Tech Duinn: An Ether Collapse Series (Ether Flows Book 1)

by Ryan DeBruyn

  A few strides later, Azrael was in range to Analyze his opponent.

  Jaten Brendil

  Apprentice-Jouster

  Level 24

  Health Points: 150/150

  Azrael needed to get just a little farther to remove himself from sight, but based on the closing speed of Jaten, he wouldn’t have time. Azrael slid to a stop and entered the high guard of Trellis Lily, named after a type of flower with a long stalk and a drooping flower that only looked beautiful from below. This stance was extremely effective at fending off downward strikes from taller or higher opponents.

  Azrael caught the tip of the lance and began to push it to the side. A lance was a cumbersome weapon and only held by the wielder at a point far away from the target. This unbalance made it a threat that could be maneuvered off-target with relative ease. Azrael’s blade and Jaten’s lance pulsed. In time with that pulse, Azrael felt the force on his arms from the lance increase drastically as the point tried to correct course.

  Two things stopped the point from skewering Azrael. One was his flexing arms, which held the lance slightly away. The greater of the two reasons was his Soul Cloak skill. This normally moved the attack away from Azrael, but because the attack was Ether-assisted the skill actually slid Azrael’s body infinitesimally across the sand. The two skills warred with each other, and the tip tore into his left deltoid, and then quickly out the other side. He felt the muscle sever, and his hand let go of his hilt as the centaur body flew by him and began turning a large semi-circle.

  Azrael clenched his jaw against the pain and moved further into the blind spot, hoping to release his Soul Strike skill from cover. He didn’t want his last opponent to have an advantage. Unfortunately, the centaur used a second skill and blurred around the turn. Azrael caught the motion and spat on the ground, attempting to force the hand of his injured arm back onto his hilt. The hand refused to respond, and Azrael gave up on trying to hold back information from the final opponent. He loaded his blade with a single Soul Strike and released a vertical slash at the blurring form of the charging centaur. The reciprocating blades cut through the sand, and Jaten ran into them with skill-assisted speed and momentum. For a split second, the blur continued as blood streamed behind it, and then the entire body parted.

  The announcer called again, "Another victory for Azrael of Team Sovereign Son. Jaten Brendil hadn’t seen his opponent’s Blade Projection skill in the previous fight and pays the ultimate price: bisection!"

  He minimized the notification that told him of his successful rise to level sixteen. He moved to the bloody remains and looted, tuning out the announcer. Another opponent he hadn’t given the crowd the opportunity to spare. Success.

  Lance of Kyron

  ● A lance which increases momentum transfer to its targets while also providing extra power to the wielder.

  Ether Pool: Medium

  Current Ether Pool: 45/50

  Enchantments: Momentum II, Strength II (+2)

  --

  Centaur Child’s Doll

  ● This is a child’s toy and has sentimental value to the owner.

  Azrael felt a pang in his heart, and he left the doll on top of Jaten to be absorbed with him. If that was a family member’s or a keepsake, it deserved to travel with him into death.

  He walked back to the entrance and cast Minor Heal from his earring on himself. He would ask his team if any of them had a spell he might be able to place within the gem. Immediately, he felt his shoulder begin knitting together. The blow must have hit a nerve because he felt a pop, and then he gained back control of his arm. He moved it experimentally in a few circles and, while still stiff, he was satisfied that it was now functional.

  The Etherience from killing Jaten had brought him to level sixteen, but he would probably wait to place the skill point. It would be better to weigh out the pros and cons of both of his tier four skills. Five minutes just didn’t seem like enough time to consider everything.

  The gate opened again on his approach, and Verimy called out this time, "Your next opponent will know your primary skill now. Someone should switch with you."

  Guess his nod and acceptance was only temporary. These two will have to begin accepting me as leader soon, right?

  The gate began to close as the timer started again, and instead of answering, Azrael asked, "Does anyone have a spell that costs under twenty Ether? I want to store it in my earring."

