Chapter 423: Something useful
Adela smashed her blade off the…clear metal, or whatever it was, and shook her head. Chinua stared at the corridors and held back his swear. His team’s strength was in unity, in teamwork. This place had clearly been designed to screw with them.
He took some comfort in the knowledge the system must have felt the enemy team needed an advantage.
Adela and Julio just waited, looking out at the enemy and waiting for Chinua to decide. If they had anything particularly insightful to add, they would. Otherwise they trusted him to make their strategy. It was a faith he did not take for granted.
“All that matters is their rogue,” Chinua said, mostly to himself. “We cannot know which tunnel he’ll take. And we cannot split up.”
“So we wait,” said Julio, one hand on the top of a corridor/tunnel as he looked inside. “We could let them get halfway then go murder that weak guy.”
“He’s irrelevant,” Chinua said.
Though of course, he realized, with the flags in play he actually wasn’t. Not entirely. But they would never let him reach their flag, or else their own end to capture it. So Chinua’s original calculation remained correct. They had to kill the rogue.
Two choices went back and forth through his mind, and he knew he had to decide soon or his enemy would move first.
Hold, he thought, or charge?
“Weave me a Wind,” he said, wanting the option as he continued to weigh. “Pick any corridor. Go now.”
Julio didn’t hesitate, moving his hands in the power’s circular pattern as he stepped to the right side. Chinua let out a deep breath as he watched the other team start moving.
The tank went down the middle. The weak ranged to the left. The rogue vanished from view, and probably went with one of the others. The tank, if Chinua had to guess.
They would expect him to wait, no doubt, and guard the tunnel exits, or try to attack one of them while protecting their flags. But Chinua had been a soldier far too long to let his enemy seize the initiative—to let them dictate the terms of battle. And he wasn’t afraid of chaos.
“We go with the Wind. If they don’t fall back, we take the rogue’s flag, and come straight to plant it. If they’re faster, we meet them in the tunnel. In combat, we kill the rogue on sight, the range on opportunity. You don’t touch the tank until the others are down. Period. Be ready for new commands.”
“Roger,” Adela confirmed.
Julio just kept on weaving. This was for the finals now, and a desperately needed reward. And it was time to show these westerners they weren’t the only powerful players—that Chinua and his would be an asset, and also not to be trifled with.
He waited for the arcane power, counting in his mind to keep his heart rate steady. It was an old trick since his first battle as a boy—something he could control, despite the drugs forced and coursing through his veins, the heavy rifle in his hands.
Even in the thick of battle, Chinua rarely got excited now. His hands were steady. His mind was sharp. It was time to show his ‘enemy’ what a lifetime of war had wrought.
* * *
“Sheeit, they’re comin’ fast!” Becky yelled through the tunnel barrier, and Carl winced as he saw them charge. They certainly were. Right at him.
Could they somehow see him with their powers? He fucking hoped not. And he obviously couldn’t fight them alone in the little space. But then…he didn’t have to. Though he could very likely warp past them and try to get at the weaker targets…
Except they’d probably expect that and maybe space themselves out. Or have some trick…it was definitely a huge risk.
“Becky, fall back!” he shouted, hoping it didn’t give his position away yet. “Tommaso, keep going. Go get a damn flag!”
The Italian sprinted away as Becky turned and ran back for their side of the arena. Carl wavered as he watched the enemy team coming, ultimately deciding to fall back. At least for a minute.
He wanted to get to the ‘end’ of that damn line-buff power. The thing was enormous. It almost made it to the very end of the corridor, but Carl went just past it and waited. Becky was almost outside now, the enemy team coming in fast. Too fast.
They almost beat her, but not quite. Carl sighed with relief as she got close enough and he felt the aegis-hug wrap around his body. This wasn’t what he’d expected or really wanted from this fight, but it didn’t look like he had a choice.
He glanced at Becky, and he could see she knew it was go-time. His heart pounded in his chest, but Carl decided to win this fight he had to go big, and trust in his powers.
He filled the tunnel with a trapped and condensed Color Spray, putting up an Exploding Clone a moment later—before warping straight at the spearman in the front.
Time slowed as usual as his body propelled itself in a kind of incorporeal state. He blinked and focused every shred of his perception, tuned to any warning from his upgraded Prescience power.
He passed through the spearman, into the expected small gap behind him, to what was clearly the waiting ring-tosser. Carl had no trick. No special move to counter the expected strike. All he had was faith in Becky, a lot of speed, and a mean God damn dagger.
Ring-tosser cried out and went for it, lunging or maybe diving right at him with unstoppable momentum. Carl pretended to try and dodge. Then he struck with Surprise Strike.
He collided with Ring-tosser in a brutal flash of magical and kinetic energy, the woman’s frightening blade blasting into his face with horrifying speed and accuracy. He jammed his dagger into her exposed gut like a prison shanking.
The guy at the back was doing…something. But it sure as hell wasn’t enough. Weird symbols and blue-tinged energy was spraying over everything, the sound like a steam engine mixed with bad sci-fi from the 80s.
Carl felt his Aegis get brutally smashed, faster maybe than he’d ever seen except from his fight with Blake. It was impressive. It was somewhat frightening. It wasn’t enough.
