Nova Terra- Greymane

by Seth Ring

  Under the horrified gaze of the defenders, Thorn’s massive body flew backward out of the cloud of ash and dust, the force of Ouroboros’ strike blasting away the flying dust. Tucking his body, Thorn rolled over on the ground, coming to a stop on one knee. A bloody mark crossed his chest where the attack had connected, the gash showing in stark contrast to his silver armor.

  In front of the gate, Athena took a step forward, the murderous aura that had been growing around her suddenly spiking out of control. Just as she was about to act, Bluefire grabbed her arm, stopping her in place.

  “Don’t. You can’t interfere. Besides, even if you could, he doesn’t need help yet.” The Society of Roses officer pointed her tonfa at Thorn who had already started to move.

  Before he had come to rest, Thorn was already changing directions. Sliding backward on one knee, Thorn planted his right foot and launched himself back into the fight. Strength surged through his leg, propelling him through the air toward Ouroboros who had given chase. With a low roar, Thorn unleashed his massive strength in a full powered strike, his massive metal mace ripping through the air with a piercing whine.

  “[Blood Strike!]” Meeting the attack with a full powered strike of his own, Ouroboros tried to match Thorn with force. As their weapons collided, it was Ouroboros’ turn to go flying. The power behind Thorn’s attack was simply too much to overcome and Ouroboros could only deal with the remaining force by throwing himself backward. Despite his attempt to neutralize the power of the strike, Ouroboros struggled to maintain his balance as he tumbled through the air, staggering as he landed.

  Charging forward, Thorn roared, his eyes turning red as his [Wolf’s Rage] activated, granting Thorn a boost in his speed and strength. The increase in Thorn’s speed was abrupt and terrifying, carrying him right up to Ouroboros.

  Still off balance, Ouroboros barely had time to get his weapon up when another brutal strike from Thorn landed on his side, sending him tumbling head over heels. Relentless, Thorn chased after him, forcing Ouroboros to use another of his skills.

  “[Blood Break!]”

  Still in midair, Ouroboros forcefully righted himself, a red ring bursting from him. The ring expanded, bouncing Thorn backward, allowing Ouroboros a precious second to land on the ground and stabilize himself. But a second was all he got before Thorn was back on top of him, his mace swinging.

  Watching Thorn rampage like an unstoppable beast, murmurs arose among the Blood Guard. They had never seen their leader so hard pressed before. His quad category class put him in an elite tier matched by only a few players and his skill in combat was among the best in the game. Yet Thorn seemed to bat him around like a rag-doll.

  “What is going on? Is the commander going to lose?” Clenching his fists, one of the Blood Guard asked the player next to him. Unable to muster up a response, his companion shook his head mutely as again and again Ouroboros was driven back by Thorn’s powerful strikes. Cheering broke out along the wall as the defenders watched their lord battling the enemy commander. Only Velin was silent, her face grave.

  Noticing that the elven War Priestess was not cheering with the rest of them, Mina frowned, her enthusiasm dampening. It only took her a moment to see what was causing Velin such concern and when she spotted it, her mood fell even further.

  Ouroboros was being tossed around the battlefield, looking for all the world like he was seriously struggling against Thorn’s massive strength, but both Mina and Velin could tell that appearances were deceiving. Having spent countless hours fighting alongside him, they understood how accomplished Ouroboros was at tanking and they could see him putting those skills into practice against Thorn. The angle of his blade, the way he moved around Thorn, the timing of his dodges, and his counter-attacks all worked in concert to create a rhythm that ensured he took the minimum amount of damage while expending as much of Thorn’s strength as possible.

  Already, Thorn’s boosting ability, [Wolf’s Rage] was starting to wane and his attacks were starting to slow down. It was here that Ouroboros’ experience began to shine. Slowly, even though he was being knocked around, Ouroboros was taking control of the fight’s rhythm. As Ouroboros dodged a strike for the fourth time, Thorn realized that he was slowly being drawn into repeating patterns.

