B5 Chapter 620: Wyrm, pt. 2

The Wyrm raged, their body undulating. Steaming blood seeped from the creature as boiling vital fluid warred against the chill of the shattered Spear in their chest. Every movement cracked with audible violence, the dragon’s physical supremacy on full display. The wyrm was still rattled from their sudden and furious assault. That wouldn’t last. Kaius needed to act.

Tightly coiled mana erupted within Felmenia as Kaius splashed through the shallow waters that covered the Wellspring’s cavern. He needed Slipstep, and he needed it now. The world warped as distance lost its grip upon him, contracting beneath his feet.

Barked commands rang out behind him as the nobles kicked their mounts into motion. Ianmus had to be with them — he’d already commanded the Pegleg to retreat up the stairs. Galloping feet drew further away, where the group could lean on the illusion of safety that distance would bring them.

Kaius grit his teeth. Kanmost needed time.

The urge was there to call upon Drakthar and rain ruin upon the creature from afar. It would only be a waste. He had empowered his Spear of Nectus with a tightly bound touch of VOS, and that had left only a flesh wound. Would Hateful Nail even scratch the wyrm’s scales?

Another looming thought held him back. This was no simple beast, a slave to instinct and animal violence. They were a thinking mind, with all the capacity for malevolence and shrewd machination that implied. The wyrm was a mage. He might slip past the creature’s immutable defense with Stormlash…but what of when they cast? What potent magics could they call upon, to wrack ruin upon them? No, better he save Stormlash and his mental magics to sow discord upon the creature when it needed its concentration most.

Ghostly warriors charged the wyrm, spears leveled before their shields. A glinting streak raced behind the Skill: Porkchop, in his full regalia. Spears shrieked across the dragon’s hide, turned by shining azure scales. Porkchop ripped through the ghosts of his skill, ancient warriors dissipating like smoke on the wind as he hammered the wyrm with Jadecrash.

“Vile ingrate, you dare to strike your betters?!” Katarex snarled. Magic surged through the wyrm, their fangs shining like the sun. They struck. Orichalchum heavyplate crunched in its maw. They hurled Porkchop away with contemptuous ease. His brother landed with a crack and a splash, the wyrm surging after him.

Kaius tightened his grip on his blade, the sturdy hilt digging into his palm. The wyrm had tossed his brother like Porkchop was nothing more than a dead chicken. The sheer strength required was monstrous.

But what could he do but fight?

As Porkchop scrambled to his feet, Kaius flashed to the dragon’s undefended flank. Scale and spines flowed past him in a constant wave, like he was standing before a moving wall of meat. Snapping his blade high, mana and stamina flowed through its crystal length. Red balefire erupted within the twisted runes encased in its fuller, even as an aura of liquid glass and fractured power erupted from its edge. The twin powers of Hellblade Investiture and Dissolution Edge wound together, flaring to greater violence.

Kaius slashed.

The cleaving edge of A Father’s Gift scored the dragon’s scales. There was no blood, only a tortured screech like he had scrapped a nail against a glass pane. Even the warping magic of his Edge only gnawed at the monstrosity’s hide, deepening the line of pale blue.

Rotten roots, it was like he was hacking at a slab of iron. Worse, Katarex had more than simple armour on its side. The magic coursing through the wyrm’s veins raged at the touch of his Edge, rebuffing it. A natural resistance, another of the legendary advantages of the chosen children of the gods.

Porkchop roared deep, battling the wyrm and yanking at their attention with The Dominanceof Claw. With the wyrm occupied, Kaius still had an opportunity. Whirling his blade again, he kept his skills burning strong and hacked at the weakened scales.

For a dreadful moment, he felt nothing but the solid rebuke of scale — until finally, the creature’s hide gave out. His blade sliced just a little deeper, potent blood boiling as it ran along his blade. A few droplets splattered through his helm, landing like stinging acid on his skin.

Katarex roared and snapped their head back towards him. Mana raced through their body as six globules of water snapped into existence around their head. Shaped by draconic will, the orbs erupted into wire-thin streams of pressurized spray.

