Chương 62: A Battle Overdue [Part 2/2]

Then Scarlet's mind, already attuned to the info-layer, tracked the signals being sent from brain to body and from body to the world around her opponent. Her cane appeared in her hand and was unsheathed in the same beat. Clutching her weapon, she ducked low. This time she brought her knees up, halfway towards a cannonball position.

Her feet touched the solid surface of the psionic platform she'd placed beneath herself, and she was forced to hold in her scream as the earthen spikes made it past her defences, through the thickened mana shields she'd placed as an additional precaution, and bit halfway into her feet. One heel was pierced clean through, while a jagged gash ran from the arch to the calf of the other leg.

Scarlet still leaned forward and used that kinetic energy to launch herself towards Tareth, short blade in a stance drilled into her through muscle memory, mortal danger, and a single agonising death that taught her more about how to survive combat than survival ever had. Throwing knives she knew would be entirely useless appeared in her off hand anyway.

They wouldn't damage him, but they might act as a distraction as she clashed and stabbed out in an elegant dance that did absolutely no damage in the few moments it did make contact. As she pinged away at his shield, Maus continued to Blink about, abandoning the attack potential of Resonant Bite and using only the disruption function of the Skill to consistently destabilise the energy around Tareth. It was as obvious to all of them that Scarlet was losing as it was that Tareth's victory wouldn't come quickly.

This would be a slow fight of attrition, one cut at a time. His pride in his superior Tier and station warred with the indignity of reality. Of being forced to react. He clung to the only shred of superiority he had, rooting himself to his spot and making himself a mostly immovable, completely impenetrable bulwark. * She cannot destabilise me. The earth is my element; here I am in control.

* Now, even with their combined effort, Scarlet and Maus were only able to nudge the stubborn vulpian slightly to one side or the other. The fight dragged on past the one-minute mark. The Historian gazed down at the ruined hall around them. The energy in the room was a volatile clash of shadow and earth mana, as well as spiritual energy. The floor was a mess, the whole ring would need to be redone.

Every new piece of debris created overlapping shadows beneath the persistent lights illuminating the disappointing scene below him. While the Historian couldn't say his disciple was the most composed person to exist, there was a layer of instability to this fight that he couldn't help but wonder if he'd caused through his monthlong confinement of the eyesore he'd been forced to take on. It didn't matter though, it looked like the fight was coming to an end, and he would need to act.

Scarlet, exhausted, made a slight mistake. Not even a full stumble, but with the disparity, that was all the opening Tareth needed. A clawed hand punched through her stomach and gripped onto her spine. If she wasn't in such horrific pain, Scarlet would've admitted that it was a solid way to immobilise an opponent. Scarlet had been caught. Her eyes flicked up to the balcony where the Historian stood. Her gaze was unreadable, but his was so clear, she could read the thoughts in them like he'd written them out. Yield.

I will not interfere. Scarlet turned back to Tareth and allowed a single emotion to leak through. Amusement danced in her eyes as she stared at the creature snarling in her face, mouth foaming like he was rabid. Their gazes locked, and with one final push of mental psionics layered atop waves of Empathy, her would-be murderer kept the entirety of his focus on her. For the briefest instant, she was his world. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

Then the shadows below him shifted, and a blade that looked like starlight and opal punched through the base of his skull and out the front of his eye. Held up by the dagger in his skull, his dead body released her living one to collapse into a heap on the floor. Scarlet immediately retrieved the restorative potion she'd saved for this moment as her eyes rested on shadowy figure of the assassin. While she'd been focusing on Tareth, the Historian had noticed something was off.

"Stop!" He'd shouted from the balcony the moment the assassin appeared. The assassin did not. The Historian cast a working of mana so arcane and complex Scarlet felt the energy like a flood as it surged out from him. Even as Scarlet was dropping to the ground, Tareth was being engulphed by a magic so intricate she couldn't even begin to prise apart what it did. The only things she understood from the glimpse she'd gotten were the elements of ice, space, and... the concept of time.

