Chapter 409: East meets West

Blake rose up from the holding cell into what felt like a scene from the Matrix. It looked the loading zone the crew of the Nebuchednezzer used to simulate the program— a completely blank, almost white space with nothing except flat ground.

The sky was white. The horizon was white. It was uniform enough it actually screwed with Blake's perception of distance.

Erik the Swede of the Arcane Order stood maybe two hundred feet across, inspecting his surroundings with total calm.

Blake wasn’t sure if he was pleased. He’d have preferred to smash his way through the Order against everyone except the Swede first. But he supposed one had to play the hand one was dealt.

With his preparation mana caps and fifteen seconds to prepare, Blake had brought himself a trio of constructs—two arcane legionnaires, and one psionic 'jaguar', plus a big bundle of javelins.

Erik seemed alone and not to have prepared at all. But even from a distance, Blake could see the magical enchantments surrounding him in barely colored bubbles.

"Everything he's wearing is enchanted, Master," Navi chirped above his shoulder. "Would you like me to describe the total list?"

"No, thank you," Blake said with a sigh.

Suddenly his demonic necklace and mana gem didn't seem so impressive. How many tricks might his opponent have that had nothing to do with his class, and everything to do with his 'gear'?

Their eyes met, and Erik gave a polite nod, which Blake matched.

"Ready when you are, Mr. Nimitz," he called.

Blake took a breath. Standing there and channeling seemed somehow...rude. At least for now. Instead Blake sent his constructs forward in a spread pattern to disrupt area effects. He kept his attention on his shields, ready with Telekinesis, ready to counter any kind of mental energy.

The problem was: he had no idea what sort of powers Erik actually had. He definitely should have done a little research and watched the man’s fights. But no time for that now.

"I want everything he does identified," he said to Navi.

"Yes, Master."

The little orb floated forward and Blake tried not to worry about it getting fried. It was definitely resistant to magic and other kinds of damage, but he had no idea how resistant.

Erik started moving his hands in some kind of spell, arcane energy swirling around him. Blake was a bit jealous, to be honest.

His powers didn't involve any kind of drama at all. He mostly just thought and things happened. There was something definitely cool about weaving a spell like a physical thing. Blake supposed he could sometimes pretend.

His constructs were about half way when the spell finished. A red sphere appeared, growing just above Swede's head.

"Navi?"

"Elemental magic. Projectile based."

The red sphere split a moment later, three missiles launching like fiery basketballs towards Blake's constructs. Out of curiosity more than anything, Blake used the 'counter' he'd only ever tried against mental effects.

It was more or less like using Telekinesis or even Mental Influence, except instead of physical objects or minds becoming his targets, it was the magical energy itself.

To his considerable surprise, it worked.

It wasn't as easy as countering mind magic, but Blake could still see the contours of Erik's spell. The next tricky part was deciding how much mana to actually burn. If he used too little, it wouldn't stop the effect. If he used too much, he was just wasting his mana for no reason.

He decided on about 10% of his total remaining.

Purplish psionic energy loosed like three flares into the larger auras of the flying spheres, and shattered them. Erik instantly went into another spell, this time swirling with visible power as the constructs closed.

"Pure arcane, Master. Aura."

With his runic sight, Blake saw the size of this one's 'aura' and instantly rejected any attempt to block it. It seemed whatever his ability to counter exactly was, it worked far better against magic that was 'released'.

Trying to block something like an aura felt like trying to spray a housefire with a garden hose.

Erik turned blue as a sphere formed around him in something like a fifteen foot radius. Blake's constructs crashed into it, slashing and clawing as the thing flickered but held. Blake moved forward and started channeling an arcane blast, Erik starting another spell of his own.

"Elemental. Ray."

A 'ray'? That was new. Blake was sweating as he watched his channel tick down, but he also couldn't help but smile. Sure, this was simulated life or death. And yes, if he lost now he was out of the tournament. But the fact was: this was fun.

Erik finished his ray a hair's breadth before Blake finished his blast.

A red beam like a flashlight sizzled then slammed into one of Blake's legionnaires with an audible thwack. Erik held out a hand, and the beam followed where he pointed. It disintegrated Blake's construct like high powered water jet hitting sand.

Blake's Arcane Blast struck the wizard’s blue shield with a flash of light. And not much else.

Erik held his ray until both Blake's legionnaires had burst apart, their arcane clay crumpled to the ground. The psionic Jaguar, though, just refused to die. It started leaping back and forth, and even when it was being struck it held together with twice the resistance.

"OK," Blake said, a little annoyed now as he activated True Making. "Try this one."

He activated Duality of Ambition for a temporary psionic Defender construct, setting the duration to two minutes. He made it unreasonably large, a kind of stooped over ape with fists the size of Blake's head.

Blake's body just froze as he channeled, but he did his best to hold a pose to something suitably cool and wizard-like first.

His jaguar shattered about the same moment he finished. Erik dropped his ray, looking out curiously at Blake before True Making snapped a circle of psionic power and ripped his creation into the fabric of reality.

Blake devoted half his mind to personally rushing his new pet forward, straight for his opponent's shield.

Erik didn't hesitate. He started another cast of his ray spell, but Blake was moving forward now and getting ready to try and counter it. The shape was not at all 'ray-like', and more complicated to deal with than Blake expected.

He supposed it was because it was actively channeled, or still attached to his opponent's body. It wasn't impossible to stop, but probably not worth the effort.

Blake decided to try anyway. He let his construct go on auto-pilot, using both halves of his partitioned mind to chart the magic and figure out where to strike it for maximum effect.

