《Spilled Blood》Chapter Nineteen - Sword

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The spear moved in slow motion, its sharpened stone tip inching towards Ed’s throat.

With simple duck and weave, Ed swayed just enough to let the spear pass by harmlessly, punching through his long hair and extending past him.

Before the hobgoblin could pull the spear back, he had already stepped in front of the hobgoblin in question, close enough to see the hatred in its eyes as he dragged his dagger across its throat.

He fell behind the line of the Knights from the Vault to take a breath.

They were strong, these Knights. It seemed that whatever Blessing or Alexander had was perfectly synergistic with the regular class that The Vault had gotten.

Awakened Human - (No Titles) Class - Knight (Temporary Upgrade from Squire)

Body - D+

Mind - F

Spirit - D-

Traits: Hardened - Let the Body be forged in battle.

Skills: Armored - Utilizes Steel-manna to produce an armor.

Daos: Heart of Chivalry - Unbending steel-essence lies at the core of your being. (Temporary)

Ed turned his gaze towards Alexander, who stood at the center of the formation of knights. He had an ore of silver essence at the center of his heart and a golden ring of essence that wreathed his head like a crown or a halo.

He was a storm of essence and manna, sword and shield shining with the golden-manna. He watched as Alexander cleaved a ball of blood-manna in half, dispersing it with a long overhead slash. Impressive.

No System messages popped up for Alexander, but Ed was not surprised. He had discovered that the sea of different mannas hanging over the battle-field severely limited the capability of his True Sight. Even without the current amount of ambient-manna, a person holding enough essence and manna seemed to be able to block out his True Sight with some effort. He had even encountered some beasts who had been able to do so.

He could see enough, however, to know that the silver-manna making up the armor of the Knights wouldn’t hold forever.

A silvery ore of essence nestled in their hearts, was pumping a dwindling amount of silver-manna to their armor, repairing any damage. Ed guessed that they’d be able to maintain the armor another five or ten minutes. Then the main force holding back the horde of hob-goblins would be exhausted and defenseless.

Another ball of blood-manna flew towards a Knight near him, and Ed quickly stepped squarely into its path. The foreign blood-manna rampaged through his body, but he was able to handle blood-manna the best out of any human here.

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Eyes beginning to bleed, Ed spat out the blood manna into the face of a charging hob-goblin, across whose face a wide grin had been spreading as it saw the red haired human take a hit of his shaman’s attack.

The hobgoblin shrieked as the breath of blood-manna hit him in the face, and collapsed, bleeding from its eyes, ears, and nose as it writhed on the ground. A Knight stepped on its chest and finished it with a quick stab to the chest and fell back into the wall of shields.

Ed turned his gaze towards the hobgoblin shaman at the back of the horde. It was the most dangerous threat to the human alliance right now, but too far Ed to reach even with multiple shadow-steps, especially with a sea of foreign manna roiling over the battlefield.

“We can’t hold for much longer!” Alexander shouted, seemingly at no-one in particular.

No, not no-one. His grandfather.

Mikhail had remained on top of the building, guarded by two armored men.

Ed looked up to see another massive cloud of manna gathering around the old man and his staff. Mikhail looked like he had aged another ten years, leaning heavily on his staff with blood shot eyes.

“Over there!” screamed Ed, pointing at the hobgoblin shaman that he had been tracking. As limited as it may be, his True Sight still allowed him to see further and more accurately than any human being.

Mikhail didn’t respond verbally, but his eyes tracked Ed’s finger.

“De- Deployment.” Mikhail said, and promptly collapsed like a puppet whose strings had been cut. It seemed he'd be out of the fight for a while.

This time, only about ten of the Knights disappeared along with Alexander, appearing directly behind the goblin horde. They began cutting through the surprised goblins while Alexander charged straight for the hobgoblin shaman.

It would have to be enough.

The hobgoblins jumped at the sudden gap in the formation of Knights even as the armored Classers moved in to fill the space.

