Time Since Reckless Self-Endangerment: 4 Days 0 Hours

Goal: Kill 'Baby Boots'

Nic tunneled up from beneath. He emerged into a wasteland of corpses littering the ground beneath the peach tree, which was beginning to regrow again, continuing its endless cycle of a single fruit growing a single tree again and again. The too-sweet scent wafted through his mind, calling him to fight.

This was the exact wrong place to make his stand. As soon as the tree matured more creatures would be drawn by the fragrance and his battle with the Guardian would become a hectic melee.

That had been beneficial against the River-Drinker, where he held the power advantage and the fragile, quick spirit had to constantly maneuver to stay ahead of him.

Against the Guardian?

Nic suspected he’d be in the River-Drinker’s position - dead at the first slip up.

If he was really in trouble…

Nic didn’t know. There were no back-up plans on this one. No clever strategies. He’d been hoping to push forward and unseal the three sources of the fountain before it came to this point.

Pulling his hatchet free of the walls, Nic retreated along the sands. In the distance a crooked tower stuck out of the sand, leaning diagonally out of a dune. He’d fight there. The crimson of the sunset was slowly fading into darkness, turning a deep, blackened color like dried blood.

Nic scrambled up the sides using adhesive aura on his feet. That was why he’d chosen the tower. The crooked footing would give anyone without his power to stick and cling an awkward, stumbling disadvantage. Slipping the final spore-lob canister off his belt, he stuck it to the ground in an adhesive coating and covered it in sand to create a hidden mine.

All around him, the wind picked up little handfuls of dust and unfurled them into red ribbons. The sun sank lower and lower. It was already invisible beneath the high walls of the valley, and the shadows were growing so deep they seemed like scars on the earth, chasms into which the last light was falling and vanishing. Tumbleweeds rolled and desert birds sung strange, sad songs, echoing back and forth between the hollow mouths of the tombs carved into the valley walls.

Nic felt an itching sensation of being watched.

But the sun wasn’t gone - and the Guardian wasn’t here yet.

He palmed the ring that had started all this. Before, it had burned in his hand with a fiery, pleasant heat that reminded him of sand filled with the heat the day’s sun. Now it was lukewarm. The golden band had turned halfway into to silver.

Ring of Night-Into-Day. F-Class (Peak) // Treasured Artifact. Given as a gift from a princely sun god to his champion, this ring turned from boon to curse when the god demanded his champion’s daughter as a human sacrifice. During the night, you gain increased stealth and can evade detection skills below E-Class, but you take increased damage from all physical sources. Beware, for the ring cannot be removed, and by day it has another form...

From the moment you touch this holy object you will be hunted by the Guardian of the Valley. For each additional treasure you steal, the Guardian will grow stronger. Only in the waters of the Temple fountain may you be released from this curse.

By day, strength at the cost of burning through his energy. During the night, vulnerability as the price for stealth. It was a powerful artifact with immense drawbacks…

Nic sighed and put it away. Right now, he wasn’t sure if it was worth committing to such a two-edged sword. He didn’t even know how his enemy fought.

His best bet was already in his hand. The hatchet. Its venom would restrain aura and cripple an enemy combatant, allowing him to escape. It didn’t matter if his enemy was able to come back from the dead - so long as he kept their cultivation sealed they’d be too crippled to threaten him.

There were three sources of that poison. The hatchet itself, with its poisonous bite. The spirit of Centurion waiting within to attack and bind his enemies. And Nic’s own poison breath, empowered by the centipede on his shoulder.

For the sake of being sure, he meant to land at least two before making his retreat.

He’d managed to save Steadfast and Regent for this moment. His powers were at their highest point, aside from having to expend the Wintertusk Bracer.

If there was any being ready for this…

Nic was ready.

But moment after moment, the Guardian refused to appear. The valley basin was pitch black.

Nic’s entire body itched, waiting…

Waiting…

A single vibrating disturbance flashed across his danger sense. A split second later it was a screaming, all-consuming sense of coming death. By then it would have been too late-

A steel-white flash descended down towards his back, as the Guardian appeared from behind him and brought its scythe hurtling down.

