Misadventures Incorporated

Chapter 366 - The Stifled Sword X

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Dear Diary,

I think I have a dream now. I’m gonna make lots and lots of money so I can eat lots and lots of expensive things.

Expensive things taste really good.

Lia

___

Iapetus gulped as he watched the marquis fall. Blood poured from his wounds and flowed from his skull, coating the room in a layer of red. It stained his murderer’s armour and splattered all over her face, but she didn’t react. She only continued to observe his corpse. There was none of the respect or gratitude that her words had implied, only a blanket of biting cold.

A shiver shot up the bee-ogre’s spine, triggered by the brief moment in which their gazes happened to meet. She was just surveying the room. There was no murder in her eyes; she thought nothing of him, or anyone else for that matter, but he found his hands and knees shaking beneath him. He couldn’t get up. His hips were too weak for him to push himself back off the ground. His allies were the same, and even hers watched in fearful silence, not daring to speak a word.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in the middle of something?” She tilted her head. The distracting, cutesy gesture only accented her bloody intentions. She was asking for murder, demanding that they slay each other before her.

There was no reason for her words to bear such weight. She spoke them softly, without the slightest care. And yet, he found himself scrambling to his feet, gripping his weapons, and preparing for combat. He couldn’t find it in himself to disobey, not when she carried herself with her father’s demeanour.

All he had ever wanted was right there in front of him, hovering just beyond his reach. All it would take was a few words from her for him to fulfill his heart’s desire, a few words for him to feel as if Virillius himself had asked him to lay down his life.

He knew that his logic was riddled with contradictions. She couldn’t have been so almighty. They had already defeated her earlier in the day and proven that she was another mortal foe. And yet, the way she had dismantled the marquis was so decisive that he couldn’t help but find himself drawn and enamoured. She was her father’s daughter. And that alone made her practically divine.

If Iapetus wished to stand before her, to position himself as a foe to be slain, he needed only to slaughter the Vel’khanese. His heart pumping in his chest, he immediately raised his blades and pointed them at the mantis, stopping to realize his foolish error only as one of his allies approached her directly.

He was a fool. Counting the princess, each group had exactly five members; the cottontail mage had pulled the rug from beneath his feet. Clicking his teeth, he turned back towards his enemy and cracked his neck. He wasn’t worried. Tertia was a powerful caster, but he knew his prize would emerge from the encounter unharmed. She wouldn’t have been worth fighting if that were not the case. Still, he wanted to be next in line, so he charged the mantis with all his weapons drawn and a battlecry upon his lips.

He began with a traditional attack, a standard opening listed in most thoraen martial scrolls. It started with a single spear. The tip of his longest weapon was thrust towards the mantis’ face with a twist of the hips. Matthias parried the blade, knocking it aside as he had earlier. But it was the second clash and he knew the rhiar’s tricks. The ogre was fully prepared. He planted a foot firmly on the ground right before the moment of impact and made full use of the momentum bestowed.

Transforming it into centrifugal force, he drove his shield forward, ploughing through the cross-armed defence and bashing the mantis into the air. Again, his tiny legs were his downfall. They were unable to keep him grounded, even when struck by a weaker foe.

Matthias barely squeezed out a counterattack. He bent his scythe and swung for the bee-ogre’s chest, but Iapetus guarded his gut with his second shield. His remaining four arms immediately jumped into action, delivering a flurry of blows aimed down the length of the mantis’ body. They came up above, taking full advantage of the bee-ogre’s massive stature.

The Vel’khanese warrior barely evaded them. The spears and swords worked their way through the outermost layers of his carapace, spilling the hemolymph that flowed through his veins. Another wave of attacks followed. Spear, sword, sword, shield, spear. Stabs, slashes, and violent bashes rained down without the slightest delay.

The thorae had regained his tempo. His mind was steadied by the princess’ presence. If she was taking to the stage in person, looking to undo her shame, then the aspect was unlikely to wipe them all out. He didn’t need to opt for a last-ditch suicide attack. And if there was no time limit, then he remained confident in his renewed victory. It was a determination made from his long time on the battlefield. Those less practiced with enhancements exposed weaknesses in their use.

Case in point was the unimpressive speed with which the mantis recovered. Instead of digging his feet into the ground and forcing himself into position, he allowed his momentum to carry him, as would one unaccustomed to near supersonic speed. And that was the gap for which the bee had aimed. Mandibles crunching, he closed the distance with an attack that closely resembled a bladed hug. His swords descended from above while his spears homed in from the sides.

Matthias narrowly ducked under it, only for a knee to collide with the bottom of his face. He flew across the room and nearly tumbled out into the hall. He was only stopped by a sudden change in momentum. A shield dropped on his face from above and bashed him into the ground.

