21 – Mana Drain
by inkadminAshley held her breath. A heavy, grey light poured from Simon’s eyes.
When he opened his mouth, more of that dull luminescence escaped, radiating outward as if the spoken syllables carried the physical weight of an anvil. The light bathed the gunners in front of him, catching Paco on the edge of its beam.
“I name thee unworthy.” The words tore from Simon’s throat. The sword hummed with an absolute, crushing resonance that made the air snap tight around them, the pressure drop rattling the loose stones.
The two crewmen at the gun froze. Their hands flew to their collarbones, clutching at their tunics as if their hearts had truly turned to lead. They shook violently. One collapsed to his knees, his flailing leg kicking a stack of ammunition, and the crates tumbled over the edge, splashing into the muddy water below.
A stun spell? I can’t sense any mana.
It’s a Saint ability, not a spell, Mistress. Aury’s voice settled directly into her mind. Simon reached the Lead stage core.
On the platform, the two gnomes continued to writhe, palms pressed flat against their ribs.
Does he even know what he’s doing?
Paco flung Simon unceremoniously onto the suspended platform.
Simon landed hard, his boot connecting squarely with one of the crewmen’s ribs. The impact flung the gnome overboard with a splash. Still gripping the hilt of [God’s Bane] in his other hand, Simon landed a clean punch into the next gunner, his knuckles cracking hard against the gnome’s jaw.
The water pulled back, leaving a thick, slick layer of silt behind. Ashley touched down, her heels settling where the enemy front line had stood only moments before.
The armored gnomes lay scattered like battlefield debris, their once-shining power armor caked in thick mud. They groaned and thrashed against the stone, limbs moving in messy, uncoordinated jerks.
They look like my old turtle.
She remembered a pet from years ago, an animal that always ended up flipped onto its shell, kicking at the empty air exactly like this: helpless, flailing, and completely stuck.
Some of the gnomes clawed at their faceplates, ripping their helmets free to gurgle and spit mouthfuls of brackish water onto the floor.
Slowly, they began to rise. One by one, rivulets of brownish water trickled from the joints of their articulated armor. Only the Master Engineer remained entirely unmoved; he had stood firm like a rock in a receding tide. He stared down at his ruined blunderbuss for a second, then tossed it carelessly into the muck.
“Useless. The gunpowder’s wet.” He reached for a leather holster at his hip and drew a heavy, grease-stained wrench, slapping the solid iron tool against his open palm. “We’re going to do this the old-fashioned way.”
“There’s another one there!” Simon shouted, pointing toward the far wall. The lone figure in black armor stood rigid against the stone, fingers wedged into a crevice he’d used to anchor himself against the rushing flood.
His other hand was thrust high, clutching the fuse. A dark, wet line traced across the rock just inches below his fingers where the water level had peaked.
“Well done for saving that fuse. I always said you were resourceful, Gomp,” the Master Engineer said. He turned toward Ashley’s position and bellowed, “Charge!”
The Engineer lunged forward. Inside the bulk of his power armor, the lunge was almost laughable. Slow enough that the gnomes behind him had plenty of time to find their footing, draw short swords and batons, and form an orderly line right at his heels.
Ashley reached for the pools of water at her feet. A dull, thieving drag pulled at her core before her magic could even manifest, making every thread of power feel three times heavier than before. The wrench in the Engineer’s hand glowed with a low, hungry light.
“Oh. Mana absorption. Right.”
A clean chime echoed in her ears.
[System Notification: Mana Drain detected. Mana cost for spells increased by 300%.]
Luckily, her [Mana Regeneration] attribute hummed steadily in the back of her mind. She had plenty to spare. Each spell would simply cost her more.
She pushed through the artificial resistance. A sphere of clean water, stripped clean of mud and silt, rose into her open palm, and she threw it.
“That first,” she said, flicking her wrist. The sphere hit the burning fuse in Gomp’s hand with a sharp, wet slap. The flame hissed and died. “Finally!”
Aury stepped in front of her, his blade leveled at the advancing line. “Let me handle this, Your Holiness.”
Ashley hesitated. She still wanted a wind spell to complete her sequence of elements. Was it tactically important? No. Was it fun? Yes.
A frantic, metallic clicking echoed from the wall. Gomp was already hunched over the wet fuse, furiously spinning the lighter’s wheel with both hands.
“It’s too wet. It’s never going to work…” The gnome’s voice cut out as a sudden roar of violet flame silenced him entirely.
High above, Paco had decided that it was his time to help. He opened his maw and unleashed an enormous stream of purple flame. The blast engulfed everything against the stone.
The gnome, the wall, and the entire length of the fuse were instantly blazing in a furious violet light.
Gomp’s world turned a violent, blinding purple.
Blazing heat wrapped around him, screaming against the thick plates of his suit. The armor grew warm, then hot, then blistering. The portable lighter in his hand, a crude thing fueled by the same volatile oil that powered his suit’s actuators, reached its limit. It exploded directly in his gauntlet.
“Durking vents,” Gomp grunted, the words coming out thick, as if his mouth were full of gravel. He pressed his gauntlet hard against his smoking sternum and breathed through the static until the ringing in his ears settled.
I’d have lost every damn finger if it wasn’t for this armor.
The dragonfire receded, leaving his visor blackened over. Gomp wiped the glass with the back of his metallic glove, smearing the soot into a long, dark streak that barely let the light through.
Through the smudge, the action blurred. The man with the sword had his arms wrapped tightly around the dragon’s neck. Together, they leaped from the Gatling platform, the human shouting something as they fell. Gomp heard only a muffled cry through the thick padding of his helmet.
The heat was fading, but the panic wasn’t. Gomp raked his hands across his belt to find something else to relight the fuse. His fingers moved before his mind could catch up.
“Come on,” he muttered, his breath fogging the glass. “I need something. Anything hot enough to light this thing up.”
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A brutal realization struck him, heavy as a sledgehammer.
He turned back to the fuse. Most of it was gone, consumed in an instant by the dragon’s breath. The charred ash crumbled between his fingertips, falling like grey snow. For a second, the whole world narrowed to that settling dust.
The section closest to the ceiling, the part the purple fire had reached last, held a solitary, glowing ember. It was burning. A tiny orange spark was already eating its way upward into the rock.
For Tunk and Tonk. It’s already inside.
Gomp didn’t breathe. He couldn’t think. His body overrode his brain, throwing his weight flat onto the stone floor as he tucked his head beneath his armored forearms.
“Fire in the hole!” he shouted, ducking down.
Ashley’s Mana was a dry well. The hollow fatigue of acute overexertion settled over her, leaving a metallic taste at the back of her throat.
She had poured more than three times the standard requirement into the wind spell just to ensure it would trigger against the thieving pull of that wrench. Now, the magic coiled around her hands like a loaded spring: charged, humming, ready to release.
She stretched her hands toward the advancing gnomes.
“It’s about to blow up!” Simon’s shout cut through the din.
He was in a sheer free fall from the elevated platform, arms wrapped tight around Paco’s neck. Behind them, Gomp’s scorched armor ducked low against the floor. High on the wall, near the ceiling, the tiny spark vanished directly into a structural seam.
“Crap,” Ashley muttered.
The explosion arrived before the spell could leave her fingers.




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