The Ogre Strength Fairy and the Eldest 'Son'-Chapter 307 - Siege Warfare On A Single, Human Sized, Mobile ’Fortress’
Chapter 307: Chapter 307 - Siege Warfare On A Single, Human Sized, Mobile ’Fortress’
Metal sliced through the first of them in her way, buying precious seconds to sprint ahead of the bulk of pursuers. Boots kicked up gouts of earth as each pump of her legs struck the roadway back to town. Trying to lighten her steps to increase her speed while her skin burned was a distraction.
Behind her, the sounds of shrieks grew as the scramble of individuals piled into the wedge of bodies on her heels. Like a group entering the same finite doorway - the synchronized movement of a single vast mind controlling countless bodies to perform the very same task.
To catch and end the one with the ability to affect its mental state. Targets with high potential to lead the battlefront of the other side, like this cultivator, were always priority. The humans and their ’heroes’ that they loved to send at the Voidling invasion leaders.
What was more... Qatrand er Yecine held an aligned Trinity of Aspects. The sort of synergistic path of cultivation that so often became an ’outlier’ to their generated testing parameters. The Hivemind knew that, if this combatant chooses to continue to act in the ’war’, the young girl may effectively ruin the purpose of the trial.
The Void Divinity’s Mandate accounted for their kind... by ignoring them. Since their accumulations of energy were often cataloged as the same as those around them, despite often being more effective, it considered them to be just particularly good fighters. A result that would not massively affect the next Descent.
But the Voidlings themselves were still ordered to go after all of these ’particularly good’ people when possible. Because their goal...
Was to make cultivators struggle. Across the world. Not be limited, taunted, and held back by a single black-haired swordswoman.
Barbed limbs scraped against stone walls as they flooded after her through the street. Too many to count, even were there time to look. Qat’s bootsoles skidded as she rounded a corner and used the moment of firmness against the ground to power a sweeping strike that claimed two more eldritch creatures.
But for every one that she took the time to slay, ten more pressed closer.
’Keep moving. Keep them following. Every second buys the others their time.’
The Yecine vaulted over a low wall, landing in what had once been an herb garden. Its contents had been stripped in preparation for the cycle’s approach, but some plant life still remained to be trampled by her and the vantablack flood. One that was growing calmer and more calculating.
As if realizing that the cultivator would run them around for too much time at this rate, some began flanking and climbing buildings to cut off her route ahead or wait to ambush if she ran that way again.
Qatrand’s muscles were not for show but they still burned with exertion after the evening she’d had. Each additional swing of her heavy blade took its toll - and that heat of her Physique’s activation never relented. A barbed limb slashed across her back, catching on the leather of her harness.
She spun and split the attacker in two, then ducked as another leaped for her head.
’Getting too close.’
The tall teen tried to focus her thoughts, to rein in her Cynosure that drove them into such a frenzy. At this point, the feeling of it was more detrimental than helpful - almost limiting her entirely to her swordsmanship. The attempt failed spectacularly.
Instead of diminishing, the pull seemed to turn into a product that... once taken out of the box, would simply not fit back inside. White flame-points that had been distant and waiting pinpricks suddenly flared and reoriented, bringing new waves of enemies back from streets she hadn’t even approached.
’I really can’t control it. Not yet.’
She darted into a narrow alley quite like the one she’d rescued the child from, hoping to funnel them into a manageable stream on the other side. They simply piled in after her with no regard for vertical obstacles or their own preservation. Some clambered over walls above to drop over the exit at the same time as those darting through the path.
They fell to her attacks ’easily’. Yet, that made placing each swing effectively more and more important. In short order, Qatrand turned to find herself facing enemies from all directions - more than she could cope with.
With a desperate surge of her essence field, she propelled herself upward and clung to the edge of a high roof with one hand. The momentary elevation gave her a horrifying view of the full situation around her as she swung to land on top.
The town still swarmed with hundreds of lesser Voidlings and at least half of them had converged near her position. For the first time since the battle began, the cold thread of fear that wound through her determination pulled itself taut. The Yecine accepted it and raised her blade.