  Exhaling, Thorn jumped backward suddenly, causing Ouroboros to start to charge forward after him. As if he sensed the impromptu trap, the black-armored warrior suddenly stopped and stepped backward.

  “You are really good.” Thorn shook his head, resting his mace on the ground as he caught his breath. “Most enemies would have been crushed into pulp by now. I’ll admit that you gained a lot from your choice to stab me in the back and steal my destiny points for a quad class. But I feel like the weakest part of you is these crappy abilities. When we go head to head, you lose every time. If you were not such a good tank you would have died already. That means that you don’t need Karrandras or this quad class to be strong, Ouroboros.”

  “Shut up.” Ouroboros’ voice had taken on a raspy quality ever since he activated his [Blood Rage] ability. The grating sound did nothing to remove the hypnotic element in his voice and even served to enhance it. Thorn was quite thankful that his [Oration Proficiency] ability helped him resist his enemy’s verbal bewitchment. Without it, he was not sure that he could have resisted falling prey to Ouroboros’ lulling words.

  The disgusting smell had faded from the battlefield, a sure sign that Ouroboros’ rage ability had run out of time. Unlike [Wolf’s Rage], the [Blood Rage] ability had an infinite duration so long as the player who used it killed other players or natives, making it ideal for a messy group fight. Unable to show off its strengths against a hard to kill enemy like Thorn, Ouroboros found himself running out of juice with nothing to show for it. The veins in his armor continued to pulse, but each second the glow faded.

  “You do not get to judge me.” Ouroboros said, his voice carrying despite how quiet he was. “You have no idea what sort of power I’ve gained. You think that you understand? You understand nothing. Blood Guard, sacrifice!” Ouroboros’ voice grew in volume until his last words thundered across the battlefield, echoing from the citadel’s walls.

  Without hesitating, the Blood Guards each pulled out a long, wickedly curved, forked dagger. Turning, they stabbed them into their companion’s bodies under the shocked gazes of all the defenders. Too late Athena realized what was happening and, unable to stop it, she could only watch as gouts of blood streamed from the grimacing players.

  Each wicked blade, enchanted with a bleeding effect, caused blood to splash to the ash covered ground, pooling under the feet of the Blood Guard. One by one, the player’s lives drained and they disappeared into sparks of light. Within moments all two hundred players had been sent out of the game, leaving a massive pool of blood running in rivulets across the battle-scarred ground.

  “You wanted to see my power? The power of Karrandras? Let me show you what real power looks like, Thorn.”

  As if drawn by a magnet, the blood began to ripple, moving toward Ouroboros’ feet. Defying gravity, it surged toward him at increasing speed, bringing with it the ash and dirt of the battlefield. Swirling around underneath his feet, the blood seeped into his armor’s cracks, climbing the red veins and bringing with it a fresh crimson glow. The scent that had faded returned suddenly and in full force, cloying the air with a disgusting stench.

  More and more blood rushed over, getting so high that the swirling maelstrom at his feet soon reached his knees. Faster and faster it was sucked up by his broken armor, as if it was drinking from the life essence of the sacrificed. At first Thorn was not sure if it was a trick of his eyes, but he imagined that the blood pumping into Ouroboros was causing him to swell. Soon, however, he knew it was not a trick of the fading daylight as Ouroboros suddenly grew three inches all at once.

  The red glow running in veins around Ouroboros’ armor had been growing and expanding, and with an abrupt cracking noise, the veins expanded, causing Ouroboros t
o grow larger and larger. The more blood he absorbed, the bigger he got until he was standing a full foot taller than Thorn’s 8 feet nine inches. Ouroboros presented a truly frightening picture, his hulking form dripping with the glowing crimson plasma that he had absorbed.

