Weaves of Ashes

Chapter 62: Chapter 57: Pack Tactics

Location: Dark Forest - Outer Ring | Doha (Lower Realm)

Time: Day 367, Mid-Morning

The lead fox lunged.

Jayde’s hands moved before conscious thought—veteran reflexes honed across six decades of combat. Ember Shield flared into existence, a shimmering disc of compressed Inferno essence two feet across. The fox’s skull cracked against the barrier with a meaty thud, and it tumbled backward, dazed.

Six hostiles. Coordinated pack tactics. Sparkforged-tier essence signatures. Flanking positions established.

(Oh gods, we should run! There’s too many—)

We never run from battle. The thought came sharp with irritation, like snapping at a nervous recruit. Ever. We stand our ground.

Two more foxes darted in from her left, low and fast. Jayde pivoted, blade coming up in a defensive arc that should’ve intercepted—

Should’ve.

The timing was wrong. Her body moved like she was wearing powered armor, compensating for weight that wasn’t there, expecting response times from servos that didn’t exist. The lead fox slipped under her guard, fangs scoring a hot line across her thigh before she could adjust.

”Damn it,” she hissed, bringing the blade down in a brutal chop that caught nothing but air. The fox was already gone, melting back into the undergrowth.

Combat paradigm mismatch. Muscle memory optimized for mecha response time. Adjust.

A fourth fox lunged at her back. Jayde spun—too slow, still thinking in powered armor speeds—and threw up another Ember Shield. Twelve Qi burned away in three seconds of protection. The fox’s claws raked across the barrier, leaving trails of orange sparks before it retreated.

”A plasma rifle would end this in three seconds,” Jayde muttered, tracking movement through the ferns. ”Three. Seconds.”

Assessment: Current tactical approach is inefficient. Qi expenditure is unsustainable at this rate. Need battlefield control.

(They’re circling us! They’re going to—)

They’re going to die. Now shut up and let me work.

Five foxes now visible, weaving through cover in perfect coordination. The sixth—the smart one—hung back, watching. Learning.

In Federation space, I’d call for artillery support. Orbital strike. Done.

Here, she was alone. Just her, a blade that didn’t fire plasma, and magic that responded too damn slow compared to technology.

Fine.

Jayde’s fingers traced the pattern for Inferno Burst, pulling hard on her Crucible Core. Thirty-five Qi flooded into the technique—expensive, wasteful, but effective. She slammed the gathered essence into the ground at her feet.

The explosion was beautiful.

Flame erupted in a three-meter radius, turning morning mist to superheated steam. Earth cracked. Ferns disintegrated. The concussive force threw Jayde backward into a controlled roll—she’d braced for it, knew exactly what thirty-five Qi of Inferno essence would do when it detonated.

The foxes hadn’t.

Three of them yelped and fled, orange fur singed, tails tucked. Smart. Tactical retreat in the face of overwhelming firepower was always the right call.

Three remained.

The boldest. The hungriest. The most dangerous.

Better odds. Jayde pushed herself upright, breathing steady despite the adrenaline spike. Still inefficient. Burned forty-seven Qi total. Should’ve been twenty.

She backed toward a large boulder, positioning herself so the stone protected her flanks. Basic tactical doctrine—limit approach angles, force enemies into a killbox.

The remaining foxes circled, more cautious now. Orange eyes glowed in the greenery, tracking her movements with predatory intelligence.

(This isn’t working! We don’t know how to fight like this!)

We know how to fight. The weapons are different. The principles aren’t.

”Come on then,” Jayde said quietly, settling into a ready stance. The blade felt wrong—too light, no power cell hum, just dead metal and edge. ”Let’s get this over with.”

***

The first fox attacked from her right, low and fast.

Jayde fired a Flame Spark—four Qi, quick cast, should’ve been suppressing fire to drive it into cover.

Except she aimed where a blaster bolt would hit. High. Center mass.

The fox wasn’t center mass. It was low, hugging the ground, and the Flame Spark scorched nothing but air where its skull should’ve been.

Adjust. Lower trajectory. Compensate for quadruped profile.

”Damn it!” She fired again, this time aiming at ground level. The Flame Spark caught the fox mid-lunge, orange fire meeting orange fur. It yipped and veered off, singed but not dead.

Not good enough.

The fox came around for another pass. Jayde tracked it, waiting—waiting—

Now.

She lunged forward instead of defending, closing the distance in two quick steps. The fox’s eyes went wide with surprise. It tried to dodge, but she’d already committed, blade coming down in a vicious overhead chop that caught it across the spine.

Clean kill. The fox dropped, flames guttering out as its essence bled away.

”Finally,” Jayde breathed. ”Something that works like it should.”

She knelt quickly, ignoring the other two foxes circling, and cut into the corpse with practiced efficiency. The essence core came free—a crystal the size of her thumb, glowing with trapped Inferno energy. Warm. Beautiful. Useless without proper refinement equipment.

Into the void-storage ring. Move.

Two hostiles remaining. Energy expenditure: fifty-five Qi total. Remaining capacity: two thousand one-oh-five. Sustainable.

The second fox had learned from watching its packmate die. It didn’t charge. Instead, it feinted left, then right, testing her reactions.

Smart.

Jayde respected that. Good tactics. In another life, you’d make a decent marine.

She drew the pattern for Flame Whip—fifteen Qi, five-meter reach, supposed to entangle and control at range. White had demonstrated it once. Once.

The whip materialized, a rope of living fire extending from her palm. It felt wrong. Awkward. She’d never used a whip in sixty years of combat. Give her a monomolecular blade any day, something that cuts clean and predictable.