As she scattered the first wave cresting the rooftop... the sacrificing ’fortress’ felt the fragment in her chest thrum once. A warning. A promise. Black ichor drenched her suit in a miasmic Void.
Each fast arc swept three or more creatures at once to either their death or back to the ground. The swarm had no signs of thinning, so she leapt to the next building to reset their progress in surrounding her.
Her breath came in ragged gasps with sweat stinging her eyes. Exactly how long she had survived was beyond calculating for the cultivator. The warmth of her Physique had become a fever causing her to react more on trained instinct than active planning.
With a pair of stabbing thrusts at the two Voidlings being thrown across the rooftops - like projectiles by a pile of their ’companions’ barbed limbs working in unison... her mind did lucidly stray to a question.
If this uncontrolled physical state... was anything like what caused her wife’s urges. If so, she felt like she’d just come closer to understanding the trouble. To be able to commiserate with the reborn cultivator in ever more earnestness.
She backed toward the center of the flat roof, blade held ready as steam rose from her figure. Her perception of time seemed to slow as her spirit anchored deep in a brief, terrible moment.
’Too late for that now. No way out.’
Her thoughts rotated around Elua er Goltbred. To the quiet mornings, passionate kisses, and soft touches that might never come again. Close to fifty Voidlings crested the edges on all sides. Pigeon-blues unfocused while bracing herself.
Stance solid, blade steady. Fatigue forgotten. The Yecine decided that if this was the end, she would meet it as her training demanded. With courage and ingrained purpose.
To use her strength against creatures that would harm others. Anything that would find her vow of protecting mortals, other cultivators, and her wife, something to contest. No matter what horrendous or what common form the enemy took.
"Are there enough of you here to finish me?"
When the creatures lunged at her taunt, something unexpected happened. Their path of attack faltered. Movements became erratic and disjointed. Not at all like how they stopped in place when her Cynosure took effect.
The white flame-points flickered in confusion, sweeping wildly in all directions as if tracking something that kept shifting position. The air shimmered around the rooftop and suddenly there were six of Qatrand standing.
Different groups of ’eyes’ latched on each perfect representation before it leapt into different parts of the town. Successfully drawing away the creatures that forced her husband-wife into a ’last stand’.
"Really, my love? This is the only kind of evening you could invite me out to?"
The brunette’s familiar voice was laced with a deep tension beneath its casually ’sweet’ tone. Qat spun to find her El with the obsidian mirror clutched in her left hand. Its surface swirled with a deep dark eerily similar to the Voidlings’ own vantablack essence.
"What are you doing-"
"Is it not clear that I am saving you from your own heroic tendencies? Do you think the reason why the number of famed individuals remains so few is because your kind is truly such a minority in this age?"
Her facade remained, making the strain she was under show in the tightness around her eyes.
"No, it’s because they make choices like this. Bold and brave, but sighted neither short nor far. Not enough worry for their current circumstance or the future past an immediate goal."
The mirror pulsed with that black energy as Elua raised the relic into the air.
"Though I did enjoy watching you impress that Army captain with your grand success. And your line to the Hivemind. All of it was very dashing, dear."
The disoriented Voidlings continued to attack at the illusions, only to find their limbs passing through empty air. Managing so many compelling forms while filtering the spiritual energy through the mirror was too difficult to dodge every hit. Her choice to break the group apart had flaws.
’Better than letting the invasion leader know that a Spiritual Breacher is here. It would burrow and hide until it could blanket the area with energetic interference. Ruining my forming plans.’
Those plans happened to include a deep and swift revenge for its actions tonight. No matter that it was a construct doing a task as it was made to do. Because to someone who had lived as long as Elua er Goltbred, *all* creatures were just noisy constructs doing a task that their biology and environment programmed them for.
And her Qat...
"We should go. Now."
The voice dropped its playfulness, monotone reality overcoming the facade she preferred to wear. Because keeping up the distraction made it harder to keep fooling the other girl over her mood. Exhaustion did nothing to dull the understanding.
El was very, *very* upset.
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