Nic barely rolled aside in time. The scythe bit through the stone he was standing on like butter, and he came up onto his feet in time to evade the next swipe as the scythe screamed through the space between them in a wide, glittering arc. Every strike and swipe made a long sharp note as it cut the air in two.

The creature was hunched and ugly. Its long limbs were curled and its back was bent, almost hunched. Despite that it was huge, with enormous raven-black wings expanding from its back. Its skin was the color of dust and its bones showed through beneath.

Its head was the head of an Ibis, a bird like a heron with a long neck covered by dark feathers and a razor sharp spearpoint beak.

It opened that beak and crowed a long, cawing note that struck fear into Nic’s soul as he scrambled to escape. Every blow was coming so close to tearing him apart that he could feel the wind whistling around the blade as it sliced past his skin. He was caught in that wind, dancing like a leaf in the storm, unable to find his footing within the flurry of scythe-cuts. Cold sweat ran down his face.

The beast’s long limbs added to the reach of the long-handled scythe, and Nic was nowhere within the range of his stubby limbs and small weapons. The relentless pace of side-stepping, ducking, sliding beneath and between the blade’s cuts was preventing him from even using Archive Recall - the slight hesitation from the information entering his mind could be fatal.

But the creature was stepping closer and closer to his concealed spore-mine. It advanced slowly, driving him back and prolonging the fight. It was clearly trying to exhaust him, but there was nothing Nic could do to escape. A single missed step and the scythe-blade clipped against his shield to leave a deep gouge that nearly broke through to his arm, shards of tortoiseshell sent flying into the air…

Three steps and the scythe-blade had struck twelve times, moving with the swift, back-and-forth regularity of clockwork. One more step…

And Nic detonated the hidden spore-lob. A burst of fury sprayed toxic golden spore in all directions, and the Ibis-headed Guardian shrieked in alarm, losing its footing on the side of the crooked tower for a split second.

Nic didn’t hesitate. He flung the hatchet forward, sending the blade spinning through the air.

The scythe haft lifted up and blocked the axe in a spray of sparks, sending it flying away.

Nic was already in motion. He rushed forward in an arced path, avoiding the quick, clumsy blow as the Guardian tried to sweep him away. He rolled saliva in his mouth and spat a mix of sticky adhesive glob and Poison Mist, striking its foot as it tried to retreat and pinning it in place.

Slipping a hand around his tiger-claw, he leapt forward to strike dead for the long, vulnerable throat of his enemy.

The Guardian released its grip on the scythe with one hand.

And that long, skinny limb rocketed forward with unbelievable speed, blurring through the air until all Nic could see were five clawed fingertips lunging for his face like the closing jaws of a steel trap.

It caught him mid-air and slammed the back of his skull into the ground. The fingers gripped his face so he couldn’t open his jaw to spit out poisonous fumes.

His world was dizzy and the tiger-claw slipped from his hand.

It slammed him down again, and he felt the soft bones of his skull creak and his left eye begin to bend to a horrible pressure as it socket was crushed down. It lifted him up…

His hands grasped its arm. Holding on. The beak slid open and a horrible, croaking laugh spilled out. Its neck reared back like a punch winding up - and its beak shot towards Nic’s eye like a spear.

The centipede burst from Nic’s left arm and bit down against its hand. For a split second the fingers loosened, and Nic twisted. The beak bit through his eye and ripped down his face in a bloody, brutal gash that tore across the bone of his skull.

But it didn’t spear down into his brain and kill him.

So that was a plus.

Twisting further, blind and full of fury, Nic managed to open his mouth. He didn’t spit Poison Mist. Instead, his tongue shot forward as the Guardian’s head retreated past-

And the long, pink tether slammed into the beast’s eye. With a sickening rip he tore it out, and the Guardian’s hand slipped as it let out a croaking scream. Nic rolled across the ground in a dazed pile of limbs, but the Guardian was no better off.