She snapped the whip forward. Too slow. The fox dodged easily, and the flame dispersed into sparks against stone.

”This would be easier with a monomolecular blade,” she growled, retracting the whip.

The fox darted in while she was distracted, claws extended. Jayde pivoted—still thinking in mecha speeds, still compensating wrong—and took a rake across her left forearm. Hot lines of pain. Blood welled immediately, soaking into her leather sleeve.

Minor damage. Superficial lacerations. Continue engagement.

(That hurt!)

Pain is information. Process and move on.

The fox lunged again. This time, Jayde was ready. She stepped inside its reach instead of away—close quarters, her comfort zone—and slammed Heat Palm into its face. Two Qi per minute activated, turning her palm into a brand. Fur ignited. The fox screamed, a high keening sound, and stumbled backward.

Jayde’s blade found its throat before it could recover.

Two down.

Remaining hostile: one. The smart one. Energy expenditure: seventy-two Qi. Injuries: superficial lacerations, estimated blood loss minimal.

One left.

The third fox sat ten meters away, watching. It had observed the entire engagement. Seen its packmates die. Learned from their mistakes.

This one was dangerous.

It didn’t charge. Didn’t rush in. Just circled, slowly, golden eyes tracking every movement.

Waiting for her to make a mistake.

”You’re smarter than your friends,” Jayde acknowledged. ”I respect that.”

White’s voice echoed in memory: ”Never fight fair. Use every advantage. Honor is for corpses.”

Right.

Jayde shifted her position, moving laterally so the sun came over her shoulder. The fox tracked her movement, still circling, still patient.

She kicked dirt.

Not at the fox—at the air between them. A spray of loose earth and dead leaves that caught the morning sunlight, creating a momentary cloud of particulates.

The fox’s eyes tracked the movement instinctively.

Jayde moved.

Two quick steps brought her around the cloud. The fox saw her coming—too late. It lunged, trying to intercept, but she’d already adjusted trajectory. Her blade carved air where its neck would be—

The fox twisted mid-leap, more agile than she’d accounted for. Instead of a clean kill, her blade scored across its shoulder. Blood sprayed. The fox yipped and snapped, catching her extended arm.

Fangs punched through leather, through skin, grinding against bone in her shoulder.

Significant injury. Deep puncture wound. Blood loss moderate. Recommend—

”I know!” Jayde snarled. She’d overextended, left herself open, and the fox had punished her for it. Classic mistake. In powered armor, she’d never have worried about it—the composite plating would’ve stopped the bite cold.

Here, she was just flesh.

The fox released and danced backward, blood dripping from its muzzle. Hers and its own.

They faced each other, both wounded, both wary.

(We need to end this! It hurts!)

Agreed. Finishing strike. Misdirection first.

Jayde feinted right. The fox tracked the movement, learning from before, refusing to commit.

She threw a Flame Spark left.

The fox dodged right—straight into the sun.

Golden eyes squeezed shut against the sudden glare.

Jayde lunged, Heat Palm still active, and grabbed the fox by its skull. Two Qi per minute burned through fur and flesh. The fox thrashed, desperate, but she held on with grim determination until her blade found its throat.

It went still.

Target neutralized. All hostiles eliminated. Mission parameters fulfilled.

Jayde stood there for a moment, blade dripping, breathing hard. Not from fear. From exertion. From the simple physiological reality of combat stress.

Her hands started shaking. Adrenaline crash, nothing more. Biochemistry, not emotion.

”Three months of this,” she muttered, kneeling to harvest the final essence core. Her shoulder screamed in protest with the movement. ”Three months. I miss my ship. I miss weapons that make sense.”

If I had a mecha, this would’ve taken thirty seconds.

(Can we go now? Please?)

Yes. We’re done here.

She field-dressed the kills with clinical efficiency, ignoring the pain in her shoulder and forearm. The Divine Tome’s interface flickered across her vision, golden text scrolling:

SPIRIT BEASTS ELIMINATED: 3

Species: Ember Fox

Cultivation Tier: Sparkforged (Mid-High)

Points Earned: 150 (50 per kill)

Total Points: 200/10,000

Total Merits: 20

Not bad. Fifteen merits per fox. At this rate, she’d have enough resources for everything she needed within a few weeks.

Assuming she survived that long.

Blood was already attracting attention. Insects buzzed around the cooling corpses. Something larger rustled in the distant undergrowth—drawn by the smell of death and essence.

Time to go.

Jayde straightened, essence cores secured, field dressing complete. Her shoulder throbbed with each heartbeat. The claw marks on her arm burned. The scrape on her thigh had mostly stopped bleeding, but still hurt like hell.

Assessment: Combat efficiency sixty-three percent. Qi expenditure is inefficient. Blade work adequate but rusty. Magic application improving, but requires significant additional practice.

She started back toward her cave, moving carefully, watching for additional threats.

(That was scary.)

That was necessary.

(We could’ve died.)

We weren’t even close to dying. Three Sparkforged-tier beasts against a Flamewrought cultivator with sixty years of combat experience? The only question was how efficiently we’d win.

(But it hurt!)

Pain is part of combat. You get used to it.

Jayde limped through the undergrowth, blade ready, senses alert. The morning sun climbed higher, turning the forest from golden to green. Birds sang in the canopy, oblivious to the violence below.

Somewhere in the distance, something howled—deep and resonant, carrying essence-weight that made the air vibrate.

Not for her. Not today.

But soon.

The Dark Forest had more lessons to teach, and Jayde intended to learn them all.

Even if she had to do it without a plasma rifle.

”Damn, I miss my blaster,” she muttered, disappearing into the green shadows.