Jackal Among Snakes

Nikoletta stared down at a head. She had a strong image of Rovostar in her mind—big, brawny, bald, clean-shaven… but his time on the run made him grow both a beard and hair. And his big body was half-buried in the sand, bleeding even now. He hadn’t even been able to mount a defense—the elves were efficient. He and all his servants were dead. All they managed was a scream.

She had been envisioning this as some desperate struggle, but it was a complete slaughter. Most of that result was due to the man next to her. He was a wood elf and an A-rank mage, and he had been particularly zealous in helping her recover her father. Her father, Duke Enrico, was sitting off to the side, a little bloodied, malnourished, and ill-treated…but decidedly alive. And that was what mattered.

“Argrave told me there’d be a woman with them,” she looked at the elf who’d been so helpful thus far. “Georgina. Did you kill anyone like that? She’d be a mage.”

Every single one of the wood elves she’d seen had red eyes, but this man had rich green-blue eyes that danced like a pool of water. When she’d asked him, he said it had something to do with his A-rank ascension.

“I’m afraid not,” the elf said smoothly. “Only men in their number, I’m afraid. Or extremely ugly women. I don’t care to check…”

Nikoletta laughed through her nose quietly.

“I can say firmly no one escaped,” he added.

Nikoletta nodded. “I’ll ask my father about it, then.” She focused on him. “I have to thank you for trying so hard. I’m not sure that my father would have made it if not for you…” she trailed off slowly.

“Perhaps not,” the elf shook his head. “But I think it best that elves and humans cooperate. It’s in their best interest, wouldn’t you agree?”

Nikoletta nodded. “Indeed. And… what’s your name?”

The elf smiled broadly. “Dimocles.”

Nikoletta blinked for a few moments. She didn’t know anyone by that name, but… even still, it drew her attention for some reason. “That name… it’s from Vasquer, isn’t it?”

Dimocles raised a brow. “Is it?” He grabbed at his ears. “It must be some coincidence. You can see these on my head, can’t you?” Nikoletta looked at them—indeed, his ears were elven without doubt. The man continued, “You can pull on them if you’re curious.”

Nikoletta took a step back, feeling he might be propositioning her. “No thank you,” she politely refused. “Is there some material way I might repay your help?”

Dimocles clicked his tongue. “Well… that chest plate with the swordfish you wear does fascinate me, but it seems a family heirloom. I can’t very well ask you to give it up.” He clapped his hands together. “Why not speak well of me to your cousin?”

“Argrave?” Nikoletta narrowed her eyes. “…sure, I suppose I can do that. I don’t know how that helps you.”

“Never hurts to have friends in high places,” Dimocles smiled. “Anyway… I’ll give you some time alone with your father.”

Nikoletta watched briefly as he walked off, and then turned back to her father the duke. She walked towards him eagerly, overjoyed to finally put this nightmare behind her.

Behind, Dimocles reached into his pocket and pulled free a strange purple berry. He twisted it in his hand, then stowed it away. Behind a tree out of sight, he retrieved a mirror to watch as he stroked his ears. As he stroked, they stretched a bit further out. After examining them in the mirror, he squashed them back down, and they shrunk back to where they started.

“…seemed to go fine,” he muttered, putting the mirror away.

######

This titanic mass of ants fighting as one giant nullified one of Argrave’s primary strength in dealing with a powerful foe—namely, his [Bloodfeud Bow]. He might take out a large chunk of the ants, sure enough, but the rest of them could reform to recover from the damage that he caused. Though diminished, they would not be defeated. That was inadequate.

Those ants weren’t called earthenware ants for appearance alone. They were quite literally earthen. Fire would not affect them as severely as other insects. It had no true weaknesses—not elemental, at least. And with things like this, it was time for Argrave to fall back into a practiced tactic… with a new bloody twist, of course.

“Anne, Orion…!” Argrave shouted. “Need you to focus on watching me, stop me from getting hit or snuck up on. And I… I’m gonna push my head to its limits.”

Anneliese shouted, “Alright!” Orion, meanwhile, put his hand on Argrave’s shoulder as silent support.

With their assurances, Argrave rooted both feet down. He held his left hand flat off to the side, while the other faced upward at the giant constructed of ants. Its face seemed terrifying… but after a deep breath, he barely even realized it was there.

