Mage Tank

Chapter 72: Cage Match, Round 2

‘The Eye reveals’ is how Xim had explained it back on the riverboat to Arsenal. An ability that I’d tapped into later, during our Third Layer walk. I’d become connected to the other eleven people in our Layer-hopping crew, able to show them the way I saw the Layer. Not a desolate horror-scape, but a strange, yet beautiful place.

Back then, I’d been in Sam’lia’s domain, and her Eye had helped guide me in how to use the gift. Now, Sam’lia wasn’t inside the Delve with me, and I was not in the Third Layer. But, something else was the same. The mental connection, that first contact with the group psyche, had begun with the other members of the Xor’Drel tribe.

As Xim prayed, I could feel her. Not just through the vague awareness of my healing aura, but through something deeper, more profound, more intimate. The connection I’d forged in the Third Layer lingered. A subtle opening into her mind and soul that I could knock upon like the front door of an inviting cottage.

It was Xim, so it was more like a cottage in the middle of a forest that drank your nightmares, but it was warm and ‘friendly’ and everything poisonous in the front garden was clearly marked. Regardless, the door was already unlocked and Xim was there, holding it open for me.

I walked through, my presence a revelation for us both.

Reveal went much deeper than sharing visual perception. It brought with it emotional nuance, cognitive bias, mental shortcuts–all the baggage and insight the human mind slathered the world in. Xim wasn’t looking through a camera lens with an Arlo filter on it, she was dual-booting reality using Arlo.exe.

As I realized the connection, my mind went into overdrive. I blasted the signal out to everything around me, hunting for the doorways to my other party members. Varrin and Nuralie were easy to find, the connection was already made within the Third Layer. Grotto was even easier, our connection being the oldest among them. Etja was unfamiliar, but she did nothing to hide herself. She had no mental walls built up, only vague suggestions like a child in a pillow fort.

Touching the inner world of each party member, in turn, made me realize that the Eye’s gift was not a series of discrete abilities. It was a single, cohesive whole that I accessed one bit at a time. Seeing allowed me to see the souls of those around me while Revealing allowed me to touch upon them; to take their hand and guide them through the universe as it existed within me. I was familiar with the souls of my party, having watched them for days or weeks, and their presence called to me.

Something else called to me as well.

The pit. The screaming void that throttled me. Orexis was even more noxious to behold with this new sense than he was through my soul-sight. It was the difference between standing on a ledge, feeling the urge to jump, and active freefall. His existence was a gravity well that swallowed rock and light without malice, a hunger being sated by all those within his orbit being pulled in. It was his nature, and he demanded that it be known.

But, this was not the real Orexis. This was not a singularity, but a micro black hole, doomed to collapse and vanish. The soul-fragment strutted like a god but was little more than an altar boy.

And he was wounded.

It was difficult to see damage on the specter. It had no blood to shed, no bones to break, no guts to spill out.

It was raw soul. Granted, it was a powerful enough soul to interact with the physical world, but the physical world didn’t do much in the way of interacting with it. There were no cuts, scrapes, or bruises, but I could feel the damage and, once I knew that it was there, I could see it as well.

The edges of the specter’s form fluttered. I’d assumed it was from rage, but it was the soul losing cohesion. With no body to anchor itself to, it was bleeding off into the ether. Something that Cage had alluded to earlier, but that I could now watch in action. It wasn’t just pressure from the Delve or Orexis’ unstable form causing the damage, our attacks had also made an impact.

Orexis had regrown his arms after Varrin’s strike, but subtle fractures remained in his Orexis-shaped soul costume. He’d doused Xim’s flames, but the patches of his body that were burned vented trace amounts of his essence. He’d shrugged off Shog’s attempted devouring, but I swore he was fucking smaller than he’d been two minutes before.

He was a fake, and he was so convinced of his invulnerability that he wasn’t even trying to hide the fact that he was hurt. No, I didn’t think he even realized he was hurt.

I decided to reveal the specter’s truth to itself.

I didn’t ‘knock’ on the door to Orexis’ soul. I kicked it in.

