CHAPTER FORTY SEVEN

  Where he might’ve expected her to plummet like a stone upon losing consciousness, Purrsefone of Sands was surprised—though realistically he probably shouldn’t have been—when the little empress was gracefully let down on a cushion of ambient mana.

  The creature’s eye twitched. The wave of authority, which rolled over him as she grew near, enough to raise the hairs on his back.

  Even unconscious the little brat’s imperial authority dared intrude upon his own. The creature ultimately forced to clamp down mercilessly on what little of the ambient mana remained under his control, lest it slip away to join with the churning mass, coalescing just above her head like a thundercloud. A phenomenon which was, even now, causing the fabric of space to warp and ripple ominously. Brief flickers of indescribable color sparking like arcs of lightning through the air.

  As he reinforced his will upon the mana, doing exactly as he’d been taught—what was expected of an esteemed Earl of Midnight—he remained completely unaware of how the wisps that encompassed him grew visibly dark and listless the more he leaned on them with his mind. As if bobbing up and down by rote, instead of with pep in their step. Bouncing mechanically almost, rather than with a palpable love for life. Not that it would have changed how he did things really, though it would’ve been a peculiar observation all the same.

  The creature was still somewhat in a state of shocked disbelief at the sheer power brought to bear by someone so young and under-leveled. Dismantling his lvl fifty rare skill through authority alone? Not even he’d been expecting that.

  In his youth, and perhaps arrogance, he’d believed himself fully capable of handling an imperial brat in her bare infancy. After all, he’d grown up on stories of wily members of his kind absconding with the sons and daughters of emperors. Ferreting them away while still young and impressionable, and feasting on their heightened emotions until they grew too dangerous to keep around.

  He’d believed himself equal, if not superior, to the hero’s depicted in those grand tales. And yet, had the girl not been hampered by her own lackluster constitution, it was likely it would’ve been him bested by a mere child not even a year old.

  It rankled to say the very least.

  A malicious gleam in his eye, the creature unsheathed its eight inch long claws, and padded toward the helpless girl. Except…

  Argh-!

  Not as helpless as she looks, it would seem. It was only when he came within twenty feet of the prone girl, and made to take another step forward, that he was immediately shoved back. Buffeted by invisible winds. Hurled several dozen feet through the air as if he weighed nothing at all. With cat-like agility, the creature managed to land squarely on his feet, despite the mana’s manhandling. Dusting off his collar somewhat self consciously, he glared daggers at the unmoving figure.

  Her, and the wall of mana which apparently shielded her from harm.

  Flicking his round yellow eyes to the side in annoyance, he was somewhat gratified to see that he wasn’t the only one having difficulties. One of the incompetent gangsters lunged forward with arms out stretched—claws gleaming and fangs bared—only for the diminutive figure it bore down on to dart under the attempted grab, and lash out with a shrill…

  “KIAI!”

  A burst of power exploding out from his fist as he activated an ability—launching the unlucky fellow off his feet, to flip several times through the air. Of course it didn’t help matters any that, short as the little boy was, one of the few areas he could reach just so happened to be “below the belt,” as they say. And the child, for his part, apparently saw no qualms in targeting the prized jewels of the enemy. The creature winced as the Ra’ak Neerian landed on the ground with a hissing groan—hands cradling the precious bits between his legs.

  He didn’t get back up.

  This was a scene repeated several times across their little patch of forest. An especially feral looking young lady practically drenched head to toe in reptile blood, with all the hacking and slashing she’d been doing with that stone dagger of hers.

  “Really now? Who gives a child a knife?”

  The element of surprise could only last for so long however. Eventually, the gang of thugs got their measure, regrouped, and went on the offensive. Taking them much more seriously than they had the last time. They moved fast and hard, only the unlucky fellow still hobbling slightly. Claws flashed, abilities flew, and though the kids tried to fight back, it was clear to all that they were incredibly outmatched. In just ten short seconds, the contingent of rowdy five year olds were reduced to immobile fixtures of the terrain.

  Their golden bubbles of protection coalescing one after another.

  Whereupon the scale clad sadists, clearly old hands at this sordid business by now, promptly plopped down to wait out the timer. It made sense. The creature knew from lived experience that a three hours wait time was nothing when compared with a truly satisfying meal. Bored, the creature turned away from the scene, though he didn’t hesitate to nibble on the beginnings of worry which began to worm their way into the children’s minds.

  It didn’t make the situation it now found itself in any less infuriating, though it did help to take the edge off of his growing irritation. The creature sheathed itself in a mantle of its authority, ambient mana, and will. He then padded forward, braving the growing mana storm once more. This time, he managed three steps into the rippling distortion before being summarily ejected.

  Landing lightly on his feet. In an instant he knew that he could push much farther than he had if he really set his mind to it. The creature grinned. And so it would seem that, just like the lizard men patiently awaiting their meal, it would only be a matter of time before he too cracked this devilish shell to get at the prized meat within.

  Flexing his claws in anticipation, the creature once more sheathed itself in authority and stepped into the colorful maelstrom.

