“Isn’t it strange that the Chaos Lords are holed up in the Fysalli rather than fighting us in the open Chaos Sea?” Riley remarked as he sighted down his new Plasma Caster. His target was a particularly horrific Behemoth, an amalgamation of flesh and steel, shaped like an orb covered in metal spikes. In the midst of the creature’s body was a singular eye with a triangular pupil.

The Behemoth spun as it fended off plasma bolts and energy techniques. It was merely one of the hundreds of monsters hovering outside of the fortified Waypoint, that the temporary legion’s armada needed to get through.

Even as he aimed, other fighters clashed with more elements of the Chaos Courts’ armies. To the left, a squad of Certus Colossi slammed into a pyramid shaped Behemoth that blasted beams of virulent flame. One such beam glanced off a Chaos Ship, a carrier-class that thankfully had heavier Protective Spheres than a normal ship of that size. Even so, the bluish light paled as the flames tried to eat at it.

Riley noted that the carrier-class tried to reinforce the Sphere, but it only served to fuel the flames. Even while that was happening the Certi clashed with the pyramid Behemoth’s Protective Field, only to be repelled.

“Tsk. That’s not a plain Behemoth,” Riley muttered.

A group of five Certi shouldn’t have any trouble killing a Behemoth, but that one looked like it had advanced. Evolved, maybe. Just like Behemoths barely have anything in common except for how they were formed, their advancement could go any which way. Some devoured and assimilated their foes, and when enough had been eaten, they grew and made use of whatever good they could extract. Others simply wallowed in ambient Chaos, looking for flavours they liked and slowly grew stronger that way. That type of Behemoth didn’t exhibit wildly different powers and abilities, but usually strengthened whatever they had. And yet, a true Chaotic Behemoth simply grew and changed to fit its environment.

The pyramid creature was probably the second type, considering how tough its exterior was and how powerful its singular attack.

As for the one that looked like a sphere with hundreds of spikes and blades, Riley was sure it was a base Behemoth, freshly born, considering how its spikes were damaged by small arms fire.

Still, all Behemoths have some kind of Protective Field technique, or perhaps it was better to call it an innate ability. The power to impose their Will around them, even when they weren’t in the Chaos Sea. Inside a plane, or even a Tideland, it would be weaker, but here, it was at full power.

Fighting Chaos dwellers without adequate Animatech wasn’t a wise move after all. In the planes, humans were stronger and the environment helped them. In the Chaos Sea, dwellers had all the advantages. While, humans could make use of the abundant ambient Chaos too, it took more work to purify it of filth and convert it to Animus. Hence the backpack he was currently wearing, despite how hot it currently was…

‘I feel my bottom boiling,’ he thought idly.

He could block that level of pain since it was constant and hasn’t escalated yet. It was annoying and distracting, but he was a Knight. He was the master of his own body, and he needed to get this shot off and take off this thing before his clothes catch on fire.

Whoosh!

Skrink!

A single plasma bolt, condensed as much as he could, and powered by his Facets that increased penetrative power as well as guided aim, punched right through the spiky ball’s Sphere, and went right through the eye. The creature wailed in pain and started to retreat, even as blood, blue and black, spurted out of the ghastly wound.

The Sullen Striker and other assault cruisers focused fire on the thing, and it didn’t even manage to get fifty paces back before it burnt to a crisp.

And speaking of burning, he could feel tongues of flame licking up his back.

“Ahhh!” He yelled before he was doused by a bucket of ice cold water.  He managed to shuck the Gatherer Pack off him, but even before the last strap got unbuckled, he heard Aunt Layla screaming.

“Don’t you dare drop that thing!” she screeched. Not that she was on the combat deck. No, in his ear was a communications bud, a little device engraved with complicated runescript weaving that allowed someone’s voice to be transferred between it and another input point. It had limited range though, just enough for use within the ship.

Disgruntled, he carefully lowered the pack to the deck rather than letting it drop. He slapped the back of his uniform even as smoke wafted around him. The Gatherer Pack was mostly undamaged. Just a few burns on the leather straps. Those should be repaired, otherwise the thing might snap in the midst of battle. As for the bucket of water, ice cold, that came from his big brother, who was clearly stopping himself from guffawing.

“Well, go kill things instead of giggling,” Riley growled as he stomped towards the Runeers’ hall. The battle outside was going well, and he was comfortable enough to leave his brother to it. Even as he looked back, Aidan was already conjuring, and compressing, a prodigious amount of plasma above his palm. The orbs grew as he injected more Animus into his gauntlets, then shrunk from the size of a watermelon to an acorn. The orbs’ colour shifted from pale blue to a deeper one, coming closer and closer to black the longer he kept the compression cycle going.

Before Riley entered the stairwell, Aidan flung the thing at another Behemoth, not the pyramid one, but something that looked like a gigantic Antid, except it had muscles and skin instead of a chitinous carapace.

The orb struck the creature, melted through its Protective Field, then stuck on its flesh. The orb didn’t burst. Instead, it began to melt its way into the mountain of flesh. Blood and gristle bubbled and boiled as Aidan’s attack sought the creature’s center, and then, the orb emerged on the Behemoth’s opposite side. It was much smaller than before, but retained the same temperature and hue.