Had it been the real Orexis, it never would have worked. Had the Delve not been suppressing the ever-living shit out of the specter, it probably wouldn’t have worked. If we hadn’t kicked its ass a little, or if the specter had been prepared for me to use a divine gift like a battering ram, he might have been able to keep me out.

As it was, I made the Specter see himself as I saw him.

The specter’s head flinched back, and its grip on my neck loosened. I reached up and wrenched his shadowy fingers away from my throat. It wasn’t enough to escape, but it was enough to rasp a few words.

“You’re not a god,” I croaked. “You’re a fucking minion. And you’re on a goddamn suicide mission.”

Upon hearing the words, the Specter snapped his hand tighter around my neck, and I saw stars. Just as quick, the Specter’s eyes went wide and it jerked its arm back, then shoved me away like I’d given it a jumpscare.

A wet oof pushed past my lips as Orexis’ thrust knocked the wind out of me, and I was once again caught in gravity’s loving embrace. An embrace that gravity then used to suplex my body onto a mound of dismembered divine spawn, ensuring that every molecule of air had vacated my lungs.

As I struggled to convince my diaphragm to un-collapse, I saw the results of my unfiltered blast of the Reveal blessing.

Xim had her hands out in front of her as she sat on her knees like she was trying to steady herself after a night of heavy drinking. She was taking deep breaths and furtively glancing around the room, sweat dripping down her face.

Maybe it was closer to a night of bad decisions with hallucinogens.

When our eyes met, she looked desperately confused, but blinked a few times, then gave me a single, firm nod.

Nuralie was frozen in an unending pause, while Etja rubbed at her eyes and looked between everyone present with wonder. Grotto floated down to me, no longer unstable in his flight or writhing in pain.

[Did it work?] I thought to him. [What’s it like?]

Grotto hovered within six inches of my face, c’thonic eyes rolling over my features.

[It is not so different from our connection thus far, but it is very… direct.] He reached out with a tentacle and brushed my cheek, then pulled back like I was hot to the touch. [It is also confusing. Am I looking at myself looking at you, or are you me and I’m looking at you look at yourself?] He ran a tendril over his bulbous octo-head.[Are we individual entities, or is identity a theurgic farse?]

Ok, not the best sign for our group’s combat readiness.

Varrin, however, was looking directly at the specter.

Better sign for our group’s Orexis readiness.

I scrambled to my feet, sucking in a few big breaths to make sure that my chest cavity was no longer in revolt. Everything seemed in order, aside from the large, open wound leaking blood all over the place. I dashed toward Varrin, keeping an eye on Orexis as I did so. The specter was staring at his hands, their forms undulating and changing from solid, to wispy shadows.

I needed another divine arrow to stab that fucker while he was still reeling.

“Varrin,” I said when I got close, “sorry if you’re having an identity crisis right now, but I need one of the arrows.”

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Varrin didn’t reply, and I reached out to grab his shoulder but pulled up short when I got a good look at his face within his helm. He was weeping. It took me off guard, to see the massive man letting loose with the waterworks.

“You don’t hate him,” he said, half-whispering.

“What? No,” I said, looking back up at Orexis. The specter was running his deforming hands over his face, which was also beginning to twist and change. “He’s awful, and I despise him, but I don’t hate him.”

I looked back to Varrin, and the giant of a man nodded.

“I-” he began, twisting his hands on the hilt of his greatsword. “I don’t know how I feel. I hate him, but also, I don’t. It’s a relief for the hate to leave because that means there is no wound for me to hate him for. It’s like my father never died. Then I remember, and I hate him again, and I’m… I’m angry that the hate was ever gone.” He turned to me, his reddened eyes pleading. “Why am I telling you this?”

“It’s… a very confusing situation. Varrin, I need an arrow.”

“I dropped mine,” he said. “No, you dropped yours. We dropped the arrows.”

I started to take some mental notes. Perception-bombing the room: Plus column, I was no longer being strangled by a divine soul-shard and everyone was alive. Minus column, everyone else was fucked. Also putting that one in the plus column since it included Orexis.

