Rise of the Living Forge

The ground bucked beneath Arwin as a huge pincer-like appendage slammed into the ground. Another scream ripped through the cave, echoing against the walls and rolling against his ears like crashing waves.

Two ivory eyestalks topped with molten red orbs swept over the room as the Adept 4 Armored Ripfish spun. It was covered with thick, red plates of pitted chitinous material and stood on ten legs, five on each side of its lobster-like body.

It had a laughably tiny mouth with two far less amusing claws. One was about ten feet wide, while the other was nearly twice that and definitely far too large for the monster’s body.

Unfortunately, nobody seemed to have told the Ripfish that. It swung both of its huge claws like wrecking balls, not even bothering trying to pinch anything with them.

The monster really didn’t live up much to the second half of its name. It did, however, smell strongly of the ocean and rotted seafood. The stench rolling from the monster was enough to count as an extra attack. It wormed into Arwin’s throat and stabbed at his brain like a physical blow.

Another crash shook the room as the Ripfish swung a claw at Elias and narrowly missed smashing the ground and sending fragments of rock flying everywhere. The bandaged man ran to the side, then hopped back as the Ripfish charged forward, thin legs driving into the ground and piercing into the stone where he’d been moments before.

“Shift aggression!” Olive yelled, running past Elias and bounding into the air, Maeve’s magic wrapping around her body and trailing through the air behind her like a shimmering white stream.

Arwin’s fingers twitched again, but he didn’t budge from his spot near the entrance of the room. This wasn’t his fight — and Olive’s team was doing fantastic so far.

The Ripfish was far stronger than any of them as one. If they had any major flaws in their teamwork, it would take advantage of the gap and strike immediately — but thus far, there hadn’t been anything crippling.

That wasn’t to say they were perfect. The longer Arwin watched the group fight, the more apparent their biggest issue became.

They were working together, but they didn’t trust each other. Olive was watching her own back instead of relying on the other two to protect her, and Elias was far more focused on protecting Maeve than Olive. Maeve had a similar issue.

It wasn’t like any of the three was intentionally abandoning the others, but they just hadn’t had enough time together to truly get to the point where they could rely on each other — and because of that, they were definitely holding back.

The fight had been going for nearly twenty seconds now. Olive still hadn’t used the full strength of her cursed arm. She was focused on swordwork, which was impressive, but far from her full abilities.

Maeve and Elias were definitely restraining themselves as well. Arwin didn’t know the full extent of what the two were capable of, but if they’d placed as high as they claimed in the previous Proving Grounds, unless their missing party member had heavily carried their party, they had a lot more to offer than what he saw here.

Elias’ hand crossbow twanged. An arrow shattered against the Ripfish’s armor, fragments of it spinning away into the rippling cave.

“We need more than that!” Olive yelled. “Hold its attention so I can get close!”

“On it,” Elias called back, darting forward to try and catch the Ripfish’s attention.

They weren’t losing ground to the Adept Tier monster — but they weren’t gaining it either.

They’re going to have to do more if they want to win. I should stay ready to interfere if the moment calls for it, though. Getting pushed out of your comfort zone is how you grow… but it’s also when things start to go wrong.

***

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The vagrant stumbled out of the way of another strike, and the knot forming in Hazel’s stomach grew thicker.

She’d cut the man half a dozen times, but never quite managed to land a fatal blow. There was something deeply wrong with him. He didn’t seem any stronger or faster than a normal human, but his battle-sense was on an entirely different level.

He dodged blows before Hazel could even make them, redirected her attacks the instant they made contact with his skin — and he never stopped coming. His advance was relentless.

Hazel was almost at the peak of the Journeyman Tier. A fight against a seemingly normal man like this should have been so easy it was laughable, but she was actually losing ground to him.

Sweat prickled against her back and soaked into her shirt. She lunged, black strands of energy gathering along the edge of her blade as she swept it down for the vagrant’s chest.

He twisted out of the way, letting the blow pass by him harmlessly, and lurched forward, a hand extending for her collar.

Hazel was so close to him that she barely managed to draw on a burst of strength and shift out of the way before he could grab her. She skipped a step back, fighting to control her breath.

I don’t get it. My mind is screaming at me to run, but he’s weaker than me. There’s no way he’s just playing a game. He’s been cut too many times. Nobody would put themselves through that. What’s going on?

