Don’t think that being able to conjure a fireball make you into a warmage. Doing it while somebody tries to hack you to pieces is much different from doing it where i can see you, and with a water bucket at hand. You need training, weapons and, more importantly than anything else for a warmage, robust nerves and a cool head. Keep your focus, or, if your magic doesn’t kill you, your opponent will.

Kamara, Master of Arms of the House of Caledonia

A more reckless adventurer could have rushed inside. Rage for the wound, for the malice of the Animus, the burning desire to reach his objective; each of this reason could be worth a headlong rush against an enemy that seemed close.

Gorren burned with all three, but forced himself not to rush things. Quandar wanted just that, and he wasn’t going to give it to him.

Kneeling, he pressed a hand against the floor. The interference in the Mana was powerful, and it would have completely confounded every attempt to individuation by lesser mages, but he was Gorren An-Tudok. His magic prowess was beyond the norm.

He focused, pushing his mind through levels of concentration.

The buzz assaulted his senses like he had stepped inside of a swarm of insects. He focused more, seeking for the small, incredibly small differences that would signal the presence of high-powered Mana Cores. No matter how much the Mana was confused, there were always traces that sharp enough perceptions could pick up.

Slowly but surely, concentrations of Mana appeared before his mind’s eye. Gorren counted them.

“One, two, three, four…”

He stopped at twenty. And he could only pick their rough position, without any degree of accuracy.

Twenty. Golems, he assumed, surely highly specialized toward stealth and attack power. That explained the place’s layout. A maze, full of hiding spots and traps, made to confound and separate and pick up any intruder one by one.

This cannot be his main defence. Maybe a way to thin an invading force before the real thing?

It didn’t matter. What it mattered now was: could he overcome it?

He turned to glance over his shoulder at the wall. A still smoking hole signalled the resting point of the bullet that had perforated his shoulder. He gestured, and deftly grabbed the object that shot out of it.

He inspected the deformed bullet with attention. It was formed by a base of metal and a point of black-greenish crystal.

Mana Crystal. Built to retain an energy charge. Enfused with poison and darkness. Enchanted with enhanced speed and perforation. Not too shabby of a job.

That was a highly specialized ammunition, even by Truvian standard. No wonders it had pierced his barrier. He wouldn’t have been surprised to see it pierce a castle wall without slowing down.

He put the spent bullet under his thumb and flicked it away. The moment it entered the pockmarked area, Gorren felt one of the presences flare with energy and a sharp crack hit his ears. The small object was shot down like a wounded bird.

Gorren blinked over mana-enfused eyes. The attack was fast and powerful, but he could see it well enough. He felt confident he could dodge it, or stop it.

But could he overcome it?

The power at his disposal in that moment was roughly the equivalent of twenty medium-level mages. That, against twenty of those golems, plus whatever more things Quandar had had the time to build in a century.

It’s not sure. Umph.

He thought about retiring for the moment, and returning with reinforcements. Yeah, sure, what reinforcements? His works weren’t advanced enough not to just get in the way. But if he could gather a sizable force… no, impossible. The ruins were too close to the village for a large contingent not to risk attract attention; and to use large-scale magic to keep it hidden could well be picked up by the Church’s hounds. Not to mention the hundreds of Mana batteries to keep the force up and running, or the number of servants that would be needed, numbers that he hadn’t. His force of golems had been built for stationary defence in mind, not to be moved en-masse.

It cannot be done.

He could wait, for his forces to grow, for his projects to reach maturity, for his servants to multiply. Quandar lacked the resources to build more defences, a limitation that he hadn’t. With a proper infrastructure in place, he could steamroll that place under waves of machines.

He caressed the idea for a moment, considered it from all angles. Then he discarded it with disgust.

Months? Years? Too much time.

The answers he yearned for maybe were there, just waiting for him to reach them. And they belonged to him, he demanded to have them. None would stand in his way and live, surely not a mad machine slipped off its leash.

He slowly got up. Angry restlesness slithered in his chest. He wouldn’t wait, he couldn’t wait. Not when he was so close to an answer. It could all end up into a dud, but his instict told him otherwise. In the research logs, he was going to find the clues he needed to finally understand.

There were a lot more reasons he could wring out to compound that choice, the warnings of Nama, the presence at the Church, the need to know the enemy before the enemy found him, and more. He brushed them only in passing, only the barest to aknowledge them. The true reason, and he didn’t care for more, was that he wanted those logs, and everything in his way was going to die.

Simple as that.

Walking toward the pockmarked area, he briefly entertained the idea of burrowing his way in from the outside. But Truvian facilities were protected from those types of intrusions with wards and abjuration. It wouldn’t work.

From the entrance door then.

