CHAPTER FORTY SIX

  The black scaled Ra’ak Neerian pulled the trigger-!

  And a wall of shoddy weaponry—dozens of chipped swords, worn axes, and dull daggers all told—sprung up to oppose him. At the same time, Richard tugged on the mana strings he’d looped around the lizard man’s ankles, lurching forward, just as the bolt of plasma punched through the screen of poor-quality implements. The plasma slowed inconsiderably by the jumble of killing instruments, though it was enough all the same.

  Richard hissed as droplets of molten metal rained down to patter across his skin. Peppering him with third degree burns and causing the cloth around the affected areas to smoke and shrivel.

  Richard got what he’d been after, however. Enough of a distraction to slip between the lizard man’s legs with his head fully intact. He slid through the fallen leaves, leaving a rather obvious trail behind—the chain around his ankle rattling as if in protest. In other words, it gave the tall alien all the indication it needed to realize it’s point blank attack had failed. Recognizing this, he was quick to spin, train his weapon on the illusive brat, but Richard was faster.

  Already back on his feet, he stood not twenty five feet away. Still a bit of slack in the chain binding him, though it could not be denied the mana chain restricted his movements considerably.

  Not enough, however.

  Invisible mana threads exploded from his body by the dozens. Swiftly numbering nearly a hundred, all told. A hundred odd tendrils, working independently of one another, the majority lashed out in all directions—latching onto trunks, roots, and sturdy branches. A spiderweb of invisible threads which suddenly permeated the entirety of their little patch of forest.

  The black scaled giant lifted his rifle, fired, but Richard was already gone. A sharp tug of the right thread and he was winging through the air. He flipped. Brought his body around. Feet denting the trunk of a nearby maple with a resounding crack! Leaves rained down like yet another curtain call, obscuring his leap to the next tree. And the next. And the next. Suddenly a cascade of autumnal leaves were raining down from all sides, ruining the Ra’ak Neerian’s aim, if only by just a little.

  The tattling rattle of the chain around his ankle—as it lurched and shifted—giving away his general location. And yet, just as he’d hoped, the screen of raining leaves ultimately kept him safe from reprisals, at least of the immediate variety. Holes were burned through leaves with regularity. Missing him by entire feet sometimes, and at others, bare inches. Burrowing through trunks and shearing away thick branches. More than once, Richard was forced to re-latch one of his tendrils mid flight, though, despite everything that was going on, he was not idle in this time.

  If 75% of his threads were dedicated to evasion, 25% were focused solely on breaking the shackle that bound him. Several agitated drill bits working in conjunction. Layering atop one another, spinning, a massive drill bit formed of smaller threads. With a grinding sound, blue sparks flying, it burrowed into the hardened stuff of the mana chain, leaving barely a scratch in the crystalized mana.

  Must be a higher purity level then mine. Not considerably hard to do since mine isn’t even approaching the bare minimum. That whole, “lack of mana channels” thing really does pop up at the darndest times doesn’t it?

  Richard tsk’ed.

  It would seem he’d actually have to fight this brute after all.

  Annoying. But, if it gets me to the kids even a second faster… I’ll just have to get this over with as quickly as possible.

  It was just as he’d made this decision, however, that the tempo of the fight abruptly changed.

  CRACK!

  Feet leaving indents in the poor maple, Richard was getting ready to leap to the next tree in line, when his foot… slipped.

  Or rather, it was made to slip. Yanked out from under him, so that he could only flail mid air. Even through the screen of raining red and orange leaves, he saw the problem immediately. As he’d been leaping about the trees like a jumped up lemur on steroids, the clever lizard man had been slowly winding the chain around his wrist until it’d gone taught.

  Now, as soon as the leaves had cleared, the Ra’ak Neerian effectively had Richard dead to rights. Or, well, surely it appeared that way. Richard acted fast, unwinding his mana threads until the spider web was no more. Instead he directed several to wrap around the tree he’d only recently vacated. Holding him in place, several meters above the ground, even as the lizard man attempted to reel him in closer.

  It was a good thing his endurance had gotten so high, otherwise his limbs might have been torn from their sockets by the opposing forces. Craning his neck back, even as he clung on for dear life, he saw the moment the cascade of leaves cleared enough for the alien to take aim. The lizard man raised his rifle, took aim, smirked. Little did he know, that sudden visibility was a two way street.

  Richard flooded the barrel of his plasma rifle with rapidly rotating mana threads. Burrowing deep inside the mechanism in search of something fragile, volatile, crucial, or if he was lucky, all three. He filled every nook and cranny of its inner workings with his mana. Drilling away at anything and everything he could get his figurative hands on. He ravished the inner workings with little concern for the possible consequences. Ripping into anything that felt even remotely important.

