Chapter 132 - Two Blades and a Tail XIII

“H-huh? Dad’s missing?” Sylvia tilted her head and blinked. “Is that supposed to be weird? He poofs all the time.”

Beckard shook his head. “Perhaps in his downtime, yes, but he’s never been one to miss an appointment. He was due to report two hours ago, but we haven’t been able to get in touch with him. Not since he left my office last night.”

“Tracking isn’t working on him either,” grunted Archibald.

“Alfred,” said Claire.

“My thoughts exactly,” agreed the priest.

“Oh no…” Sylvia’s face paled. “B-but wait, that can’t be right. Al’s not supposed to be able to hurt torches, so he should still be okay. I-I think.”

The vector mage magically grabbed ahold of the flustered fox, pulled her into her arms, and gently ran her fingers through her fur. “He didn’t kill me.”

“Y-yeah,” said Sylvia. “A-Al’s mean, but he’s not that mean.” Her voice trailed off, quieting into a whisper. “Or at least I don’t think he is.”

Beckard slowly shook his head. “Unfortunately, Zelos’ duties can’t exactly go undone.” He frowned and crossed his arms before looking up at the half-deer. “Claire, can I ask you to take his place?”

“No.”

Her response was immediate. Sylvia had already provided a quick explanation of Beckard’s plan the previous night. They were, in essence, organising a heist with the celestial’s ether supply as their target. They would take the legendary substance into their own bodies and use it as a steroid, one that would allow them to overwhelm the demigod and consign him to the cycle. The group had even crafted a special weapon for the occasion, a bow that could convert the purified essence into an all-consuming blast of arcane might. Following his death would come the unsealing of the realm; Llystletein would be returned to the world above and its residents could finally return from whence they came. Or at least that was what they hoped.

Claire was much less confident. From start to finish, the entire scheme reeked of nothing but wild assumptions. They presumed that the ether was legitimate, that its use would provide them with enough power to succeed, that their weapon was able to bring the demigod to his knees, and that he would refrain from killing them all in a final act of vengeance. There were too many points of failure. Everything would fall to shambles if even one of their expectations was defied.

“Please, Claire. We need another vanguard.”

“I’m a mage.” She formed a small piece of ice in the palm of her hand for emphasis, crushing it in her grasp soon after.

The huskar scoffed. “Then why do you have a spear?” His gaze was pointed towards the incriminating weapon strapped to her back. Its tip had been covered with a large rag, but its identity was far from obscured.

“It’s a staff,” said Claire, with a straight face.

“Wh-wha—” The half mechanical dog’s mouth flapped as he stuttered. “Th-that’s ridiculous! You asked Fred for a spear last night!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Archibald’s head swiveled between the girl and the weapon as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He kept opening his mouth, only to close it each time. He couldn’t find the right words. The last thing he had expected was for Claire to be shameless enough to blatantly lie to his face.

“To be clear, I was referring to vanguard in the other sense,” said Beckard. “I’m not asking you to help us attack Alfred. We just need someone to defend the area that Zelos was meant to be responsible for. You won’t need to kill everything. I’d just like you to thin out the crowd before it reaches us.”

“No.”

Beckard frowned. “Well… what if I was to tell you that Zelos was meant to be responsible for confronting the lord of the slough? I believe you were looking to kill it?”

“It’s too late,” said Claire. “It won’t be alone anymore.”

“About that.” The priest breathed a sigh of relief. “From what our scouts are saying, it is. The monsters haven’t started to gather just yet. You still do have a chance to face it without anything else getting in your way, but you’ll have to move quickly.”

Finding the claim far too convenient for his purposes, the lykress looked to her four-legged companion, who confirmed it with a nod. The affirmation almost led her to don a frown. It was too early. Neither bloodthief nor vector mage had evolved, nor were they even close enough for her to consider taking on a needless risk. She was certainly stronger than she had been when she first challenged it, but she hadn’t grown nearly enough to make up for the difference in strength. It was still twice her level and she had only grasped a few of its abilities. Taking it down would be a challenge.

“Fine,” she said, after a brief delay. “But that’s all I’m doing.”

“Can’t you at le—”

The cat began to speak, but she cut him off before he could finish making his request. “I’m not fighting him.”

