Millennial Mage

Tala stood in the center of the great stump, her armor yet to be donned.

Her forces were arrayed behind her but not by far.

Opposing her was a being that at once looked like a black hue-man and like nothing she’d ever seen before.

Dressed in form-fitting armor that looked too smooth and well-crafted to be anything but magically constructed, he didn’t appear to have any weapons nearby, but Tala wasn’t fooled by such appearances. She could feel the weight of his will, which would manifest as weaponry soon enough, she had no doubt.

He was a statue of black-steel that was replaced every passing fraction a second with another that was slightly different, providing the illusion of movement without ever moving. It reminded her uncomfortably of Rane, while being somehow… perpendicular to her husband in a way she couldn’t put to coherent thought.

The black statue was a weight, dragging all existence toward himself like a funnel, while also being a pillar to hold up the sky, making approaching him the definition of an uphill battle.

He was matte in appearance, not quite sucking in the light around him, but certainly reflecting very little, making him practically a living shadow. He was covered in glowing lines of light, the stamp of reality’s power looking more organic than Mistress Holly’s inscriptions ever had.

The back of his head—like that of all the Black Legion automata—was of a clear material, encasing his soulcore.

His eyes burned with an inner purity giving a seeming glimpse at his soulcore through his otherwise impassive face. The light blazing forth from that was a pure white, casting everything behind him in stark illumination.

The forces behind him were not what Tala had hoped.

It was not a horde of lessers of various kinds, ready to swarm over their gathered resistance.

It was composed of three distinct groups, though they were as intermixed as the allied forces.

First—as expected given the presence of their leader—were the automata, four prime commanders, twenty-three senior commanders, and just more than one-hundred commanders.

That force alone would test the arcanes and gated of the alliance, but they were far from alone.

Second, was the Forest Spirit and his herd. Despite everything, Tala found herself smirking when she noticed the great elk limping slightly, the small cut on his front left foreleg—that which Terry had died to impart—still dripping blood.

Terry’s stronger now.

-Indeed he is.-

No other wounds were still in evidence physically, but Tala could feel that the Forest Spirit was diminished when compared with their first encounter. Both the efforts of the Pack and Walden’s slow subversion of portions of the southern forest were having effect.

His herd was composed of close to three dozen elk-kin, mostly true elks, but there were several puma-elks, and at least five arch-boars with antlers as well. Most were at the level of Paragon, but a few were only equivalent to Refined.

Surprisingly, there seemed to be a small cadre of does hanging back, grouped up and clearly rather hesitant to be there. They had arch-beast level auras to them, but they were placid and nurturing compared to the antlered offspring of the Forest Spirit. These were all Paragon, but Tala felt no direct threat from them.

In order to maintain the balance of nature?

-Or something like that. There are less of them, so it’s possible their natures had to be more extreme to counter the greater number of violently disposed offspring?-

Maybe, but it’s just a guess at this point.

Third and finally was the smallest group, the Leshkin.

Six princes or generals of their kind each represented an overpowering number of spirits, so closely packed together and intertwined that Tala couldn’t easily count them.

Their normally purely vegetative forms were now interwoven with black metal as armored plates or cables or even simple rods. It seemed that these near-pinnacle Leshkin were the least influenced by the Black Legion’s coercion, but their presence made that a cosmetic distinction at best. Regardless, their near-Reforged-level power meant their presence would be felt in the coming fight.

All of this flickered through Tala’s awareness in the eye-blink after the enemy had arrived at the edge of the clearing.

They’d had to cross nearly half-a-mile of her aura to reach that point, but they’d done that near instantly, dragging their own auras and authority behind them.

It was likely only her Ascending power—alongside that of the god-beasts of course—that caused the equilibrium to have settled as it had, keeping them from simply arriving in the midst of the alliance in a single opening assault.

Since sudden and surprise violence was off the table, they seemed to be interested in something else.

The statue of the supreme commander spoke. “I am Verity. Your transgressions against reality have continued for too long. The day of reckoning is at hand.”

Existence thrummed at his statement, but Tala smiled. “Look around you, Verity. Existence within my sway is more whole and hale than it has been in eons. Withdraw, cede to my will, and I will spread this fix—this cure—across all of Zeme. It won’t be instant, but I will bend myself to the task. This I swear.”

Verity actually seemed to hesitate at that, and Tala felt a perception sweep over the nearby region. Finally, the edifice shook his head. “The fact that the dead do not suffer, does not make death a good analgesic.”

