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Memoirs 356 - Faceoffs
🕑 Added 2025-05-09 21:50:12 +0000 UTCScarlett stood silent for a long moment, her gaze sweeping over the newly arrived group.
How had they made it this deep already? That part still didn’t make sense.
Her party had been the first to enter Beld Thylelion. That much she was sure of. The system itself had essentially confirmed it, and she had little reason to doubt it on that front. They’d also taken a near-direct route toward the middle layers of the ruins. Even if another group had entered right after them, they shouldn’t have been able to catch up this fast.
Unless, of course, they hadn’t entered through traditional means. Had they come in another way, like she had?
Beside her, Fynn narrowed his eyes. “They look familiar.”
Scarlett turned slightly towards him. “In what way?”
“They’re wearing masks. Like those ones from before. The Adepts.”
“Adepts?” Kat asked, frowning. “Wait, as in Cabal Adepts? Like the creeps you and I took on in that ambush, Scarlett?”
Scarlett met her gaze briefly, then looked back to the group ahead. “…Presumably.”
She squinted at them again. It was hard to tell from this distance, but the theory held. This was the Hallowed Cabal, then. If so, those likely weren’t Cabal Adepts, but Cabal Ascendants. To her current party, the Adepts would be little more than fodder. The Ascendants, though… They could be more of a nuisance. At least in larger numbers.
Was this better or worse than the Undead Council?
She stayed quiet for a while longer, thoughts threading through the possibilities. Her eyes swept over her companions. Most of them were waiting on her signal. Arnaud’s brow was furrowed, his sharp gaze shifting between her and the Cabal with quiet, assessing focus.
Scarlett’s lips pressed into a thin line.
Regardless of past dealings or tenuous non-aggression pacts, if the Cabal had come this far, they were competitors. They were here for the same prize.
Which meant they would have to be dealt with.
She drew in a slow, steady breath. “Follow me,” she said, voice low. “And prepare yourselves.”
The party moved.
They stepped onto a long, curved bridge that jutted like a pale rib toward the opposite terrace. The drop beneath was as black and endless as ever, the emerald crystals on the railing casting little light on the depths below.
Ahead, the Cabal had already noticed them.
Scarlett could all but feel the tension crackling through the enemy line. Weapons were already drawn — curved khopeshes of gold and dusk-metal. At least a dozen Ascendants stood in dark, layered robes, faces hidden behind golden masks etched with intricate white and gilded patterns. The sigils formed elaborate, recursive shapes, some of which might have resembled Zuverian, but not quite. Gold-threaded vambraces, ornate greaves, and talismans shimmered faintly across their bodies, far more refined than what the lower-tier Adepts wore.
Scarlett’s eyes moved past them.
Just behind the front line stood an old man wrapped in tattered black cloth, somewhere between a cloak and a robe. Unruly grey hair spilt down his back like a stormcloud, and his beard hung in thick cords across his chest. His arms were bare to the shoulder, muscles roped with scars and faded brands.
The Cabal wouldn’t send just Ascendants into a place like this. They’d at least dispatch an enforcer-level fighter, either from their own ranks or the Tribe of Sin.
Behind him, two Ascendants laboured under the weight of a large, half-wrapped object. Roughly rectangular—about half her height—it was shrouded in veils of tarnished gold and oxidised copper.
Scarlett’s focus snapped to it.
The moment she looked, she felt it. A subtle drag against her mind. Something brushing the edge of her thoughts.
That thing was wrong. Not just out of place — it felt opposed to the very nature of the space around it. Its presence scraped against reality. And that sensation…it was far too familiar.
Somehow, that object carried a trace of the Anomalous One’s power.
Her face didn’t shift, but her pulse climbed. Somewhere within, through the strange, insubstantial connection left by Thainnith’s legacy, the fragments of stolen power stirred, recognising their kin.
Scarlett’s group stopped several paces from the Cabal’s line, silence settling like a weight between the groups.
The Ascendants stood still, watching.
Then the old man moved forward.
He folded his arms across his chest and regarded them with a level stare. His eyes lingered a moment too long on Arnaud before settling on Scarlett.
“…You’re that Baroness Hartford, aren’t you?” His voice was rough, like gravel dragged across rusted iron.