Defeating the celestial was beyond her. He had refrained from ending her life the previous night, but there was no guarantee that he wouldn’t change his mind, nor did she foresee herself working around his spells. There was no way to resist. He had too many vectors at his disposal. She didn’t know just how strong the priest and his underlings were, but she doubted that they stood a chance. He could snap their necks just by looking at them.

“That isn’t what I was going to ask,” he said with a nervous chuckle. “I was just hoping that you would report in after you were done.”

She narrowed her eyes into a knowing glare. “Fine.” There was no point in calling attention to his fib; he was more likely to let her walk away if she didn’t. “Where is it?”

“Thank you,” he said. “You should be able to find it if you go straight until you find the river, then follow it to its source.”

“Okay.”

“Someone will check up on you in a few hours if we don’t hear back.”

With a nod, the lyrkress kicked off the ground and dashed out the exit. For once, the fox in her arms didn’t scamper atop her head and wave goodbye. She was too deflated, too anxious to do anything but sit still and mumble as she was carried through the marshy meadow.

___

Claire slowed down after about thirty minutes of running. Looking behind her, she found an obvious set of tracks, visible as a lighthouse on a clear night. Her hooves and tail had certainly left prints in the mud, but the pony’s presence made it so she couldn’t be missed. The phantom gorged itself on the marsh’s mucky sludge and created an unmistakable trail in the shape of a half circle.

The lyrkress suffered greatly for the ordeal; her mouth was almost constantly filled with one of the most awful flavours she had ever tasted, and vomiting did nothing to fix it. Still, she persisted. The glutton’s belly was a powerful tool, and tools were meant to be exploited.

“Uhm… Are you okay, Claire? Because you don’t look okay.” The talking fox on her head was still a little quieter than usual, but a good old fashioned tickling session had more or less fixed her mood.

“I’m fine.”

The decrease in her speed had come not as a function of her discomfort, but rather because the environment had started to change. The forest and the marshy meadow grew further and further apart with each step she took. The sky was expanding, revealing not the great blue behind it, but a massive frog with a pair of oversized wings and a body that was as present as it was translucent.

“Are you really sure about this?” asked the fox.

“I’m sure.” She took the hat off her head and set it down on a piece of dry land. “Stay here. I’ll only be a minute.”

“Well… if you say so.” Sylvia narrowed her eyes into a suspicious stare, but refrained from voicing her concerns.

Despite what the fox had assumed, Claire’s confidence was not entirely unfounded. It stemmed not from idiotic bravado, but rather a strategy that she had developed specifically with the frog in mind. It wasn’t perfect, and there were still holes that she had hoped her class evolutions would fill, but it wasn’t as if she was without a hand to play.

She started by spending all of her ability points. Most were dumped into wisdom, bringing it to a flat two thousand. To her dismay, a quick test confirmed that she had failed to reach another threshold, but that wasn’t an issue. Another three-hundred-odd points were used to raise dexterity to one thousand, while the rest were put in agility; working around the monster’s attacks was far more important than increasing her raw strength or vitality.

With that done, she planted her spear in the mud, drew her mace, and turned it into an axe. The lord was already staring her down; observing her as she approached with her weapon drawn. It opened its mouth at the hundred meter mark, a reaction too belated to come to fruition.

She was already within range.

Taking a breath, the lyrkress launched herself through the air and shrunk the distance to zero. A swing of the axe embedded its icy blade into the frog’s chin. Once it was firmly lodged, she switched her grip on the makeshift weapon and wrenched it to the side, tearing as much of the anuran’s flesh as she possibly could.

At a glance, it looked like a deep injury. There was blood everywhere, and the gash was one full axeblade deep, but to the frog, it was just a nick, a tiny cut that barely managed to get past its skin.

Croaking in annoyance, the fifty meter tall behemoth opened its maw and revealed the abomination that was its tongue. Right away, she was subjected to its many voices. They began screaming at her from the heads that lined its fleshy extension, but she couldn’t be bothered to listen. Her mind was focused instead on evading its lashing strikes and putting her plan into motion.

Dancing past the first wave of attacks, she grabbed Shoulderhorse by its malformed head and threw the invisible pony straight into the frog’s gaping mouth. The tiny four-legged creature sprinted to the back of the monster’s throat and emptied the contents of its stomach, not into the lord’s gut, but rather, its lungs.