Iapetus raised his arms and prepared to finish the mantis with his ars magna, but he suddenly found his body incapable of movement. He couldn’t see it, but there were a series of needles buried in his shadow, pinning it in place and his body by extension.

It was a brief effect. He managed to break free with a roar and a flex; but the process was long enough for his opponent to escape his grasp.

The rhiar warrior vanished before his eyes. His whole body suddenly faded away, leaving no trace of his presence. Though he had secured the duel’s momentum, Matthias did not immediately engage. He stepped back to calm himself down. He needed to readjust. His numbers were much higher than his opponent’s. Sylvia’s buffs had increased his agility and strength by a million points a piece.

And according to her analysis, his opponents’ numbers were still far from the seven-digit mark. Victory should have been his for the taking, but he hadn’t been able to strike a clean and decisive blow. The best he could manage, even with Sylvia’s enhancements, was an even trade.

He couldn’t win a direct confrontation.

That was why he fell back. It took a moment for his wounds to heal and another for his scythes to stop trembling in the painful aftermath, but he resisted the urge to cry out and snuck around the room. Another few moments, and he was ready, ready to strike at an unguarded target. But his opponent was having none of it.

The ogre drew in a mighty breath and tripled the size of his chest cavity before unleashing a deafening roar. Half the eardrums in the room exploded. Blood leaked from his enemies and allies alike. But the bee-ogre cared little. The other Cadrians were his rivals to begin with, contenders for the place and death he so desperately desired.

Matthias was no exception. The hearing organ in his chest burst open. But more importantly, his cloak was half blown away; his body was revealed to the man who sought his head. 

Iapetus closed the gap in an instant. He used all of his weapons as he had before and bore them down on his foe.

The rhiar quickly pat down his cloak and made an escape, nearly shaking as the tip of the ogre’s spear grazed the bit of carapace that covered his throat. But by flapping his wings, he narrowly managed to escape the ogre’s range.

Only to be attacked by a second roar.

His freshly recovered ear burst open and his magical mantle fluttered to reveal him again. It was a game of cat and mouse; they went through the cycle again and again, stopping only when the thorae found a weapon sticking out from between his chest.

It wasn’t Matthias’ doing. The rhiar was still on the back foot, taking advantage of the opening to back away and heal. When Iapetus craned his neck, he found the princess, her eyes even colder than before.

“Shut up,” she said.

She pushed him forward with a foot and pulled her lizard out from between his ribs. Looking closer, he found that she was floating in midair with nothing to explain her suspension. She had no wings growing out of her armour nor any artifacts on her feet to aid in walking across the sky. She was just there, standing in defiance of the laws of physics.

His focus on her position was what distracted him from the nature of his crime. He didn’t understand why he had been attacked until he finally changed his focus to the blood trails that flowed down the length of her form. Following them, he found that they were coming from within her head, running down the length of her ears and dripping from their tips. It took another moment for him to put two and two together. She was furious. Even though it didn’t show on her face.

And yet, he only felt euphoria. Pure, unbridled joy pierced his core as he realized that he, Iapetus of Tornatus, had completed his goal. He had left his mark. He had violated the princess’ ears.

He laughed, cackled as he stumbled forward and spun around.

It didn’t matter how it turned out.

He had achieved his goal.

That was why he raised his blades overhead and prepared another attack. He didn’t know how much health she had, or how she could stop him, but he would strike her with his ars magna regardless. The same trade he had offered the mantis during their earlier exchange.

But his proposal was summarily rejected.

Turning her weapon into a series of whips, she grabbed him by the wrists and yanked him forward right in the middle of his swing. He tried to steady himself, but she jabbed a blade between his knees and stole his balance. All six weapons went wide. A claw dug into his back and sank him into the ground. He didn’t think much of it at first, even though the jagged talons cut through the nerves in his arms. It didn’t matter. He closed his wounds in a heartbeat. Or at least that was what he tried.

His body refused to obey his orders. Confused, he opened his status, only to find his health vanishing at an alarming rate. He barely had any time to process the details before a second claw reached his head and squished his face into the floor.

Claire repeated the action twice after he was dead, fully venting her frustration before getting back off the ground. Matthias wasn’t the only one struggling. Even with Sylvia’s buffs, Chloe was slowly losing ground to the mage and Ciel had done no lasting damage. Only Ace had emerged victorious, his enemy cleaved in half by his horse-killing sword; Sylvia had increased his strength and speed to the point that he was able to outpace his foe.

The lyrkress’ opponent was just as dead. His lightning-based spells had effectively proven worthless in the face of her resistance. He had tried to escape by turning into electricity himself, but the process entailed shedding his armour. That in turn allowed her to grab ahold of him, even in his immaterial, energy-based form.