“You!” I heard the specter shriek, and I looked up to find him glaring down at me.

Alright, firmly back in the minus column.

The specter flew at me, his form morphing into a shadowy dart, then reforming into the Orexis simulacrum, a few feet away. He hesitated, drawing back an inch, then rallied and pressed forward.

“How have you done this?” he hissed, advancing as I began to backpedal. I pulled out my hammer Arbitros and held Gracorvus between us. “What madness befalls me?”

“Just showing you my truth,” I said, readying myself for a swing, but the specter stopped.

“Truth?” it said, voice going up a pitch. “No, no, no… you show me lies, but you believe them? No!” it barked. “I know that not! He has embedded his thoughts into me. I am not this thing, this lowly creature. It is all deception, but it has layers to it. This is beyond me. No, beyond him. Beyond… you!” It pointed a taloned finger at me, the smaller hands beginning to glow again.

“What exactly are you referring to?” I asked, looking for the best opportunity to hit him with an Oblivion Orb hammer strike. “Not making much sense, bud.”

“If you are but a man, you cannot fool a god,” said the specter. “And I am a god. But, if I am a god, then you cannot fool me because you are a man. Unless… you speak the truth. No!” The specter reared back, its torso elongating and growing in height. Its body widened, dominating my vision, but the specter’s form lost depth and grew flatter as it did so. “I am no shade! No ghost of the almighty!” it roared. “I am Orexis, God of Yearning! Dispel your illusions and bow to me!”

An arrow hit the specter in the chest, dead center.

Orexis looked down at the arrow in confusion, and the Divine Arrow of Soul Toxicity pulsed with golden light. Fractures spread out across Orexis’ form, and the pitch-black of the specter’s body became marred by sickly green luminescence.

Orexis ripped out the arrow and watched as it evaporated into mana-fused mist.

Two more landed before the specter realized he needed to move, dodging the fourth.

Orexis blasted away from us, zig-zagging through the air and letting out a baleful scream. I looked for Nuralie, finding her steady and composed, bow drawn and following the specter’s path.

“Good shot,” I yelled to her.

She snuck a look at me, then went back to watching for her next snipe.

“Big target,” she said.

“You feeling ok?”

“No,” she said. Pause. “But there’s work to do.”

A heavy hand fell on my shoulder, and I turned back to Varrin.

“Lost myself for a second,” he said. He looked like he wanted to say more, but he set his jaw and hefted his blade, then watched Orexis spiraling through the air. “I need a flight ability.”

“I could give you a lift,” I said, detaching Gracorvus and sending it to his feet. He looked down at it, cocked his head to one side, then shrugged. He stepped onto the shield, and I willed it up toward the deranged specter.

The specter was moving faster than my shield, but Orexis was maintaining a somewhat consistent elevation. I brought Varrin up, and kept him drifting in the general area, the warrior adjusting his position to account for Orexis’ erratic path. He looked a little silly on the shield since he had to keep his feet so close together. He was also slightly bent, ready to launch himself off of the shield if the opportunity presented itself.

Etja gave him that opportunity.

A disintegrating beam of orange light illuminated the room for an instant, cutting across Orexis’ amorphous body. The specter shrieked and fled from the attack, taking him back toward the levitating Varrin, who kicked off from the shield to meet Orexis’ path. The specter spun and reformed into the imitation Orexis, catching Varrin’s blade with his large hands the same way he’d caught it when he first left Etja’s body at the beginning of the Delve.

But Varrin’s blade was wreathed in gray mana, which I now realized was the signature of his Soul Strike ability. The blade cleaved down through the hands and dug deep into the specter’s shoulder. Orexis reached up with his lowest set of arms and spun, tossing Varrin like a Judo fighter, using the warrior’s momentum to send him sailing away and down toward the surface of the sphere at a ninety-degree angle from me.

My shield wasn’t fast enough to keep up with Varrin’s descent, but the big guy managed a tuck and roll, dropping his greatsword to allow for the maneuver on impact. He shot a contemptuous glance up at Orexis, then moved to reclaim his blade.