  He could only thank Opon the blasted firearm hadn’t been mana infused, else-wise it was extremely unlikely he’d have even been able to do something like this, at all. Abruptly, it was as if the lizard man’s plasma rifle had taken on a life of its own. Shuddering and vibrating in the alien’s hands before, with his strength stat likely in the hundreds, he clamped down on the apparent insubordination, raising the rifle and firing several times in rapid succession.

  Nothing happened.

  He looked down on his faulty rifle, confused. Simply staring at it uncomprehendingly for several long seconds. Checking the ammo gauge, seeing that it was still half full, before finally, finallyclocking how parts of the fire arm had begun to swell ominously, while still others began to glow a bright cherry red. Richard rapidly retrieved his mana tendrils, just as the lizard man recoiled. Tearing the sling from his shoulders, and launching the gun high into the sky, before falling to the ground with hands over his head.

  BOOM!

  A massive fire ball blossomed, followed by a wave of scorching heat—a concussive shockwave hot on its heels. Richard was rattled by the impact, dropping his mana threads just in time to movewith the sudden pressure wave, lest his arms be torn from their sockets in truth. Richard slammed face first onto the mossy turf of the forest floor, once more grateful he didn’t have teeth to lose in moments like these. His rapid descent accompanied by the ping of falling shrapnel, and the wafting scent of noxious fumes.

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  Luckily, he’d been far enough away from the explosion that none of the shrapnel even grazed him. The same, however, could not be said for his scaly compatriot. The sharp hiss of agony cut through his own disorientation. Staggering to his feet, he spun to find the lizard man doing much the same, if far slower, and in a great deal more pain. A hand held to the side of his head, weeping pockmarks along its left shoulder and latissimus dorsi—and all along its back as well, by the looks of it—explaining where a large majority of that wizzing shrapnel had gone.

  Concentrating on its left side.

  Richard tsk’ed.

  Just a few inches more to the right and this fight might already have been won. As it stood, however…

  The look of pitch black hatred the lizard man directed his way was nothing short of bone chilling. Or at least, it would have been, he was sure, were his resilience not maxed out for his grade and prestige. As it was, Richard was already tallying up the number of threads he’d lost since the fight had first been joined. Naturally he’d been recycling them as he went—re-absorbing them into his core when not in use or damaged—but when each individual thread represented a point of mana, it didn’t do to be careless.

  Huh. About two-hundred seventy five points left. Alright, not as bad as I thought.

  The lizard man shifted, and Richards eyes snapped back to attention. Then, fully taking in the extent of the damage for the very first time, Richard grinned. It’s left arm was out of commission, leaving only its right. The same holding the chain. Though could he manage that and defend himself at the same time? Richard suppose they’d find out.

  The Ra’ak Neerian, not having taken kindly to his unintentional taunt, hissed with frustration and malice. Richard tore an acceleration dagger from his makeshift bandoleer. The scaled giant unsheathed its razor sharp claws. As if by mutual agreement, they launched forward in unison.

  THUMP!

  The ground exploded under them, sending great geysers of earth, leaves, and other woodland detritus high into the air. The earth quaked. The world blurred. And suddenly they’d crossed the distance separating them. Massive claw coming down to split him in two. Flipping his dagger into a reverse grip, Richard stepped inside the blow, deflecting the heavy handed attack with the flat of his weapon.

  Sparks were sent flying, the fleeting embers reflected in his eyes. Their gazes met, the claws swept past, landing with a detonation of upturned soil.

  BOOM

  The blowback spraying his side with loose dirt and colorful leaves.

  Richard, for his part, continued forward, dragging his sharpened blade all along the beast man’s inner forearm. Leaving naught but a faint line in its wake. The beast man lunged, jaws leveraged wide—as if to bite his head off—but it was only a feint. The two lurched away from one another simultaneously, one retrieving his dagger with a flourish, while the other tore their hand from the ground with brutish strength. They sized one another up briefly, the alien glancing at the pitiful line marring the protective scales of its forearm.

  This time, it was his turn to smile. A hideous thing of far too many teeth. Richard scowled.

  Well, if cutting doesn’t work then…

  His opponent began to wrap loose links of chain around his arm once more. Gritting his gums, Richard shot forward, going on the attack. This time however, after the distance had been closed, after a diagonal slash was aiming for his head and his dagger rose to compensate, Richard tugged on a conveniently placed thread, launching him in a completely different direction. Up and to the side. He whizzed past the alien’s frills. Flipping madly through the air, until his back was to the afternoon sun.

  Richard lashed out with his mind, wrapping dozens of threads around the lizard man’s neck, before hauling on them with all he had. Flying knee connected with scaly temple with a sharp report…

  CRACK!