The tongue’s attacks came to an immediate stop. The monster squirmed around uncomfortably, coughing and sputtering as it was pumped full of mud. The massive earthy wave overflowed from its airbags and filled its body in a second. There was more volume in the horse’s stomach than there was in the frog; it should have exploded in much the same manner as all the other lords that had suffered from the same attack, but it didn’t. Its body expanded; the sac under its chin that enlarged with every croak grew to ten times its usual size and easily accommodated the increase in mass.

All of the mud within it was expelled when it opened its mouth, accompanied by an audible, cocky ribbit. It could still breathe. The tendrils protruding from its tongue had reached back into its lungs and cleaned out all the murky soil contained within, a process she witnessed first hand through Shoulderhorse’s eyes.

Though irritated, the lyrkress was far from out of options. She quickly issued another command and had the pony fire a spell fueled by her divinity. The beam that came from its mouth was shot straight at the base of the monster’s tongue, the root that kept it attached to its body.

There was an icy explosion at the point of impact. Massive spikes burst out from within the frozen flesh and separated the organ from its host. By all means, its tongue should have been disabled, but the long, stretchy appendage acted with a mind of its own. It grew a mouth from its newfound base and reattached itself to another part of the frog’s throat.

All of its functionality was immediately regained. The part outside its mouth came back to life and fired a barrage of bolts in her direction, a series of random objects with some far deadlier than others, but Claire was unconcerned; the monster had yet to take control over the battle’s momentum.

With an entirely unnecessary snap of her fingers, she detonated the pony that lay within the amphibian’s gullet. Shoulderhorse’s final attack produced the same result as the first two. It staggered the lord and forced it to flinch, but failed to do any lasting damage. Though Claire was disappointed with its performance, she was not so dismayed that she was put at a disadvantage. Shoulderhorse was dual purpose. Even if unable to execute its victim, it did its part by forcing the frog to its knees.

The lyrkress flew next to one of the behemoth’s eyes as it writhed in pain and summoned the phantom equine’s counterpart. She magically pulled her spear out of the ground and handed it to the snake, which immediately shot forward like a bullet released from a bow. The hallucination used the weapon like a drill. It spun it at high speed, scattering the flesh within the frog’s eye as it dug deeper and deeper into its head.

The anuran attacked the assailant with its tongue. Its tendrils shot towards its own face, but they were unable to reach, pushed away by the lyrkress’ vectors. The battle was over by the time it finally thought to focus its attacks on the half moose. Shouldersnake penetrated its skull, burrowed through its grey matter, and drove its fangs into the monster’s brainstem. An infinite supply of lesser tetrodotoxin flowed from its poison sacks and melted the behemoth’s nervous system. It took only a moment to spread through its mind, corrupting it beyond repair.

Its giant body fell forward and its tongue lifelessly flopped onto the ground. The unnatural arms protruding from its tentacle twitched like the antennae of a dying roach as the heads adorning the muscle groaned. Some cried, while others screamed, but the few words that escaped them were all the same. They accused her of murder, disparged her cowardice, and demanded a fair fight. But again, they were ignored.

With another snap of the fingers, she detonated her serpentine companion and turned the frog’s brain to mush.

Log Entry 3935

You have slain a unique level 257 Eldritch Frog, titled ‘The Lord of the Slough.’

This feat has earned you the following bonuses:

- 1 point of agility

- 3 points of strength

- 46 points of wisdom

“Wow, you really did do it in just a minute,” said a wide-eyed fox, from atop her head.

“When did you get there?” Claire grabbed Sylvia by the scruff of her neck and turned her around, so they could see eye to eye.

“Just now!” chirped the half-elf. “And more importantly, how the heck did you manage that!? I thought for sure that it was gonna beat the crap out of you.”

“Thanks. For trying to watch me die again.”

Log Entry 3936

You have leveled up. Your health and mana have been restored and all harmful status effects have been cleansed.

Your racial class, Frostblight Lyrkress, has reached level 129.

Your primary class, Llystletein Bloodthief, has reached level 117.

Your secondary class, Llystletein Vector Mage, has reached level 122.

