Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 356 - Hubris XIII

Sylvia squeezed her tail to her chest as she watched the battle unfold. It wasn’t going well. None of the battles were swinging in their favour. It wouldn’t be long before they were completely overrun. A few seconds for the weaker fighters, and a minute or so for the more proficient.

She wanted to intervene. She needed to. If she didn’t act, then their allies would surely be captured. But she knew such a choice would surely result in a fight. That much was clear from the look on the longmoose’s face. She would never hear the end of it if she stepped in before her pet was sated. As was with the case of the flaming bird.

Claire’s pettiness knew no bounds. She would surely ignore the fox for days if she didn’t wait for her willpower and consciousness to wane. And that was the last thing she wanted. Sylvia liked to be petted and hugged. And while she hadn’t exactly enjoyed having her cheeks tugged at first, even that had grown on her in time. To lose all her privileges, to lose her standing as one of the few still warmly regarded, was a fate she couldn’t accept.

That was why she hesitated, why she did nothing but watch as bad turned to worse.

She watched as Chloe was captured, she watched as Krail was subdued, and she watched as Sophia was butchered.

Her opponent, a moose with a coat of brown fur, beat her without regard for her continued existence. He could have easily captured her and taken her in, as all his allies had done when their enemies were defeated. But he mercilessly swung his blade, carving at her flesh even after her heart had ceased its function.

There was no light in her eyes. She had stopped coughing blood ages ago. Sylvia cared little for the kelpfin agent, but a discomforting tingle crept up her spine as she stared at her mangled figure.

A flash in the pan was all it would take for the same fate to befall the others. They were all so weak and fragile. Unlike the enemies, they could easily be worn down and reduced to dust.

It was a fate that could have awaited any one of the remaining fighters.

Not even Claire was exempt. And in reality, it looked as if she was skirting the line. Her body was covered in wounds. Her heart was only beating because she pressed on it with her vectors. Her bones were only whole because her enemies lacked the divinity to break them.

Sylvia couldn’t help but imagine her end—the scene sure to follow her continued hesitation.

She clasped her hands over her ears, closed her eyes, and shook her head. But it refused to go away. If anything, the sensory deprivation only worsened the result. The scene grew more vivid as it was superimposed upon the world around her. The one reality she wanted, needed, to deny.

That was when the dam finally broke.

Retrieving a stick from within her tail—an ancient wand carved from the heart of the Divine Redleaf Tree—the fox stood up on all fours and began to weave her spell.

Up, down, left, right, up, down, left, right. Like a conductor’s baton, it swung with a steady rhythm, perfectly aligned with the beat echoing through her mind. She brought it into reality as the fourth bar struck. Her voice echoed through the city, revealing a sombre tone that none could avoid. It was not the same effect that she typically employed. Rather than infusing the notes straight into the targets’ minds, she modified her voice so it covered the area. It was a countermeasure against their magic resistance, even though she could have easily broken through.

There were many paths from which the introduction could branch. A darker, heavier song would allow her to invoke her ultimate, but the Llystletein abomination refrained. Claire would be even angrier if Sylvia exterminated them outright; their deaths would only deny her redemption.

That was also why she didn’t simply lull their foes to sleep. Such a spell could only have ended in the Cadrians’ execution, and thus her pet moose’s ire.

She kept the song flat and issued a global mandate. The world-bending command branded the enemies with powerful geises and banished them from the merchants’ country. Knowing how the Cadrians worked, and how willing they would have been to sever their limbs, she placed the runes within their skulls, quite literally carving them into their minds. Specifically, she targeted their brainstems, so that the problem in question could not be solved with a simple lobotomy.

That was all it took for the battle to reach its end.

The Cadrians were carried away, kidnapped by their own feet entirely against their will. When they tried to resist, the rune only ignored them, forcing them to obey its overwriting commands. But while powerful, the effect was also limited. It only forced them to leave. The methods they chose and the things they did along the way were still entirely at their discretion. Their prisoners were not released; the dead, wounded, and disabled were dragged up into their ships and taken away.

Claire spread her wings and prepared to give chase, but Sylvia ran up to her and grabbed her by the leg. She shook her head, over and over.

The battle was already lost.

There was no point in continuing any longer.