Scarlett nodded once. “I am. And you, I presume, are the one they call Moor. The Brackish.”
The man held her gaze for a beat, muscles flexing beneath scarred skin. Then, without a word, he spat on the stone beside him.
“Heard you were a maddening one to deal with,” he said. “Seems the rumours were true.”
Scarlett’s expression flattened into something much colder.
Moor scratched his beard with a knuckle, eyes narrowing. “How are you here, lass? And you—” He jerked his chin at Arnaud “—playing bodyguard for imperial nobles? Is that all you’re good for now?”
Arnaud offered no reply.
Scarlett took a single step forward. “How I am here, or why, is none of your concern.”
Moor’s mouth twisted into a crooked smile, though she got the feeling he wasn’t particularly amused. “Bold of you to decide what is and isn’t my business, little baroness.”
There was a pause.
When Scarlett spoke again, her voice was low and even. “I will offer you one chance. Leave now. Do not return. If you take it, I will treat this meeting as though it never took place.”
Magic shimmered ominously around Moor’s forearms, swirling like black oil suspended in water. “That so?”
He stepped forward again, pressure radiating from him like a rising storm.
“Think carefully before you act,” Scarlett warned. “You lack the power. The justification. And the authority.” Her voice dipped further. “And you should know what might happen if you try anything hostile.”
She still had the Angler Man’s heart.
Moor didn’t flinch. “Sounds to me like you’re trying to talk your way out of this.”
“I am attempting to prevent unnecessary bloodshed. For both our sakes.” Scarlett’s eyes flicked to the veiled object behind him. Was it an altar of some kind? “…Vior-Da-Zof owes me a debt. You may not care, but the Cabal does.”
“That lot?” He snorted. “Not my problem. And I don’t much care if a pile of bones keeps rotting.”
Some of the Cabal Ascendants shifted at that, their golden masks tilting—just slightly—but none moved.
Moor rolled his shoulder. The magic around his arms thickened, coiling tighter. “All I know is I was told to kill anything that got in the way today. That happen to include you, Baroness.”
Scarlett clicked her tongue, irritation flickering behind her composed demeanour. Even knowing about the Angler Man’s heart, he clearly didn’t care in the slightest.
Her posture shifted as she readied herself. Moor was on par with Dean Godwin — not someone to underestimate.
Before she could give the signal, Arnaud stepped in front of her, raising one arm.
She glanced at him. He met her gaze and gave a slight nod toward Moor. “Allow me to handle him.”
She held his eyes for a beat.
Then, finally, inclined her head. “Very well.”
It would save her some effort, at least.
Arnaud moved forward, unhurried and collected. His hand rested lightly on the hilt of his blade, though he didn’t draw. He stopped a few paces ahead of Moor, watching him.
Moor’s eyes narrowed.
“Arnaud Astrey,” the old man said, voice darker now. “I was hoping we’d cross paths again sometime soon. Do you remember me?”
Arnaud’s posture remained relaxed. “I do.” A faint note of amusement threaded through his tone. “Though I admit I’m surprised you still have both arms.”
Moor’s lips curled into a twisted grin. “Took a while to get them working again. The scars stuck around. Keeps me humble.” He flexed his arms as the water around them pulsed, dark tendrils gathering strength, as if mirroring his mood. “Best not think you’ll get by so cheap this time.”
Arnaud’s fingers shifted slightly on the hilt. “I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said smoothly.
Then they moved.
Moor’s arms snapped forward. Whips of condensed water cracked forward with brutal speed.
Arnaud’s blade cleared only a few finger-widths from its sheath. That was all. A burst of displaced air erupted between them, and the water whips tore through the space, only to freeze mid-strike, a whisper from Arnaud’s face.
Moor twisted sharply. A surge of dark water yanked him aside, just as the stone where he’d stood was scored open by a line of near-invisible cuts etched deep into the terrace.
Their first exchange ended there. Both men reset their stances. Blood welled slowly from a shallow gash on Moor’s shoulder.
“Hmph.” Moor flexed his fingers. “Still too damn sharp.”