You have gained 138 ability points.

Sylvia puffed up her cheeks. “Oh, shush! I was gonna step in after it beat you up a bit.”

“Thanks. For believing in me.”

“Stop making it sound like it’s my fault! It’s literally twice your level!”

Log Entry 3937

Envenom has reached level 30.

All mana costs have been halved, and lesser tetrodotoxin has been upgraded to tetrodotoxin.

Log Entry 3938

Spirit Sorcery has reached level 41.

Log Entry 3939

True Ice Manipulation has reached level 26.

Claire smirked. “It is your fault.”

“No it isn’t!”

“For making it.”

“Oh… right.” Sylvia groaned. “You’re not gonna let me off the hook for that one anytime soon, are you?”

“Never.”

Log Entry 3940

One of your spawnable food items has been upgraded.

Log Entry 3941

You have completed “The Lords’ Last Regards.”

Throwing has been reclassified as projectile weapon mastery, and all weapon mastery skills have been unified. However, not all accrued experience has been carried over, as the final bonus objective was marked incomplete at the time of the quest’s finalisation. The level of your new Weapon Mastery skill has been set to 5.

As she was only half paying attention to Flux’s voice, it took Claire a moment to tear herself away from the conversation, put Sylvia down, and take a second look at the log entry.

“Claire?”

“The quest I finished did something to my skills.”

Weapon Mastery - Level 5

Your actions have lacked such consistency that you have managed to confuse the system into providing you with an ability otherwise out of your reach. Rejoice, for it is only through a miracle that such a series of poor decisions could have been transformed into an opportunity. While this skill will provide you with the ability to wield all manners of tools, it does not address the fundamental issue that is your inability to specialise.

Effects

- You instinctively excel at the use of all weapons.

- You are capable of using any given entity as if it were a weapon.

- When using a weapon, increase damage dealt by 30% (20% + 2% per level.)

- Individual weapon types offer additional scaling. This scaling benefits from your highest ability scores as opposed to the most relevant ones.

The skill’s effect was immediately apparent. She could tell, just by looking at a nearby tree, that one of its branches would make for a good rapier, while another was better used as a bat. She knew that she would need to suspend its trunk by her waist instead of hoisting it over her shoulder if she wanted to use it as a battering ram, and that she could curl up its leaves, poison them, and throw them stem-first like darts.

Looking at Sylvia provided a similar amount of useless information. If the fox kept her mouth open, she could grab her by the hind limbs and swing her around like a mace. She could also be used as a somewhat dysfunctional flail if held by her fluffiest appendage, but that particular option was less potent and all but sure to damage the weapon’s integrity.

“U-uhmmm… Claire?” The half-elf took a tiny step back. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“No reason.”

She pulled the four-legged mace into her chest for a hug as she began walking away from the lord’s corpse. The rogue had assumed that she would be satisfied by finally getting her revenge, but she found herself feeling more annoyed than sated.

The bird-brained behemoth had died too quickly. It was meant to be a challenge, but it had failed to return even a single hit. There was no sense of accomplishment. She didn’t even have the chance to feel as if she had really grown.

A sudden crackling sound forced her to perk up before she could get too deep into her laments. Turning to the side, its source, she found a mirewulf lord running at her with its mouth open and its fake teeth bared. It was screeching at the top of its lungs, as if to declare war, but like the frog, it never landed a hit. She grabbed a piece of its flower with the tip of each finger and, clenching her fists, tore it apart with the forces at her disposal. As Alfred could have easily done to her.

Log Entry 3942

You have slain a unique level 180 Llystletein Mirewulf Alpha titled “The Lord of the Holt - Variant 571B.”

Its death should have provided her some peace and quiet, but it was replaced by two, then seven, then ten. They were swarming to her en masse, just like the borroks.

“Beckard tricked me,” she muttered. “So much for being an honest priest.”

“Yeah, I know, right! What a jerk,” said Sylvia.

“You knew they were coming too.”

“Shhh! You weren’t supposed to say that part out loud!”

“I know.”

A small smile on her face, Claire drew her daggers and took a deep breath. There were a lot of them, but she wasn’t worried. They would be easy to kill, even if she was armed with nothing but two blades and a tail.