Though there was a frown on her lips, Claire soon retracted her flying parts and watched the ships sail off. Half of the allies had been taken prisoner, either that or killed outright. It was impossible for the lyrkress to say for certain. She had been too focused on her own fight to spare any attention for the others’ conditions.

Her injuries ran deep. The fox had healed most of her wounds, but she coughed bloody blobs regardless. It was the buildup that had filled her nigh vestigial lungs, caused by the wounds the soldiers had twisted between her bones.

“Thanks.” She scratched the fox behind the ears and under the chin. “I'm better now.”

The reaction elicited a blink, three to be more specific.

“What?” asked the lyrkress.

“I thought you would be mad,” said the furball. “Y’know, since I broke up the fight and stuff.”

“Do you want me to be mad?”

“Not really.”

“Then why are you complaining?”

“Because I’m worried, you silly goose!” huffed the fox. “It kinda feels like you might just be holding it in.”

“I’m fine.” She pinched the half-elf’s cheeks. “Stop worrying.”

She lifted the fuzzy critter into her arms, scanned the battlefield, and finally acknowledged the only two left uncaptured. Lana was seated in front of a building wrapping scraps of cloth around her waist, while Krail stood in front of his severed tongue and poked it with his staff. They spoke a few words of thanks when Sylvia healed them, but that was it. Not another word passed between them even after they gathered.

Dismissing all but one Boris, Claire grabbed a scrap of cloth off the ground and wiped the blood that decorated his edge. A quick inspection confirmed that Starrgort was still around as well. He had been sitting off to the side the whole time, sulking at his lack of use. But that was the extent of their members. No one else had been left behind.

The lyrkress squeezed her fox into her chest before breathing a sigh and taking a seat. She needed a moment to process the sheer extent of the failure. Challenging the Cadrians had been a foolish gamble, an act of utter stupidity.

She knew that most of them weren’t ready. Still, she had thought that she could stand a chance.

But her ego had poisoned her mind, and fighting Vella’s prisoners had only made it worse. Chances were, she would have opted for a more cautious approach had the goddess’ quests not bolstered her power.

She knew whose fault it was. For once in her life, Vella had proven intelligent enough to corner her, to put her in a situation where she had no choice but to do as she said. Claire was confident that the war goddess’ weapon would have defeated the deer. But the moment she relied on the gift was the moment she doomed herself to a cycle of dependence. It wouldn’t have been her own strength that overcame the crisis. But she couldn’t figure out how else she was meant to conquer it. Magic had been the answer in the past. For as long as she remembered, her vectors had always been able to bail her out of an unfavourable scenario. But magic was not an option. That much, they had guaranteed before the battle began. It was checkmate. Lest she obeyed the spider’s orders.

That was why she didn’t—couldn’t complain.

Squeezing her fox again, Claire suppressed her freezing aura and put her mind to work. She knew her performance was lacklustre and that the fault was entirely her own.

The pseudo-Pollux was right.

She had relied too heavily on her silly tricks.

But it wasn’t like she could have simply ordered her vectors to tear him apart even if she caught him without his gear. That much had been proven by his descent. His spirit was on the higher side, as was the case with most seasoned elites. Magic was too powerful and versatile to be disregarded, and investing spirit often went a long way in the preservation of one’s overall longevity.

She needed to get stronger, but there wasn’t enough time to grind and level. There weren’t any dungeons in the area dangerous enough to provide a meteoric ascent, and there was no telling what the enemy would do when faced with the frustration of a mandatory retreat; the quicker they rescued their allies, the better their chances of survival. Spending her points was the only realistic way for her to achieve such a goal, but it would only hamper her long-term growth.

Her equipment was just as unlikely to improve. She had long memorized the parameters of the best armour on the Vel’khanese market, and it was off that which her magical cloak’s transformations were based. She would have to invade her father’s armoury if she wanted anything significantly better, but he had locked her out of it many long years ago. Infiltrating it wasn’t impossible with her portals back online, but she hadn’t the slightest clue as to where it was and looking was sure to rouse suspicion.

Whatever the case, at the end of the day, both methods were irrelevant. Padding her numbers was hardly a long-term solution. As long as she worked within the system, there would always be someone whose values were higher. She needed to find another way around the problem. But the clock was working against her. If she failed to arrive at an epiphany by the time the bell tolled, she would be left with little choice but to rely on the divine.