She paused for a few moments, debating the two ongoing fights before choosing to focus on Ciel’s. The mage’s opponent was an average-looking elf. As far as battlemages went, his style was not particularly outstanding. His flames accompanied his fists, dancing with each move he made. His properties were far from squid-friendly. The flaming illumination polluted the shadows, squirrelling them away in the room’s far corners, and his fiery body evaporated her blood whenever it drew near.

Claire, however, experienced none of the associated problems. She grabbed the mage through his flaming mantle and gave his head a squish.

It was all too easy, like her previous struggles had been nothing but a figment of her imagination.

But it only made sense. Her instincts had informed her that she could kill them all, that they shouldn’t have posed much of a challenge. And they had been almost entirely correct. All of the difficulty she encountered had stemmed from the inefficient use of her powers.

She hated it. Knowing her own failure only drove her self-loathing. But at least their enemies were there for her to vent.

“Thank you,” said Arciel. “Your aid is greatly appreciated.”

"You need to work on your firepower," said Claire.

"It pains me to admit that I have arrived at the same conclusion." The squid heaved a sigh and focused her eyes on the final duel. "Shall we assist?"

"No point," she said, with her eyes laser-focused.

The rest of the brigade curiously followed her sightline, looking out the door and down the hall. They didn't seem to find anything at first, with Ace scratching his head and Matthias tilting his. Still, she continued to stare, until a blur burst through the door. It—she—dashed right past them and collided with the last centaur still standing. Her fists ripped through his flesh. There was nothing to enhance the blows, no arcane magic nor any songstress-derived enhancements. And yet, she tore right into him.

Chloe moved behind the horse-man in the meantime and stabbed him in the back of the neck. Her blade dug and gouged, ripping at his spine every single time he repaired it. Her strength had been magnified a hundredfold, but she suffered from the same problem as her guard—a lack of habituation. She stuck to the smaller, faster strokes that most dagger wielders favoured, not relying on her muscles to do any of the work.

Still, it was good enough. She brought her blade higher with each thrust, eventually digging it into the centaur’s critical weakness and finishing him from atop his back.

The maid collapsed almost immediately as her foe was slain, falling into a tired pile atop the back of his corpse.

“Objective completed,” said the newcomer.

“Good evening, Sophia,” said Arciel. “It pleases me to know that you still draw breath.”

The soldier lightly nodded and lowered her fists. The rest of the group joined after a brief delay, allowing the tension to drain from all their shoulders. One could easily argue that they were too hasty in their relaxation. There were technically still enemy soldiers in the room, though none of them had any clear will to resist. When Claire looked at them, they silently retreated from their stations and gathered in one of the room’s far corners.

Most were artificers or artificer-adjacent: pilots, administrators, and so on and so forth. They were practically useless in a fight, with some of their combat classes as low as level one hundred.

“I must say. My lack of raw force aside, their armour was rather troublesome. Perhaps we ought to salvage some of it for ourselves?” said Arciel.

“Might work against a mage, but I’d doubt they’d be any decent in a melee.” Ace picked up a shoulder guard off a corpse and tapped it with the back of his fist. It shattered almost immediately; his body was still enhanced. “Doubt we’ll find ourselves a craftsman capable of handling ‘em anyway. These things don’t even look like the kind that you can forge.” He raised one to the lights that lined the bridge’s walls. “Pretty sure each piece is carved from a single rock.”

“How unfortunate,” said the queen. She took off the oversized helmet she had placed over her hat and handed it to Sophia, who stared for a few seconds before strapping a belt around it. She hoisted in front of her fairly easily, but Ace only shook his head.

“Looks like it’d work, at least, but it ain’t gonna do you much good,” he said. “Even an arrow would eat right through it.” The magic vanished from his body as he spoke; the silvery aura that the fox had granted slowly wore off, with his speed and strength fading alongside it.

He and most of the others paused for a brief moment while their senses readjusted; a brief moment of dizziness assaulted their minds as the world sped up again.

And that was the moment she aimed for.

“Initiating extermination protocol.”

Ripping the shield from the lizardman’s grasp, Sophia drove her fist towards the warrior.

“Watch out!” A sooty blob dashed up to the lizard and tried to push him out of the way. It was Panda. He had come out of nowhere again, but while his appearance was seemingly impossible, his tiny frame made for a flimsy shield. Sophia’s fist ran through his chest, emerging out the other side with its momentum barely altered.

But the punch was only half of the traitor’s attack.

A blade of arcane magic erupted from her fingers and traced the path her fist had followed. It passed right through the lizardman’s core and left a slash that trailed from his waist to the opposite shoulder.