Accidental Reaver

Chapter 213 - 212: Puppet Show

Cold expanded out, brutally contained at the same time. Under the Spectral Heart's guidance, Luke kept the Elemental Plane to a minimal size, no more than three hundred feet.

He sprang to dozens of vertically floating glacial boards he created. With a combination of explosive ice and Triple Step, the speed it achieved was unmatched. This state put his mind in an extreme focus, and not entirely in control.

When he consumed the previous Elemental Plane, it recovered the damage, and this Pupilless State honed command over cold and Concept to levels way beyond him. Moreover, Triple Step temporarily became Expert in mastery. Lowering its cost, strain, and upgrading the speed. He figured out he no longer required a surface to use it either. Midair was fine, if less effective.

Dim red sunlight glared into his eyes—a nuisance. He'd frozen over the tundra. By his command, Sooty expertly transported away Veyri and Janeus to the nearby battlements. When he landed here, a sickening sight greeted him. He happened to come this way merely to follow after the Frost Titan, aiming to consume it whole with the Greed Skull, and of course, regular attribute theft. While his mind entertained the twin desire to find a path to his father and to devour all the Ichor out of the Envoys nearby, the sight of Elnora's party dead and eaten shook his soul.

Dicing into another Envoy, Luke discarded the thought. He refocused on taking everything the blessed creatures had to offer. He'd lost count of the amount of attributes this conflict offered up to him on a silver platter, and the converted Ichor raised multiple affinities. The Spectral Heart beat in anticipation as fresh Envoys closed in. The Reaver slew four already, but by now, twelve fought against him. He never actually faced any head on, abusing speed to avoid their abilities. The Envoys got the bright idea to shatter the platforms he bounced around to. He formed them faster than they could move and began to shift them independently.

This was his field. He, Greed incarnate, them, fuel for the taking. Blitzing to the Frost Titan, Greed slashed out, chopping off its neck. He released Xera, and the blade moved, stabbing into one of the Titan's hearts. He jettisoned frost to appear before the Titan's last vulnerable spot. The metaphysical Greed Skull behind him chomped on the Envoy, a rush of attributes and Ichor washed over his soul. Placing a hand almost gently at the location of the last heart, the Reaver summoned Essence Lance inside the creature, the rotating frosted structures lashed out, obliterating the last heart.

Plaguing gold-swirled frost culminated in the Frost Titan, then blew it apart, transforming the colossal creature into a partial torso with a pair of legs. Golden lightning sparked at his side, moving Luke enough to avoid two different Envoys grasping at him. His mind frayed, independence clashing with desire. He mostly lost the ability to spiritually command Sooty. The bird responded in her own fashion, terrorizing the new arrivals. A consuming hatred spawned at their presence.

Traitors, worshipers, the worst scum. Sacrament. Whatever influenced his mind deepened its fury and gluttony to bestial levels around them. The Ichor, their Ichor. Ichor. Ichor. It must be his. Somewhere, within the ranks, a black bird assassinated one unaware Sacrament member at a time. When Sooty screeched to spread Vorpal Rot, they diverted too much attention onto her. With a lightning spring, the Reaver decapitated two different cultists.

Two more reactive members interrupted his slaughter. Twin Domains pressed down on Luke, causing his already fragile mind to crumble further. With all but a spark of independent will gone, attributes, flexibility, mastery and Concept perfectly aligned, shedding the shackles that normal human error produced. Displaying a resonance with Xera, he dodged and danced around several hostile actors endeavoring to turn him into paste or worse.

Rushing arctic winds aided him. Xera became an extension of his will. But the twin Domain suppression seriously affected normal capability. His dominant speed felt sluggish, vast strength diminished, and other attributes delayed. He pushed back with the Elemental Plane, partially successful but far from back to that unstoppable speed. A scorching whip lashed his chest. One of the tier 3 Sacrament members branded light shackles on his ankles. A spear made of blood iron nearly impaled the Reaver.

