Dedicated to Cousins
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The whip. Of course. Why didn’t she think of it earlier?
And she started running, as much as the whip’s distance would allow.
The cutlass came from her blind spot, but she heard it nevertheless, and leapt over it. If he wouldn’t let go of the whip, she would use it against him. Using her momentum and the whip’s length, she sailed right behind him.
She sliced at him with Yasha, the way her master had taught her to. She felt it connect.
And with another roar, the Gladiator turned on her, his eyes full of frenzied bloodlust, the third wound not even registering on his face.
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“…what is she doing…?” whispered the Vice-Captain, not taking his eyes off of the fight.
They watched in awe at the spectacle unfolding beneath them.
“Using the whip as a leash and the Gladiator as a fulcrum,” replied the other man, “She’ll always move faster than him that way.”
The Swiftblade repeatedly defied the Gladiator’s efforts to catch up to her speed in the air, as she swiftly slashed repeatedly at the Gladiator.
“But couldn’t he just turn around…” said the Vice-Captain, before the Gladiator did exactly that.
“It is useless,” said the Captain grimly, “she has that thought out too.” as the two of them watched the Swiftblade change course in midair by parrying the cutlass with her blade, before striking the Gladiator again.
“She could only manage this with one blade, I think,” commented the Vice-Captain, “Quite reminiscent of the Juggernaut’s legendary Omnistrike.”
The Captain, “That is to be expected. She is his disciple.”
Neither spoke, as they watched red gash after red gash appear on the Gladiator’s body. Slowly, but surely, the Swiftblade was whittling the Gladiator down.
“She has improved upon it, then,” said the Vice-Captain.
The Captain shook his head. “I do not think it will be enough.”
Again, and again, the blade flashed, now painting the air around it with the blood from the last wound. The ground beneath the two fighters was splashed with the Gladiator’s blood.
“It seems over,” observed the Vice-Captain.
“No,” replied the Captain, shaking his head, “He is the undying Gladiator.”
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And she knew. Even though he had taken many hits, none were fatal. The most important ones had been deflected or avoided at the last second. The only crippling thing about these wounds was the blood loss. And she could not bet on it.
And so she continued, Yasha flashing as fast as she could wield it, seeking to gain a decisive advantage.
But he would not fall.
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They came, rushing in, out of nowhere. There was no time to prepare; only to react and fight.
The daemons rushed into the party, sheer force in numbers, with the Hunters intermingled within.
And they were fighting for their lives, for each one killed, three more appeared to take its place.
“Where are they coming from?!” shouted Jereziah, as he ran his blade through an imp.
“My eyes saw nothing!” replied both the Keeper of the Forest and the Scout at the same time, as the former grappled with the imps trying to climb his head, and the latter fended off a Hunter.
The Legionnaire was a whirlwind of death, standing alone amidst a tide of the enemy units, bellowing his battle cry as his axe hewn through the daemons with impunity.
“We…need…to…stop…their…reinforcements!” shouted Ophelia, as she cracked her staff over an imp’s head.
Nymphora was watching the spectacle from her vantage point on Pebble’s shoulder, as the Earth Elemental barreled his fists into groups of imps trying to climb his body.
“Group up!” ordered Jereziah, “Lina!”
And the Pyromancer heeded her Prince’s call, as a phoenix and dragon of fire cleared an opening, allowing the group to get their backs together.
The Blacksmith shook his head, “The only way this is possible is if there was a portal around here,” he said, “We need to find that portal and destroy it.”
“How?” asked the Scout, as he skillfully disarmed a Hunter, before driving his other dagger into its chest, “It could be hidden anywhere!”
“Allow me,” said the Silencer, “Buy me some time.” And he walked over to the Hunter that was just downed, struggling in its death throes.
The Scout pulled his dagger out of the Hunter’s body, turning around to deal with another enemy, as he said, “You better be quick.”
And the Silencer concentrated, as he delved into his memories, knowing exactly what he was looking for, before he placed his hand on the Hunter’s head.
The Hunter immediately became still.
“What did you do to it?” asked the Blacksmith as he was channeling his energy into Scout.
“Took away the intelligence it knew in life,” said the Silencer grimly. “I know where the portal is now.” And he pointed the way.
“Excellent,” replied Jereziah, “We need to make haste. Everyone! Fight in that direction; we search for their portal and destroy it, before we get overwhelmed!”
The group slowly but surely began moving towards the direction the Silencer pointed. The enemy pressed in savagely, knowing their objective. But it was too late.
“Stop! There!” said the Silencer, and he pointed at a torn fabric through space, hovering between two mechanisms.
“Drive your weapons into the mechanisms at the same time!” the Silencer told them. Both the Legionnaire and Jereziah nodded, before fighting their way to the portal. Wave after wave of daemons stepped through, attempting to block their path.
“Lina!” shouted Jereziah, as he lopped off the head of another daemon. The Pyromancer understood, and burned everything in their path.
They had reached it. The portal.
“Shouldn’t we use it?” asked the Scout, “It seems like a great way to get to their base!”
The Legionnaire hesitated, looking at his Prince for his decision.
The Prince shook his head, “Now!”
Sword and axe plunged into their targets, as the portal fizzled and died.
With their source of reinforcements gone, the rest of the mob was cleared relatively quickly.
The Scout collapsed, sitting on the ground and breathing heavily.
“Why…” he said, between gulping in breaths of air, “didn’t we use that as a way into their base? We could’ve ended this quickly!”
“No,” said Jereziah, shaking his head again, “we do not know what is on the other side. I will not risk our lives on a gamble we do not understand.”
“But we still have no idea what’s happening on the other side of the Forest!” said Scout.
“No, not quite,” the Silencer interjected, “I do.”
All eyes turned on him.
“Earlier,” began Jereziah, “you mentioned that you could steal intelligence from the ones that are dying.”
The Silencer nodded silently.
“So what do you know now?”
The Silencer seemed to be deep in thought, as he sifted through his newfound knowledge.
“The Hellbourne, they are called?” he asked.
Jereziah and Ophelia nodded.
“Their base of operations is not yet complete,” said the Silencer with his eyes closed, “However the fortifications around their Hell Shrine are almost done. They are lacking souls to summon more of their daemons; the ones we met just now were only one of the parties sent out to foray for more souls.”
“Do you know the direction to find them?” asked Jereziah.
The Silencer nodded.
“We do not have enough time,” said the Prince grimly, looking at the members of his party, “Since their fortifications are not yet done, we must strike.”
Everyone nodded in agreement.
“Then, lead the way, Silencer,” said Ophelia.
The Silencer looked around, took in his bearings, and then pointed in the direction they should go. Everyone started moving.
The Silencer shook his head a bit, wondering if he should mention the other information he knew about. But he decided against it for now; it would only seek to destroy their morale.
And this could not be afforded. Not now. Perhaps, if it could be avoided, not ever.