Mustafa and Juan had moved to support their own men in the larger goblin tribe, where the battle was still raging. Regular goblins could be terrifying when you were outnumbered 10 to 1, even for a Blessed much less for a regular Awakened, so it was a good thing that there were some Blesseds out there in the larger melee. He hoped Harundal and Noel were all right.

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Ed wanted to join the raw-throated roars of the Knights behind him as they held onto their shields with desperation, but instead took short-measured breaths as he dodged yet another spear. Control.

He wouldn’t let a single Knight die on his watch. They had already lost about a dozen men to the onslaught of the hobgoblins, which, while significantly reduced in number, posed a danger to the weakening armors of the Knights. Ed stepped into the shadows, re-orienting himself immediately as he popped up in the midst of a group of hobgoblins, red-dagger slashing through the air, again and again.

----

Scarlett was out of arrows. Her squad-leader, Hector, had drawn a long-sword while the rest of her squad drew their own weapons, some of the Hunters hastening a few throwing spears. The spear was extremely difficult to use in close combat, they had learned during their training exercises.

Besides, Ed had shown them just how useful a dagger could be. She’d be ok. She’d be fine.

Fuckfuckfuckfuck.

Her frantic thoughts were betrayed by her shaking hands, and she gripped her own dagger tighter.

“Let’s go.” Hector said, and charged out of the building. He had been a simple mechanic before the rift, but seemed utterly calm as he charged into a literal battlefield. What a fucking maniac.

She followed the group of Hunters and stepped through the door.

The sounds and smells of the battle hit her like a truck.

A few sounds of steel clanging on steel, but the most overwhelming were the screams of pain and rage, both human and goblin. The worst was the thick smell of blood.

She charged towards where Hector was, who had apparently beheaded a goblin with a swing of the longsword.

Almost immediately, a short goblin turned and screamed at her.

Adrenaline pumping, she stabbed it in the eye and almost dropped the dagger at the sensation of her dagger stabbing through the squishy flesh and knicking bone as it buried itself to its hilt in the skull of the goblin.

Her stomach heaved almost reflexively, but she held herself.

This was it. This was what she’d trained for. Forgetting whatever it was that Ed had said about conserving your breath, she screamed her head off as she charged towards Hector with the rest of her squad.

----

A hobgoblin’s head nearly exploded as Harundal’s fist smashed into it. The orc let out a guttural roar that was absolutely terrifying. The tattoo on his right forearm had stopped glowing red a while ago, but the orc himself seemed to be growing stronger every hobgoblin he felled.

Noel watched the world through a red-haze as she noted Juan. The reptilian Blessed was literally laughing as he smashed his hand through the chest of a hobgoblin next to Harundal. It seemed like they were getting along swell.

She saw the squadrons of Juan’s men, most heavily tattooed, also laughing with glee as they cleaved through swathes of the short goblins even as they bled from numerous wounds and bite-marks. Some of them weren’t even wearing shirts, proudly exposing the gang tattoos that splayed across their chests and backs.

All insane.

The battle was winding down.

The ominous balls of red manna had stopped flying around the battle-field, and most of the hobgoblins were dead.

All that was left was the groups of goblins, who were a lot less threatening than they had been a few months ago. For her, at least.

She swung her axe through the torso of a goblin from behind as it leapt past her, spittle flying as it dived viciously at a wolf-rider next to her.

Its body fell to the ground, top half relieved of everything from the waist down.

The bodies of the Turuk littered the ruins, and the moss-covered ground was slick with blood.

A pack of wolves exploded out from behind her, jumping into the fray as Mustafa stepped next to her. A few wolves, as tall as a horse, stood by them, smashing their paws down on the heads of the goblins who they towered over. A few of his men rode atop of the wolves, eyes glaring around as they defended their leader.

“It’s almost over.” He said.

She nodded.

‘Where’s Ed? He-”

Mustafa plunged his sword into her stomach, and red pain bloomed in her world.

She gazed into the face of the man who had just, what had he just-

His face was a blank-slate, just a cold mask of indifference.

As her vision faded around the edges, the last thing she heard was the furious roar of an orc.

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