Orexis dodged another arrow, but the arc brought him into a fresh beam attack from Etja. The golem’s mana was beginning to run low, and I worried that despite our counterattack we might not have the resources to take the specter down.

Xim hadn’t been full on mana when we started the fight and her smite attack wasn’t cheap. Nuralie had gone through eight arrows, nearly half of her reserve. After my Shog upkeep, Explosion!, Shortcuts, and Oblivion Orbs, I was down below half mana and my health was even worse off, having been chest melted and strangled down to 138.

Etja let out another beam, and I glanced at her mana, worrying that it was about to run dry. To my surprise, I realized that the level had barely changed. Then I noticed the trail of shadowy dust being sucked into one of her outstretched palms.

Etja was consuming Orexis.

“It’s a goddamn food chain in here,” I muttered, turning my attention back to the dark form darting around the room. I needed to find a way to contribute, but Orexis was moving so fast that I doubted I could aim a proper Shortcut. Good thing I had an ability that I didn’t really have to aim.

I began hurling one-handed weapons using Homing Weapon, pulling them out one after another from my inventory. I chucked a steel spiked mace, the Madrin flanged mace I’d purchased from Seinnador, a longsword, a shortsword, a rapier, a cutlass, a bludgeon, and a pick. I tried to throw a flail, but it didn’t work. Guess there were some limitations.

I refrained from adding Oblivion Orb to the attacks. These weren’t meant to harm Orexis, only give him more shit to deal with while my allies slammed him with the attacks that counted. Since my Strength evolution Nimean Weapon made every Strength attack I made with a weapon count as magical, I was hoping that the attacks would at least cause the specter some discomfort. Even if the attacks were ultimately useless, the specter didn’t know that. So far, we’d consistently hit it with skills and abilities that could hurt it. Weaving in some feints was just good strategy.

Orexis, however, was beginning to regain his composure. He dodged my throws, and avoided the beam attack and divine arrow follow-ups. I sent my shield to Varrin to transport him back to the ascended battlefield, but the specter gave the levitating warrior a wide berth. After a feverish minute of combat, there was a lull. My party didn’t want to waste resources on attacks that would miss, and the specter was taking the soul-shard equivalent of a breather. Which is to say, it began making new demands.

“Take me outside of this Delve,” said the specter. “I will remove the void sphere. I will allow you to live.” Its wraithlike body shifted and morphed, the emulation Orexis transitioning between solid and ephemeral.

“I’m not into trusting sociopaths,” I said. “Also, you’re just a shade. The real Orexis could decide not to uphold your promise.”

“I am Orexis,” the specter hissed, though his voice trembled. “Nothing… nothing will change when I rejoin my body.”

“You aren’t leaving,” said Varrin. He’d ended up on the other side of the sphere, looking up at us as we looked up at him. I’d been forced to bring Gracorvus back to home position, no longer able to handle the mana expenditure of ferrying Varrin around.

“Would Orexis even accept you back?” I asked. “You let Fortune elope with his sister.”

The specter shuddered but didn’t take the bait. We all stood there, staring at one another for several seconds. The imitation Orexis grasped its head, and its mouth moved like it was speaking under its breath, but I was too far away to hear. Then, its finger glowed the familiar color of rotted eggplant.

A wave of mana shot forth in a massive cone toward me, Xim, and Nuralie. Etja tried to intercept with Nullify, but was too late. I was also caught off guard, failing to use Dispel in time, my inexperience rearing its ugly head.

The attack landed, and we were all hit with a pair of afflictions.

Bleeding: 44

Toxicity: 44

It was a debuff that meant little to me, but became life or death for Nuralie, and to a lesser extent Xim. 88 damage an hour took Nuralie from full to dead in around thirty minutes, despite my healing aura. It killed Xim in less than two hours. Even if we dealt with the specter, now we had a ticking time bomb to handle as well. Fortunately, Xim had Cleanse, which could hopefully alleviate the issue.

Then, Orexis cast it again.

And again.

And again.

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