The storehouse burned, smoke curling into itself as it soared skyward. Teams of Hammer warriors fanned out from their improvised campsite in an attempt to catch the perpetrators, only to find them gone. Day broke over the horizon, washing the Chappie Kingdom Advance Force in light and warmth, a reward for their close triumph. Invisibility wore off and Ghostform disappeared in a puff of wispy gray dust clouds.

By now the legs and stamina of the group were worn, flagging from their impromptu marathon after a swift and decisive battle at the frontlines. Only their primary goal of destroying the provisions could be completed, and at significant cost. Now standing in the Endless Plains did they take a chance to catch their breath. Perience sat down in the grass and called everyone together between the huffing and puffing.

“Okay, so… is everyone… here? Please signal. Too tired to call roll.”

“Me. Emis. Present. Anyone need stamina potions?”

“Martin here. Pass it over, would you?”

“Yeah, here you go. Tough battle, huh?”

“Tell me about it. I wouldn’t mind a mana potion too, if you have one. Still feel like I’m in the thick of it…”

His mind wandered to where he had been standing only a short while before. Arrows dug into the ground behind him as they passed harmlessly through his ghostly body, his sudden arrival disturbing the warmongers who thought their enemy cornered. The first ranks of foes charged him, trying to interrupt his casting. But it was all for naught, Ghostform saving him a pointy tip through the stomach.

Metallic blades, axes in spades,

through his body their lethality fades,

Staff pointing ahead,

Inspiring dread,

In darkest hour came Martin’s aid.

“[Burst Shot]!”

A mana explosion exploded from the tip of his cane, turning into a sudden slew of sharp darts that pierced through skulls and hearts, immediately downing the clump of opponents closest to him. The next row of combatants met their end from Emis’s support, glass splintering and throwing shards and unknown liquids everywhere. It ate through flesh slowly, searing skin and making way for the momentary detonation of what passed as hand grenades for alchemists.

The dark forest, formerly illuminated by only torchlight or the odd enchanted weapon, lit up the world with orange and red of agitated ignition, painting a black and grey canvas with splashes of angry hues, with arcs of bloody crimson and discarded limbs for contrast. In the face of such gory, grim endings, the others faltered in their charge, hesitant to join their fallen friends in such brutal splendor.

But a second of calm... that was all Martin needed.

“[Endless Rainfall].”

With these words he let his control slip, his mind embodying the way of the Magic Missile. The battle site was covered in translucent low-flying clouds of blue and purple, loosing a monsoon of magical flechettes upon the aggressors. They fell in droves, obscuring the moonlight in murderous fury. Such was how many more lives were claimed. Only those with shields could hold off the brunt of the attack, while the rest had nothing but their bodies.

Oh, how the bodies dropped. Death from above in silent chorus. The lull in fighting gave his allies the chance to regroup, cut their losses, and flee, but not before the leader of the Crown Infiltrators knocked away a tribesman to drop a strange satchel down the trapdoor of the storeroom. Their retreat was followed by a massive explosion that rocked the ground, even as they distanced themselves from ground zero.

In the chaos they made their escape, outpacing even the elites trying to put out the fire by any means possible. So they got away, the main objective complete, despite the casualties from the Crown Infiltrators and the Golden Arrow. Perience shook his head, watching Martin dwell on his recent overpowering victory, a worthy show of his strength.

“Yeah yeah, enough reminiscing. Take a bit to cool down and regenerate your mana. Never understood why you mages can’t refill in battle.”

“Because you never bothered to learn anything about magic. It was all skills and swordsmanship. Remember, anyone in the business of manipulating mana must meditate or rest to regain mana at any significant rate. It’s why mages aren’t dominating everywhere.”

“That’s because mastering the art of the blade is just way more fulfilling than waving a stick around and making your enemies go boom.”

“Really. Like what? Give me an example.”

“Well, several hours ago…”

Picture this: a shortsword deflected by a dagger, a pair of fangs parried by a noble warrior’s bladed extension. Instead of using her agility to dance beyond his reach, as most scouts do, she went straight for the throat, charging in and relying on reflexes and dexterity to lean out of the way of a thrust or let an incoming slash slide off her knives. When her hands were occupied keeping Perience at bay, she’d try to break his guard with an elbow shove or a knee/kick.

“[Multi-Strike]!”

He had to back up to avoid three simultaneous stabs, narrowly avoiding a hit to the head and stomach but getting clipped in the leg. It was clear he did not adequately prepare for an opponent greatly superior in speed. He had to concentrate on defense to ensure he did not sustain a fatal wound, leaving no room to retaliate, and the woman knew it.