The first trumpet blared as Carl dropped his enemy, trying not to notice the feel of her severed spine as it bounced off his arm. She was pretty much in two pieces, the bloody mess covering everything as Carl stood up and met eyes with the support behind.
Prescience flashed. Carl warped straight ahead again with his Leap, just enough slowed time to glance at the flaming spear stab straight through where his head had been. He zipped right through the support and turned back to murder him, but the guy wisely fled towards his friend.
Becky was making noise now, swinging her mace and trying without much success to get the attention of the fellow with the spear.
Carl ducked another fiery javelin. Or so he thought. This one hit the low roof and exploded, sending a cluster of fiery sparks that flared off Carl’s failing Aegis and squeezing his teeth. He decided it was probably time to fall back.
Because that spearman in a narrow tunnel was a damn problem. Carl could hit him and get away out in the open, but he had no interest in any kind of ‘exchange of blows’. The support was easy picking on his own, too, but not stuck to the other man like a buffing shadow.
But Carl was fully aware he didn’t actually have to do anything. Because Tommaso was theoretically en route with a flag. Hopefully the right flag.
“With me,” ordered the spearman, literally running past Becky like she wasn’t swinging a mace at his face.
“Block them off!” Carl shouted, but it was too late. The spearman and his support blew by and made it to the flags, obviously intending to get between Tommaso and any kind of capturing effort.
There wasn’t much space there, the walls handily at the spearman’s back and protective enough to keep Carl from warping in except from the front.
Becky stepped away, but the spearman smashed another javelin near her head and she couldn’t just stand there and take it. Probably.
Either way she backed into the tunnel, and for a moment the two pairs of players just stared and obviously tried to decide what to do.
Tommaso was about halfway back now in their tunnel.
“The damn thing slows you down,” he called as if struggling. “And if I drop it she goes back all the way.”
“Yeah. Don’t drop it,” Carl said, deciding whether or not he should run around to another tunnel and at least come at the enemy hidden again. He supposed he could do it just as well from this one. But he also preferred not to take a spear in the face.
“How’s the mana?” he whispered. Becky shrugged, obviously annoyed with herself for not dropping a wall in time.
“Can’t hold your shield much longer. But I can do my own shit.”
Carl nodded. “Go annoy them. If they keep hurting you, blow them up. I’ll wait for the opportune moment.”
“And how will I know if I’m gonna blow you up along with them?”
“Ah.” Carl frowned. “Give me a one second warning.”
“Should I throw some fire, boss?” Tommaso asked. “We can cook ‘em out.”
Carl was pretty sure that spearman was going to put a javelin through Tommaso’s heart the second he stepped out.
“Stay back for now. Be very cautious. But if you see a chance, feel free.”
A second later, Becky swung her mace and charged out to bash some heads. The spearman watched her come with passive eyes, and made no attempt to attack. When she arrived and swung, he just moved away, blocked it off his shield, or rammed her back with a brutal shove. It almost looked easy.
The guy at the back was weaving his arms again, and Carl didn’t like the look of it. They hardly knew what the guy’s powers did, despite watching quite a few matches. Carl stood there watching, battling indecision until he finally decided to wait until the power was done then step out and see what he could do.
The weaving ended with a pop. A blue fog moved down the ramp with a slight wind. When it touched Becky she recoiled, and ran.
“It drains fucking mana. And energy!” she yelled, then cried out as the spearman shoved his spear between her legs just to trip her, sending her tumbling down the ramp.
Carl saw actual panic in Becky’s eyes. Apparently they’d run out of time. He activated Simulacrum and warped, his clone launched at the leader while Carl went for the support.
The dangerous spearman seemed to sense the moment and flared with power before stomping his foot. A shockwave rippled through the ground, but made no difference to the warping Carl.
He passed through the slow-mo swing of the spear, appearing directly beside Wind-boy with his dagger on the hunt.
He rammed the impossibly sharp blade into the man’s side with a satisfying squish, ducking as the man swung his police-baton like stick into the wall in a desperate attempt to hold Carl back.
He expected the spearman to try and kill him, but relied on his clone and Prescience as he kept stabbing, dropping the poor support to another trumpet blare. Except there were two trumpet blares.
Carl turned to find his clone has somehow vanished. And Becky impaled on the ground. He blinked in shock, realizing his mana too had been damn near sucked dry the second he’d arrived in the mist. It must have dispelled his clone, too.
He wasn’t sure how he’d kill that spearman without mana, but he was moving forward before he really considered it. He managed to dodge the first spear with good old fashioned agility, coming in and looking at that wide shield with no idea how he’d get around.
The spearman roared and threw another spear, this one way off target. Carl still didn’t know how he’d get in past that guard and reach, but he lurched to the side and went to make his move.
Another trumpet blared. For a horrible moment Carl realized the man hadn’t missed at all. He must have thrown it at Tommaso. Then the big warrior’s face went slack, and he dropped to the ground.
Carl turned to see Tommaso slump against the wall, a bloody spear through his thigh, leaning on the planted flag. He winked just before the arena vanished.