Saying that I lock eyes with the sumeen is perhaps inaccurate. They don’t have eyes, just those thin holes that seem simultaneously meant for sight and smell? I can’t quite tell what they’re meant for, not that I care.
The sleepy-looking mage steps forward, shattering yet another spell tossed at her, and striding towards Thatch at an unhurried pace. Somehow, that seemed to give the other wayfarers more bravery.
It’s the first time they get breathing room, too, which is troublesome for us. By now the smoke is denser, so it’s hard to see, and a few of them are coughing, but none of it touches the sumeen. They just stride forward, unbothered.
I watch for a moment, as the wayfarer’s rally, properly activating their abilities and drawing weapons that had stayed sheathed before. As the surprise of our attack fades, and some of that panic is beaten away. The magic Syvles cast to enhance their fear dissipates, and when Inu tries to infect them with pain, that, too, fails.
Then, I step forward.
The sumeen turns to me, and cocks their head, curious. “You. What is that strange skill on your vessel?”
Slowly, I smile. “Dispel it and find out,” I say.
Humming in amusement, the sumeen does just that. A wave of power floods from them, mana pouring from their vessel to activate the spell. It flows towards me, a gentle wave drifting through the air - and is met by [Deconstruction].
[Deconstruction 14 > 15]
The skills are so different, yet so similar. Theirs is a gentle unravelling. Mine is a toolbox and a knife, slicing through nodes of stabilities. Their head tilts further as the attempt at dispelling falls apart. It took a chunk of my mana, but I see the amusement on their face. “My, my. This shall be entertaining.”
My mana brushes against them. I make sure just one last time.
[Unmaker, lv. 51]
Strong. Much stronger than me. Strong enough to ascend another floor, and yet, weak enough for me to beat. Because I prepared a few tricks. Slowly, I look at them. The sumeen hums a sad tune, and mana brushes against me, too.
“How… strange,” they hum, gently. “You are strong, and yet weak.”
That makes me tilt my head. “What makes me weak?”
A shiver passes through the unmaker’s body. Their limbs twist, splitting and turning into four razor sharp blades. And they move. Far, far faster than me. A blade plunges at my eye, until Kuro solidifies, stopping it in mid-air.
“You are slow,” they say. “But you control shadows?”
I look at her, the way the blade shakes as my shadow-bond holds it up. It quivers, a whisper away from my eye. They’re fast, and strong. Kuro can barely stop the blow. Another blade slams towards my side.
A solidified plane of mana stretches across my skin, then disintegrates into strings of worthless effort. I blink, the attack sinking into my side, scything through my flesh as I step backwards. I grab the arm and push it aside, but it feels like wrestling with a bear. I cannot budge the sumeen.
“You are weak,” they hum, amused. “You are slow and unfocused. You will be unmade at my hands.” They scythe two more blades towards me - at my shoulders, strangely. Are they trying to bleed me slowly? How bizarre.
Throughout it all, I just stare. Yes, they’re fast. Yes, they're strong. Much stronger than me. But, in that, there lies a truth.
I have more mana than them.
The blades streak through the air, whistling, humming like the person they’re being swung by. The sleepy mage engages me in close combat. I try to manifest a sword, only to have it undone. I attempt to deconstruct their unravelling of my spells, but my toolbox is scattered across the ground.
For a moment, the attack almost lands. Then, [Suppression] lances out like an arrow.
A lightning fast, tiny spell. It cuts into their shoulders, weakened by the splitting of the arms, and I step backwards. For a moment, the sumeen just stands there, blood dripping from a blade, as if a puppet on strings. Then, the suppression breaks, and they shake free.
They stare at me, six holes directed towards me with curiosity. “What was that?” they ask.
I smile. “No idea what you’re talking about,” I say.
At that, the sumeen hums with curiosity. “Show me again,” they demand. Another shift elongates their legs, and their steps grow swifter, and another suppression weakens a joint just as they step within range of me. I step forward, and kick the lengthened knee, feeling something bend and snap. Then, a hammer blow sends me staggering backwards, my head ringing like a gong.
Blood streams from my nose, just a bit. The flesh-shifting is a natural ability, and not one I can break yet, but that’s okay. The sumeen now regards me more carefully, and with a slight limp. In exchange, I hold the knife wound in my side, my body aching.
I toss a sphere of mana, they reach out to unmake it, I suppress their attempt, just long enough for the sphere to actually hit.
Their skill twists in on itself, targeting my suppression, but that twist reveals its nodes, and deconstruction snakes into the gap.
[Observation 7 > 8]
This time, their skill falls apart before mine does, and fragments of it fall into my epitaph, feeding my mana, their patterns absorbed into my mental library. I breathe in, slowly. The sumeen hums a note that makes my ears bleed and my vision fade for a moment - not from blacking out, just being turned blind.
I shatter the effect, and duck, barely avoiding a scything guillotine, and instead receiving a stab through my thigh and another in my shin. I pour more mana than necessary into a [Suppression] that makes their entire body heavier, suddenly toppling off balance and towards me, then flick it off before they can unmake it.
Their half formed anti-magic hangs in the air, and I shatter it. A mana-dagger forms in my hand, imbued with [Deconstruction]. As they reform their spell, I cut one of their scythe-arms off, splattering blood all over the floor.
My clothes stain red, and the sumeen hums a painful screech. They reach out to annihilate my weapon, robbing me of power, only to find the imbuement tearing their spell apart at the same time. I reach into my pockets, and pull out something rather simple.
It’s a mundane knife. A long, steel dagger, made by Bay. I’ve enchanted it with some durability, and copied a few of the runes from Opal’s blade. This one, they cannot unmake. I stab it into their flesh, then watch them stagger back.
With an angry chitter, their gaze turns to the ground. One of the corpses unravels. Strings of flesh and meat fall away from hovering bones, still covered in blood. I blink. That’s not an ability I thought they’d have.
Despite the holes in my legs, I throw myself to the side, letting a bone dagger whiz by and take a bite out of my ear. I can feel it tear at my flesh, blood and cartilage writhing as if sucked into the thing. It whirls around to stab at me again, and I move to shatter the spell holding it.
The unmaker hums in amusement. Their anti-magic reaches out to stop mine, but [Suppression] streaks through the air, stopping their interference. My [Deconstruction] lands, and the curving daggers clatter to the ground. Their anti-magic arrives, only to find its target gone.
[Nullmage 12 > 13]
They growl for a moment, slowly stalking me, circling. Around them, more corpses begin to unravel, flesh parting for bone. My friends have left enough of those behind. It should be disgusting and horrific, but really, it just… is. Recycling, really, I think. Putting bodies to use.
Regardless of that, though, I decide that it’s time to make more use of preparations. So, with the support and preparation of Bay, I do as I’ve previously done with big problems: I throw a grenade at them.
“Huh?” the sumeen hums, for just a second, before the bomb imbued with all the bits that make my anti-magic work goes off, sending mana disrupting shrapnel in their body while I cower behind a counter.
I hear bone daggers clatter to the ground.
Grenades are wonderful.
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