“You were so confident earlier, yet you appear so helpless now. I warned you for a reason.”

“This isn’t all I’ve got, you know. [Focus]!”

And his guard became unbreakable. His eyes sharpened and breathing steadied, every swipe, every attempt to perforate his flesh was challenged by a counter or the flat end of his shortsword, tossing sparks into the air. The ferocity with which unstoppable footwork met unyielding focus cleared the snow around them as they clashed. With room to breathe, Perience scared her away with careful swings and tactical skill usage.

“[Swift Strike]!”

Only excessive caution and speed saved her from being cleaved in twain. Thus, she backed off, giving both parties a chance to breathe. Had it been seconds? Minutes? Perhaps even an hour? They did not know how much time had slipped by, two fighters entangled in close quarters mayhem. With his new advantage, Perience could not help but gloat a little.

“What was that about helplessness? Would you like to repeat that again?”

“Mmmm. I didn’t expect such meaningful resistance. Then, let me show you MY serious form. [Accelerate]!”

Another couple swings were deflected easily, pushing the lady back again.

“Was that supposed to do something?”

Soon though, his relieved grin began to slip, as he realized the implication of the skill name and its increasingly clear effects. It was obvious, evident in the wind storm she was whipping up circling him. It was an assault on all sides, spinning around him and going in for the kill when it was opportune. The pressure mounted, and even Focused the man gave up hoping she would tire out. He would have to end it, lest she end him.

“Impressive. A skill that keeps getting stronger? Does it even have a maximum?”

“Not that I know of, fool. Not that it matters, since your hubris shall soon be the death of you. Take your knowledge of me to your grave, noble warrior.”

“Maybe you’re right. Perhaps you really got me.”

The circle closed in on him, the woman drawing closer to him even as her speed kept increasing. Quickly he approached his limit, pushing his intuition and battle sense to his peak. Never before had he fought an opponent so simultaneously difficult and dead set on killing him. It was terrifying, yet exhilarating, to test his mettle against someone of similar power. A shame it had to end so soon.

“Goodbye, righteous buffoon. Unfortunate we had to meet on the battlefield as foes instead of friends. Please forgive me for what I must do.”

Perience did not falter, or shut his eyes, gripping his sword tight.

“I should be asking that— sorry.”

She paused for a split second, confused as his unshakable faith in his own survival, even in the face of what was clearly certain death. How could he be so calm in his final moments? Deluded? Lost in the thrill of the fight? These thoughts she put from her mind; he was at death’s door. All that was left to do was finish him off. So she arched her body, leaning forward as she adjusted her trajectory. Then, with a further burst of speed…

“[Final Finisher]!”

She came at him faster than a ranger’s arrow, dagger aimed right at his chest. It was her victory— until she saw the flash of steel. Incredibly, she was able to duck just in time to avoid the blade, thrown horizontally and nearly taking off her head, spinning past her and embedding itself into a tree. Her relief was overpowering, gleeful at dodging the man’s last ditch effort. Until, of course:

“[Charrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrged Strike]!”

And she was totally and completely caught off guard, absolutely SOCKED in the stomach with the heaviest punch Perience could muster, knocking her back and causing her to lose her footing and grip on her weapons. Falling to the snowy ground, she could barely muster the strength to push herself off the ground, reeling from the blow. Her blurry vision scarcely registered Perience until he was already in front of her, sword poised to end her life.

“A fine enemy. A terrific battle. May I know your name, to remember for the rest of my life?”

“...G-Gil. Gil, the sprintmaster.”

But before he could cleave her in half, a great boom resounded in the distance, followed by bright orange flames. Remembering his duty, Perience turned away, running towards the explosion.

“I suppose I’ll spare you this time, but I assure you we shall meet again.”

They would, but that is a story for another time.

Perience cut his little daydream short to continue counting heads and taking roll.

“I can see the Crown’s men and women here with us, albeit a lot less than I remember.”

“Yes. Unfortunately, our number is much depleted after the scuffle we had earlier. We were never intended for direct combat anyway. Perhaps it was arrogant of me to assume it would only be a stealth operation.”

“How about the Golden Arrow? Miss Raly?”

“Here and partially present. We’ve lost some of ours as well. I didn’t know it would be so difficult… I should’ve been more careful. More would have lived if I had just been a little faster.”

The leader of the Crown Infiltrators placed a hand on her shoulder, empathizing with her. He gestured to the loyal men and women under his command, resting for the moment yet still noticeably alert to their surroundings.

“Don’t beat yourself up over it, miss. Things like this happen. No plan is ever perfect. If it was, all my fellow assassins would still be here. What matters is you learn enough to prevent this next time. Remember, your team needs you to lead them. Don’t let them down.”