He couldn't speak. The will attached to the Pupilless State prevented it. Instead, it guided his actions. Greed clung to the light Domain shackling him, eating away at it. Luke's resistance to light bloomed, then water itself from each piece he consumed from the Domain. Flicking Xera out into wand form, a gold-blue Essence Fissure cracked open, providing space. He pivoted, avoiding the Satyr's black spear. Multiple Envoys were about to crash into him. Wayfinder glimmered, and another Essence Fissure blasted pressure at the bunched-up blessed. He branded them with Siphon, and a Withering Echo sprang out, affecting the battalion of Sacrament and Envoys attacking him from every direction.

Throwing Xera, the sword-wand returned to sword form, sinking into a Sacrament member's throat. The Reaver's attributes surpassed anything a tier 2 could realistically hope to achieve. Only the most veteran tier 3 fighters probably matched him overall, and every few seconds, more attributes came trickling in. Palming the tundra, Luke vaulted right above two weapons aimed for his vitals. Each Domain pressed down further, pushing him back into the deadly trajectory. Rotating midair with frost detonation, the elemental human arced under instead of over, using the Domain's pressure to his advantage.

He bounced up from contact with the tundra, pressing a hand on a nearby tier 2 Sacrament member. Diluted Ichor rose up to the challenge, protecting its host with white aura. Ice froze it over. The Greed Skull consumed the Ichor outright. The chains surrounding Greed unwound further.

Suffering stacking wounds from the Satyr and the two tier 3 Sacrament cultists, Luke's living ice chipped away. Each time the Greed Skull consumed, or he killed a different Sacrament member, he regenerated. Xera circled around with Sooty, picking off a member at the slightest sign of weakness. Slicing ice erupted on any such target, piercing their bodies and stealing their attention. Sooty or Xera took care of the rest.

Blood spilled, then intermixed with the snows. Recreating a bloody mess. Rivers of snow condensate and sanguine death came together. When the opportunity arose, Luke cut into any of the Envoys fumbling about. Each time, foundational attributes increased a fraction, or if luck blessed him, a rarer affinity point came along. While the state granted a second wind, and mastery of the Greed Concept and techniques above what he actually commanded, the longer it ran, the less the Reaver mentally functioned. Already, he strained.

Corrupting Aura activated, turning any strike into a cone, spreading Veins of Corruption to multiple targets. Vampiric healing bound wounds superficially, while elemental regeneration prioritized damage that affected function or speed. As the struggle continued, the number of cultists decreased, and stragglers from the Tide perished. He forcibly shattered the light shackles, but new ones appeared after. Within the twin suppressive Domains, wounds eventually crippled the Reaver. Two different weapons shot into each chest pectoral.

Meaty, gigantic fingers wrapped around him. A relatively plain Envoy lifted Luke up. Stuck in Luke's grasp, Xera reformed into a wand. She dropped after he exploded frost at the wand end to force her out through the pressure. Orbiting back, Xera blasted black and gold essence into the fingers to blow them away. Sooty clawed fiercely to ruin the Envoy's eyeballs. The stubborn bastard worked to place Luke in its looming mouth. By now, the Reaver lost sense of any danger. The Greed Skull chomped down a final time, then turned into a thousand motes, drifting deep back into his soul. Howling, the Envoy nearly released Luke, but some sort of connection kept it from listening to its instinct.

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Both tier 3 sacrament members flew toward him. The Black Satyr Envoy aimed its spear. Two flying Envoys unleashed a mix of fire and wind down from above. The influx of attributes from the Greed Skull's last gift hit, and a faint worry in the back of Luke's decaying mind came to pass. His muscles tore themselves apart, ripping into tiny shreds. Calamities came in pairs as always, and the Pupilless State came to an end. Any flecks of gold vanished, even the glacial boards hovering in the sky melted.

