Pandora Unchained 2: A Cultivation Progression Fantasy, page 54
“And you’re confident in being spared upon his return,” said Elder Marik. “Interesting. But I imagine that’s likely contingent on minimizing the damage dealt to the city’s infrastructure. Shall we take this up higher, or do you insist on leveling a tenth of the city?”
“If you’re asking me for a friendly spar above the city, I see no reason to refuse you,” said the elder. He and Elder Marik flew up until they were nothing but tiny sparring pinpricks in the sky.
“You might as well show yourself, whoever you are,” said Elder Samson.
A sigh echoed through the streets as a beautiful woman in a long black dress walked out from behind a building. “What can little old me do but accept when a strapping man like yourself offers to take me out on a stroll?”
Both Elder Samson and the mysterious woman vanished, seemingly into another dimension. The only indication of their presence was the occasional burst of energy that echoed through areas of intense darkness.
“We should get going,” said Elder Calvin, the third member of Elder Marik’s relief team. “But first, let’s mark our targets, shall we?” He took a pouch from his waist and crushed it; a poisonous mist spread out in all directions and caused nearby cultivators hiding in ambush to light up with an unmistakable light.
These targets also lit up on Gareth’s map, something that didn’t escape the elder. “Mr. Fletcher, please lead Sorin and his wonderful rat toward the Ancestral Residence whichever way you see fit. Natasha, Nigel, and I will cover your movements.”
Gareth didn’t hesitate to pull Sorin toward a medium-sized clump of enemies, with Lorimer following nearby. “That’s clearly not the best way,” complained Natasha, but her words were cut short as she saw their enemies rearrange themselves. In fact, the group they were heading toward began reducing in number. Sorin and company arrived to find a neat stack of corpses.
“Took you look enough,” Haley said, her black armor stained in blood. Beside her was Stephan in his Pigmy Shadow Bear form, wearing a suit of lustrous black armor that could only be Stephan’s soul-bound treasure. “Have you called up any other allies? Our York Clan isn’t very well connected in Delphi.”
“A few,” answered Gareth. “This way. Sorry to trouble you, ladies.” Haley and Natasha exchanged a look before simultaneously disappearing. They mopped up small groups as Sorin and company advanced unmolested.
The enemy quickly reacted to their change in movement patterns, and Natasha and Haley were soon unable to cope with their numbers. Sorin, having the benefit of Nemesis, sensed the attackers’ moments before they appeared. He dodged to the side and summoned a storm of poisonous golden needles to repel a pair of rogues, then stabbed backward with a summoned dagger toward the most potent source of violence on the other side.
This, it turns out, was a bad decision. Sorin’s weapon directly collided with that of a Flesh-Sanctification cultivator. The impact knocked his weapon out of his gloved hand, though it immediately reappeared to defend his vitals. Fortunately, Lorimer was ready and jumped on the attacker, surprising him just long enough for Elder Calvin to disintegrate him with a poisonous missile.
Another wave of enemies appeared, this time with over a dozen Flesh-Sanctification cultivators. Elder Calvin, Elder Nigel, Elder Natasha, and Haley were deftly separated from the rest of the group, leaving Sorin and his Bone-Forging companions to deal with a group of three Flesh-Sanctification cultivators.
Stephan let out a bestial roar and shifted into a Silver-Spined Grizzly Bear. He then used Natural Selection to forcibly attract all three attackers and spur them into a berserk state.
Poisonous spells and swords struck the grizzly’s now-silver armor, tearing deep gouges into its metal and pushing Stephan to the brink. These wounds were mirrored on his enemy, however, forcing them to surfer backlash in order to retreat lest they accidentally kill themselves.
The attack greatly wounded Stephan, but the precious seconds he bought allowed Haley to escape her encirclement and decapitate one of them. Sorin simultaneously used his Wraith Hare Boots to teleport behind the lone Flesh-Sanctification plague mage and took a three-star spell to the chest in exchange for stabbing two daggers into her torso.