Tala frowned. “I’ve not killed reality, let alone existence. Your analogy fails.”

“A creature of magic cannot properly assess reality.”

“You are blinding yourself, Verity.” She pulsed her aura, emphasizing all aspects of it. “I am a being of existence.” She straightened herself. “It is you who are attempting to unbalance Zeme.”

The Black Legion Leader looked almost sad. “If all were as you, you just might be correct, but as that is not the case, this will not be settled with words. Neither of us will unseat the power of the other with rhetoric.” He glanced toward the Forest Spirit. “Nature progresses through violence, finding its balances in the back and forth of predator and prey. My target is in sight.” He raised a blade that did seem to suck in the light from around it. “Havoc!”

His forces charged forward, clearly having been waiting for the command.

In retrospect, Tala realized it was odd that Verity was taking the primary position, but she supposed it was likely for similar reasons to Anatalis’s own secondary role.

If the Forest Spirit and Pack Alpha were at the fore, then other Sovereigns or god-beasts might see that as an opening. If so, they might wish to weigh in as well, and that wasn’t in anyone’s interest.

Each side believed they had a chance as things stood, and they wouldn’t let others decide their fate if they could help it.

The herd sprang, lunged, and charged upward with the Forest Spirit at the core of their charging formation.

Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings.

The Pack, in contrast, sprang apart, splitting to assault the flanks, that highest level fight bowing to metaphor once more and beginning up near the canopy.

Tala hadn’t been idle as she spoke with Verity, and as the cry went out, she struck, her aura lancing in from both starward and stoneward to pincer a space directly beside the Forest Spirit even as he charged past it in the air.

Terry seized that momentary beachhead and flickered in beside the immortal elk, endingblade magics already crystalizing along his talons.

He slashed deep, twisting to cut from shoulder to haunch, even as the authority of the Forest Spirit struck back, attempting to ward him away.

Six ending-talons raked at the elk, but only one got through, splitting the god-beast’s Sovereign hide and leaving the underlying muscle exposed as a small flap yielded to gravity.

The next instant, Terry was punched with the power of a Sovereign god-beast, catching him even as he flickered away.

The terror bird staggered upon his return to Tala’s side, but the opening strike had been a success.

Blood was in the air, and the hunt had begun.

Tala launched forward, two figures close at her sides.

On her right, Eskau Pallaun moved forward like a flitting shadow, his protian weapon forming into a spear as he extended his own power to net and draw the focus of the prime commanders behind the supreme.

Unseen edges were already scraping against every exposed joint and potentially soft area of the automata, causing the targets to flinch even as they moved to counter the man.

On her left, Eskau Meallain seemed almost to glide forward, her every step moving her more than it seemingly should have.

Her armor was thick, white steel that didn’t seem to slow her more than morning mist might, her features shrouded within its cool embrace.

Her power also pulled at the primes, drawing two of them her way to her obvious disappointment.

Through Tala’s threefold perception, she saw the woman’s expression shift and practically all but heard her sigh and say, ‘Fine, I’ll share.’

The first three attacks missed Eskau Meallain entirely, with the next seven harmlessly deflecting off her armor even as she returned every assault with violence of her own.

From there, her defense continued to be flawless, though, to those unaware of her power, it would look like her opponents were incompetent.

She was a masterpiece of devastation; only the inhuman nature of her opponents kept the fight from already being over.

Tala was left with Verity, the battle narrowing to just the two of them for the moment as she trusted her allies to handle the rest, or at the very least to call on her at need.

She didn’t use any existence shielding to start. But she was just getting started. Her usual armor enfolded her before she let a smile pull more fully at her lips. Her perception was very good, and that let her feel something of great import. “I see you fought Master Jevin recently.”

Her voice resonated around her even as Verity strode forward. His expression shifted just briefly in surprise, but he didn’t slow. “He was annoying, yes, even if I didn’t feel he matched his previous showings against my people.”

She laughed, Flow manifesting in her hand. “I’m glad you feel that way. It will make your failure all the more satisfying.”

There was no further time for talk, and the abyss of a concept blade licked out, Flow barely parrying the hard to perceive weapon.

In that first exchange, Tala was assured that this fight would follow at least some previously understood patterns.

Yet again, her enemy was more skilled in purely melee combat.

That didn’t matter to the outcome, however. Yet again, she would overcome that shortfall with other capacities.

* * *

Rane found that he was less than pleased by the distribution of foes.

They hadn’t expected six greater Leshkin, and there were no other Archons present who could easily face them.