Argrave’s blood echoes spread out of his body. One by one they spread, again and again, until they were twenty. Argrave felt a headache developing from focusing on so many things, and if he’d needed to focus on keeping himself safe this would have failed. He barely saw the earthenware titan—instead, there was only himself, his echoes, and their task to come.

And with this sprawling network of power… Argrave began. His left hand conjured [Electric Eels]. His right called forth [Bloodbriar Bullwhip], and a thorny tendril hundreds of feet long erupted out of his hand. The blood echoes called upon their essence, while Argrave used the reserve of the silver bracer artifact on his arm.

The giant of ants had been preparing to move beyond Argrave, attacking the army behind him… but twenty B-rank spells of devastating power met it, cutting straight into the meat of their constructed body. It endured the power of the attacks ably—it had flinched from S-rank spells, but B-rank blood magic would not evoke such a reaction.

Still, the whips cut deep. Argrave saw ants fall from where the bullwhips struck in droves, one after the other. And this encouraged him to pull his hand back and try again. Twenty more whips came—crack, they echoed, the sound multiplied by the sheer volume of blows. Crack, crack, crack, they went, maroon tendrils spanning the battlefield to cut down this army of one.

But Argrave’s silver bracer ran out of reserve blood, and it called upon his blood. As pain exploded up his wrist, he fell to his knees, his concentration broken. All of the blood echoes returned to him. The [Electric Eels] swirled about the air, a small star of lightning. With so much damage already done, he willed all of them towards the enemy with the intent to finish things.

The eels surged forth, a mass of blue-white destruction more than capable of killing most anything Argrave had fought before. They danced across the battlefield, heading for the giant.

Argrave thought the eels’ slower speed compared to most electric magic would never be an issue. But these ants… when they saw the lightning coming, they must’ve separated. He had intended for the shock to spread through all of them, but they split apart, and only a large clump was hit. Hundreds burst into blinding light, but hundreds more fell to the ground unharmed. They formed into smaller giants, each perhaps ten feet tall, and continued their advance towards the army.

Argrave had done this enough times that panic did not find him—he merely thought the situation disappointing. He looked back and called, “Veidimen! Advance!”

The honor guard stepped forward at Argrave’s directive, ready to do battle. Before they did, though… Argrave spread out his blood echoes once more. He cast a final spell—one to summon a blade of blood—and all the echoes mimicked his action. His frontliners were armed with weapons comparable to the sharpest dwarven metals in only a few moments.

Argrave turned back, exhausted, and handed his blade to Orion. “Finish up for me, will you? I think I’ve poured enough heart into this thing.”

“My pleasure!” Orion shouted, taking the blade from his hand.

Anneliese stayed by Argrave’s side, keeping him steady and healed as the Veidimen swarmed past him. Orion met the giant ants first. He tore through them like a hot knife through warm butter. When the Veidimen arrived, greatly outsized by the giants, they acted cautiously. When the first of their blades cleaved through, they realized their advantage. Enchanted armor with old elven techniques, blades of Argrave’s black blood… there was no finer recipe for a deadly soldier.

The ants had divided to stay alive, but now it proved their downfall. The Veidimen were efficient and deadly, and years of battle had taught them how to press an advantage to its fullest extent. The fight was not without its obstacles, but if a descriptor most fit this fight, it was ‘slaughter.’ Beaten in strength, in number, and in resiliency… what had seemed indomitable moments ago was cut down to size.

Argrave heard a deafening boom from behind, and turned his head to see what was happening. Chiteng bore an ivory blade in his hand, and it was wreathed with lightning from his father, Ghan, and fire from his brother, Gunlik. The god swung the blade down upon the wiry Sprawling Titan, cutting past his hammer and splitting the foul abomination in twain.

Argrave watched as Kirel’s lieutenant crumpled, life finally leaving him. Anneliese healed the last of Argrave’s wounds from the blood magic, and then could not help but be caught in watching as well. Even as its body crumpled, Ghan pushed past his son and raised his foot, slamming it down to crush the creature utterly. Argrave could feel the rumble of the powerful attack shake the earth from this far away.

Without pause, the elven patriarch looked back and shouted, “Forward! We end this.”

With that command given, Argrave looked back to his men urgently. Though their battle continued, it was quiet enough for them to disengage. The Supreme Myriarch gave the command to the Tumens, shouting, “March to the breach! March to the breach!”

And Argrave straightened too, calling his men back. “We advance! Advance!” he shouted, voice hoarse yet powerful.

And so they marched to Kirel Qircassia’s breach, that they might put an end to this invasion once and for all.