Presence of mind wormed back, fighting against the dark haze clouding the Reaver's senses. Through the pain, he could piece together what was happening. This class 'curse' sprouted up at the worst time. Uncontrolled greed led to him absorbing massive amounts of strength, and now his body tore itself apart to accommodate the upgrade. Xera turned into a blade, striking against the Satyr's spear, deflecting the weapon away. Preventing it from rupturing Luke's throat. Sooty's Shadow Wing came apart as it handled the aerial onslaught above. Remnants of that conflict rained onto his body, partially melting him.

A ritual completed. A blinding light box clamped down, covering the nearest fifty feet with him at the epicenter. Blood from the crimson rivers clung to the newly born light prison's edges, empowering the suppression further. The tier 3 Sacrament members cut further into him with their weapons. Their cuts were shallow, as the Envoy fixated on eating Luke interfered. Pain from innumerable sources killed complex thought once more.

The Reaver witnessed in detachment as serrated teeth got into position to chomp down on his torso. Sooty screeched. No matter the use of her abilities, the odds were stacked too high. Xera cut away the finger crushing against the Reaver's skeletal hand—its muscles in the midst of reforging. Dual Domains, and whatever this new plane was, sealed off any contact with the Greed Concept, and severely dimmed any command left over techniques.

At these moments, his breathing lost any elemental trace. Normal moisture came out in the warm environment. Black holes dotted the Reaver's vision. Xera forcibly slotted herself in Luke's hand. She screamed hard enough to shake her crystal, "Master, what do we do? I'll do anything you ask. Just. Just. LIVE DAMN IT. Don't leave me behind so fast. Wasn't this all supposed to be a new beginning? Tell me! Tell me anything!"

Wayfinder's gears twisted, the pain much better hidden. "Lass, sometimes miracles can't be performed like a hat trick from a bad magician. But give them a show. You're a tough tyke, lad. Remember the direction."

Whispers infested themselves in Luke's maddened mind and clouded auditory channels. Words danced along his spotty vision. The teeth would come down at any moment. He felt human again after ages. A piece came back, one he never realized gone before. Faces flashed throughout, in rapid motion. His mother, taken too early. Friends from Earth. Each Defier he met. Lilly. Elnora. Janeous. Veyri. Many others he helped in this short time. Wayfinder's gruff guidance. Xera's enthusiasm. Whispering Tome's silent support. Sooty's spunk. Then that face came last, the goofy smile, the pride in his eyes…his…his…dad.

How pathetic of me.

Just as he thought to accept it all, the pain too much to bear, the purpose of all the pain and struggle came back. Essence wouldn't listen, so he wrenched out of the one place no oppression could reach—his soul. Death could take him when there was no option left. And he thought of a final one to use.

"Essence Lance."

Two pure Lances formed. The Reaver consumed their shards to immediately implant them at their targeted locations. The first perfectly melded into Xera, and the other into himself. A pillar of black essence crashed through the hastily formed Divine Plane and slowed the descent of hungry teeth. Muscles became sponges of the sudden resource infusion. Flicking Xera up, the insanity of the Reaver's strength attribute set to full throttle, cutting apart the hand holding him hostage. The mouth came crashing down, but Luke dove into the Envoy's throat. Sooty spiraled in after him, and Whispering Tome condensed, holstering itself in a spared pocket.

Rushing down the Envoy's gullet, Luke brandished Xera in front of him. "Already out of Essence, what's in me, and on you is what we have to work with, Xera."

"Let's dance, boss!"

"Follow your insight, madman."

This form of Essence Feedback differed. No ice involved, yet the clarity of control over Essence and attribute was unlike anything he'd ever experienced. Xera's innate abilities evolved beyond the norm. He hacked away the Envoy's insides, shredding both hearts in moments. He punctured the creature's brain, turning it into shredded meat. The creature roared in its death throes.