The mage was quick to react and attempted to teleport, but Sorin was ready and used a combination of Cobra’s Glare and Python Coil to immobilize her. He then stabbed the enemy a second time in the heart and liver, weak points in any human. She struggled for a few seconds before finally succumbing to the lethal concoction.
A Flesh-Sanctification plague mage is probably my limit, thought Sorin, pulling away from his dead target and letting Haley deal with the third opponent. A mage’s constitution is weak, and I’m highly resistant to poisonous spells. Even so, that was close. Her spell took out a chunk of my armor and great deal of flesh. Fortunately, I have my armor’s life-siphoning ability. Otherwise, it might take me days to recover from such injuries.
“We need to keep moving,” said Gareth, taking out his bow and snipping someone on a rooftop. He did the same to four other targets before using his aura of command to urge them down a constricted alleyway.
“This is the opposite direction we’re supposed to be heading in,” said Natasha, appearing beside them. “I’m really starting to question your judgment.”
“Be quiet, girl, and focus on the shadows!” said Elder Calvin, flying in front of them and tossing a pouch of poison. Three cultivators screamed as the poison invaded their hiding places and melted the skin off their bones.
The elder was clearly no stranger to battle. He calmly collected their storage pouches but tossed their bones to Sorin. “Bones at the Bone-Forging level or higher are excellent alchemical reagents. Don’t let any moral hang-ups stop you from collecting them when their owners so willingly give up their lives for foolish causes.”
The group continued fleeing, and soon, they arrived at a square filled with a dozen cultivators in strange robes. Sorin immediately felt something shift as he passed the boundary of the square. The chemicals and blood staining him were stripped away, and it was the same for his companions.
Unfortunately, that same force seemed antithetical to the corruption in his blood. If they didn’t leave this place, and soon, it would start to impact his vitality stores.
“Many thanks for your assistance,” said Elder Calvin, clasping his hands and bowing to their leader, a silver-haired woman.
“I’m not sure what you’re talking about,” said the woman. “Our Order of Phantasia is simply here to conduct a ritual assisting Administrator Pollen and the Oracle of Delphi. Astley, do you know these people?”
A slightly built robed figure lowered her cowl and grinned at Sorin and company. “Sorin, what a coincidence,” said Astley. “You seem to be in dire straits. Master, is it diplomatically permitted for me to help a friend and colleague in a difficult situation?”
“We have specific clauses dealing exactly with such situations,” said the silver-haired woman with a smile. “Do be careful, however. I sense a dangerous presence in the void spinning a web beyond my comprehension. Also, you should get going. One of your members seems to be adversely affected by this formation.”
Sorin let out a sigh of relief as their group, Astley included, left the square. Once again, they were headed in the opposite direction of the ancestral manor. “All right, I understood purifying tracking influences, but this is just too much,” said Natasha to Gareth.
“I have a plan,” said Gareth. “And I’ve taken us this far. It would be foolish to abandon this course of action and start hacking our way back toward the Ancestral Manor.
“I have confidence in you, Gareth,” said Elder Calvin. “Ignore Natasha and continue leading the way. Right now, we have the advantage of stealth and our destination being unknown. Let’s get ahead while we still can.”
81
SACRIFICE
Streets blurred past Sorin as their group traveled increasingly far away from their destination. The streets were empty as always, though eventually they reached a point where crowds became more plentiful, and the streets became as busy as they had originally been.
Only ten peaceful minutes passed before their enemies closed in on their location. A terrifying pressure came weighing down on them from above. An orb of poison descended as the pressure caused mortals and cultivators alike to scatter away from the point of impact.
Fortunately, Elder Calvin was with them; the elder caught the orb of poison in his hand and smothered it like one would a glowing ember. “Have you no shame?” said the elder, casting a spell with a single hand and shooting a poison orb back toward its point of origin. Something intangible melted away to reveal a group of black-cloaked cultivators that were far more frightening than all those they’d encountered previously.
“We’ll hold off Elder Calvin while you take care of the primary target,” said one of the cloaked cultivators in a melodious voice. “Enhanced Rain of Tears.” She pointed upward and manifested a spell circle measuring hundreds of meters in diameter. Elder Calvin immediately flew up to disperse the spell circle, but the mage’s companion summoned twelve glass-like fragments that cut off Elder Calvin and put him on the defensive.