Danger erupted in Kaius’s mind, Moment of Flow warning him of the attack's trajectory. A shunt exploded beside him, ripping him away from the streams that would rip through his chest. He was too slow. Three clustered streams clipped his side. Shaped magic tore through his armour like it was paper, punching bloody holes through him. Locked in flight, the jets tore out of his side.

Porkchop roared, diving for the wyrm’s throat as energy surged within him. They hissed, knocking his brother aside with a smashing blow of their head. The wyrm’s spines cracked against Porkchop’s armour, chunks of glinting metal splashing to the ground below. Moments later, the ghostly maw of an armoured lion snapped into existence. Summoned fangs grated against the supple scales that lined Katarex’s neck.

Kaius splashed down, sliding across slick stone. He heard a crack from beyond the wyrm, and caught a flash of mounted men at the far end of the cavern. Julian and his men had created the distance they needed. Ianmus was with them, his keyseals shining at the back of their formation. The nobles had loosed a conjoined volley. One bolt burned brighter than the rest, backed by more than just a wealth of enchantment. No doubt it had been fired from Steelroot’s massive arbalest, and backed by the man’s Skills.

The clustered projectiles slammed into Katarex’s side, drawing a shocked scream from the creature. He couldn’t see the wound, but it looked like they’d aimed at a single point — hoping to overwhelm the wyrm’s mighty defenses with volume of fire. A burning beam followed a moment later, smoke rising from the wyrm’s side.

More jets of water erupted from around the wyrm’s maw, tearing towards the distant nobles. They scattered.

Behind him, Kaius heard the raging steps of the Pegleg splashing across the cavern. Kanmost hadn’t reached the stairs yet. The Archivist was still vulnerable.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelPhoenix. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Slipping forward, he pressed his assault. He longed to reach for Zone of Discombobulation, but he couldn’t overplay his hand. Any distracting effect would be vital to interrupt the beast’s focus. So far, the dragon had proven itself inexperienced. The wyrm was young, they had to be. Powerful, but untested. A true veteran would have focused them down one by one, but the creature was distracted by every new wound — as if they were unused to the simple possibility of injury.

Yet the system had called them mage. Spells were their greatest weapon, and they had yet to call upon them.

Kaius leveled his blade into a thrust, ready to call upon his Edge as he aimed for the pulsing wound he’d left on the creature’s side. It was already half closed, draconic vigour sealing the injury at a visible rate.

Halfway to the creature’s side, a twisted knot of black lines snapped into existence over his target. Kenva’s Winter’s Mark. The air screamed from his right and behind him. An arrow followed, wrapped in the potency of Howl of the North Wind. Kenva’s shot punched into the cut in the wyrm’s scales. Tearing gusts erupted from the point of impact, wrenching the wound open further.

Kaius grinned — he couldn’t have planned for a better opportunity. His blade lanced deep into the opening, gushing blood flowing over his hands. It burned like fire, draconic essence tearing at his flesh with ripping fangs. Yet the Song in his heart screamed louder than the pain, and he knew his bite was worse.

Fractured light and molten glass erupted from A Father’s Gift as he called on Dissolution Edge once more. Arcane energy gorged on the wyrm’s flesh even as his blade struggled to cut through wooden muscle.

Katarex lurched forward. Porkchop roared, his Phalanx ramming the creature as they tried to turn back and drive Kaius away.

Kaius stayed close. Aggression still ripped through his soul. The wound he had opened wouldn’t last forever, and he’d spent so much to get through their scales.

A storm of Nails erupted from his hand as he kicked away from the Wyrm. Four twisted barbs of iron punched into the open wound, ejecting a spray of blood. They were cruel things, blooming flowers of hooks and needle teeth that wormed their way deep.

Katarex reacted to his assault with violent rebuke. The dragon whipped their head into Porkchop’s side, ramming him away and punching holes through his brother’s armour with their horns. Rising tall, Katarex ignored the storm of projectiles that slammed into their flank from Kenva and the nobles.

“Foul vermin,” they growled, sonorous hatred and fury clanging inside Kaius’s mind. “One such as I, a thing of perfection, should have known better than to toy with my food. Today you will learn your place in the rightful order of things!”