She wanted nothing to do with Vella’s scheme, but she couldn’t leave her allies to rot in enemy hands. Not after what the late Lord Pollux had done.

She needed to move.

She needed to move before another Pollux did the unthinkable.

“Sylvia.” Her voice trembled as she buried her face in the fox’s fur. She bit her lips as she mulled over her words.

Voicing them was paramount to giving up, to taking the easy route out of the otherwise thorny scenario. But at the same time, she knew it was the right decision. Ciel was worth more than her pride. And her maid mattered as well, even if to a much lesser extent.

“Can you do me a favour?”

“Mhm?” The fox looked up, half expecting a request for cuddles.

Claire took a deep breath.

“Can you kill the deer and his men?”

“Huh?” Sylvia took a moment to study her face. “Are you sure?”

“I’m sure.”

“Mmk.” She raised her wand and weaved her magic, only for Claire to pinch her cheeks and stop the spell mid-cast.

“Not like that, idiot. You’re going to destroy the ship and kill everyone on board.”

“I-I was going to use something that only hit our enemies!” squeaked the furball.

“The ship will still go down if there isn’t anyone there to steer it,” said Claire, with a squeeze. “We’ll probably need to sneak on board.”

“Can’t we just teleport everyone out and then destroy the ships?” whispered the fox.

“I don’t want the traitor to know we can teleport,” said Claire, just as quietly. “We’re better off infiltrating.” She briefly glanced at Lana and Krail before raising her voice. “After these two idiots get some rest.”

“Oh, would you look at that, Lana. She finally addressed us. And here I was thinking that she was going to be mumbling and brooding all night,” muttered the elf.

“Me too,” agreed the wolf.

“It wouldn’t even be the first time. Do you know how terrible it is to be put on night watch with her? She doesn’t say a damn word!”

“I’m not much better.”

“You at least reply to things when you’re addressed. She’s as cold as a goddamn stone.”

Claire rolled her eyes. “On second thought, we can do without any rest.”

“And now she’s driving us like slaves! Can you believe the nerve of this woman!?” he cried. “You know, this reminds me of the ti—”

A foot found his face and stopped him midsentence. “Enough,” said Claire. “You talk too much. Any more of that, and I’m leaving you behind.”

“I’m pretty sure he was just trying to lighten the mood,” said Sylvia, with an awkward laugh.

“In all seriousness, leaving him behind is probably for the better. He doesn’t really stand much of a chance against our countrymen, the way he is now,” said Panda. He walked out of a ruined building with a bounce to his step. “Though I’ve gotta say, you did a lot better than I thought. I was expecting Porcius to kill you.”

“You watched and did nothing.” Claire narrowed her eyes.

“What, can you really blame me?” asked the raccoon. “You ignored all my warnings. I told you to run. And what did you do? Absolutely fucking nothing. You’re literally throwing away all my investment, goddamn.”

The lyrkress remained silent.

“Oh, and speaking of warnings, I’ve got another,” he said. “Are you actually going to listen this time, or should I save my breath?”

Claire closed her eyes. Pulling the fox even closer to her chest—

“Ow!”

—and accidentally stabbing her with the icy blade growing out of it, Claire turned her gaze to their retreating foes and sorted through her thoughts again. It wasn’t like they didn’t have weaknesses. The warriors they fought had certainly been Pollux’s champions, but on a national scale, they were third-rate. She was confident that she could kill at least half of them if she caught them unprepared.

But it wasn’t about her; it didn’t matter who she could and couldn’t kill.

No one could stand up to Sylvia, but that wasn’t to say that they could march right in. They still needed a plan to ensure that the hostages would not be executed the moment they boarded the ship. And if Panda’s prior claim held true, they were likely to be detected no matter the method of approach.

“Well?” asked the raccoon. His arms were crossed, and he tapped his foot against the ground as he spoke.

”I’m listening.”

“I sure fucking hope so,” he grumbled, before raising his voice. “Anyway, I’ll keep it brief. You have,” he looked at the space in front of them and moved his hands as if flipping through a set of non-existent documents, “about a day and a half to get your buddies off the mothership. Tomorrow at midnight is when Ephesus stabs that Porcius kid in the back and unveils his latest weapon. He’s kept most of the details under wraps, but by the sounds of it, it’s got enough juice to kill everyone on board.”