Make no mistake, the handful of Paragons, wandering Masters and Mistresses, and Defender teams were gathered at his back, and they would be invaluable in the fight to come, but none of them could stand toe-to-toe with this foe.

Master Xeel had been called away due to some threat on Marliweather—Rane supported his work in defending that city—and their other strongest contenders were elsewhere dealing with things that he’d yet to be fully informed about.

It feels like a cop-out, but it’s not like they’d actually leave us out to dry if there weren’t a good reason.

The void Paragon stood beside him at least, and she likely had a better chance of permanently ending these things than he did. Aside from the gated in his corner was Captain Ron of the Talons, a squad of their best to back him as well.

Well, Talax isn’t here, but he should be near Lea. That girl wouldn’t stay in the sanctum otherwise. As powerful and versatile as she is, she’s too ripe a target.

They, at least, would be physically more capable with the Leshkin. He just needed to watch out for them in other regards.

The first impact of the battle was brutal, wood-chips flying in every direction as the Talons and Defender front-liners tore into the vegetative bodies of the Leshkin, imparting a lot of damage that no one expected to last.

Rane sent arcing blades of kinetic energy into the one that he’d picked out as a first foe, but he knew that wouldn’t be enough.

As vines and roots lashed out, he briefly saw the void Paragon somehow simply shedding the attacks without seeming to dodge, magics shifting where the dividing lines between her and the rest of the world were, causing even spears or braided wire through her head or heart to somehow leave her unscathed.

Fire, spikes of ice, and other magics crashed against the Leshkin, but they were ancient trees before a storm, anchored deep yet still flexible due to centuries of need to be so.

Rane ducked, wove, spun, and deflected the attacks coming from all around as he drove forward, seeking the unholy conglomeration of plant, metal, and disembodied spirits.

Re-embodied for the last time.

* * *

Terry flickered through the battlefield in the sky, never staying in any position longer than a moment, but even so, he was accruing splinters of various kinds.

The largest and most pressing was the one driving into his very spirit, courtesy of the Forest Spirit, a gift in return for the slash he’d left on the tasty treat’s side.

It felt like losing his clutch once more, but he’d fought through such pain for centuries. It was an old ache, though never one he’d call ‘welcome.’

The wolves were savaging the herd, raking lines of fire, lightning, and other magics through the hides of the arch-beasts.

It was instantly more clear than ever that these were hampered, hobbled in power by the strictures of the Forest Spirit to prevent their ever being a threat to the great elk. Even so, the Forest Spirit was also propping them up, his power radiating from every pair of antlers.

That was in Terry’s favor, as it allowed him to do things that would have been untenable if their power had been more unified.

He flickered in directly beside and behind a flank of tasty arch-bacon, snapping out and taking the whole leg in a bite, just to be efficient.

The elk-kin stumbled even as it ran through the air, its magic barely keeping it from careening into various trees around the edge of the conflict.

Terry had noticed something interesting and had a plan. He purposely let his power flash more brightly, drawing attention to the enemy that he’d just wounded.

The does off in the distance noticed and focused, healing the arch-beast with a flare of power.

Terry loosed a cackling chirp and bit off the leg again before flickering away, a double portion of magical bacon in his gullet, and the enemy support lessened fractionally for no gain but his own.

His new point of arrival was directly in the wake of Walden’s first charge. He came obliquely through his distant siblings, the elk’s growing domain and power making him more than a match for any of them one-on-one, and they scattered or were tossed aside as his antlers tore into them.

Terry’s arrival was precisely timed, and he flared his aura once again, causing the Forest Lord to jerk sideways in surprise, turning what would have been a devastating hit to Walden’s flank into a grazing cut that barely staggered the Immortal Elk.

Terry had pursued prey with far more grievous wounds, so Walden would be fine.

The Forest Spirit reared up, hooves pulling back to lash out, but Anatalis hit him from the side before he could strike.

Terry’s two-purpose distraction complete, he flickered back into the tumbling, twisting melee that was the Pack and herd maelstrom.

The wolves were imparting many wounds to their foes, taking far fewer in return, but the does were more than just a tasty after-clash buffet waiting for Terry’s attention.

They were making the Pack’s attrition tactics suddenly a losing proposition.

The alliance needed a decisive strike to reset things in their favor, or this fight would begin a slippery slide into unrecoverable disaster.

They needed his hatchling.

With great reluctance, Terry reached out to her through their soulbond.

He didn’t like that they needed her already, but he knew they did as sure as he’d known anything.

It was time for his bond’s particular brand of disaster… prevention.