Raw power surged from within the wyrm’s body, an overflow of energy that burned in Kaius’s Truesight. Sucking in a heaving breath, Katarex howled. It was the crushing blow of a king’s scepter, barbed in draconic hate.

The Fear struck, rolling out from the wyrm in a physical shockwave.

Kaius had known it was coming. Every story of dragons spoke of the Fear. A transcendent might that oozed from the very pores of the creatures; a paralysing weight that bound you truer than any chain. A weapon of dread and sovereignty struck him mightily, sinking through his flesh to rage against his very soul.

He gasped, stumbling. All of them were struck similarly. Ianmus, Julian and his distant men slumped in their saddles, their mounts screaming with sudden panic; Porkchop staggered back, a growl on his throat, and a splash sounded behind him as it hit Kenva.

Gritting his teeth, Kaius fought back against the shock of it. He was burdened, but not cowled. The Fear gnawed at him with a weight he could only call familiar. It lacked the cutting edge of essence, but he could never mistake it for anything else. Natural Authority, of a sort. It lacked the bleeding hyperreality he was used to — but it more than made up for it in sheer volume.

Already burning with the vibrance of battle, his Aspects raged. Essence welled up from his soul, flowing in a virtuous cycle. He straightened, straining against the dragon’s might as his own Authority rippled outwards.

A roar ripped from Porkchop’s throat as he asserted his own presence. Even the nobles, who had yet to fully embody their Aspects and lacked the ability to cycle, slowly weathered the storm. They gripped their crossbows tightly, their faces white and clammy.

Kaius stepped forward.

Katarex whipped towards him.

“Impossible!”

“The world has changed, snake,” Kaius hissed, lurching into a run.

The wyrm’s eyes widened, before they bared their fangs in a vicious snarl. “You will die all the same!”

Kaius braced himself — only to blanch as the wyrm focused on something behind him. He heard the distant clack of metal on stone. The Pegleg; it must have reached the stairs.

“One of you seeks to flee?!”

Sheer dread rippled through Kaius’s chest as the dragon’s throat shone like the sun. It was more than simple mana, overflowing with the almost-essence that was so rich in the wyrm’s psuedo-Authority.

There was one other power the stories spoke of, beyond the Fear.

“No!” Kaius roared reflexively.

Reacting instantly, Porkchop charged, pulling on Breaker of Men to hasten his steps and summon a rising wave of crystalline metal. Kaius’ moved with him, reaching for Spear of Nectus. He only had two more casts, but by the bloody gods he couldn’t risk it.

A screaming lance of ice rocketed towards the wyrm’s jaw, tracing a line of fog through the air.

An arrow ripped in from the right, beating him to the punch. Packed with potent energy, it slammed into the side of the creature’s head, exploding on impact.

Katarex barely even flinched. Their maw yawned wide, their double row of needle fangs on full display.

Draconic magic erupted.

A roaring beam of water cut across the cavern in an instant, filling the air with the terrible sound of cracking rock and shorn metal. The wyrm ripped their head to the side.

“Kanmost!” Ianmus screamed from across the cavern. A golden keyseal pulsed atop the mage’s staff.

Kaius’s Spear of Nectus rammed into the wyrm’s jaw. Black ice rammed their maw closed, cracking scale and bone. Cut off, the terrifying Dragon’s Breath turned on its master. Pressurized water ripped through the wyrm’s jaw and teeth in an explosion of gory shards. Katarex screamed in pain, cutting off their natural magic.

Porkchop slammed into them a moment later, capitalising on the wyrm’s distraction to knock them prone.

Kaius whirled around, dread in his heart.

The Pegleg was a ruined thing. Dragon’s Breath had punched straight through its hull, cleaving lengthwise, revealing a shattered furrow that had been gouged in the wall behind it. Its legs had been shorn through in the same pass, leaving the landyacht little more than a pile of scrap left prone on the stairs.

He saw no sign of the Archivist, only the glow of Ianmus’s Dolmor’s Triage surrounding the wreckage with a golden circle.