  Wouldn’t be long now… much like the fabled hero’s of his youth, the creature’s imperative was clear. This one was far too dangerous to be left alive.

  +++

  Richard moved through the forest like an illusive ghost, or woodland fae. A specter flitting between moss covered trees. Steps light as he navigated the verdant terrain. Feet tapping across fallen logs, gnarled root systems, and the uneven forest floor. There and then gone. The only signs of his passage the gusts of wind left in his wake.

  His breaths came fast. Heart hammering in his chest. Mind perpetually unsure if he was even heading in the right direction. While his stomach, meanwhile, threatened to rebel, the longer this uncertainty went on. Until, all at once, every one of his doubts were put to rest. Leaving room for newfound anxieties to take their place.

  He burst into the clearing and was immediately greeted, not by a scene of carnage, but instead, one of imminent disaster. The children, his charges, huddled together not twenty paces ahead. The fear for their lives evident in the hunch of their shoulders, and the golden spheres which encased each and every one. His ire flaring to newfound heights at the sight of grown men and women—aliens by all rights, but not so alien as to rob them of all sense of decency—leering from behind the protective golden barriers.

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  Taking great pleasure, it would seem, in tormenting small children.

  Tapping on the transparent glass like constructs, and hissing merrily with every flinch they received. Every widened eye, trembling lower lip, and growing dark stain which soiled their clothing.

  He didn’t think, he merely acted. Three steps, followed by a leap, and he was airborne. Soaring over their heads. Eyes alight with something black and terrible, he relished the look of surprise which flit across the lead ones face. Head snapping up, eyes gone wide with disbelief. Mana threads lashed out, choking off the hiss of incomprehension building in its throat.

  Then Richard pulled. Hurtled downward. Wind whipping past his ears.

  Before the creature could even begin to react, flying knee met reptilian facial structure with all the force he could muster. He felt bone crack and cave under the weight, before the head exploded in a shower of gore. It’s body still reeling from the impact, falling as if in slow motion. And yet Richard was already moving onto the next. Invisible strings binding its torso, he yanked—a fist burying itself to the elbow in its scaly chest. Pulping it’s heart in one sharp blow before swiftly transitioning to the next.

  He spun through the air, never touching the ground even once. Every elbow shattering a ribcage, every kick snapping a spine, a particularly powerful palm strike shoving the bone of a long snout directly into the creatures brain. His temper hot. His body steaming. His clothes coated in all manner of awful. In five seconds flat, all the would be enemies had been dealt with, and he was left standing above a pile of nearly unrecognizable corpses.

  Yet still, his breaths came fast and uneven. Not due to exertion, no, but instead in rage. His blood still up, and unlikely to be going down any time soon.

  He didn’t turn around. Didn’t look for the children’s reaction, deathly afraid of what he might see there. What they likely now thought of him after that little display. Instead he turned his attention toward the strange spectacle taking up the large majority of the clearing. The growing mana storm which spun and churned, like a distorted haze of unchecked energy.

  His blood went cold at the sight. At what it might become if left to its own devices.

  And at the center of the coming storm was an unmoving Penelope, and the creature. It’s deceptive form looming over the unconscious girl—for the creature’s sake he had better hope she was merely unconscious—claws unsheathed and prepared to strike. To come down decisively, like the blade of a guillotine. Raised high, they glinted in the arcane light constantly arcing across the mana storm.

  Again, Richard found himself with little time for thought. He acted. Throwing himself forward, feet pounding away. Shoving through the wall that marked the edge of the distortion, whereupon he stumbled, nearly tripped.

  Feeling almost like he’d been expecting to shoulder a door down, and was met with a flimsy bead curtain instead.

  Actually, no, that’s exactly what it felt like. The mana, for whatever reason, not seeing him as a threat. Somewhat gratified at the vote of confidence, if extremely confused as to where it’d come from, Richard quickly regained his balance, and rushed full steam ahead. He ate up the distance at a voracious pace. The creature growing larger by the second. It’s claws began to descend. Richards body erupted with wriggling mana threads, two hundred all told. Mind directing every single one of them forward, to intercept the creatures attack.

  Only when he’d gotten within twenty feet of the creature, did he realize that his efforts had all been meaningless. That all the mana in the world would do little to aid him here.

  +—|-(PURRSEFONE OF SANDS; THE MIDNIGHT EARL)-|—+

  ?[Lvl ? ELITE]?

  An Earl, and a late E Grade Elite to boot.

  Richard swore. Or at least he would have, if he’d been allowed. Still he pressed on regardless, less hopeful than he was delusional. Optimistic, if only to dredge up the nerve to keep putting one foot in front of the other.

  His mana threads shot ahead, moving just a little bit faster than he could at a dead sprint. Rapidly closing the distance separating them. From twenty feet. To fifteen feet. To eleven.

  It was an idiotic thing to do. He knew that. Humanity was counting on him. If he died here, all would be lost.

  Ten feet. Seven feet. Five.