“Yes,” Arnaud replied, now drawing his blade fully in a single practised motion. The steel gleamed, flawless and mirror-bright, the edge honed to an unreal fineness. He dropped into a lower stance, feet angled, body seeming almost fluid. “I believe the phrase is: round two.”
No one else moved. The Cabal Ascendants stood in disciplined stillness. So did Scarlett’s party.
Moor stared at Arnaud, holding that look for a long while. Then he threw his head back—
—and laughed. A loud, rough sound, harsh and humourless.
Then it cut off.
His expression flattened.
“Kill the rest,” he said flatly.
The Cabal Ascendants surged forward like hounds off a leash. Twelve in total. Their enchanted boots barely whispered on the stone, their movements disturbingly synchronised. They descended on Scarlett’s party with deadly intent.
Three broke toward the front — and met Fynn and Shin.
Fynn dropped low beneath a sweeping arc of golden steel that split the stone behind him. He countered with a burst of viridescent wind, intangible claws clashing with the khopesh. The force threw both fighters back.
Shin intercepted the second Ascendant head-on. Steel rang out as he blocked with his shield, the blow rebounding off a shimmer of aura.
Scarlett raised her hand. “Kat — manifest magic only.”
“Already on it!” Kat called back, already mid-cast. Her claymore shone with a deep amber glow as a swirling cloud of molten stone and fire formed overhead the Cabal Ascendants. From it, a hail of explosive shards rained down—each detonating in bursts of flame—but most were deftly dodged.
Allyssa lobbed a crimson vial into the path of two Ascendants. A bolt shattered it mid-air, spraying thick, adhesive fluid across their robes. With a thought from Scarlett, the mixture ignited.
Behind them, Rosa got to work. The klert’s song wove through the chaos, each note a charm in motion — enhancing speed, clarity, stamina, and healing, tailored to each moment. The woman never stopped playing, hands spinning the crank, dancing over keys on her instrument, eyes locked on the flow of battle.
Scarlett’s focus snapped to two Ascendants charging straight at her. They were fast. Too fast, if it’d been the old her.
The [Eternal Flameweaver’s Athame] was already in her hand, and the [Crown of Flame’s Benediction] was already blazing on her brow.
The khopeshes came down at her in two vicious arcs—
But she was already gone. Mist swirled in her place as her [Garments of Form] activated, and in her stead, a churning orb of fire floated inside a shell of still, translucent water.
An Aqua Mine.
The two Ascendants didn’t hesitate. They plunged through, as though expecting to cleave through mere illusion.
Naturally, that was a mistake.
The instant their blades touched the orb’s surface, the Mine detonated. An explosive shockwave of steam and pressure launched them backwards across the terrace.
Unfortunately, before she could follow up, three more closed in. One was stopped cold by a jagged wall of stone erupting from the ground, courtesy of Kat. The second narrowly dodged an alchemical burst hurled by Allyssa, vaulting over Kat’s wall just as the third Ascendant flung a sleek throwing blade at the girl.
Allyssa ducked, and Scarlett intercepted.
She wove a quick burst of fire and water, conjuring a gout of steam that forced the attacker back. But in the time it took, the first two Ascendants had recovered and were closing in again.
The Cabal fighters were well-equipped. Their enchanted armour could shrug off most spells, and they were agile enough to dodge once they knew what to expect. Even for Scarlett, keeping the pressure on this many could prove a challenge.
“They’re trained,” Kat gritted out, panting slightly as she retreated to Scarlett’s side. “Worse than the ones we fought last time.”
“That is because they are not the same,” Scarlett said, snapping her fingers.
Twin barriers—one of scalding flame, the other of dense water—flared to life and blocked two Ascendants advancing towards Rosa.
The bard flashed her a grateful smile before twisting the crank of her klert. A sharp, jarring note echoed across the terrace, and Scarlett could swear she saw one of Shin’s opponents stumble just as the youth’s blade tore into the Ascendant’s shoulder in a clean, brutal strike.
Regrettably, it didn’t cut flesh.
Scarlett pulled her attention back to the larger fight.
If she had a few uninterrupted seconds, she had the firepower to deal with one, maybe two—possibly even three—Ascendants by brute force. But with this many, it was better to shift tactics. This wasn’t about overwhelming them, but about control. Control and coordination.