  His armor, once smooth and sleek, was now comprised of cracked and broken plates floating in a sea of crimson, causing him to appear to be a giant elemental made of blood. Gone were any human features, and instead long, jagged blades grew from his arms. A tail tipped with a wicked looking barb formed from a piece of broken armor swiped from side to side behind him, seeking an opportunity to impale Thorn. As the last vestiges of the pool of crimson fluid was drawn into Ouroboros’ armor, it revealed his legs, reformed into the legs of a goat, only adding to his new, devilish look.

  “Well? What do you think?” Obvious pride could be heard in Ouroboros’ voice as he stepped forward, showing off his devil form fully. “The power granted to me by Karrandras is the greatest this game has ever seen. With this [Blood Devil] form, there is nothing, player or native, that can stand against me. With it I will crush everything and everyone in my way, starting with you. Thorn, you are powerful, but against a true devil, you can do nothing. Give up. This fight is hopeless. Give up and you can join me. You can gain power like this. Power to stand alone atop the world.”

  For the briefest of moments, Thorn’s eyes wavered, dropping to the ground at the giant devil’s feet. The words of Ouroboros ate away at his mental defenses, urging him to give up, to lay down his weapon. Then Thorn’s eyes snapped back up, cutting through the bewitching air that Ouroboros’ words had woven.

  “I don’t need your power.” Thorn mumbled, his burning eyes fixed on Ouroboros’ figure. “I have plenty.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  As each moment passed, Thorn could feel the force of Ouroboros’ devil form pressing down on him, eating away at his consciousness. The fact that he could still think at all was due to his unnatural resistance to mental effects, granted by his class. A quick glance back toward the wall showed that the others were not so lucky. The greater devil’s form carried a natural suppressive force that pulled those who encountered it into a passive state, making them unable to resist.

  Thorn could feel that suppressive force clearly, and if he could not figure out a way to break it he knew that it would only be a matter of time until he too fell into a stupor. His wounds seemed to respond to the aura, and the blood that had been trickling from them increased, winding its way in thin streams toward Ouroboros’ grotesque figure. Even gathering his thoughts was growing harder by the second so Thorn decided to stop thinking.

  “[Rallying Cry!]” A long howl poured from Thorn’s throat, echoing around the pass, the eerie tones bouncing from the stone of the citadel and reflecting from the Twins. On and on the call went, powered by Thorn’s seemingly endless breath. Elder Havva was the first to respond from where he stood, slumped over on the wall. Unconsciously, he struggled to straighten and, with a shuddering breath lifted his head and joined in the long howl. Slowly, the other Dawn Walkers joined in, throwing back their heads to howl along with Thorn.

  At first, the call was scattered, disorganized. Yet as it continued, it grew in strength and intensity, the varied voices combining into a single harmonious voice. As more and more Wolfkin joined in, the corrupting power of Karrandras began to collapse, eroding at the edges. The bloody scent that had dominated the battlefield began to clear, and those who had fallen under the natural stupor effect of the greater devil began to awaken.

  “What? Impossible!” Ouroboros growled, droplets of acidic spit flying from his slavering maw as he spoke. Hate grew in his eyes as he stared at Thorn. All his troubles stemmed from this giant figure in front of him, blocking his path. Determined to remove Thorn once and for all, he strode forward, lifting the blades on his arms to strike.

  With a roar, the greater devil slashed at Thorn, intent on cutting him down where he stood. Thorn, seeing the blow approach, cut off his howl, sliding back on his feet and dropping naturally into his taijiquan stance. It felt like it had been a lifetime since he had used the martial arts that he had learned before coming into Nova Terra. His training had been largely useless due to the size difference between him and most enemies.

  The greater devil form that Ouroboros had revealed was as big as he was, making it a perfect target for him. Seeing another strike coming in, Thorn shifted his stance by sliding his foot back, moving outside the range of the attack. Ouroboros, growing increasingly furious that he had missed both his attacks rushed forward, his devil’s tail stabbing forward.

  Thorn lifted his hands, holding his mace like a broadsword, deflecting against the barb on the end of the whipping tail, and bringing his feet together smoothly, stabbed forward with the end of the mace. Taken back by the smoothness of Thorn’s transition from defense to offense, Ouroboros was unable to react in time and took the main force of the blow, and staggered backward. With a ferocious roar, the greater devil surged forward again.