The assassin, having completed their task tried to jerk back and tug the blade out of their now-dead victim. Unfortunately for them, their hand, their weapon, and their target were all frozen within the working. The Historian looked at Scarlet, and Scarlet looked back at him.

"No interference." She said as she pushed herself back upright. The Historian looked at her, then back at his nuisance of a disciple, before offering only the briefest glance to the being cloaked in shadow and masked with an illusion that bypassed the eyes in the ultimate optical illusion; a working of soul magic. Finally, the Historian turned back to Scarlet.

"The fight ended when he died." The Historian gestured towards Tareth with one hand, though his eyes never left Scarlet's.

"Yes?" The Historian's gaze flicked back to the assassin, and she now realised he wasn't focused on the creature, he was focused on the blade.

"That's a spirus blade."

"Beg pardon?" Scarlet looked over and cast Investigate. The details she received were both awe-inspiring and completely chilling. [Spirus Blade – Tier 3 Classification: Non-Consumable Affinities: Soul | Shadow | Death Condition: Excellent Bond Status: Soulbound Creator: ▮▮▮▮▮ A specialised harvesting dagger and weapon designed to damage, sever, extract, and preserve spiritual structures. Damage stacks to progressively weaken the target's resistance to spiritual interference. Soul Harvest: Upon dealing a fatal wound, the Spirus Blade may extract and contain the target's soul. Extraction success is determined by the relative Tier of the weapon, the wielder, the target, the integrity of the target's soul at the moment of death, and applicable spiritual protections. Soul Repository: Extracted souls may be preserved within an isolated spiritual space incorporated into the weapon. Growth conditions unknown.]'Boss,' even Maus's mental voice was a whisper as she shared the results with him.

Now it was Scarlet's turn to glance at her hired hand before her eyes returned to the marvel of enchantment and fabrication in their grip. Just because she knew the limitations of the weapon, didn't make her any less wary of it. This was a weapon with a danger she needed to learn to guard against, and fast considering she'd be working with the Umbral Spectres a great deal more in the future.

Unfortunately, Scarlet was still trapped in the present moment, with an assassin whose contract couldn't be completed until they extracted Tareth's soul. Something they couldn't do because the Historian had essentially created a temporal lock around his disciple and the hand holding the spirus blade. He was holding the stasis field and showing no sign of dropping it despite the spell being hideously energy-intensive and terrifyingly complex. That meant he was certain he'd be able to save Tareth.

Perhaps even by rewinding time? He wouldn't even need to reverse a full second. Her intuition told her he could do it. Her intuition also screamed not to let him. The nature of the temporal 'healing' meant he'd technically be restoring him to a time during the duel. With neither of them surrendering, the duel would count as ongoing. With neither of them dead, saving Tareth would constitute interference, and the contract specifically stipulated he could not interfere.

Not nobody, or anybody, but the Historian, So, unless she gave him permission he could not save Tareth. The Historian had locked down his aura again, so she could divine nothing about how he was feeling, but the weary amusement, and exasperation radiating from the assassin, gave her the sense she should conclude this transaction. With alacrity. As though sensing her resolve, the Historian spoke again.

"Wait." The reason the Historian didn't simply smite the assassin was the same reason he didn't want to allow them to leave. The fact they were on this Training World, coupled with the spirus blade in their hand, meant they weren't just a small-time member of the Umbral Specter faction. This was someone with backing. And while the consequences of their death wouldn't fall on the Historian directly, they would certainly have negative implications for his faction.

As little as he cared about the collective, he recognised the obligations and responsibilities of his station. Yet, despite his reluctance to let Tareth go, even now, the Historian could feel the stirrings of his own power rising. A Tier 0 orchestrating the murder of his disciple, then succeeding while he was in the room. This moment was making history. Still, to give up now would be to go against his own interests, and even worse, cheapen the narrative.

No, this was an instance he knew needed to be documented, preserved, remembered. So, the Historian reached into his robe and pulled out the Potion of Tempering (Mana). The threat was implied. If Tareth died the Historian would not give her the potion. There were other, less pleasant ways to get her those Stats. But the response he was expecting never came.