He summoned his armor around himself, and spread his arms wide. A spherical barrier appeared around him.

This has been powerful enough to stop the bullets, but it requires my direct attention and a somatic component.

He let his arms fall, and the barrier flickered away.

It was a bet, he could see that well, a bet with his life on the stake. His and Quandar’s.

He gritted his teeth, and dashed forward.

The maze sounded to the cracks of rifles.

“Run! Run!” Quandar laughed, his voice coming from somewhere in the gloom.

Gorren ignored him, too focused on where the next attack would come.

A presence’s energy flared somewhere to his right. Whirling around, he threw a hand out. The projectile disappeared in an explosion of sparks as it hit his barrier. He grunted as a jolt ran through his arm. Those damn things packed one hell of a punch.

“What? What? What? Can you feel them?” The gleeful wickedness of the Animus was barely grazed, and only for a moment. “Well done! Well done! Try this then!”

Three presences flared at once. Gorren blocked two bullets with a hastily erected barrier, and jumped to avoid the pinpoint shot to his ankle.

“Gotcha!”

Five signatures flared in the darkness. Gorren whipped both hands outward, unleashing a telekinetic wave. Five small explosions blossomed in the air, throwing long shadows over the maze’s stark walls.

Gorren didn’t stop to admire it. He ran, followed by a trail of bullets.

The magical light his body emitted couldn’t pierce the darkness beyond a two-meter circle, nor his enhanced vision could see where the snipers where. He was sorrounded by nothing but walls and strange constructions.

This darkness is magical in origin.

He feinted toward the entrance of a structure, and threw himself in the other direction, against the corner formed by two walls. Even as he did, the shadows around were answering his summon, covering him in darkness.

As he disappeared in the gloom, he smothered his Mana signature.

“What? Where have you gone?”

Gorren ignored Quandar’s outraged demand, and slunk away.

He panted slightly. Damn, those weapons packed more punch that he had envisioned. Even with his shield, he still felt the blow, and repeated shots were able to pierce his defence. Nor he couldn’t parry them all, or would end up exhausting all of his Mana.

He let his breath out in disciplinated puffs, thinking about a strategy. Taking a decision outside the maze had been simple enough. There, under fire, well, a little less. Why had he to get the crazy artificial intelligences that would shoot first and talk later?

Bah! No point complaining.

In the distance, Quandar ranted madly.

“There you are!” He suddenly said, triumphant.

Gorren sneered, and started in a dash, just in time to avoid being riddled by bullets.

His shadow-disguise and mana smothering were still in place, but the bullets impacted against his shield with unerring accuracy.

“How did he find me?” He thought with irritation.

Quandar had bragged about being able to always watch him. It seemed that there was substance behind all of his bluster. The question was, how did he do it? He felt the presence of a detection field, but it wasn’t anything that could compete with his hiding skills.

“Run! Run!”

Bullets riddled the floor around his feet in a staccato rythm.

Gorren’s sneer deepened.

You will regret toying with me.

Sliding around a corner, he curled his fingers into hooks. A spark appeared between them, rapidly growing into a sphere of white light that pushed the shadows back.

Gorren charged the Light Mana for a couple of seconds, then threw the magic in the air. The sphere raised above the maze, before detonating in a blinding flash.

“Whaaaat?” Quandar screeched in surprise.

The gloom was blown away. Everything was thrown in sharp contrast. For the first time, Gorren saw his assailants. Nightmarish mismatches of humanoid and mechanical features, their lower bodies arachnid. They clung to the walls, hang from ceilings or squatted behind obstacles, aiming oversized rifles. What’s more, a moltitude of tentacles emerged from every surface.

Whirling around, Gorren smirked.

“Got you…”

Three black spheres sped forward, and as many golems disappeared in clouds of flames and metal fragments.

Quandar screeched in outrage.

“Stop it!”

As one, the golems lifted their rifles and opened fire. With a sound of broken glass, the light abruptly winked off.

Gorren was already moving. The sudden darkness blinded him for a moment, but his Mana-enhanced vision soon adjusted.

“Three down.” He grumbled.

As many as ten presences flared, followed by a rain of bullets. Gorren parried some, but kept running.

He could perceive the golems ran around like blinded ants.

Has he lost it?

“Stop breaking my soldiers!!!” Quandar screeched.

Gorren wanted to reply that they had to stop trying to kill him first, but held back his tongue. He didn’t want to give away his position too much.

As he dealt with the bullets, a wall barred his path. He focused, and unleashed a black sphere to breach it. To his chagrin, the projectile impacted against it and dissipated, leaving nothing more than a singed mark.

