B2 Chapter 253: Watchers in the Wings, finale

Staring down at the stride-long length of the greatsword that was sticking out of his stomach, Kaius wondered how he got here.

It seemed more than a little unfair that going out of his way to kill powerful monsters that were a threat to the people of Deadacre had led to a sword sticking out of his gut.

Then the stinging heat kicked in, and with it came fury.

He knew he should be saving his spells—knew he should hoard them for if they were captured. Yet, if he did, he would all but consign them to that fate becoming a certainty.

It was a risk, the chance of escape now, or a chance later.

He made his choice.

Expedient Shunt.

Kaius flew forwards, the swordsman behind him cursing at the sudden blast of force. Before the crack of the first explosion had faded, he activated his spell again—another wave of energy bursting free of his chest, canceling his movement the second the blade in his stomach had been removed.

Front foot touching the ground, Kaius leaned on every scrap of bodily control he had to spin on the spot and lunge back towards the swordsman.

Burning stamina to fuel a Bladerite, he wove into a series of tight thrusts and economic cuts—testing his opponent’s guard as his burns and the wound on his stomach healed.

The warrior was strong—every blow was blocked with ease, his slab of a sword smashing aside Kaius’s probing strikes.

And yet…Kaius was beginning to realise he might not be as strong as he expected for a tier 2. Certainly, he was not as titanic as Rieker.

Between his honours and his class, his own Strength was monstrous. His stats, while spread out, were similar to a freshly risen tier two with a Rare class.

More than that, he was a giant of a man, standing head and shoulders over the swordsman, and in the prime of his life with beast blood running through his veins.

The swordsman was old, and only of middling height—even with more Strength, it had far less to work off.

Kaius grit his teeth, cursing the poison he had been afflicted with. Without it sapping his strength, inexorably pulling him closer to slumber, he would have been far more sure in his victory.

Now, with his body ailing and his agility crumbling by the second, he had to rely on his skill with the blade, and his confidence in his constitution.

The warrior thrust, his blade racing for Kaius’s chest.

Kaius swept his blade up, catching the man’s sword at the tip with the strong base of his own. Twirling his sword, he yanked the weapon off centre, smoothly transitioning into a counter-thrust.

It cut through the warrior’s ear—his ambusher only saved from a sword through the eye by a last minute twitch of his head.

Snarling in fury, the swordsman pulled back, carrying the inertia of his heavy weapon into a sideways cleave. The blade burned—empowered by another of the warrior’s skills.

It shattered his defence—blooding Kaius further with a cut that trailed over his hip. Capitalising on the opening, the swordsman guided his weapon’s momentum and carved another furrow through his flesh.

This couldn’t continue. He was being beaten down—his mind too clouded to fight effectively.

Porkchop was faring even worse than he was, their bond revealing just how badly he was succumbing to the poison. Faced with two fighters faster and more mobile, it was all Porkchop could do to stay standing. His brother was running on fumes, and unless something changed, they were done for.

Giving ground before the swordsman’s onslaught, Kaius’s Glass Mind raced.

Their chances…didn’t look good. Even if he could last another ten minutes before the poison pulled him under, Porkchop wouldn’t last that long—and there was no way he was abandoning his team to their fate.

Yet it wasn’t all bad—faced with an older and more skilled opponent, he felt Corporus begin to keen.

With every slash, parry, and counterattack, the power within his soul flared—a delighted tone ringing out at his economy of motion. At the way he leveraged everything—even if it might not be enough.

He doubted that he would ignite the pillar here on the battlefield—it wasn’t flaring half as bright as when he had finally founded Mentis—but Kaius took solace in the fact it meant he was on the right path.

Narrowly avoiding another of the swordsman’s crushing blows, Kaius realised there was one thing they could do. It wasn’t a certain path to victory, but it would be a retribution.

He fell deeper into his bond.

“Wait for the moment—we’re switching targets.” he sent to his brother, pushing along his intentions.

Porkchop was too exhausted—too drained by the poison— to reply with anything other than simple acceptance.

The swordsman pressed the attack, weaving half a dozen skills into a relentless onslaught that had Kaius just barely maintaining his grip on his blade.

He gave ground. Step by step, he drew closer to Porkchop and the archer and rogue that were harassing him.

Watching through Porkchop’s eyes, he saw the moment the rogue presented Kaius his back.

It was all he was waiting for.

Thunder shook the battlefield, Stormlash appearing in his hand. It screamed through the air—binding the swordsman in chains of stunning agony as he committed fully to a heavy chop. The swordsman’s body was wracked by convulsions as reverberant force and lightning pummeled his internals.

Kaius smirked. Even if they had been watching him, it was hard to adjust to a lifetime of being used to casters needing to channel.

A shunt blew him away from the swordsman—spinning him through the air so that he shot straight for the undefended rogue. Arcane energy surrounded his blade, backed by the fire of his Bladerite.

The second he had acted, Porkchop moved. A Shardwall obscured him from his opponents, and he lurched backwards—charging straight for the stunned swordsman.

The warrior recovered right before Porkchop was about to bear down on him.

“Shit!” he screamed—blade shining as he thrust towards the oncoming threat.

Porkchop ignored the attack—allowing the greatsword to shatter his breastplate and lance into his chest down to the hilt. His weight and speed bowled the swordsman over, sending both of them to the ground.

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Kaius felt his brother’s jaws close around the swordsman’s head—Warden’s Maw crushing the man’s skull, before Porkchop lurched backwards to free himself from his impalement.

**Ding! Runeblade Initiate has reached class level 107!**

**+3 End, Str, & Int, +2 Dex, Wil, +1 Vit, Free – from Class & Racial Traits!**

….

**Ding! Runeblade Initiate has reached class level 113!**

**+3 End, Str, & Int, +2 Dex, Wil, +1 Vit, Free – from Class & Racial Traits!**

“That’s why you wear a helmet, idiot.” Kaius thought to himself, drawing his sword back to stab his blade into the knife-wielding rogue’s back.

The rogue blurred, reacting like he had eyes in the back of his head. Gods he was fast, far faster than the swordsman.

Before he knew it, the rogue was inside of his guard, and he felt the kiss of the man’s blade three times.

Kaius gasped—blood welling from the wounds.

The rogue backed up, looking behind Kaius at the slain bodies of his companion.

“Typical,” the man spat. “Should’ve known better than to trust a report. At least it’s less of the pot to share.”

Circling along the wall, the archer drew back her bow—aiming for him.

Sinking into his guard, Kaius accepted the momentary reprieve—every second was another he could heal.

“Who are you?” he asked, keeping his tone even and casual.

“No one you would know.” the rogue replied. “Looks like you’re all on your lonesome now, though. Might be best you just give up, save us all a bit of hassle.”

Kaius’s eyes widened, heart slamming in his chest. He didn’t take the bait and look behind him, but he could feel through his bond that the man was right. Porkchop was out—his mind hazy and indistinct.

Killing the swordsman had taken the last of his brother’s strength, and he’d fallen under the sway of the poison.

They’d lost.