by James Hunter
Sam feinted left and right, executing an arrangement of lunges, thrusts, and flicks all while dutifully countering and avoiding the killer hooks, jabs, and kicks Octavius offered in response. Bill was right; being in close wasn’t great, but it did have one significant advantage—namely, Octavius was just as restricted as Sam was when it came to spellcasting.
Sure, Sam didn’t have the breathing room to throw anything at the Earth Mage, but that was a two-way street. Anytime the Peak Student tried to unleash some new and potentially life-ending spell, Sam dashed into his guard. Quill Blade scraped against armor and made Octavius flinch, thereby disrupting even the most basic spells.
Even though Octavius apparently had even less experience fighting hand-to-hand than Sam did, this was a fight Sam couldn’t win. Not this way. He was doing a great job of not dying horrifically, but he wasn’t inflicting any damage. None. Zero. Plus, all it would take was Octavius landing one solid blow to end things for good.
Sam was a Mage, a spell-slinger! Not a Fighter. What he needed to do was get his magic into play. He had one hard-hitting spell in his arsenal that would damage Octavius no matter how much armor the man was wearing, but to use it, he needed space. A lot of it. So, against his better judgment, Sam charged, screaming as he laid into Octavius with a series of wide, sweeping slashes. That flowed into a relentless onslaught of short, frenzied strikes with his weapon arm fully extended. The sheer ferocity of his attack put Octavius back on his heels for a beat and set the Earth Mage up for what Bill called ‘the second intention’.
As Sam’s stamina started to fade—he was a Mage, after all, not a warrior—he finally let up, withdrawing his sword and falling into a back stance, his blade raised high overhead as he labored for air. The attack was so obvious Sam was sure Octavius would know what he was planning. Except, it suddenly occurred to Sam… Octavius probably didn’t. Sam had to remind himself that Octavius wasn’t a Fighter either. Sam doubted the man know anything but the bare basics when it came to melee combat. He relied totally on magic and was probably expecting Sam to do so as well.
As a result, it wasn’t totally surprising when Sam brought the sword down, and the Peak Student took the bait, stepping in to parry the attack with his oversized fist. Sam spun right just before the sword landed, winding up on Octavius’s unprotected flank. Instead of lashing out with his sword, he brought his Ink Lance tome to bear, blasting a sticky glob of jet-black ink into Octavius’ unprotected face.
Damage dealt: 4/second for 15 seconds! Target slowed by fourteen percent!
The acid bit into both rock and face as the ink spread, but the real perk was that the spell slowed the man down just slow enough for Sam to dart back, putting some space between them—enough room to cast his emergency spell. “Rorschach Test!”
In seconds, pages and ink burst forth in a whirlwind, blurring together and transforming into the familiar, giant scroll that hung unsupported in the air. It took effect, and Sam’s concerns that the Mage would have mental defenses were put to rest. Just like when he’d used it the last time, the effects were immediate. Octavius’ eyes widened in equal parts shock and terror, his face twisting into a mask of purest horror at whatever he was seeing inked out on the scroll.
The Peak Student spun and screamed, Sam apparently forgotten in the face of his fear. Perfect! Now he had the breathing room he needed to lob Fireball or Ice Orb Shurikens at the Peak Student without fear. No matter how tough Octavius or his conjured armor was, he wouldn’t be able to stand up to twenty or thirty spammed Fireballs. No way.
Gloating in his moment of victory, Sam brought the tome of Fireball Shuriken spinning to the front. The pages burst open, ready to unleash a storm of paper fury… Before Sam could activate his first spell, something slammed into his shoulder. Something sharp. Something impossibly painful. In mute shock, Sam glanced down and saw a javelin of rock protruding from his arm.
Damage taken: 46 (550. 504 damage absorbed by Papier-Mache Mage (288.25 * 1.75 earth magic resist).) Bleeding, light. -3 health per second until repaired.
Health: 84/140
“How… how did that happen?” As Sam stood there staring at the wound, trying to properly formulate a thought, the floor rumbled beneath him, and the same giant fist Octavius had used so effectively against Kai erupted from the ground. Blunt, blocky fingers wrapped around Sam like a strait jacket, pinning Sam’s arms to his side and preventing him from doing the basic hand gestures required to cast his spells.
That was impossible! The Rorschach Test… it should’ve kept Octavius occupied for a solid minute. Unless… Octavius faced him. The expression of fear Sam had seen splashed across his face just seconds before was gone. Now, he was laughing. With a wave of one enormous hand, Octavius dispelled the armor encasing him, returning in an eyeblink to the ornate, flowing robes he’d been sporting before the battle began.
“Did you really think you and your crew of miscreants ever had a chance at stopping me? Really? I’m Octavius Igenitor of House Igenitor, practitioner of the arcane arts, shaper of the elements, herald of knowledge! As for you? You are just a commoner. A nobody in way over his head. You have lost, and I have won, which is the way things were destined to be.”