“The target’s fast,” warned Haley. “At least 50 percent sanctified.”
“I’m not blind,” snapped Natasha. “Our only hope is to last long enough for Elder Calvin to break through.”
Sorin barely had a chance to blink before Haley, the one positioned closest to Sorin, intercepted a glowing, hot sword before it could pierce him through the chest. The impact sent her flying, and the cultivator, keen on eliminating Sorin as quickly as possible, ignored her in favor of continuing his assault.
Sorin tried to retreat, but the opponent was too quick. He’d just turned to receive the mysterious cultivator, only for the cultivator to appear at his back.
Fortunately, Natasha appeared to intercept him. Like Haley, the impact knocked her back. Her efforts bought Sorin just enough time to bring up his gloved hands to intercept the white-hot sword, though to his horror, the sword pierced through his gloved hands and stabbed where his mana sea normally would have been.
The lack of response on Sorin’s part confused the attacker momentarily, but it wasn’t long before he continued his assault. He pulled his sword back, cleanly severing Sorin’s fingers, then made to attack his neck.
“Reee!” Lorimer attacked the man’s arm before he could lop off Sorin’s head, forcing him to fling the rat into a concrete wall before proceeding. But by then, Gareth had already fired off his first arrow, stunning the swordsman. Stephan, having finally made it beside Sorin, adopted his Arctic Rune Bear form and attacked the cultivator with chilling cold, slowly him just long enough for Sorin to retreat beside Elder Nigel.
“A sword cultivator,” said the hooded attacker. “How entertaining. You lot normally hold an advantage in single combat, but this doesn’t hold true against light-based cultivators.” He flicked his sword, forcing Elder Nigel to defend, but a second later, a hole opened in the elder’s chest. They continued exchanging attacks until, finally, the white-hot sword seemed to miss. Elder Nigel staggered, and his head fell clean off his body a full second later.
Blood sprayed across the fingerless Sorin. Fear gripped his heart. He felt the urge to reach for the corruption in his body, but questioned whether it would be enough in the face of such a gap in power.
The attacker once again moved in for the kill, and Sorin closed his eyes and accepted his fate. “Watch it; you’re going to hurt someone swinging that thing around like that,” said a familiar voice just as the sword was coming down.
“It’s you! The underwear thief!” shouted the cultivator, pulling his sword out of Sorin’s shoulder and pointing it to the speaker. “How dare a puny Bone-Forging cultivator like you appear here after what you did?” He swung his sword at Lawrence, who was covered in a midnight-colored cloak, but only managed to sever a lock of hair as the man merged with the shadows and pulled back ten steps.
“If you keep up like that, don’t be surprised if your niece’s underwear finds its way into a secret admirer’s hands,” taunted Lawrence, avoiding yet another strike. “Is that blood coming out of your nose? You should really get your health checked. Wait, didn’t I find a medical report in your manor? Are you the one with erectile dysfunction? Aya, don’t worry—I’ll visit your wife when you’re out for business so that she doesn’t get too lonely.”
“Enough!” snapped the cultivator. A holy aura billowed out from him and struck Lawrence backward and into a building. The cultivator finally seemed to come back to his senses and remember that there was an entire realm of difference between him and his opponent. “Luckily for you, you’re not my main target. You’ll get to live a few seconds more.”
He appeared in front of Sorin once again, and this time, everyone was too heavily wounded to interfere. “Your journey ends here, little God Seed,” said the attacker, pulling his sword back. “If you want to blame someone, blame your worthless clan for stirring up so much trouble.”
The sword came down, but to Sorin’s surprise, it wasn’t cold metal that he felt, but hot blood instead. Elder Calvin appeared in front of him, a sword lodged deep into his shoulder and running halfway through his chest.