It clutched its face, seemingly in shock.

Nic rose and spat Poison Mist in a long stream, fueling it with every inch of aura he could draw into his throat and release as toxic spew.

The enormous raven-black wings swung down. A huge, thunderous clap echoed as the Guardian shot into the air and a wave of wind dispersed the mist, and the beast escaped backwards up the tower. It perched on the very edge of the crooked structure, lifting its scythe again.

Nic dove for the hatchet as a hideous cry of anger echoed behind him, making his soul constrict with a surge of cold pain unlike anything he’d ever felt. Without his raised Spiritual and Mental proficiencies he’d have been stunned outright.

His danger sense warned him with a subtle, sudden pang. He twisted to the side, his fingers missing the hatchet by inches, as the Guardian materialized out of nowhere and swept its blade into the path.

Before he could even think to counter it stepped forward and vanished-

He slipped aside in a fraction of a second. It reappeared in the blind spot of his missing eye, and only his danger sense let him follow the blade as it swung for his throat.

The moment the strike missed the Guardian was gone like a shadow. It took a new position, a new angle, and the silver scythe swung again, and again, and again, and again-

Surrounding Nic with a storm of lightning-fast blows. His shield was ripped to pieces against his arm as he called to Steadfast, but the spirit was torn apart as soon as it manifested. A single brutal blow cleaved down through the boar’s skull and dispelled the echo.

But it bought him the space of a single swing.

Nic lunged for the hatchet and this time his hand closed around the haft.

The scythe descended. Nic was sent rolling back across the sand, screaming in pain as cold, soul-eating fire burned into his body from the shallow cut across his arm. The whole limb felt like ice. His eyes blurred, his body feeling like it was made of lead as he rolled onto his feet again. Ready to die.

“Nicolas! I’ll do what I can!” Sofia reached out and his Essence began to turn in his chest, banishing some of the icy, numb feeling. It was a completely foreign sensation.

Someone else was rotating his cultivation base, sending energy flowing through his veins.

But it had saved him. He stepped aside in time to avoid the follow-up as the Guardian advanced, sweeping down what it thought would be an easy killing blow. Instead Nic slipped to the side and summoned Regent.

The tiger shot forward in a burst of flame, spectral claws reaching for the Guardian’s throat. It was slowing, Nic realized. If the poison hadn’t already taken its toll, then that blow would have reached him long before Sofia could wake him up.

But it still moved fast enough to cut Regent in two. The tiger spirit dissolved into scraps of flame.

Centurion rushed forward to fill its place. The giant centipede was a wall of limbs, and before the Guardian could recover from the strike that had slain the tiger, Centurion had wrapped around it. Its long, powerful limbs were restrained by slithering armored coils as Centurian drove its poison mandibles into that skinny neck.

Nic didn’t wait to see who’d win. Already, the enormous raven wings were beginning to force Centurion to loosen its grip as they fought to burst free.

He turned and ran across the desert, half his face painted in blood. He dropped the Sandrider Blade to the ground and leapt aboard, using it as a platform as he propelled himself across the sand.

“Sofia!”

Her voice shook as she answered. “Yes Nic? This is- very tiring. I don’t know how long I can-”

The icy sensation was still growing. Still creeping out across his limbs from that single deadly cut.

“Don’t bother. Just… just find the curse inside me and wrap it in aura.”

“Nic, the moment I do that your soul will come under attack. And even if I do, I can’t push the curse out without crippling you, maybe killing you.”

“Then don’t. Just wrap it in aura so it can’t be used to track me.” Digging his good hand into the mystic bag, Nic pulled out the ring. It was ice-cold and glowed a bright silver color - like it was forged from a sliver of moonlight.

He slid it onto his finger and became a ghost. His flesh turned transparent and he felt like the wind was pushing through his body as he faded halfway from view.

Nic had fought. He’d claimed an eye and he’d weakened his opponent with poison. But winning the fight was beyond him right now, and the beast would revive even if he did.

It was time to hide and wait for the sun.