  Jophi blinked and looked at the earring before offering, "What do you prefer? Fireball, Arctic Breath, or Barrier? Mind that, for only twenty Ether, they will be pretty weak versions of the spells."

  Azrael looked at Verimy, who shook his head. "Only skills here, no spells."

  Bat just shook his head and Azrael turned back to Jophi, somewhat hesitantly. Did he dare trust her? If she was the traitor, she could load a blank into the earring and get him killed. He moved closer so she could touch the gem, telling himself that Oberan wouldn’t want him to die in his first fight. Oberan needed his legend to spread before that happened, which was what Azrael was counting on.

  Jophi smiled a moment later, and Azrael felt the wattage of the gesture in his chest, somehow. He shook his head, and she stated, "All done." Then after a moment’s hesitation, she leaned in and whispered, "I actually tossed a once a day Fireball in there. I can double the size for half the cost. Figured it would be the best option for you. Good luck…" She looked at his pink shoulder and grimaced, then looked across the arena.

  He turned back to the exit and waited as the timer elapsed. His Ether was nearly full and he had both slots in his Soul Storage full. When the gate opened, he didn’t bother attempting to get out of the line of sight and instead stepped straight out onto the sand.

  As if a funhouse mirror ran down the center of the arena, a massive creature stepped out from the other entrance. It flexed all of its muscles and roared, which caused a fire to dance across its skin.

  Azrael’s next opponent was a fire giant.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Azrael seriously considered surrendering and sending Jophiel in to deal with this opponent. Unfortunately, he didn’t think surrender was possible, but a class like hers with access to Frost spells would have a much easier time. Of course, then Oberan may separate the group and there would go any escape plans.

  I wonder if Apep will be able to follow me if my cell changes?

  He shook his head, dispelling the distraction. fire giants weren’t exactly common, at least not anymore. If his lessons were correct, they were an extremely aggressive race. Their coming of age ceremony involved a small dropship to another planet where they took on a local Territory by themselves. There were very few success stories, and the ones who got captured alive got sold to places like this.

  That didn’t mean that they were weak. No, the fact that there were a few success stories amongst fire giants at all told the tale of just how terrifyingly powerful they were. Azrael immediately felt his blood cool. That Fireball spell Jophi loaded wasn’t going to be very helpful. If anything, it was likely to heal his distant, roaring opponent. Had she known? Had she betrayed him?

  Azrael charged his Soul Strike with five stacks and held the attack ready. Closing with the creature was his last resort. Supposedly, the air near their bodies during combat rose to temperatures that rivaled Dragon’s fire. Azrael checked his Ether bar and saw he was at around forty-five percent, after the fifty percent he had just pumped into his sword. He felt his mouth sour and hastened to assign his skill point from level sixteen.

  He had not wanted to make the decision in five minutes, feeling that it would become a hasty one. Now he had a split second.

  Lesson learned—always assign skill points when you have time.

  Tier 4 Skills

  Bloodletting

  ● Widen a wound, while simultaneously preventing most healing from taking hold. This Skill will increase damage dealt when blood is drawn by 20%, and add a bleeding debuff stacking 20% of the initial damage every three seco
nds until the wound closes.

  Passive Skill gained at 1/5, "Bloodletter."

  0/5

  --

  Soul Siphon

  ● Successful attacks return a small portion of Ether and power to the user. This Skill will return 1% of the opponent’s maximum Ether pool to the attacker, and transfer 1% of the user’s statistic points. The buff is stackable up to five times.

  Passive Skill gained at 1/5, "Soul Steal."

  0/5

  Azrael dumped his point into Bloodletting. Both skills seemed compelling. But with his upcoming opponent, Azrael needed the extra damage. He also didn’t have the time that he would have liked to sit down and consider the options. He crossed his metaphorical fingers that the increase to striking and bleeding damage would make a difference.

  The selection had taken him less than a second, so he caught the end of his opponent’s roar and watched as the behemoth locked its eyes onto his position. The fire giant began to charge, each step eating up the distance as its feet splashed into the sand. Azrael took a deep centering breath and waited for his opponent to come into range. He really needed to Analyze it for a strategy.