“Im… possible…” gasped the attacker. “How can you have killed them already? It would take someone on the level of a presiding elder to accomplish this…”
“One… doesn’t… need to be a presiding elder to have the strength and authority of a presiding elder,” gasped Elder Calvin. “Now die, wretched dog of the White Tower Group.” His opponent melted into a puddle just like those he’d slain earlier had. Just like before, he grabbed the cultivator’s pouch and tossed the bones to Sorin.
“Resources… are so hard to come by for us apothecaries,” said Elder Calvin between heavy breaths. “What’s worse, our research burns through gold like no one’s business. You must be frugal, Sorin. You must pinch every penny. Only then will you be able to walk far on your path and become an unrivaled master of ten thousand poisons.”
Sorin caught the elder’s wounded body as he fell and quickly analyzed his condition. It wasn’t good, and the sword lodged inside his body wasn’t making things any better. Knowing that he’d be dead if left in his current position, Sorin pulled out the sword. Blood gushed out of the elder, but Sorin cauterized the wound before pulling out a vial and dumping its contents onto his vital organs.
“You shouldn’t waste such precious treasure on me,” mumbled Elder Calvin. “Didn’t you just hear me rant about pinching pennies?”
“Elder Nigel is dead,” whispered Sorin. “And you aren’t far off. Tell me, Elder Calvin—was it worth it?”
Elder Calvin coughed up a mouthful of blood. “This is what it means to be part of a clan, Sorin. You give and you take. Sacrifice is often required for the good of the whole. It’s how I’ve always lived my life, and to date, I have no regrets.” He hacked up several mouthfuls of blood before continuing. “I’ve reached my limit. Just leave me here, Sorin. Your odds of escaping will increase dramatically.” His eyes rolled back as the loss of blood finally took its toll.
Natasha limped over to Nigel’s headless body and placed it in her storage ring. “We need to leave,” she said to Sorin.
“Do you have any more bright observations?” said Haley, groaning as she lifted a large piece of concrete from her broken leg. “Gareth, I’m afraid we’re not going to be much use going forward. Tussling with a Middle Flesh-Sanctification cultivator was our limit.”
“We’re not far now,” said Gareth. “Sorin, let go of Elder Calvin.”
“I’m not leaving him,” said Sorin.
“I didn’t say we should leave him,” said Gareth, rolling his eyes. “But you don’t have any fingers, and holding him is difficult. Pass him to Stephan. He’s still got some fight in him.”
“A few broken ribs won’t stop me,” confirmed Stephan as he limped over and carefully took the elder from Sorin’s fingerless hands.
“This way,” said Gareth, leading them down the main street, where a throng of people could be seen watching from an invisible boundary. The crowd parted to reveal a carriage, which pulled up just in front of their group and opened its doors wide. “Everyone hop in.”
Sorin and company entered a surprisingly large space. Inside it, they saw Daphne muttering words into a jade slip and a driver on an elevated seat directing the carriage’s demonic horses. The carriage took off once they cleared the door, and their surroundings blurred.
“Any luck?” the driver asked Daphne.
“None,” said Daphne. “Maybe Sorin will have a better idea. What are the spatial coordinates to your manor’s private garage?”
“Our what?” asked Sorin.
“Dead gods, you really don’t know anything, do you?” said Daphne. “At least tell me you’ve got a direct line to your spatial logistics officer. I believe that it’s Elder Adrian in Delphi?”
“I might be able to reach him,” said Sorin, willing his communication jade out of his Hero Medal. Sorin pressed his bloody palm against the communication jade and issued a two-way communication request to Elder Adrian, who was naturally on his contact list.
A small projection appeared above the jade ten seconds later. “Sorin, is that you?”
“It’s me,” confirmed Sorin. “Daphne Phillips’s carriage driver is asking for our private garage’s spatial coordinates. Can you get them to us?”
Elder Adrian muttered something about procedures and the right way to do things. “Is this the only way for you to get back?”
“Elder Calvin is gravely wounded and on the verge of death. Elder Nigel is dead, and Elder Natasha and Haley York are badly wounded. You tell me.”
The carriage rocked suddenly, and the carriage driver turned around. “We’re under enemy fire, and this thing is made for luxury and stealth, not defending against Flesh-Sanctification cultivators.”