The armada continued to pummel the Chaos Courts’ position, and it would only be a matter of time before they punched through the blockade. Only…why did he feel as if time was as sand running out of the hourglass?

___________

Roland of the A’sungit reared back, twisted his waist to generate power to his limbs, took a single step forward, dug in his toes, and slammed his fist forward. He felt the very air protest against his movement, felt it break and a vapor cone appeared around his fist, followed by a loud clap. His knuckles slammed into air, solidified, nearly invisible air, and shattered it.

The young man holding it staggered as the kinetic force leftover after the shield ablated pushed him back a few steps. Roland could feel the ripples on the ground as his sparring partner, Heron Muryh, bled off the knockback.

For his part, Roland remained as he was, his stance frozen at the apex of his ferocious punch. It was part of the rules of this spar as he wasn’t allowed to do more than one attacking move at a time. He honestly scoffed at the restriction, but then again, his opponent was barely above the Apprentice Fighter level while he was a True Fighter. Only in terms of Animus strength though.

Heron finished shedding his momentum then reverted to his spear stance. Left foot forward, weight evenly distributed between his legs, and both hands on the spearhaft. The spearhead was pointed upwards at an angle, and it tracked Roland’s head as he moved slowly. Heron had a small buckler on his left arm, but most of his defenses came from the hardened air shields he threw out every now and then.

Roland felt something was off with the air shield and he kept a wary ear twitching about. He was in his battle form. His fur was tough enough to block a sword. And it was fluffy enough to dampen the strike of a hammer too. His other ear twitched as he tracked the breeze. Deadened air was all over Heron as his techniques took control of his surroundings. He was also deploying a singular shield where he had witnessed the lad throw out dozens.

Blue Animus coated Heron’s weapon as the young man advanced. The thrust was quick and efficient, travelling at the optimal angle and speed. That also made it a bit more predictable and Roland swayed to the side and avoided the strike. But even as the spearhead went past his head, Heron’s right foot moved past his left, and the shifting stance allowed him to easily turn the thrust into a slash.

The spearhaft struck Roland’s hastily raised forearm, and the force of the blow reverberated throughout his body. The spear bounced away as the young man shifted his stance back, then he lunged into another thrust, this time aimed at the middle of Roland’s torso.

He slapped the spear away, the muscles of his hands trembled in a specific pattern and the air around it rippled. As soon as his fingers touched the Animus coating the weapon, the blue light shattered and the spear bent out of shape. A moment later, he closed in on Heron and shoulder checked the hastily conjured air shield. Again, the young man was propelled backwards. His feet left furrows nearly three paces long while Roland chuckled. Heron blanched at the sight, but then again, the battle form was quite frightening.

He stood upright and crossed his arms. With the weapon damaged, the spar was technically over, but he could see that there was still a lot of fight left in the poor besotted fool. Theirs wasn’t the only battle, as a few dozen paces away, the object of the young man’s desires was easily knocking Kassy and Tuska about. All without moving an inch from where she stood.

It was quite the sight to see. Lady Yuriko’s body contorted and flexed in nearly unbelievable ways as she blocked and countered the other two women’s attacks. The exchanges came in a flurry, and as far as he could tell, neither his sister nor his some time lover was able to so much as touch the lady.

Snap!

The sound drew Roland’s attention back to his foe. The bent spear was straight, though he could see that the metal haft had small fractures, but it was once again covered by blue Animus.

Hmmm? No, there was something different. The hue was a deeper blue than before. What did that mean? Roland and his tribes subsumed their Animus and contained all of it within their bodies. This resulted in tougher muscles, bones, and skin, as well as the ability to shift their forms. That also meant that few of them mastered the ability to project their Animus outside of their bodies. Weapon enhancement wasn’t something foreign to them though, and he’d seen enough warriors do that to know many of its ins and outs. For Heron’s Animus colour to change…it either meant a grave shift in personality or he was using something else.

Something like what Lady Yuriko used.

Heron advanced and thrust the spear, and again Roland slapped it away, using resonance and ripples to push and shatter the hostile Animus. This time,the ripples weren’t able to disperse the blue, and instead, merely travelled along the spear’s length. He managed to shift the point away from his vital areas, but it still managed to dig into his side. He felt his fur part and his skin pierced. Muscular action slammed down on the point to keep it from going in deeper.

A moment later, Heron withdrew his spear. Roland could see the man trembling though, and blood dripped down his nose. The ripples had gone through the man’s body and damaged it. Not by much, hopefully, they still had many, many leagues to cover before their next stop.

“Well done,” he said simply.

“Thank you for your guidance,” Heron said with a bow.

Both of them settled into a seated meditation pose to use Recovery. Lady Yuriko imparted the technique to all of his family, and they found that it was well suited to their discipline and style. In fact, with a bit more effort, Roland knew that the technique would enable them to heal from grievous damage.

Her largesse was one of the reasons why his family continued to follow her, despite being strangers no more than a few weeks ago.

Well, that and he still couldn’t resist her delicious scent. But that was a matter for another time.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep