A Record of Ash & Ruin: The Grieving Lands - Book 3: Chapter 9: Slow & Steady

In the rich tapestry of Al-Lazar’s Shareholder Houses, the House of Alim stands uniquely storied. Their ancestral tales whisper of a figure, known only as the Shield, a traveler from a realm distant and mystic. Beyond even the burning, treacherous waves of the Glass Fire Sea, the people of the long ago claim that her origins lie across a sea of the stars. On a world where mankind blossomed in the time of the ancients.

Legend suggests that this enigmatic woman, a slave, was a foundational pillar of Al-Lazar, instilling her otherworldly resilience into the bedrock of its inception. A truly flightful fancy, but House Alim commands respect and awe amongst its peerage. Every generation has produced formidable warriors that echo their legendary ancestor’s might.

– The Fanciful Travels of Beron de Laney 376 AC.

Patience was a good a tool as any. A sharp blade, it was often mistaken for prevarication and hesitation. I was armed with patience-a-plenty. I was trying to keep perfectly still and the symphony of stolen energies continued to fill me. My spell had changed, improved and evolved. The deeper darkness of its tendrils, which only I could see, would on occasion, also latch onto hostiles near my initial target. Like the tendrils of a carnivorous plant, it spread and drained them of their essence. In short, it had a random area-of-effect now.

This was important, as the monster crabs themselves had only one point of Mana. With Drain using twice that, a single crab could not fuel another crab’s demise, which meant that I had to rely on my natural rate of regeneration. Despite my Mana Regeneration skill, the whole process was still painfully slow.

Foolishly, I was indiscriminate in my use of the spell, and soon enough, some of the badly wounded crabs began to fall. Stupidly, the males continued to battle each other, but now some of the smaller specimens, perhaps the females, pulled their corpses to the shores of the underground lake and began to devour their remains.

One of the males, weakened by my magic, had grown lethargic, his movements lazy and leaden. His opponent, a smaller but faster crustacean, saw that his strength was flagging, and moved to pin him down with both of his fearsome claws. Somehow, the defeated monster signaled submission, causing the victor to release him.

It was not nature’s way to kill in contests such as these. If contests such as this resulted in death then it would be an overall loss for the species. No, these competitions were merely displays of strength, designed to attract females and to produce strong spawn. but neither I nor my magic cared anything for that. The loser was consumed by my dark magic and I received my experience, fueling my progress.

Without any drama or fanfare, I earned my next level, driving me to level thirteen. A most auspicious number. Needing a boost in my magical abilities, I placed all my attribute points into Intelligence and the single skill point into the Mana Regeneration. This resulted in a clear result of an extra two points of Mana, but it would be difficult for me to measure the exact effect of my improved Mana Regeneration. Still, it was just what I needed. Idly, I regretted not bringing my potions on my outing. However, knowing my Luck, and the general unfairness of this world, had I done so, they would have probably been ruined in my descent to this dark place.

Glancing at Zala, I saw that, like me, she was perfectly still, blending almost perfectly with the rocky environs. I surmised that as a Scout, she would be used to long periods of inaction. Since beginning my slow one-man-war against the chitinous terrors, I had completely lost track of time. I felt no tiredness, and with no sun, nor any other heavenly body to mark the passage of time, the only thing I could rely on was my slowly depleting reserves of Mana to measure it out.

While I wrecked slow corruption upon this generation’s shelled youth, I found myself thinking about the fate of my real companions. The goddess had mentioned that they were making their way to my location, but where was this exactly? And how far had we traveled from Iasis’ temple? What of Laes and the people of the caravan? It would be most inconvenient for me should the worm have attacked them. Certainly, the nights would be a little colder if this had come to pass.

But these were thoughts for another day, as yet another monster fell and gifted me yet more empowering experience. Zala turned her head to face me. Her expression was unclear, but I imagined the thoughts that must be going through her head. I had not touched them, yet the Ghostwalker were falling one by one. To her, who could not see the black energies of my spell, it must have seemed that a curse was wrecking slow disaster through their ranks.

Good, I thought to myself. Let her know fear, and that this would be her fate should she try betrayal. It was, after all, better to be feared than loved.

As I was doing my best impression of a statue for such a long time, I thought I would have developed a cramp, but the constant invigoration made that possible fate a lie. Everything felt so clear, and the world was at a higher resolution. I could even smell the metallic content of the water, for it was stained with fresh blood.

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Stupid as these creatures were, even they came to understand that this area was dangerous. Aggression, mixed with the savage urge to reproduce, was a most dangerous cocktail. The deaths, rather than dulling their instinct to mate, drove the remaining males to greater heights. The smaller surviving males, to be exact, for I had made it a point to specifically target the larger ones first.

I waited there, as insidious and as implacable as cancer, keeping five Mana in reserve and casting a new Drain whenever I could. A part of my mind drifted here and there, sifting through scattered memories of a different time. Of a different place. Even with my improved Intelligence, it was as if a heavy veil had been placed over certain parts of my recollections. Certain details I could view with greater clarity, but others floated just out of grasp. That was what time in a barbaric world would do to you. It would try to reduce you to being one of them.

Hours passed, or at least that was how it felt, and I could see that the strain was wearing on Zala. I had done enough with my magic, it was time to finish things in the old-fashioned way. Truth be told, I longed to take a more direct and physical approach.

I stood up surprisingly smoothly and broke cover. My dark silhouette must have been plain to see, for a few of the crabs’ antennae waved spasmodically in my direction. Too engaged with their activities, they barely paid me any notice.

Zala, a little less sure on her feet, took position behind me as I strode forth. The crabs that were left were far smaller creatures, only waist high and the diameter of their carapaces only about a meter and a half. As I drew closer to them, they began to click their claws and chitter in warning as their feeble brains finally began to register the threat.

I weaved the song threads of my Holy Aura, casting it in a burst of golden radiance. The light scattered across the dark lake, refracting in a kaleidoscope of color. But these creatures did not care one whit, for they were blind and could not see, and thus could not truly appreciate the dread future that was descending upon them.

My new shield formed on my left, taking the shape of a small round wooden targe, the edges of which were plated in metal. The Azag-Gishban, I held as a hammer, its comforting weight an assurance.

Sidling up to me, some of the Ghostwalkers waved their claws threateningly. Unfortunately for them, the time for threats had long past. All that was left was the struggle, the conflict, the harvest of experience.

I started to jog, swatting aside a claw of one of the crabs. Using the momentum of my parry, I then smashed where the roots of its antennae met its carapace, a simple Power Strike enhancing the force of the blow. Chitin was no match against forged steel and there was an explosion of green-tinged viscera as its shell was rent asunder. I kicked at the pathetic thing, knocking it away, its legs still thrashing, as its body still had not registered its own death.

I felt a heavy strike across my left cuisse that only served to annoy me. The damage caused was only five Health points and was absolutely insignificant. Hope filled me, a glorious thing that I drank deeply of. I was strong here, stronger than a normal man had the right to be. But then again I was more than a normal man,

Swiveling smoothly, a maneuver that Cordelia taught me, I moved to deal with the monster that had the temerity to strike me. It was no different from its peers, and like its peers, it would meet a similar fate. Unfortunately, it was backed by others of its kind. Something whispered to me then, to try something different.

Instead of my usual bread and butter Power Strike, I surrendered myself to one of my newer skills, Frenzied Strikes. What followed next was a haze of craze-filled violence. Catastrophe was my weapon, and none were spared my wrath. Again and again, I used the skill, each use of it more tempting than the last. Every wave of unleashed rage was a cathartic release against this very world. I slashed, smashed, stabbed, punched and kicked. Again and again, my body following the rhythm of wrath, as more and more monsters fell. Caring nothing for my defense, I was struck countless times, the shield in my hand nothing more than just another bludgeoning tool.

Another of the creatures caught me in a vice-like grip around the ankle, I knelt and smashed the offending pincer with my hammer. Yet another monster crab drew me close, its horrible limbs trying to squeeze the life out of me. Experimentally, I used Rush Strike, and at such close remove, it simply resulted in the creature flying off me with its shell cracked in several places, its claw arm ripped from its socket.

Distracted by my last opponent, I allowed a strong-shelled limb to smack into my back, sending me reeling from the impact. A spike of pain flared as something found its way through the weak points of my cuisse, burrowing through the mail.

My Stamina was draining rapidly, and I realized, so too was my Health, as the remaining creatures swarmed me, inflicting a deluge of minor hurts. But at the end of the day, they were only minor hurts, trivial things that barely stung at all.

Perhaps it was because of the new mark that granted me minor regeneration, my ridiculously high Constitution, or my new armor, but I was weathering this storm. Though they were damaging me slightly faster than I could heal ‘naturally’, at the rate I was mowing them down, their fate was all but sealed.

However, I am not a man to leave things to chance, no matter how deep I had drunk from battle’s cup. Hubris had always been a fatal flaw of the powerful. In a single cognizant moment of clarity, the eye of the storm, I unleashed a Drain spell on a more distant creature to balance the equation even more in my favor. The questing dark found it, a few tendrils of spell finding other targets in the crowd. Their life energy, along with Holy Aura, would help fuel my cull. The new energy lent me strength, and like a carpenter knocking down rebellious nails, my weapon rose and fell, rose and fell.

And how the experience flowed.