Time Since Reckless Self-Endangerment: 2 Days 9 Hours

Goal: Kill 'Baby Boots'

Nic counted a hundred or so soldiers, out in the desert.

As the army drew closer the elven amp mobilized huge artillery guns, cranking and groaning as they tilted their barrels up towards the sky. At the captain’s command a salvo of electric blue rounds traced parabolic arcs towards the enemy combatants.

Wherever they landed the artillery rounds erupted into rising columns of purple lightning. The sand was liquified and melted together by the heat and fury, leaving behind craters of molten glass.

The enemy army didn’t even flinch. However many died, more sand soldiers rose from the desert.

Until one lucky shot hit one of the priests leading the army. The mummified creature was blown apart and its crystal-green staff was torn to shreds. Instantly an entire flank of the army collapsed into nothing more than sand fluttering on the wind.

Nic watched with anticipation. The enemy was coming closer, and any moment now their own siege engines would begin to fire. Nic was nearby with a line of warriors bracing to meet the first wave of sand-soldiers. Somewhere in the desert, Commander Sula and her crew were creeping closer to the enemy’s back lines. Throughout all of it there was the music of a single flute, the musician perched high on a wall ringing the camp and playing a simple melody Nic had never heard before.

The air thrummed with excitement. Even Nic was caught up in it.

He licked his lips at the thought of earning Shards. Every one of the Priests was a fragile walking piggybank.

With a sudden clarion horn the entire sand-army paused, and the first ranks lowered their spears to prepare for a charge. The camp’s artillery fired one more time and tore holes in the enemy ranks, but more flowed forward to fill each gap. Arrows flew. They ripped into the sand-soldier lines, and again, more poured forth.

And then there was a horn. A roar. The enemy charged and the elven warriors rushed forward to meet them, so that in one moment the air went from silence to the clash of a countless blades. The elves were outnumbered three to one but the sand-soldiers were clumsy and slow.

Nic met one head-on as he rushed forward. A spear shot at Nic’s throat and he deflected with his shield, punching forward with his tiger claw. The blow tore the sand-soldier apart in a single instant.

Another advanced to close the gap and slashed at Nic, forcing him to retreat as the blow swiped against his shield. It pierced forward with a stab and Nic caught the speartip of swirling sand between his two claws, throwing it aside and stepping forward to slash away the soldier’s legs.

Two breaths. Two dead.

More erupted from the sand. The one that formed in front of Nic carried a shield and a punching dagger like his own weapons instead of the usual spear.

They were learning.

Nic caught a flash of the priest’s green staff in the crowded fight and summoned his boar without hesitation. As the animal echo crashed through the enemy lines Nic leapt aboard and rode for the priest, murder in his eyes, a wild shout on his lips.

He leapt from the boar’s back and struck out with his tiger-claw. The priest lifted their staff and countered, but as Nic dropped to the ground he spun and drove his shield into the fragile creature’s leg. It stumbled and Nic slashed open the tendons on the back of its legs, sending it toppling to the ground.

Nic grabbed hold of its mummified, paper-dry face and jabbed his tiger-claw into its throat. All around him sand-soldiers collapsed as the priest died.

A moment later and his boar faded as well.

Dust Magister. F-Class // Demi-Sapient. Born of ancient rites meant to preserve an immortal youth, this ancient priest’s lifeforce was bound to the land. When that land rotted and was consumed by fire, the priest too was warped, becoming a crude imitation of their former self. Puppeteering countless bodies of sand, they pose no threat on their own.

For a moment Nic and the warrior surrounding him were free. Their foes collapsed and the next wave was moments off. There was an island of calm in the sea of war.

Nic saw a young man stumble and fall, bleeding from his gut. Saw a woman with thistle-spike hair rush to save him with a glowing healing aura wrapped around her hand. A grizzled old warrior with a shield made of stone moved to guard them.

For a moment he could see the priest hidden in the next wave of soldiers, and prepared to rush them down.

And then the earth exploded a few feet away. A serpent made of spines and ribcages tore its way up, dozens of age-darkened bones knitted together to create a worm-like creature. Thousands of fingerbones made a javelin shaped head. With a roar its mouth unfurled like a flower and teeth shot down against the elven warriors in a brutal spray.

Nic ducked low as tooth after tooth stabbed into his tortoiseshell shield.

Others weren't so lucky. Screams and cries of pain filled the air as the shotgun blast of bones ripped apart undefended flesh. Before anyone could mount a counterattack, the serpent's tail whipped out. It seized the man with the stone shield and dragged him backwards in its grip like a living doll as it retreated.

The damage was minimal; few warriors had been disabled by the blast. What it had done was blunted their momentum and given the sand-soldiers a chance to close their ranks. Now they pressed in from all sides, and Nic dodged one spear-strike, parried a second with his claws-

And the third caught him across the back.

The swirling sand cut away at his skin and the muscle below like a chainsaw. There was a horrible tearing sensation and a huge chunk of his shoulder was torn to shreds. Without hesitation Nic reached for the power of the Wintertusk Bracer. With a huge roar he expanded in size, body filling with new strength. A swing of his shield backhanded a sand-soldier into dust. An advancing punch felled another.

With powerful motions Nic waded towards the priest, following the flash of the staff in the crowd. Being small had been a huge disadvantage: on even ground he could dominate the clumsy sand-soldiers and his hardened skin could absorb the occasional lucky blow to his back.

He stormed down on the priest and tore it apart between his claws. The creature's dessicated flesh was frail and his weapons were sharp.

