Patrick Laplante
patreon
Pandora Unchained - B1C86: Hidden Cards
🕑 Added 2024-01-29 15:57:01 +0000 UTCBy the time Gareth noticed the elementals, it was too late. Their team could only try to make ground as the shelter collapsed under the weight of the many fists smashing down on it.
The intentions of the elementals were clear: by threatening a large enough population, they would force the Governor to divide his attention away from fighting the creator of the treants, the dryad.
This tactic proved effective; seeing that Sorin's group wouldn't make it on time, the governor struck out with mana blades to try taking out the treants from a distance. The dryad would have none of this, however. She intercepted the governor's attacks, cutting off any hope left for the humans in the shelter.
Sorin cringed as he watched the treants wind back for one final attack. Yet before they could unleash it, a brilliant silver flash streaked past several city blocks. A sword left its sheath and released a blade of silver mana, slicing off a treant's arm before it could land the finishing blow.
"Who in Hope's name is that," asked Stephan.
"I think its—" said Gareth.
"Haster," said Sorin with a grin.
The silver flash slowed down to reveal a drunken man in green robes, who appeared beside the treant and cut through its chest where its core typically lay. The creature was instantly reduced into a pile of wood chips. Before it hit the ground, the Haster staggered like a drunk and seemingly tripped – just in time to avoid a carriage-sized fist as it came crashing down on his initial position.
The fist kicked up large amounts of dust that obscured the shelter's surroundings. Just as the dust started clearing, a silver flash cut down a second elemental, and it was followed by a third, and a fourth. A single step and single slash were all it took for Haster to cut down a two-star demon.
And he didn't stop. He couldn't stop. Momentum carried Haster into a drunken spin, throwing him towards the fifth treant. It tried to kick him, only to miss as he once again staggered in an unpredictable manner, sweeping his sword in a wide arc that cut through its core and lopped off another treant's arm.
The deadly drunken swordsman's assault forced the remaining three treants to reconsider their assault and focus on the lone cultivator. Willowy branches whipped down with rapid frequency, barely missing the staggering swordsman every time, until finally, he rolled beneath the creature's feet and once again sliced it in two.
Only two treants remained. They tried to flee, but their large sizes worked against them. Haster poured his remaining energy into a final attack that cut through the two demons in quick succession, averting the crisis. One blood-thickening cultivator had single-handedly slain eight treants, saving three hundred civilians from an untimely death.
"I think he got a speed enhancement," said Stephan.
"Definitely," agreed Gareth. "And I think his ability is speed-related as well."
"It's not an offensive upgrade?" asked Daphne, confused.
"Speed equals power to some cultivators," answered Stephan. "And look—using that ability wasn't easy on him. It looks like he just collapsed."
"Should I go help him?" asked Sorin.
"No can do," said Gareth. "Since that shelter's taken care of, lets clean these few treants out. The sooner we take care of them, the sooner we can help out the soldiers on the wall."
They set off once again and systematically cleaned up the remaining treants. Daphne was already exhausted and focused on recovering her energy, so it took them twice as long for each kill. Even so, her kill count was the highest in the entire group, with Lorimer coming in close second.
"Will the governor be alright?" Sorin wondered aloud as he looked up above the city. The dryad and the governor were still fighting, though the governor seemed to be exhausted, while the dryad was still brimming full of energy.
"It's hard to tell with fighters at their level," answered Stephan. "Besides, it's not just the governor that the dryad needs to worry about."
"You mean…" Sorin had barely finished speaking when a spell circle lit up above the Mages Guild. It was an elaborate circle and so complex that looking at it gave Sorin a headache. It also happened to be located just beneath the dryad.
The dryad attempted to retreat but was cut off by the cunning governor. Multiple streaks of lightning shot up from the Mages Guild and blasted the dryad from below.
"You think pitiful tricks from a bone-forging mage can wound me?" said the dryad as the spell circle finally let out. Her bark-like skin was charred, and her hair had burnt away. Only a stump remained of one of her legs, but it was quickly regenerating.
"You think I'll let you stall?" said Governor Marsh. He struck out with his silver sword, summoning forth a storm of blades that attacked her from eight directions at once. Her charred flesh began whittling away faster than it could regenerate. "Not going to defend? Then die!"
One of the eight blades solidified as Governor Marsh appeared behind it and stabbed forth with all his strength. Yet just as his blade pierced her wooden flesh, she exploded into a cloud of sawdust that reformed behind the governor and stabbed toward his back with an oakwood spear.
Despite his awkward position, Governor Marsh managed to pivot midair and parry with his silver sword. Yet the spear was unusually flexible and managed to sneak past his guard. It struck him in the breastplate and flung him toward the ground.
The dryad flew downward to finish the governor off but was forced to retreat as an assassin appeared beside her and struck out with a poisoned blade. The assassin was none other than Haley, who'd been hiding for the entire battle.
"So you finally reveal yourself," said the dryad, abandoning her pursuit of the governor. Another oakwood spear shot out from her outstretched arm and stabbed towards the assassin. By now, Haley was fully committed to her strike, and could only redirect the fatal blow to a less critical location, her shoulder.
