67 – Blood Of The Verdant Lord

The first thing that came back was sound.

A low, resonant hum ringing inside her head. Then heat, close to her face. Then the smell. Charred meat.

Alexandra opened her eye.

She was on her side. The greenhouse ceiling arched above her, iron ribs, glass panels still glowing cold blue-white.

She pushed herself up to a sitting position. There was a scorch mark on the dirt where Cael had been standing. At its center, collapsed inward, a black mass of goo.

She gagged. Looked away.

Gross.

Her entire body was aching, but her clothes were mostly intact. The explosion hadn’t hurt her too much. She stood. The same couldn’t be said for Cael.

I take it back. I love that curse.

While he used his pollen to incapacitate her, most of his reserves were apparently concentrated inside his body.

When curse of spontaneous combustion triggered and the explosion happened…

She turned toward the Yshant.

Fuck.

It was different. The stem had thickened, doubling in size. The flower had grown taller, now pressing against the glass panels on the ceiling.

The magical light flickered. It wasn’t done growing.

She took stock.

One working eye. Mana reserves somewhere between low and gone. Her sickle was on the ground near Cael’s remains, where she’d dropped it.

Dark Bolt had bounced off the stem when it was Gold. She knew what it would do on Platinum. Even with her sickle, it seemed impossible.

The Yshant shifted, its petals turning in her direction.

Fuck that guy. Didn’t Cael claim that it wouldn’t break through?

She had to find a solution, and fast. Else, it wouldn’t just be Esmera that would end up as fertilizer.

She summoned her journal.

Sure Footing 7 -> 8

Life Curse 9 -> 10

You are suffering from the curse of the one-eyed.

Sickle Mastery 9 -> 10

You’ve achieved a feat: Uprising II

Uprising II: Slay a Gold rank while being at the Iron rank. +5% all stats.

You gotta be kidding me.

Just when she could have used a flat attribute boost, she got a percent based increase instead. Better in the long run, but not what she needed right now. At least, it wasn’t nothing this time, one point in each stat.

She flipped the pages, looking for a skill that would help her. Sure Footing, Combat Sense, A Face Among Many. That wouldn’t work. Mana Manipulation? Even if she knew a combat spell, it wouldn’t be enough to make the beast budge.

There was nothing. She looked up at the Yshant. The formation was holding, but for how long?

Alexandra gritted her teeth. She should return and help the others. Maybe the Gold ranks could deal with it.

Maybe Sera would take action now that another Platinum had reared its head. She doubted it.

“Fuck.” She took a step away from what was left of Cael. “The city. It’s too late.”

The Yshant shuddered.

At its base, where the stem met the dirt, something moved beneath the soil. Then a crack, and a thin shoot broke the surface. Then another, three feet to her left. Then a third, near the far wall.

They grew fast. Each one pushing upward, unfurling red petals as they bloomed.

She watched them spread and that’s when she saw it.

The formation.

This was how the Merinus intended to deal with the Yshant. She bit her lip so hard that it drew blood. The metallic taste filled her mouth.

One of the smaller flowers released a red pulse. It hit her, forcing her back.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. I need to fucking do something.”

This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

How does this damned thing work?

She looked at the formation, felt the mana flowing through the lines. It all gathered at one point, a circle at the edge of the picture toward which all the lines seemed to converge.

“To hell with it.”

She ran to the circle. Stepped inside.

“Now what?”

She tried reaching for the mana in the formation the way she’d reach for her own. It slipped. Too heavy, too unruly, she couldn’t get a grasp on it. She tried again. Nothing. The formation didn’t respond.

She pulled back and thought.

Then, she pulled a thread from her own core. She was running on fumes, but she had to try anyway. She pushed it outward toward the cluster of mana of the formation. The resistance was immediate. Like pushing a needle through leather. She pushed. Steady. An inch forward. Then another.

Then it caught. Locked in place.

The mana hummed.

Her breath came out ragged. She was shaking when she pulled a second thread and did it again. Having to keep part of her attention on the first thread made it infinitely harder. Her jaw tightened. The thread caught.

There was no place in her mind for doubt. It had to work. She pulled a final thread, her one eye closing to ease the mental strain.

It caught.

The formation flared.

The lines moved.

The nearest ones first, a dark blood color bleeding outward from where her threads had locked in, traveling the length of each channel. It spread through the formation, looping through the shapes drawn on the ground, converging around the center of the room where the Yshant grew.