Feeling sick to the stomach, Sam glanced around for the first time since starting his battle against Octavius and realized that his team had lost. Thoroughly. Kai lay dead, not far from Arrow, while Dizzy, Finn, and Sphinx had all been captured by Octavius’ teammates. The three of them were propped up against a nearby bookcase, unconscious and in terrible shape, yet breathing.
“You were never a match for me,” Octavius crowed. “To think you genuinely believed that your taboo mind magic would work against me?”
He paused, the epitome of smugness, and pulled a small leather journal from an oversized sleeve. “After you got away with that silly little book, I did a little digging. Turns out not all records of the infamous ‘Bibliomancer’ were destroyed after all. This is a first-hand account from the Archmage himself, detailing the most frequently used Bibliomancer spells. When you cast that spell, I knew exactly what effect to mimic. You let down your guard, and I took the opportunity to strike.”
“Fine. You won,” Sam spat out. “Just kill us already.”
“Ha. As if. You won’t escape that way. You and the rest of your friends will have the pleasure of gracing a cell in the dungeon, fueling The Accords for the rest of your foreseeable lives. Before you do, it’s only fitting that you should be allowed to watch me finish the very spell you were so eager to destroy. Although.” He paused, rubbing at his chin. “Yes, I wouldn’t want you trying anything while I work.”
With a determined nod, Octavius strode forward, muttering a spell as he walked. There was a flash of muddy-gold light, and suddenly, Octavius had a heavy-headed warhammer in one hand, formed entirely from rose-colored quartz.
“The Rose Hammer ought to do the trick quite nicely, I should think…” Octavius stopped in front of Sam, planted his feet shoulder-width apart, and raised the weapon like a golfer swinging for a hole-in-one. Before Sam could fully process what was about to happen, the hammer’s blunt face smashed into his left kneecap with a thunderous *pop* that resonated through the room.
Damage taken: 20 (20 blunt damage). Debuff added: Crippled left leg! Seek a healer.
A wave of indescribable pain washed through Sam; lightning and fire raged inside his bones and screamed inside his head. With a cruel smile, Octavius lifted the hammer and struck again, crushing Sam’s other knee a
s easily as someone else might crush a soda can.
Damage taken: 15 (15 blunt damage). Debuff added: Crippled right leg! Seek a healer.
The pain was incredible. Unfathomable. Even more amazing was the fact that Octavius had managed to land both blows without killing Sam outright. Sam’s health was abysmally low, but incredibly, he was still clinging to the mortal coil. That was… a shame, actually.
Health: 32/140
“Now,” Octavius lifted his hand and banished the rock-forged weapon with a flick of his fingers, “I’ll put some pressure on that wound so you don't bleed to death.”
The stone spike in Sam’s arm vanished with a *pop*, and a band of stone wrapped around the hole. Octavius continued, “Let us proceed with the matter at hand. Time to put an end to that pesky Wolfman Outpost and collect our due from the Crown.”
Octavius offered his back to Sam. ‘You are no threat to me,’ the gesture said in no uncertain terms. He leisurely strolled over to the podium where his grimoire waited.
Bill sounded terribly uncertain, but Sam didn’t see any other options, and his father had a saying that went back for ages, ‘A drowning man will grab even for the point of a sword’. Seriously, what did he have to lose?
Sam focused his thoughts, desperately trying to block out the pain radiating up from his legs like heat from a dumpster fire, and carefully inched his fingers toward the Unending Flask. With short, precise movements, he unscrewed the metal lid, accessing the space inside it. He couldn’t see, but with a little groping around, he quickly found what he was searching for.
A slickly smooth stone, almost like a piece of polished glass that pulsed with just the slightest hint of warmth. Like a stone that had sat out in the sun on a warm summer day. There were five of the Cores in the flask, but there was no way to access them all at once. Hopefully, he would be able to get at them fast enough because they were running out of time.
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Sam focused on the stone in his hand, and a prompt appeared in the corner of his vision.
Trash-tier monster Core found! Would you like to convert this into experience points? Current worth: Three hundred experience points. Yes / No
Sam nearly choked as he looked at the total. Three hundred points! That was almost two days’ worth of experience if he were out casually grinding. No wonder the Mages were so powerful! They were sitting on a gold mine of experience—also actual gold since the Cores each went for a small fortune. Right now, money was the least of Sam’s concerns. Without missing a beat, he accepted ‘Yes.’
The slight heat emanating from the stone intensified, and the stone dissolved; energy soaked into Sam’s palm, then sprinted along his arm, beelining for his Core. The power rushed into his Center, and as it did, a new feeling surged through him. Energy. Raw, undiluted power. It was like a spring breeze. Like the light of a new day. Like the rising of a full moon on a cloudless night. It was primal, wonderful… addictive.