  Angr Sotd

  Journeyman-Berserker

  Level 11

  Health Points: 550/400

  His eye twitched.

  The creature even had temporary hit points that Azrael would have to chew through. Angr bunched its tree-trunk legs and launched into the air. The closeness of a moment ago allowed Azrael to estimate his opponent’s height at fifteen feet and its weight at over a ton. To see Angr jump forty feet into the air froze Azrael for a fraction of a second.

  His battle training kicked in, and he sprinted away. As expected, Angr had used some sort of skill, likely a variant of Heroic Leap common in giant classes. The sand exploded out from its landing and he felt the super-heated air that surrounded the giant rush by him.

  Azrael blessedly took no damage. He turned and let his five stacks on his sword fly—the blades actually became visible as they brought a colder wave into the air around Angr. Azrael watched them slow down before colliding and attempting to saw through the fire giant.

  To his horror, only two of the blades connected with his opponent, who stood thirty feet away. He had known that the edges grew further apart the farther they traveled, but with such a big target he had hoped—no matter. He would have to use it from a closer range. Despite the inherent danger in that tactic.

  He Analyzed the fire giant—four hundred and ninety. Sixty points of damage for fifty percent of his Ether was not a good trade-off, but the blades were still grinding away, attempting to dig deeper. To his relief, the skin parted, and dark red blood welled forth, which would trigger his Bloodletter passive. But that was the end of the good news. With a mighty twist and elbow blow, Angr countered Azrael’s Soul Strikes.

  He began sprinting away, tactically retreating.

  He needed to keep a buffer between himself and the furnace-like air that surrounded Angr. The fire giant charged after him, and its long legs closed the distance. Azrael clenched his jaw as the heat ratcheted up a few degrees with each step. Just as the heat cracked his skin, he held out his palm behind him and croaked, "Release five," from dry lips.

  The skill shot from his palm and closed the twenty-foot gap. Due to the distance, all five of the blades made contact with Angr’s chest and arms. The skill shook the ton of bulky muscles and flaming skin, slowing its advance but not stopping the behemoth. As Azrael watched, it took a terrifying step forward.

  The reciprocating blades began to cut layers of thick gianthide away, and Angr fought to get his palms around the invisible Soul Strikes. Two drew blood before Angr threw this skill away—again! Three hundred and forty-two health points remaining. As he watched, the health ticked down another point from Bloodletter but this still wasn’t looking good.

  He only had one further skill stored, this second one with ten charges, and his final trump card. He checked his Ether pool and noticed it contained just over fifty percent, and he added one more skill use at the fifth level to his calculations. That would lay him out though.

  This just kept getting worse. If he wanted the ten Soul Strikes to connect with the target, he likely needed Angr even closer. Did he dare? He glanced at his entrance as he continued his sprint—this fight would have been much more manageable for Verimy or Jophi.

  Azrael was already committed, though. Oberan wouldn’t win. Oberan couldn’t win!

  The heat began to climb. Angr was closing in once again. The heat suddenly vanished, and Azrael chanced a glance behind him. No flaming giant.

  His sweat chilled on his forehead and back. He planted his feet hard and reversed. His reaction was just in time, as Angr crashed into the sand ten feet from him. Right where he would have been. Azrael, now well within the accompanying shockwave, was blasted violently away to bounce over the sand.

  In his spinning tumble he caught a glimpse of a screen. “Sovereign” flashed continuously across it. Guess that meant Oberan was getting what he wanted.

  Azrael careened a few feet further and pressed himself to his feet. A massive fire-ax descended from twenty feet above the head of the already fifteen-foot tall Angr. Azrael dove and heard the whoosh of displaced air beside him. The blade cleaved into the ground, and a wave of fire registered on his Soul Cloak. He felt the heat blister his left side. He clenched his fist and teeth to dispel the agony that accompanied the burns. He glared at the fire giant, planted a foot and patted out a few flames that clung to his bee suit.