Abjuration, he thought with irritation. Those walls were enchanted to resist magic attacks. He could surely breach them, but lacked the time. And he had to keep moving, or the snipers would surround him.

Turning around, he dashed the way he had come. Bullets whistled above his head, more impacting against his barrier.

He repressed a sneer. His arms were starting to hurt.

“Die! Die! Die!” Quandar’s scream was almost inaudibile under the continuous cracks of the hail.

Moron.

Gorren whipped both hands forward, throwing spheres where the bullets were thundering from. He heard two simultaneous cracks, and two presences disappeared. The hail of bullets slackened instantly.

“Five..”

Quandar’s shriek of rage was deafening. The disorder of the golems increased ten-fold.

A feeling of triumph crossed Gorren’s mind, but the moment passed before he could formulate a coherent thought.

“Alright!” That single word thundered in the gloom.

The presences stopped abruptly, like puppets that had been yanked to a stop.

“Alright! Alright! Alright!” Quandar repeated with obsession. There was a whirring sound underlining his voice.

There was a sharp ding, and the presences started to move again.

It had all happened so quickly that Gorren hadn’t even the chance to slow down.

Has he rebooted?

The presences moved in a coordinated fashion now, spreading out. He could almost see them, taking back positions, form a net with which to entrap him.

He scoffed under his breath, and ran faster. Twisted walls and corners and constructions appeared from the gloom, just to disappear once again. Anyone else would have been hopelessly lost in there, but Gorren knew exactly where he was going. His enhanced vision allowed him to see far and, even if he couldn’t make out the snipers, he still could easily see where to go. His mind was an oiled mechanism that never lost its sense of direction. He knew for a fact that he was making his way, slowly but surely, toward the other end of the maze.

The problem was, if Quandar would let him.

“Let’s try that again!” The Animus screeched, and Gorren felt the presences flare with energy.

A bullet smashed against his barrier, followed by many more. Gorren didn’t slow down.

But then, he noticed something strange.

The flares of energy kept coming, but they were many more than the actual bullets.

Gorren tried to keep up, but he had to be wary of where he was going as well. A shot whistled beside his thigh, making a hole in his cloak. The continuous flares made difficult to understand where the actual bullets were coming from, and the costantly shifting trajectories didn‘t help. He was forced to put more of his focus in his perceptions, and so had to slow down. His progress slowed to a crawl.

In the end, he was forced to stop completely.

The flares kept bombarding his perceptions, disorienting him, just as the bullets bombarded his barrier from every angle.

“Do you like that? Eh? EH?” Quandar mocked, his voice coming from every direction.

Gorren grunted, but couldn‘t reply. His arms hurt badly now, each blow a new jolt that shook his tendons. His barrier trembled like a branch taken into a storm under the assault, and he had to pump more and more Mana just to keep it from breaking completely.

This is bad, he thought. If he didn’t move, he was screwed.

He felt the presences all around him now. They had him sorrounded.

Focusing, he summoned a ball of light above his head. With a mental effort, he sent it spiraling toward the ceiling.

“I think not!” Quandar screamed.

The sphere was shot down before it had the chance to detonate, but it didn’t matter. The fire had slackened for a moment, and Gorren was quick to seize his chance.

Whipping around, he unleashed a barrage of black spheres. A spike of pain punched into his leg. He staggered, just as three more presences disappearead.

“Eight…”

“Stop it! Do you know how much work these things have cost me?”

Gorren grunted as a bullet dug in his back. Another punched a hole in his arm.

“I will rip you apart! Die! Fucking die!”

“I think not.” Gorren growled. With a shout, he unleashed a burst of Mana. His light intensified, became a blinding flash.

He heard Quandar shout in surprise, but didn’t stand around to appreciate the turnabout. He dashed down the corridor, and jumped in the window of one of the structures.

Shadows swirled to meet him, Mana was compressed and smothered. When everything stopped, Gorren was gone, replaced by a new section of wall.

Hidden in his multi-layered disguise, the mage tried to catch his breath. Outside, he could hear Quandar’s screeches. It seemed that he had lost the Animus for now.

He smothered the surge of relief. Quandar was still able to find him in a way he didn’t understand. He couldn’t know how much that reprise would last.

Stupid piece of junk…

He needed to think, to understand how he found him and how he managed to trick his perceptions with…

Gorren wanted to kick himself. Of course, it was so obvious! He remembered the eye-tentacles he had seen during the brief flash of light. Quandar must be channelling Mana through them, so to hide the flares of the snipers’ weapons discharge.

Idiot! That is such a massive expenditure of energy.

But it had worked, he grudgingly admitted. His wounds could attest to that. They hurt like hell.

Flooding his body with healing energy, Gorren thought. One mistery down. Another to go. How did he find him so easily?