Than he launched another 'flare' of energy, this time with at least 20% of his mana, which passed straight into Erik's shield and struck his channel with another flash of light.

The Swede flinched in obvious surprise as his spell fizzled. He blinked and re-doubled his efforts as Blake's construct slammed into his shield with repeated, violent cracks, the energy crackling and flickering as it waned.

This time Blake ignored the spell. He launched himself forward with Telekinesis, getting as close as possible as he took his necklace in hand and activated Mind Rend. The demonic artifact clenched and flared, the burst of foreign energy leaping forward like a claw to Blake's eyes.

Erik could apparently stop his channels. He waved a hand and held both in the air as if to catch the psionic claw, a flash of white light overtaking the blue.

"Divine Shield," Navi called.

Divine? Apparently Erik had multiple affinities, or at least could use them. But Blake had committed now to a strategy of ‘overwhelm’.

Sparing no mana, he lifted his many javelins with Telekinesis and started raining them at the Swede’s shields with one half of his mind, starting yet another True Making with the other. This time it wasn’t a construct, though—it was a kind of huge, metallic cup, made right over Erik’s head, a spike pointing down in its center.

The Swede had blocked the Mind Rend, and lashed out with a swiped hand in Blake’s general direction.

“Elementa…”

The spell was too fast for Navi to keep up. A spray of light much like Carl’s washed over Blake, turning everything white. He closed his eyes and blinked but knew it was too late. He couldn’t see a damn thing.

Well played, he thought with cold rationality. Magic shields were great. But they didn’t stop you from getting blinded by bright light.

But then blindness (hopefully temporary blindness) didn’t stop Blake’s magic, either. His construct was still hammering away, timer ticking down but still with a good minute. Blake didn’t know if his opponent had moved, but there wasn’t much for it now. He finished his channel, hoping the giant piece of metal helped smash that shield.

It fell a good thirty feet and clanged with an arcane sizzle. Blake grinned as he heard Erik grunt, then tossed a few telekinetic javelins towards the source of the voice and started a huge Arcane Blast. He just hoped his vision cleared before his channel finished.

“Teleportation, Master!” Navi chirped.

“Fly to him,” Blake said. “Call to me where he is.”

He heard the little construct zip away, still blinking to try and gain some sight. Little dots and swirls were appearing with grey overtaking the black, and he almost sighed with relief.

His channel ticked down, and some kind of spell flashed against his shield and sizzled all around him. Then another. His mana was dropping, his shields fading. Navi called out just in time, obviously knowing when Blake’s spell would finish.

With a leap of faith, Blake aimed at the location with his ears and tiny bits of vision, blasting a huge 20% mana blast at ground level.

He heard something hit the ground with a soft thud. A trumpet blared.

***

"What happened, gentlemen?" Jeong said calmly, masking his rage at the Spymaster and High Wizard's failures. Both men said nothing, though for entirely different reasons. Erik looked lost in thought, probably trying to consider exactly what he believed had occurred. Michael looked like an angry, pouting, shame-filled child.

Jeong slammed his fist on the table, cracking the hard plastic with a sound like thunder.

"My mind powers did nothing," Michael said, shaking his head. "Then I hit him full force in the head with my strike, but..."

"You should have struck his neck, or his heart," Jeong countered. Michael opened his mouth as if to yell an answer before remembering himself.

"I considered that too risky, my lord. From what his people tell us, we know he heals absurdly quickly. He might very well heal a heart wound. I decided an injury to the brain was the best option. I intended to exploit that weakness to injure him further."

"The temple, then. The back of the skull. You should have..."

"With respect," Michael cut him off. "I attempted that. He moved like you do. Inhuman speed. I'd committed, so I struck. I felt my Shadowblade bounce off his bone. It damaged him badly but not enough. I didn't expect him to chase me so quickly, so effectively in the dark. You know my powers. With the failure of my mind powers I had limited time and tools. A decisive first attack was my best chance. It failed."

"He ate your throat like a deer, with the entire world watching," Jeong said, trying to keep his voice under control. "Far better if you had just surrendered."

Michael said nothing because what could he say. Erik took a breath and spoke like he was discussing the weather.

"I was outmatched. I countered his spells more or less correctly, save for underestimating his construction abilities. We have nothing like this. He is unique. Next time, perhaps, I would ignore his constructs and attempt a quick kill, or else deal with his familiar. But familiars are notoriously resistant to magic. His defenses are not trivial, either, and to ignore his offense would be to die quickly. I see no obvious solution.”

Jeong calmed as the Swede spoke. He was correct—the wizard had been clearly outmatched, probably getting lucky with his blind spell, but failing regardless.

Unlike Michael, the man would have at least learned useful things from the encounter. And Jeong was not entirely displeased at the second Nimitz' brother's power.

If he could be recruited, he might balance the power of the European wizards. If Jeong could win him personally, could gain him as an ally, he might both destroy Mason and help cow his chief rivals in the east in a single blow.

But he kept the same expression of rage and disgust on his face. Without another word, he rose from the table and exited his make-shift command room.

His best were at least close to a match for the western elite. Considering his superior numbers, to crush them in a straight fight might be entirely feasible, and probably preferred.

There was only a single question left—the question of Jeong himself against Mason Nimitz. But even the Spymaster’s blade had near fatally wounded him. Yes, he regenerated, but not enough. The same blade wouldn’t pierce Jeong’s shield no matter how it struck.

Soon, very soon, the arrogant young man was going to find an opponent he couldn’t defeat so easily. And Jeong would crush his spirit along with his spine.