It helped. A little bit. She was still very clearly upset, even being a reasonably old adventuring team which had likely had multiple fatalities over its storied history. Despite her experience, the deaths still weighed on her conscience.

Perience swiveled, looking around in every direction.

“Has anyone seen Pion?”

“Yeah, I see her. Little speck in the distance, roughly that way.”

Emis pointed into the distance, indicating what seemed to be a human shaped dot at the edge of the treeline far away at the edge of the horizon, rapidly approaching. If you squinted, you could make out her average, boring fashion sense. Plainclothes and shoulder length brown hair, with that familiar featureless “mask” she always wore.

“Ah, you’re right. There she is. What took her so long?”

Perience posed a good question. To answer that, one must look back to what she was doing hours earlier, in front of the monolithic chunk of the ruined portal. After the ignoble defeat that Hieft had suffered despite the skill difference, Pion was free to reach out a hand and interface with the machine, still somehow functional. Tendrils of nanomachines divested themselves from her body, entering crevices between the metal plates and connecting to its database.

She didn’t have access to the password or whatever, and instead had to guess the code from a mix of guesswork and filling in phrases she heard the researchers say, since she had catalogued all their actions and dialogue her sensors picked up from being their test subject for many hours.

>>z{3K.ukcEgqMN;B/

[Incorrect Password.]

>>Q6D}6&[email protected]

[Incorrect Password.]

>>IHateAustralia

[Incorrect Password.]

>>ThatsWhatSheSaid

[Incorrect Password.]

>>password1234

[Password accepted.]

Terrible password security strikes again! Very convenient for her, but most definitely a breach of protocol, on the part of the engineers responsible for working on this device. Running through all the available data indicated a tenuous, but solidly thin connection between this section and the other pieces of the portal. Since each section was constructed separately and connected together at conception to create the portal field, when the whole contraption was destabilized and sucked through the resulting anomaly, each individual piece was likely spat out in random areas.

The dimension warp project, borne from the efforts of those working towards teleportation, was a unique one of a kind project. There had never been anything like it, so futuristic and sci-fi in its creation. So it was only natural that the first test run would fuck up so incredibly badly. Thankfully the directors of the project, deciding that running tons of cables between each piece was too inefficient, had them transfer information and such between a secret wifi frequency. Likewise, the construction quality of the portal segments was intentionally very strong and reinforced as a safety measure, saving them from shattering upon impact with the ground after their impromptu transfer.

With this knowledge, it could be seen that pieces lay in all directions, notably one much closer within the Chappie Kingdom’s domain than all the others. In total, four more remained to be located before the device could be reassembled, optimized with the strange mana particles of this world in mind, and she would finally be able to return home.

Convincing the nanomachines left over in the portal segment to follow her command was trivial after obtaining full access to the whole machine. As the “official” administrator, her orders took priority over that of a temporary admin such as Hieft. Following up, she arranged for the arrival of many, many drones, to transport the colossal portal piece back to home base, within the dungeon turned outpost.

Next she would have to tackle a clear issue: Hieft’s exoskeleton. It was clear that normal denizens of this world could, upon finding the pieces of the device, could use the advanced technology of Earth for their own purposes. The dissemination of highly advanced tech among a medieval setting could revolutionize warfare. Army generals learning how to wield nanomachines effectively could upend the world. To Pion, that was her antithesis. Unacceptable.

Clearly then, it was vitally important to eliminate anyone who inadvertently got their dirty mitts on this tech. Recovery of the nanomachines, the loose element of the portal segments, took top priority. In most circumstances, they were able to fend for themselves. With a proper power source they could replicate infinitely, even constructing more power generators to sustain the cycle. Such was the nature of this Von Neumann probe.

Thankfully the nanos were not exactly user friendly, and would not inform the user of their capability. Hopefully they would not replicate out of control unprompted by their users. It would be a pain to track down all the nano users, though. Only by scouring the land with more advanced drones, designed to search for sources of electrical activity, would she be able to ensure that no one had unauthorized access to nanomachines.

And then it arrived. With no warning, a small data packet was instantly dumped into her processors to translate to English.

New passive skill: [Basic Sword Fighting] unlocked!

Immediately she could feel her knowledge expand, granting her intimate information on how to best wield a blade to subvert and crush her opponents. Low level practices on how best to parry an enemy or stay just out of range of a foe’s sword were incorporated into her ‘mind’. In the absence of instruction, or a harddrive containing sword fighting techniques, bits of info on how to fight properly would be invaluable, as shown by how she was tossed around by Hieft like a doll.

Next time she met him? She would be sure to finish the job.