He fed that addiction, taking in all five Cores and gaining fifteen hundred experience in under ten seconds. Finally, an inferno exploded through him in a surge that he’d come to associate with leveling up. Golden light flared around him like a sunburst, banishing dirt and grime and filling him with a sense of well-being.
Even better, wild arcs of golden energy surged out like the flailing tentacles of some monstrous kraken, and though his friends weren’t close enough to reap the benefits, the power disrupted the enormous spell-conjured fist wrapped around him in a death grip. Bill had been right. The conjured hand fell to pieces. Stone fingers disintegrated before Sam’s eyes, turning into a pile of dust that cushioned his tumble to the ground.
“Octavius,” Tullus Adventus shouted, “problem!”
“What is it now?” Octavius snarled, stealing a look over one shoulder. “How in the–”
He never finished his words. A roar ripped at the air, and a blurry shape leaped from the top of a nearby bookcase, dropping onto Octavius like an anvil made of flesh and fangs. Velkan! The Wolfman hadn’t bailed on them after all! He’d just been biding his time, waiting for an opportune moment to strike. Like now, for example.
The Wolfman fought like a hungry tiger, claws raking at Octavius’s face and chest, his jaws snapping at vulnerable, exposed flesh. Sam watched in wonder as Octavius and Velkan stumbled away from the podium in a tangle of limbs, sprays of crimson arcing through the air. A shimmering shell of sandy-brown snapped into existence around the Earth Mage—likely his version of Mage Shield—but it didn’t do anything to slow Velkan’s assault. The Wolfman might not have been able to hurt Octavius, but he was sure trying like his life depended on it.
“Don’t just stand there!” Octavius shrieked. This time his terror wasn’t fake. “This thing is mauling me! Help me, you buffoons!”
“But the prisoners?” Tullus waved at Sam and the others.
“We’ll deal with them! Help! Me! Now!” came Octavius’ frantic reply.
Tullus and Elsia shared swift glances with each other, uncertainty etched into the lines of their faces. Elsia shrugged and sighed, “Whatever.”
Abandoning Dizzy, Finn, and Sphinx, the two goons charged the tangled whirlwind that was Octavius and Velkan. Neither Tullus nor Elsia could risk casting spells since they might hit Octavius in the process. That meant they were going to have to get physical in order to pry the bloodthirsty Wolfman away.
That also meant they weren’t paying attention to little ol’ Sam. Truthfully, why would they? They’d already mopped the floor with him and his party once; if push came to shove, they could do it again. Easily. Especially since the rest of Sam’s teammates were beaten within an inch of their collective lives and passed out cold on the floor.
Objectively, Sam couldn’t beat them in a fair fight. No way. Which is why he needed to cheat. His gaze landed on Octavius’ spell book, and the seed of a plan blossomed in his mind.
Sam grinned and started dragging himself across the floor toward Octavius’s ignored spell book. As he reached it, he fished out a simple quill and a bottle of magically infused ink from his spatial flask. While Octavius and his crew of dim-witted thugs wrestled with Velkan, Sam grabbed Octavius’ carelessly unguarded grimoire.
Inside the book was a copy of the blueprints for the Long-ranged Amplification Weapon—Sam took the liberty of slipping those into his flask for later examination—then he
quickly thumbed through the pages of the tome until he found the perfect word to use as a trigger. He flipped to the back page in a mad rush, slapped down the simplest spellscript he knew, then added a thin line with a stylized triangle at the end followed by the trigger word.
It took less than ten seconds and fifty Mana to finish—ten seconds that felt like a lifetime. Sam was sure Octavius and company would dispatch Velkan and bring the hammer down at any moment, literally crushing his plans and probably his hands as well. Somehow, the angry Wolfman Scout managed to hold his ground.
Velkan was one cagey fighter, and though he could never beat all three Mages, he was doing an excellent job of holding them at bay. In part, it was because he fought smart—always staying on the move, constantly repositioning himself so that the Mages could never surround him. Moreover, Velkan never went for big attacks that exposed him to danger. He would only strike at weak, vulnerable targets—an unprotected arm, a turned back—bleeding the three out one hit at a time.
It was impressive to watch. Assuming Velkan survived, Sam wanted to learn everything the Wolfman had to teach about melee combat. Reluctantly, Sam pulled his attention away from the battle, returned the book to the original spell page so Octavius would be none the wiser, then started dragging himself to his remaining teammates.
All three were badly beaten but most certainly alive. On closer inspection, Sam noticed that all three were suffering from broken legs just like he was. Frustrating. This was an awfully brutal, though clearly effective method of keeping prisoners from running away. Sam had only one health potion remaining from his time at the College.
He had planned to use it before, but dying had fixed him up. He pulled the vial free, popped the top, and held it up to Dizzy’s lips. He forced the tanky fighter to drink the brew down in a few long gulps. The results were instant, reviving her in a flash and returning fifty points of health to her. Over three seconds, she was mended as thoroughly as dying had mended Sam.