  “Your puny attacks cannot stop me, Thorn! This form is invincible!” Raving, Ouroboros rained down attacks on Thorn, slashing and gouging with the blades on his arms while his tail whipped this way and that, seeking every opportunity to stab forward.

  Weathering the storm of attacks, Thorn felt as if he was a boat being tossed in a gale, threading through the waves and wind, ever in danger of capsizing, but somehow staying upright. At first his reactions were slightly jerky as his body tried to remember the forms and paths from his training. Despite the bloody gashes that began to appear on his body, Thorn persisted, emptying his mind of all distracting thoughts and focusing on the enemy in front of him.

  Slowly, his moves began to become smoother, his reactions slightly faster. The transitions between his deflecting moves and his attacking strikes began to blur until they merged together, forming a weaving net of intermixed offense and defense with no distinction.

  Ouroboros could feel control of the fight slipping from his clawed fingers as Thorn’s moves became smoother and smoother. Furious, he redoubled his efforts, striking with as much power as he could muster, yet his attacks were deflected to the side or redirected into empty space, wasting his strength. Each time he swung his blade Thorn seemed to be out of reach, moving outside the range of motion of his attack. About to explode with fury, Thorn’s smooth, slippery motions suddenly changed and Ouroboros barely registered a silver blur before something hit him in the ribs, hard.

  *CRACK*

  With a sound so sharp it cut straight through the air, Thorn’s mace impacted the greater devil’s side, crushing the remnants of armor that floated in the crimson plasma that made up its body, sending it plunging to the ground.

  Thorn had let himself go, clearing his mind to focus on the fight and allowing his muscle memory to guide him as he fought. Slowly, the years of training he had received before coming to Nova Terra had been unearthed, allowing him to keep himself from being overrun by Ouroboros’ greater devil form. As his movements had grown more natural, they had begun to unconsciously merge with the tetsubo training that Master Sun had given him in the gorge of the earth elementals, combining defense and offense into one smooth action.

  As he deflected the last attack, Thorn had instinctively felt an opening in his opponent’s defenses, and without hesitation he had stepped forward, planting his feet solidly as he struck out, smashing his mace into the greater devil’s ribs, driving it into the ground. As soon as he connected, Thorn could tell through the feedback of his weapon that he had dealt significant damage.

  Flipping the giant metal spike around, Thorn stabbed the pointed end down, putting his full weight behind the blow. The sharp spike pierced through Ouroboros, pinning him firmly to the ground, and eliciting a shriek of pain from the greater devil. His arms flailing, Ouroboros struggled to free himself, only to feel a massive weight clamp down on his body, forcing him further into the ground.

  Thorn, loath to give up the advantage he had
seized, dropped a knee onto Ouroboros’ chest, pinning one of the greater devil’s arms to the ground with his other leg. The dwarven trainer from Berum’s words echoed in his head and he began to throw fist after rock hard fist down at the greater devil’s head, battering it into an unrecognizable shape.

  Each furious hit smashed into Ouroboros, sending blood flying, yet the greater devil simply regenerated, his head reforming after each strike. The whipping tail plunged toward Thorn’s back, stabbing into his shoulder. Roaring with pain, Thorn grabbed the spiked end of Ouroboros’ tail and, with a furious pull, ripped the talon right off, plunging it into the neck of the greater devil.

  Ouroboros’ scream of pain turned into a gurgle as the barb pierced through his throat and for the first time, he began to know fear. His furious attempts to dislodge Thorn from on top of him gained an edge of hysteria, yet no matter how he struggled, he could not move the figure on top of him. Thorn’s weight was like a mountain, sealing him to the ground. Again and again, Thorn smashed down, his strikes getting faster and faster, raining down blow after blow on the greater devil. The burning ember of fury that Thorn had been suppressing for so long suddenly burst forth, igniting into a raging flame.