The Joes managed to stagger back to their feet, using their clubs like crutches as they limped toward the vagrant, fury painted across their agonized features. They might have been stupid and slow, but the man was focused on her, not them.

A smug grin pulled across Hazel’s lips as the Joes lunged as one, reaching for the vagrant.

The man sprung forward, but not fast enough. A fist collided with his back. He grunted in pain and rolled across the ground, already starting to rise to his feet.

Hazel lunged forward and drove her foot down, slamming the man’s face into the bloodied dirt. She ground her heel against his cheek, baring her teeth in amusement.

He’s still just a normal man. A non-adventurer can never compete with someone that has access to the Mesh.

“You’re a squirmy fucker, you know that? Someone like you belongs in the dirt, not standing among people with talent. Keep that in mind for your next life. ” Hazel said, flipping her sword around in her hand so it was point down.

There was a blur, and Hazel’s mind had an instant to recognize that the vagrant had somehow thrust his entire body up, not even trying to move his head from beneath her foot as he contorted in what should have been an impossible way to kick her in the stomach.

The air drove from her lungs and she staggered back with a wheeze. The man rose to his feet, his fist snapping out and slamming into Hazel’s chin. It rocked her head back but did little more than make her stumble a step back.

“Tell me where the healer is,” the man said.

“Eat shit,” Hazel replied. “Joe, Joe — kill this idiot. It’s three on one.”

“Don’t play with him next time,” one of the Joes said angrily. He and his brother both lurched forward —

The man spun. He grabbed both Joes by the head and slammed them into each other with a loud crack. Even though he didn’t have nearly enough strength to kill them with that strike alone, he scooped the club from one of their hands before they could react.

Hazel lunged and thrust her sword for his back.

The vagrant didn’t even look at her. His foot snapped up and collided with her chin, knocking her from her course and sending her stumbling. By the time she turned back to him, a loud crunch rang out.

Three more followed in rapid succession.

One of the Joes crumpled to the ground, his skull caved in. The other screamed in rage and loss, only for the club to connect with his temple an instant later. Despite his best efforts to catch the vagrant, the ratty man dodged out of the way of several grabs and swung his club twice more.

The second Joe crumpled beside his brother.

Blood plipped against the wet ground. The Vagrant turned to Hazel. The dirt that had caked the bottom of her shoe was still on the side of his face. He wiped it from his cheek, then adjusted his grip on the club.

“The healer,” the vagrant said. “Where is he?”

“Eat—”

The vagrant lunged. Hazel whipped her sword up, thrusting it for his chest and leaving him no time to dodge.

But the vagrant didn’t try to dodge. He twisted his club, letting Hazel’s sword drive straight through it. As soon as it lodged, he thrust the weapon to the side and carried the blade away from his heart. He grabbed Hazel’s neck with his other hand, pulling her so close that their lips nearly touched.

Then an elbow slammed into Hazel’s skull. Weak or not, the blow was enough to send stars flying before her vision. He struck her again. She staggered, dropping to one knee. Her vision blurred and his face shifted, overlaying over itself.

Wait. Isn’t this…

“Kien?” Hazel rasped, horror wrapping around her neck like a noose. “Kien of the Twin Blades? A hero came to kill bandits?”

“The healer,” Kien repeated, jerking Hazel to her feet and slamming his forehead into her nose. It broke with a crunch, sending blood spilling across her face. “Where is he?”

“Mi-ben!” Hazel said-sobbed. “He’s in Mibben!”

“Milten?”

“Yes! Let me go, please! I’ll stop being a bandit, I swear!”

Kien stared at her.

A spark of hope lit in Hazel’s pained chest.

“I’ll change?” she swore, words garbled by her broken nose and the blood dripping down the back of her throat. Kien picked her sword up off the ground. Hazel hadn’t even realized she’d dropped it. He shifted his grip on the hilt. Hazel reached for it with trembling fingers. “Yur a hebo, righ?”

The sword thunked. Hazel’s gaze slowly lowered to her chest, where the blade ran straight through her heart.

“Not anymore.”

Death swallowed any last words Hazel might have said. She pitched forward, dead before she hit the ground.

Kien looked down at her, disgust playing over his gaunt features. Then he stepped over the corpse and continued down the road in the direction of Milten.