers.]
Another step. Inu reaches out, grabbing the man by the scruff of his fancy clothes. She pulls his too gaunt face close, and I bring up the dagger I hold in my one hand. Slowly, I bring it to his chest.
He struggles and writhes, but the puppets hold his shadows back. Inu keeps him close. He’s high level. But he’s not stronger than her. He’s… weak. Worthless.
I tilt my head in understanding and bring the knife forward. It sinks into his chest.
“But you love me!” he repeats, helpless.
Smiling, I nod. “I do.”
“Who does that-” blood pools on his lips. “Who does that to people they love!”
My dagger sinks into his ribcage. His bones are unmade by the imbuement, mana grinding them to dust, shattering them, using bits of skill I’ve stolen from the unmaker.
[Deconstruction 16 > 17]
[Biological Restoration 13 > 14]
Underneath my knife, his bones shatter and break. Then, it sinks into his heart. He splutters, his eyes wide with agony as the life leeches out of him, his organ breaking apart in his body.
“You… devil,” he gasps.
I tilt my head. “I don’t know what you mean,” I say. Then, I smile. “It’s simple decision making.”
Inu pulls, and the light in his eyes goes out.