  Each touch caused him to wince from the rawness of the skin underneath. He tried to cling to the anger at himself. Use it to ignore the wounds and motivate him to win at all costs.

  Angr was charging towards him. If fire giants had one weakness, it was their abysmal Intelligence and low Ether pool. How many more skills could Angr unleash? Azrael began hobbling away, attempting to maintain some buffer, and simultaneously lure Angr into the ten foot radius for his trump card.

  Angr closed, and Azrael’s sweat wicked away. His burns began screaming at him as the heat ran over the raw nerve endings. His breathing grew difficult as the air started drying out his throat and lungs. He clenched his jaw and began breathing through his nose, hoping the extra few inches of travel would cool it just a little more. Soon he felt like his skin was paper and ready to combust.

  He reached back and hissed, "Release ten."

  The skill exploded out, and Angr roared in unison. A wave of fire shot out of the giant’s mouth.

  Sovereign Hell! Another skill?

  Azrael’s blades struck, which forced Angr’s mouth to bang shut. Still, an eight-foot-high wave of fire rushed towards Azrael. It spanned thirty feet across, and he sighed in resignation. It was going to hit him.

  He had one option left, and he wasn’t even sure it would work. Azrael charged every ounce of Ether he had remaining into his blade. He felt his brain protest, and his legs wobbled. As a final act of defiance, he stepped forward and thrust his sword forward, releasing six charges using the form Dante’s Needle.

  The Ether exploded outwards in a pointed cone-like front towards the giant as he collapsed to the ground face first.

  This time his head collided with hot sand, and he felt a wave of all-consuming pain begin eating away at his back. He failed. So much for the strength of a Sovereign Son.

  Azrael got one last blurry view of Jophi screaming something from the gated entrance. Angr’s roar continued and ushered him into darkness.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Azrael managed to crack open an eye. It took far too much effort. His vision blurred so severely he could only see black shadows on a white background. Someone shouted, "Azrael, hang on. The healer is coming to patch you up after Angr." He scrunched his eyes as the voice caused his head to ring. "Get over here now! I don’t care how much more Angr cost to purchase, Azrael was the victor. He needs healing!"

  “Live. Live. Live.” An unmistakable chanting from the crowd rattled aro
und his skull.

  Did I win? Or is the crowd chanting to save me? I hope I haven’t left my life in the mob’s hands.

  He shifted in the sand infinitesimally. His body was hit by a wave of nauseating pain. It reached his brain, which wasn’t ready to handle any more and turned out the lights.

  ***

  Again, he managed to open an eyelid with effort—not as much energy as the last time, but it still wasn’t easy. A feminine voice cooed, "Here, drink this."

  He moaned, and she shouted excitedly, "Can you hear me? Are you awake? Drink this. The healer said you need food!" Some sort of salty liquid poured into his mouth and he sputtered. The following cough sent his body into spasms and he promptly passed out again.

  ***

  The third time he woke up, he didn’t bother opening his eyes. He could feel someone pressed to his hip. And a bone from the individual’s body pressed painfully into his abdomen.

  A squeaky voice whispered softly, "I know you are awake. Drink this if you have the strength. I am going to drip it into your mouth."

  Drops of salty liquid touched his tongue, and he swallowed whenever they fell to the back of his throat. This continued for a time, and then the squeaky voice asked more of him, "Now it will be water. We are going to try slightly more. Here we go."

  This time small splashes of blessedly cold liquid touched his tongue, and he flinched at first from the temperature change. His mouth stung all over, and he almost choked from the sensation overload, but managed a quick swallow. Once in the routine, he got more liquid into himself. After eight swallows, the voice squeaked, "Go back to sleep now. Recover, I will be here when you wake."

  This pattern continued for what felt like an eternity. The world was still slightly blurry, but he could make out colors and shapes at least. The blue-skinned Bat sat beside him, Jophi paced behind Bat, and Verimy sat cross-legged in the distance.