But this time the sand-soldiers didn't fall apart.

Instead, something flashed green and shot through their ranks like a fish through water. A river of sand poured from their bodies and stretched through the air, and a mummified assassin swam within, moving with an aquatic grace.

Sand Adder Assassin. F-Class // Demi-Sapient. Hailing from an ancient order of priests tasked with silencing those who would steal the secrets and prestige of their temple, the Sand Adders manipulate the wasteland to move like shadows and escape without trace when their bloody work is done.

His blade flashed and Nic's shield lifted a second too slow. A hot line of pain and blood exploded across his face and one eye went horribly, suddenly dark with an agonizing burst of light. He stumbled and raised his shield on instinct to deflect a piercing strike aimed from his new blind spot towards his throat.

The assassin moved in the flowing sand like a kite on the wind. It struck again and again, darting forward to pressure Nic's newly blind left flank. It retreated just as quickly, escaping before Nic could make his counterattack.

And the sand-soldiers were closing in.

They slammed into him from all sides. No longer trying to strike him with their spears they simply tried to weigh him down and confuse him.

It worked. Dozens of cuts were opened across his body as the assassin weaved circles around him, that green blade flashing again and again. Blood dripped from his ruined eye and several of the feather-like pink 'antenna' extending from his gills were severed.

Suddenly a cold tremor ran through his entire body. He had reached his limit, and the Wintertusk Bracer was drawing on strength he no longer had to give. Frost vapor curled from his shoulders as he began to lose his magnified size. He had to end this. Now.

The green blade flashed towards his throat.

Acting on instinct, Nic dropped his tiger-claw and lifted his hand. His fingers were coated in adhesive aura. In the instant before the blade sank into his throat, Nic grabbed hold of the gleaming-sharp edge.

The impact drove the point further towards his throat and sent him skidding backwards through the sand. His grip barely held. The razor-sharp blade bit his fingers down the bone, but the Adhesive Touch held it fast even after muscle and tendon failed.

With a roar of pain and triumph Nic brought his shield-claw swinging around for a brutal haymaker. The sand surrounding the assassin was blasted away, and a frail, mummified body dressed in dark ceremonial rags dropped to the ground.

Before it could recover and take to the air again, Nic slammed his shield-covered fist into its head. Grabbing hold of its fragile skull Nic hauled the assassin into the air and sprayed poison across its face. The caustic mist began to eat away at the creature's long-dead flesh, and Nic slammed its head down against a rock. Like an ape trying to open a nut.

It shattered into fragments in his grip. The sand-soldiers fell apart on all sides as the green-crystal blade tumbled from the creature's grasp.

Sinking back to his normal size, Nic grasped the tiger-claw in one hand and cradled the green blade under his arm. "Take me home."

The tiger spirit appeared in a rush of phantom flames. With Nic aboard its back, it galloped towards the camp.

And behind them-

More sand-soldiers poured in to fill the gap.

---

After two hours the fighting was more or less done. The dozen or so Sand Magisters hidden in the sand-soldiers were dead, and the enemy lines were no longer endlessly replenishing. A small core of priests fought in formation to stall for time.

There was an ugly half hour where the siege engines reached the peak of the dune and began to rain down fire on the camp. Flaming barrels of tar shattered against the half-built ships. Giant ballista arrows flew towards the artillery guns. The pounding barrage wore away their defenses, and the sand-soldiers began to gain ground without the lightning guns to hold them back.

Then there was a flair of light on the horizon. One by one, the siege engines began to fall as vast trees and vines of ice expanded from the desert. The winter forest crawled over the ballista and crushed them. The trebuchets toppled as frigid flowers wrapped around their bases and constricted like snakes.

Sula had made good on her promise.

The smaller the enemy lines grew, the more effective arrows were. Without a full army to shield them the priests were being cut down with each volley.

As he watched the enemy collapse through his one good eye, Nic meditated and opened his cultivation map.

Essence 5,000 / 5,000

+ 10.31 per Minute

(2.062 Base)

500% Local Modifier

+ Devoured an F-Class enemy (200%)

+ Consumed a G-Class treasure (100%)

+ Rested in toxic environment (100%)

Sadly, most of his bonus multipliers had slowly turned off. He was a long way from his toxic stomping grounds and most of the enemies he'd fought had actually been G-Class Aberrations.

But ten points a minute was still a monstrous rate that had filled his energy to the brim. His cultivation core turned like a heavy lake within him. He slowly poured the thrashing power into the nodes associated with his Poison Mist, filling the next step almost all the way to full. By morning he'd be able to complete the next rank.

Poison Mist Shard (F)

Creates and controls poisonous mist from Aura. Excellent attacking Shard, capable of piercing many defenses and inflicting ongoing damage.

I Increase Toxicity (5,752/6,000)

Add Aura Efficiency (0/5,000)

Secondary Slot (0/50,000)

Poison Devouring (0/10,000)

Mist Armor (0/50,000)

Nic’s eye slowly regrew as he watched the battle rage. A sense of satisfaction filled his heart. He hadn’t won any new Shards today, but the blade in his hand was a true prize.

Sandrider Blade. F-Class // Spirit Tool. An external Shard shaped into a weapon, this blade was grown in sacred caves beneath the ziggurats of the Scales of Sand. Able to bend the wastes to its will, this sword grants the user the ability to shape sand by expending aura. After 100 kills of F-Class or higher, it can be upgraded to a higher form. (31/100).