B2 Chapter 189: Stupid Prizes, pt. 1

Kaius stood in the training hall. It reeked with the scent of iron, the cold corpse of the infernus hound still laying where it had been slain.

His team was with him, Porkchop standing by his side with his armour already summoned, while Ianmus loomed behind them—his staff gripped firmly.

Across the hall was Rieker. He looked…casual. At complete ease in a way that was radically divergent from the tense anticipation that made Kaius flex his grip on his sword, the leather wrapping squeaking.

Garbed in only the high quality cottons he had been wearing to eat, the only thing that gave away his violent intent was the oddly balanced warhammer he held in an easy grip.

Forcing his muscles to loosen, Kaius rolled his shoulders.

He took a slow breath, readying himself for the coming battle. For the first time since his spars with Father, he knew he would lose. The only question was how long they would last, and if they could make the guildmaster sweat for it.

Thankfully, the guildmaster had been kind enough to step out of the silence-enchanted hall to give them a few minutes to come up with a battleplan. All in all, it was similar to how they normally fought—with one main exception.

They would be fighting defensively.

Ianmus wasn’t even going to try for an alpha strike. Their opponent was a man, not a mindless beast, and no doubt he would focus on Ianmus if given the slightest opportunity. It was basic battle tactics.

A mage was too dangerous, too versatile, to be left alone. Especially since they were so vulnerable if you could close the distance.

Instead, the half-elf would focus on blinding Rieker as much as he was able, and on keeping his frontline hale and hearty.

Porkchop had his own role to play. Making sure that their opponent never got the opening he would be looking for. Unfortunately, his new skill was unlikely to work on Rieker to any great effect, his vastly inflated level compared to their own would confer too much innate resistance to anything they could throw at him—let alone the raw Willpower that the man surely had.

As for himself, Kaius would be their harasser, using both of his spells to keep the pressure on. With his added spell, he now had to make choices on his loadout—balance his reserved mana based on what he expected to need.

Honestly, it was probably for the best. It was rare indeed when he had had the opportunity to burn all of his inscriptions in a single fight.

For this one, he’d decided to give himself a decent chance to lean on his latest spell, though he’d still leant primarily on his only damaging spell. Ten charges of Slip Step, and twenty-two of Stormlash.

It wouldn’t be enough—not against the Wardog of Deadacre.

Even if he was going to lose, it didn’t stop a smile from creeping its way across his face. There was no fear, for Rieker wouldn’t kill them. Instead, all Kaius felt was the rising heat of the challenge. The thrill of staring up an insurmountable mountain—of knowing that he wouldn’t give up, even in the face of certain defeat.

Afterall, even if they were destined to lose today, weakness was temporary. All he needed was time and battle, and one day he would surpass the second tier.

Kaius knew it in his bones.

Taking a quick glance to his team to check in on them, he got a pair of swift nods in return. They were prepared for what was to come.

“Ready!” he called to the looming danger wrapped in a man’s skin.

Rieker grinned. A wide thing, revealing far too many teeth. Even from nearly a hundred long-strides away, Kaius could see the way he looked at them with what could only be described as hunger.

He presented the man his side, right leg forward with his blade held out at an angle. A duelist’s stance that minimised his profile and kept his off hand free for casting.

Nominally, it was a poor choice for a longsword—but with all of his enhanced strength A Father’s Gift may as well have been as light as a feather. More, he felt the instincts from his spellblade mastery skill nudge him to shift his stance a little wider, giving him the range of motion to pivot through his hips and lean more heavily into the slashes that such a stout weapon encouraged.

His aggressive stance seemed to only buoy the guildmaster’s good mood. He didn’t move to follow, still standing relaxed—almost slouching.

“Ready.” Rieker said back, his voice projecting through the space with a deep baritone.

Kaius braced.

Rieker lunged.

It was a simple movement. Economic, easy, and smooth. Almost slow.

A piercing crack echoed as the man’s foot hit the floor, launching him towards Kaius and his party at breakneck speeds.

Then, he was simply there. Right in their face.

Still, as fast as the guildmaster may have been, they were no strangers to fighting against creatures that had them utterly physically outmatched.

Kaius lurched forwards, thrusting towards Rieker’s chest with a full weighted stab, his blade racing forwards in a blur of grey and black. It glowed with internal fire, empowered by his Bladerite. Light crackled in his off hand as he summoned a Stormlash in preparation for a follow up, showering the ground behind him in orange light.

Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

As he moved, Porkchop punched the ground with his claws, a wall of jade erupting between them and the guildmaster. Ostensibly, it blocked Kaius’s path of attack, but he was under no illusions that Rieker would be caught off guard.

Kaius heard the slap of a boot on stone, before Rieker simply sailed clean over the slab of jade that raced towards him. Adjusting the angle of his blade, Kaius aimed to run the man through.

A casual open-handed slap was enough to wrench his sword away. Eyes widening, he stumbled as he tightened his grip on his hilt, the force of the parry leaving his hand stinging and numb.

His follow up came quickly, offhand lashing out to bind Rieker with another streamer of crackling lightning.

Plasma arced, crossing the space between them in half a moment. Only to discharge impotently on stone as Rieker…disappeared.

**Ding! Latent Glyph of Drakthar has reached level 27!**

The barest rustle of fabric behind him was all the warning he got. Kaius’s eyes hardened. He planted his weight on his back foot to pivot into a vicious glowing cut as he brought his offhand back onto his hilt.