An influx of attributes, life steal, and stolen Ichor soothed the immense pain. Using the last of the Essence Feedback, the Reaver cut through the dead Envoy's nape, bursting out. He sank Xera into the tier 3 light user's neck, catching the traitor by surprise. With the backlash threatening to settle in at any moment, and far from having enough juice to finish the kill, Luke swung himself to the cultist's back. Funneling every last ounce of power left, he vaulted, regretful he couldn't use Triple Step, as the realm's properties prevented it. At this point, the only thing working as intended was the Golden Stigmata, the reason why he hadn't bled out. Soothing music subtly played, so out of place that Luke subconsciously excluded it.

The Spectral Heart slowed its beating. Luke noticed he couldn't breathe enough. The Reaver killed the bodily protests, gliding toward the edge of the radiant box they kept him in. Alas, the Black Satyr waited there with a cruel smile. Well hidden anxiousness in its eyes clouded an otherwise victorious demeanor. Sound started to twist within the Divine Realm. An inexplicable crack appeared, quickly spider-webbing around the miniature plane.

Heading for the Satyr, Luke coughed up blood. The price for Essence Feedback came in force. He swung down Xera anyway, the Satyr parried. It opened its mouth for a final taunt, but the Reaver landed against it. The dead weight was enough to unsettle the Envoy.

Finding the strength, the Reaver stood up, planting his feet. If he were to die, it would be standing as a man. Suffering from backlash, the pain from reformation, and three different suppressive effects, he came perilously close to blacking out.

Envoys swirled around him, tier 3 Sacrament members closed in, the Satyr, self assured, set its spear against a shoulder. The tundra looked like bomb shells went off at every corner. Yet, the red sunlight failed to reach Luke. Sooty perched on his shoulder, as a shivering bird. Her jet eyes showed no fear, encouraged by the bond between Luke and her. Stabbing Xera into the ground, he took in what he thought may be his last breath. Shouting as the whirlwind of sound broke apart the Divine Realm.

"BRING IT ON."

A clap eerily set a peace upon the scene. The Satyr froze in fear. Its teeth chattered, losing all interest in finishing the job—the type to put its life above all else. Patches of the terrain blew apart under its cowardly strides. Both tier 3 cultists immediately fled. Faint confusion set in all the remaining Envoy's. They took another step toward Luke, ready to feast.

Ophelia Cyrn calmly stepped upon the air, treating it like stairs. She closed the distance between her and Luke. Swiping a hand out, another Sound Whirlwind took away the suppression around the Defier. The hostile domains cracked, and the once grand Divine Realm burst completely, a mere memory now. Musical notes gently corralled against Luke's broken and bloody form, keeping him from falling apart.

"You played your part beautifully, Defier Wallace. Gathering all the insects in one place for me to dispose of. Rest easy, valiant one, none escape the sound." Her black hair fluttered in the harsh winds. She pointed a twisted wand out toward the Black Satyr.

"Domain Expansion: Soundscape's Descent."

A Domain with a cacophony of vibrations, sounds, and signals mercilessly cut off the path of retreat. The three failed escapees crashed into the Soundscape's edges. To their horror, it dragged them along as the radius minimized to one hundred feet. Envoys helplessly piled up. Casually landing beside Luke, Ophelia patted his shoulder in reassurance.

"Beyond my expectations, truly. After this, the Sacrament won't recover for years within Sylen." She narrowed her eyes at the Black Satyr. "You lured a devious eel—a High Envoy." She chortled at the monster. "How disappointed you must be, holy sycophant, to come so close to evolving into a Diplomat. A lesson dear, when you make a plan…"

The City Lord struck a summoned sound chord. Its vibration caused all Envoys in the vicinity to crash down. Liquid bubbled underneath the tier 3 Sacrament members. The white aura from the Ichor flickered like a dying flame. A membrane of liquid sound submerged the Black Satyr in an instant.

"Be sure it is you who is the mastermind, and not the marionette."