  The resounding impact of bone on bone echoing throughout their stretch of forest. Pain blossomed around his knee cap, but he deemed the discomfort well worth it. Richard shoved away with the impact, flipping backwards several feet. Stumbling a bit when he put pressure on his sore knee, but that was nothing compared to the state of his opponent. The scaly giant staggered, tripped on its own tail, nearly fell flat on its rear. It’s eyes unfocused and clearly dazed. The nightmare of torn flesh the shrapnel had made of the left side of its head on clear display.

  Richard didn’t wast as second. Mana tendrils wrapped around his opponents body, and, with another tug, Richard’s diminutive frame was sent flying. Truly the movement afforded to him by his small body, coupled with his Premier Fledgling Ascender passive could not be underestimated. He attacked with punches and kicks. Knees and elbows. Each coming from a different direction, each as unpredictable as the first—targeting blind spots and previous injuries.

  Richard buried his fist into the pulped flesh of the scaled giant’s shoulder, eliciting a roar of pain. Followed immediately by a howl of frustration as Richard flit away just as quickly. Deftly avoiding the retaliatory slash.

  After a minute or so of this, the lizard man began to panic. Or, at least, so it had seemed to him at first. Slashing wildly at the air, irregardless of where Richard was at the time. It looked so much like the flailing of a toddler not getting his way, that Richard chalked it up to just that.

  This was a mistake.

  Richard flipped through the air. Chains rattling, sweat leaping from his brow. Behind the creature now, his tendrils lashed out, fixed themselves around the lizard man’s waist, before he yanked. Plummeting from the sky like a stone. The world around him blurred as he descended rapidly, though not so much that he missed the sudden burst of motion. The Ra’ak Neerian spun on his heels. A wild swing aimed in his general direction. Richard snorted, tugged on an individual thread just long enough to shift his trajectory to the side, and out of range of the clumsy attack. He slipped past the strike by bare inches, fist already knocked back and ready to-!

  Four burning lines of pain ripped into his shoulder.

  What?!

  Controlled flight abruptly interrupted, his inertia was turned against him. His forward momentum became an uncontrolled spin. Pirouetting, his blood fountained from his shoulder in a hypnotic spiral. Far too much blood for the relatively shallow lacerations inflicted. His endurance wasn’t anything to sneeze at after all, and yet-

  It was less a feeling than an instinct.

  Richard tugged on several mana strings at once. Deftly evading the strike meant to cleave him in two.

  Yet again, the actual strike missed him completely, and yet again, four burning lines of pain appeared across his skin. This time raking his thigh nearly from hip to knee. Blood gushed from the wound like he’d severed a femoral artery, even though Richard was sure that hadn’t been the case. Richard continued to yank on threads blindly, dodging almost every one of the lizard man’s strikes instinctually. And yet, the wounds kept on piling up all the same. And that spoke nothing of the blood loss.

  He was beginning to get woozy.

  Richard grit his gums, tugged on his threads like he’d done so many times before, then abruptly slammed back first into the trunk of a tree. The impact knocking the breath from his lungs, though the moment of stillness finally allowed his vision to adjust. The lizard man loomed over him, claws raised high—slick with the red of his blood. Richard braced himself. Grunted.

  C’mon! Just how much mana does this guy have?! It can’t be much, considering the class I’m now 99.99% sure he owns.

  Then suddenly, just as the claws were about to descend, ready to cleave him in twain, a sharp cracking sound interrupted what both of them were doing.

  Finally!

  The mana drill he’d had going ever since this little shindig had been joined, successful in exhausting the aliens mana supply at long last. It cost mana to keep the mana chain summoned, after all, let alone maintain its structural integrity. And, by testing its structural integrity continuously over the course of the fight, slowly but surely, he’d been able to eat away at the Ra’ak Neerian’s remaining mana. A negligible drain, under normal circumstances, were it not for the fact that he was confident the brute couldn’t have had more than thirty points in the rarely used attribute.

  And, though it might have seemed counter intuitive, the continued use of double strike, and that mana-hungry bleed ability, only served to accelerate his plans.

  Suddenly, the glowing blue links trapping his ankle shattered into a million tiny shards. Swiftly dissipating into motes of light, which then vanished into thin air altogether. Admirably, the brute was surprisingly quick to recover from the sudden onset of mana exhaustion. Not nearly quick enough however, as Richard was already flitting through the trees at speed. Already having disappeared from sight.

  The Ra’ak Neerian, for its part, staggered forward, as if to make chase, when he noticed something peculiar resting where the baby had just lain. A parting present of sorts, stuck into the roots of the maple tree like a flag. A shoddy dagger with glowing blue lines etched into the blade. Lines that only seemed to be growing brighter in intensity as he watched. Suddenly, Scrap’s eyes went wide with fear and realization. Only able to cover his face with his hands before the untreated iron was overloaded with mana, and swiftly exploded.

  BANG!