Luckily, that was something she had experience with.
The Ascendants had already realised they couldn’t simply cut through her magic like they could with ordinary spells. That made them cautious, and caution, in her hands, was leverage.
Like now.
A nearly constant haze of heat and mist had risen to obscure Rosa from view, and the Cabal Ascendants were averse to simply charging through it blindly. So instead, they redirected, pressing even harder towards Scarlett.
She let them.
She played the part of the overwhelmed mage, conjuring wall after wall of roaring flame — not just to defend, but to guide, to corral, to restrict movement. She funnelled them where she wanted.
Then one wall dropped.
Fynn leapt from behind it, claws out, growling. Wind curled around him in jagged streaks as he lunged forward and tore into two Ascendants.
Before the rest could react, Scarlett raised new fire walls behind him, sealing the breach. Kat followed up with a jagged rise of stone to reinforce it.
Scarlett allowed herself a rare smile. This kind of fight was always surprisingly satisfying to her.
Fynn was unpredictable. He was both relentless and nigh impossible to pin down. One moment he could be on defence, and the next, a flurry of claw and wind.
Shin anchored the centre. His shield absorbed blow after blow like a living fortress, and with Rosa’s charms, he rarely fell, striking only when given an opening.
Allyssa played around the edges, darting in and out, using Scarlett’s cover to throw her alchemical concoctions where they’d count.
And Rosa was the key that held it all together. Her music filled the gaps where their group was lacking.
With a team like this, it was hard for Scarlett not to feel a sense of power and enjoyment when guiding the rhythm of the battle. Especially now with Kat at her side, catching cues from her magic and responding in kind.
Frankly, she much preferred this kind of fight to a larger boss battle.
However, even then, this fight wasn’t one-sided.
The Cabal adapted. Their formation kept shifting, and their coordination kept improving even when facing Scarlett’s constant disruptions. Ascendants got better at flanking Shin and Fynn, striking from new angles that tested their defences. More of those razor-thin throwing blades cut through the air towards Scarlett and the others. She blocked most with simple water shields, but each one was a drain on her focus.
At one point, two Ascendants somehow slipped past her notice, closing in on Rosa from the rear.
A sense of alarm passed through Scarlett.
But they never made it.
Arnaud swept his blade in a casual arc towards the edge of the platform. A silver flash traced across both their legs, and they were sent crashing.
He hadn’t even turned to look at them.
By now, the battle had fractured into two distinct fronts: Scarlett’s team holding the Cabal at bay, and Arnaud facing Moor alone.
Moor unleashed a column of spinning water from above — a massive drill-shaped construct laced with murky runes and twisting currents. It descended like a spear from the heavens.
Arnaud raised the flat of his blade.
The drill struck. For a breathless moment, its tip touched the sword. Then, it froze. Hundreds of hairline silver fractures spread through the construct like ice across glass. A heartbeat later, the entire spell burst apart in a deluge of dark water. Arnaud stood in the centre of the splash, soaked, but untouched.
Moor, on the other hand, now bore several fresh cuts across his arms.
Scarlett spared only a glance towards their duel before turning back to her own battle.
She’d already tried testing Moor’s hydrokinesis, pitting it against her own. The result had been pretty conclusive. He was beyond the level where she could interfere with his mana directly. Unlike her pyrokinesis—amplified by several very powerful artifacts—her hydrokinesis lacked the same edge. And this man was on the level of an arch wizard.
If she were to fight him herself, she’d have to rely almost entirely on fire.
Part of her wondered how such a fight would unfold. It was, in many ways, what Arlene had trained her for. But under these circumstances, it was better to let Arnaud deal with things.
“Scarlett!” Kat shouted.
Another Ascendant had slipped through a flame wall. His robes and armour bore blackened traces, but he’d pushed through anyway. They’d figured out that she wasn’t sustaining every barrier at full strength. And they were starting to take risks.
This one charged, khopesh raised high.
Scarlett had no time left for evasion this time. She’d exhausted her [Garments of Form].
Still, she didn’t flinch.
In the blink of an eye, a ring of water surged up around her, congealing into an almost crystalline barrier of near-ice. The khopesh struck, and the barrier held, sealing the blade inside it.