  If he simply cut his losses, stepped back and took the proper time to prepare, he even thought it likely he’d be able to avenge their deaths.

  Four feet. Three feet. Two.

  It was the smart thing to do. Just walk away and live to fight another day. And yet… for the life of him, he couldn’t make himself do it. Not this time. Not again.

  The creatures ears perked up, the only indication he’d felt the mana strings’ approach.

  And yet, no matter how much he wanted to go against the odds. To come out on top despite his crippling disadvantages.

  His mana threads began to unravel before they’d even come within striking distance.

  The sad truth of the matter was that sheer force of will wasn’t the thing that made the world go round.

  The two hundred odd points he’d placed into the attack stripped from his control like taking candy from a baby. And, much to his horror, was then subsequently used to fuel whatever technique allowed the creature to persist inside the mana storm, despite it being inimical to the creature’s very existence. His hard earned mana seeming to take several invisible weights off its shoulders.

  Hard work was nothing before the chasm of born talent, and sometimes, there were gaps simply too vast to bridge.

  The creature turned around to face him at last. Richard forced to hold back a sigh of relief, lest he give away his sorry excuse of a plan. It’s eyes gleamed with interest as it spun. Too occupied to notice the slender threads which slithered around its sphere of authority. And upon seeing him? Those large yellow pools flashed with sadistic pleasure.

  “Oh? Well if this isn’t a lovely surprise-”

  Richard’s fist slapped into a quickly upraised paw. The creature clenched, grinding his hand to pulp between his pads. Richard gritted his gums, twisted his torso. Inertia turning into a kick aimed at the creatures temple. The creature raised its other paw to catch his foot. In the moment just before impact however, Richard swapped his titles. Mighty Monster Slayer (I) increasing both his strength and regeneration by thirty points each for four seconds.

  Bones creaked and muscles tore as he pushed his physical attributes well past what they were made to handle. He ignored the discomfort.

  His foot colliding with the creatures palm, and shoving it back by the barest quarter of an inch. The creature’s eyes widened ever so slightly, before he grabbed Richard by the ankle, and hurled him into the tree line.

  CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

  His body smashing through three consecutive tree trunks before burying itself in the bark of the forth. His body gone limp. Dead or unconscious, it was entirely too hard to tell. The creak of falling trees followed, accompanied by the snap of shearing branches, and finally the deafening cacophony as they crashed to the ground.

  The creature sniffed.

  Still more than a bit miffed that, even throughout all of that, not once had even a hint of despair crossed the abnormalities mind. And while, sure, perhaps the creature could have acted a little less decisively, made it last longer and what not, the brat’s continued self confidence had honestly begun to grate on his nerves. After all, what did he have to feel confident about?

  The creature sniffed once more. Then froze. Catching… something. Something sweet? It wasn’t food, not in the way he recognized it, though the scent was still oddly familiar. The creature turned, nose raised high, probing the air for the peculiar smell. This continued until he’d spun a full one hundred and eighty degrees, glanced down, and only then did he find what he’d been looking for.

  Inexplicably, a plate of chocolate cake had somehow appeared before the sleeping infant. The scent attracting her attention as well, it would seem. Brown nostrils flaring. Eyelids fluttering. Until, much to the creature’s very own horror, the little imperial’s eyes snapped open. First taking in the cake, then the somewhat guilty looking cat creature looming over her. Her eyes flashed and her lip curled.

  “Ahh. Well shi-”

  The sudden eruption of mana sent the sordid creature flying. A deep channel carved into the forest floor with his body, extending for several hundred meters in the blink of an eye and counting.

  A moment passed.

  Following the creatures explosive departure, there was relative quiet. A quiet punctuated by the crash of trees and torn up soil in the far far distance. Then suddenly, it was shattered by a piteous groan. Penelope snapped her head around, ready to unleash a blast of mana at whatever came near, only to falter when it was teacher that came stumbling in through the brush.

  Clutching his ribs and clearly in a great deal of pain, his cloudy eyes lit up when they saw her.

  “Ah! Oh good. I wasn’t sure if that would work. Oh, and, feel free to eat up by the way. You’ve certainly earned it…”

  His eyes went unfocused for a second, before he shook his head and continued.

  “Oh, and if you wouldn’t mind carrying everyone back to the clearing when you have time, that would be great. I’m afraid I’ll be somewhat,” he stumbled, nearly fell—a cloud of ambient mana reaching out to catch him before he could. “Indisposed in a second.”

  He grinned. Nodded his thanks at the save. Barfed up his lunch, and promptly passed out. Penelope cradled him with her floaty friends. Stared at him for a time. Concern, fear, and anger warring for supremacy on her face. Abruptly, the distant sounds of destruction stopped. And all of the sudden her danger sense began to blare like they never had before. The shadows at the edge of the clearing began to churn and writhe.

  Penelope looked from her teacher to her friends, to the smoke-like creatures rapidly emerging from the shadows. Abruptly, her tiny mouth firmed up into a hard line. For her teacher, for her friends, they needed to be gone from here, and they needed it done yesterday.