The force of the blow sent her flying—fortunately, towards Sorin and his team. Stephan shifted out of bear form and caught her as she fell and immediately brought her to Sorin, who used flesh-melt poison to seal off her arteries and then splashed a healing potion on the wounds as a stopgap.
Yet before Sorin could do any more than that, his body broke into a cold sweat. The three-star dryad suddenly appeared in the airspace above their small group, oakwood spear at the ready and grinning from ear to ear.
"What have we here?" said the dryad. "No less than five blood-thickening heroes and a bone-forging hero as well? What a joyous occasion it is to find such promising human saplings to prune."
The dryad tossed the oakwood spear in their general direction with so much energy that the air rippled. Due to the three-star pressure she exerted, none of them could move, let alone avoid the dangerous and seemingly all-encompassing attack.
The spear was about to hit them when suddenly, a sigh cut through the outpost. A flash of red metal cut through the oakwood spear as a second flesh-sanctification cultivator appeared. It was none other than Guild Master Roy, the supposed bone-forging cultivator overseeing the Adventurers Guild.
"Isn't it below you to attack a group of blood-thickening pups?" said Guild Master Roy, hefting his own spear over his shoulder. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"
"It's as we suspected," said the dryad with a smile. "The conflict between the Governor's Manor and the Adventurer's Guild—the meaningless spats and the absurd amount of bad blood between the two factions. It was a ploy all along, wasn't it?"
"I was hoping to surprise your helper in a pinch moment, but certain factors forced my hand," said Guild Master Roy. "Well? Are you going to reveal yourself, or will you stand by as we slaughter this corrupted dryad and destroy your pitiful army?"
Clap. Clap. Clap.
A second three-star demon walked out from behind a collapsed building and ascended to the skies. This creature was short compared to the dryad and had the legs and horns of a goat. It bore no weapon but carried instead an instrument: a pan flute the likes of which one might find in a museum.
"I didn't think anyone here was capable of sensing me," said the creature. "What gave me off?"
"You did," said Guild Master Roy. "Just now. So thank you kindly for saving me the trouble. A corrupted satyr on land is just as hard to find as a dryad in her forest."
"If not harder," agreed the satyr. "Oh well. Since you know what I am, there's no point dragging this out. I just wonder what gives you the confidence to step out and fight me when you know you're so clearly outmatched."
"I do," said a fifth voice. It was a priest – or at least someone Sorin had assumed was a priest. The old preacher, who'd been presiding over offerings since before Sorin's arrival, now surprised everyone with an aura that hovered between that of a bone-forging cultivator and a flesh-sanctification cultivator.
The satyr's expression fell. "So what if you're halfway into the flesh-sanctification realm? Such power is lacking compared to the likes of us."
"But it's more than enough to wield this wish-fire lantern," said the preacher with a smile. He pulled out a pole supporting a glass-covered case. Inside it floated an orb of fire with a presence that didn't lose out to the governor's.
"I'll shoot your words right back at you," said Governor Marsh, who'd splashed a high-quality healing potion over his shattered breastplate. "What gives you the confidence to fight the three of us at once?"
The satyr's eye twitched. "It's an even battle, at best. If you want to fight, let's fight!"
The satyr put his pan flute to his lips and began playing. A fierce melody ripped through the entire outpost, disrupting mana and invigorating those who relied on corruption to cultivate.
The demons at the walls grew violent and began fighting the defenders with no regard for their lives. It took them less than thirty seconds to create several openings on the front lines and force the human soldiers to abandon sections of the wall.
Initially, Sorin thought this was the pan flute's main effect. However, upon seeing the disproportionate reaction from the governor and Guild Master Roy, he realized this was not the case. The flute was a targeted attack intended to weaken flesh-sanctification cultivators enough that the dryad was able to split into two identical bodies and still put up a good fight.
Fortunately, the preacher was there to help them and used his wish fire to counteract the satyr's spell. As a result, the two warriors were able to take the upper hand and slowly force the dryad back.
"Sorin, she's not looking too good," Stephan urged as the flesh-sanctification powerhouses rose the ground. "You can help her, can't you?"
"I'm not sure I can," said Sorin, inspecting her wounds. "She's a bone-forging cultivator, and I was only a one-star physician at my best, forget me as I am now. Stephan, can you carry her while I stabilize her? We need to find a place that's relatively safe to perform an emergency surgery."
"No problem," said Stephan. He gently picked his sister up while Sorin applied pressure to key acupoints to prevent blood from pouring out and mana from dispersing.
"Lawrence, I'll need you to go to the emergency clinic and fetch physician Marcus to perform an emergency corruption extraction, bone repair, and a major flesh restoration," continued Sorin. "We'll need a bone mend tincture, a nerve regeneration tincture, and a two-star healing potion."
"Are you sure you can trust the guy after what you've seen him do?" asked Lawrence.
"We don't exactly have a choice," snapped Sorin. "Go!"
"I scouted out a location not far away," said Gareth, jumping off a piece of rubble. "The building is mostly intact, as are a few of the surrounding buildings."
"Then let's get her to a better place," said Sorin. "Daphne, can you run along with Gareth and set up a bed? Preferably with clean sheets and some hot water?"
"No problem," said Daphne. She ran off after Gareth while Stephan and Sorin slowly transported Haley, taking great care not to disturb her limp body as they travelled.