For just a moment, she wondered if the Ascendant’s eyes widened behind that mask. This was the first time she’d tried to actually block a blow head-on, after all. Her hydrokinesis was better suited for defence than her pyrokinesis, but it was also far less efficient. She preferred avoiding it when she had other options.
This time, though, she reinforced the barrier just long enough to trap the weapon in place.
Then she raised her hand.
Fire engulfed the Cabal Ascendant.
It cost more mana than she liked because of their armour, but at this point, she felt it appropriate to send a message.
The Ascendant screamed as the inferno swirled. Motes of bluish-white mixed in from the Flameweaver, licking up his body — not burning flesh, but unravelling armour, disintegrating enchantments and magical wards in layered succession. By the time the blaze died down, only tattered robes and a half-melted mask remained of the armour. Scorch marks streaked across the man’s body in jagged, unnatural lines.
Two slabs of stone erupted from either side, slamming together with a brutal finality that had the Ascendant crumbling to the ground.
“Well done,” Scarlett said.
“Thank you,” Kat exhaled. “And by the way,” the woman added more wryly, “you’re terrifying.”
“I have been told as much.”
Scarlett scanned the field. Even after witnessing their comrades’ fate, the remaining Ascendants pressed forward without hesitation.
She supposed that wasn’t surprising.
She was just about to conjure another round of Aqua Mines when something caught her eye.
Above them—high up in the dark expanse that passed for a ceiling—golden runes and glyphs began to shift. Normally, they drifted in diffuse, hypnotic loops. But now, they’d changed. The threads of light that intermittently streamed down like strands of silk grew more numerous, seeming to visibly converge above their terrace.
And, unless she was imagining it, they were descending.
She wasn’t the only one to notice. Fynn’s head turned mid-swing, tracking the threads. His expression darkened.
Scarlett’s brow furrowed. Were the threads...targeting them?
Just then, she caught a shimmer of gold, vaguely humanoid, forming just off to her right.
More followed, scattered across the terrace. Fuzzy, incomplete shapes. Half-formed images and projections.
The reflections were returning.
Even the Cabal fighters paused, taken aback by the sudden appearance.
Scarlett’s gaze snapped back to Moor and Arnaud. Their duel had intensified, their movements almost rhythmic now. Moor launched a sinuous stream of water that snapped upward, then dropped like a striking serpent. Arnaud stepped into the motion, blade flashing through the current without resistance. The spell parted like mist. His counter came an instant later in the form of a rippling slash that cut past Moor’s guard and left a long, bleeding gash along his side.
Moor snarled and lifted his arms to cast again—
The golden threads above them contorted sharply.
Scarlett’s eyes locked on a figure forming at the centre of the terrace. It was different from the rest. More defined, as if shaped from a more focused memory.
And cold dread bloomed in her chest.
The figure was tall. Solid even, though remaining ghostlike. Crimson light pulsed beneath its skin, stripes of red veining outward in rugged paths that glowed too brightly. There were no clear features. No eyes, no face. Just a silhouette, cloaked in flickering shadows and seeping strands of scarlet mist.
At its feet, the stone began to blacken and hiss, as though something was bleeding through the world itself.
Scarlett recognised that build-up.
“Scatter!” she shouted to her party. “Now!”
The figure convulsed.
Bulging masses of blood-red flesh sprouted along its limbs — writhing, pulsing, mutating in uneven bursts. Wet tendrils of viscera lashed outward like veins torn loose from a body, floating with unnatural tension. More of that glistening, organic mass spilt from its side, hovering in coiled arcs like weapons waiting for the signal.
Scarlett was already moving for cover, barriers of fire and water flaring to life around her and her allies.
The figure spasmed once more—
—then exploded.
A cyclone of blood and ruin tore outward in a perfect ring. Tendrils slashed like blades. The blast carved through spellwork, armour, even the stone beneath them. Threads of gold were sliced midair, vanishing like strands beneath a blade. The ghostly reflections shattered into brilliant dust, followed by distant chimes.
The terrace buckled. Sound fractured.
And the world went red.
Comments
Gratti
Boooo cliffhanger, I wanna know what happened!
