Mason crashed through the planar army assaulting the holy city. His Honor Blades gleefully jabbed at throats and brains as he smashed through like a nine foot linebacker, bow out to spray death because he could kill with his hands anyway.
[Event initiated. Revenge of the Abyss. Defeat Ravasai, Champion of the Night Lord, with as few casualties as possible. Bonus opportunity for personal contribution points. Good luck!]
But apparently his time was up. Hair rose all over his body as the stink of the abyss worsened. Predatory eyes opened and squinted as if even the darkened light of the prime hurt, then moved over his body.
A sliver of cold darkness tried to ram into his mind but bounced off his defences. It probed his aura, some kind of identification power sweeping over him. He felt the surprise. The anger. It made him smile.
Wasn’t supposed to be here so fast, was I? He tried ‘thinking’ to it. Plans are tricky things. Come on out and play.
The dark lord’s avatar hissed in his brain, then closed the mental connection. Plan or no, Mason seriously doubted the thing could turn back now. The event had started and these gods had their ‘rules’. Now the question was, where the fuck was he?
Attacking the retreating players made the most sense. Except it would put him right where Mason was. Was there a chance he’d go for the city? That’s what Mason’s cold, ruthless hunter brain would have done. Get in there and make chaos, slipping out of shadows and buildings, terrorizing the soldier’s loved ones and send them rushing home, splitting the forces as much as possible…
He almost jumped and flew back at the logic when he saw a…globe of darkness swallow his players. He ran straight at it, summoning Stag, crashing a Grasping Frost rune at his feet to hold back anything following him. Then he activated Ranger’s Mark to search the darkness.
Stag bolted the moment he appeared, racing towards the globe like he knew exactly where to go. Mason sometimes forgot how much the creature despised demons, and it seemed like abyssal were his favorite to hate. The moment their bond strengthened from being close, he felt like punching a wall. Preferably a wall made of demons.
He disappeared into the blackness. He could barely see inside, feeling abyssal magic attack his perception. Everything distorted as his ridiculous senses warred with whatever was trying to shut them down. Everything was in outline, black and white and hidden by fog. He blinked and tried to use Transformation, but the power hadn’t even perked up, like the darkness wasn’t a ‘light’ problem but purely a ‘magic’ problem it couldn’t adapt to.
He noticed his ‘Abyssal Antagonist’ title was glowing and suspected it was the only reason he could see at all. Apex Predator wasn’t changing him, so that didn’t seem like a solution, either. He heard the creature’s distorted hissing somewhere in the dark. Claws scraping on dirt and stone. Humans screaming.
“Where the fuck are you?”
Smell was no good, either. Everything stunk anyway and it was impossible to tell anything apart. The only answer he could come up with was anti-magic. Blunt force dispelling everything around him.
For a moment he hesitated, worrying about what player magic he might shut down. But he seriously doubted the surrounded players could stop this champion. The faster he found it and got it pinned and distracted, the less would die. He slammed his arena-won Earthsoul gem.
The pulse blasted outward, shutting down everything but natural magic. He heard more panic from his players but couldn’t worry about that. For a moment he saw the demon plain as day.
It wad four, lizard-like legs, and two long arms with massive claws, plus a head like the aliens out of that space movie he watched with Rosa and Lexi those months ago. The body was long, more camouflage than black, smooth scales rippling with new color to blend into its surroundings. It was like some kind of gecko from hell. Literally. It stared at him with such hatred it warmed his heart.
There were too many players around it for most of his spells or ranged attacks. But he blasted a Power Shot like a sniper even as he activated Aspect of the Cheetah and ran.
The demon took the hit. It just stood there staring as if frozen, claws dripping blood, half a dozen player corpses around it in a trail of carnage. The arrow blasted off its chest, jerking its whole body. He realized it was channeling and wished he’d gone for an eye.
The dispelled aura re-engaged. A rush of darkness and power swallowed everything again, assaulting Mason’s senses. But he didn’t need long, and he’d gotten just close enough. He activated the challenge from his Stag’s Blessing, almost shivering with pleasure as the power pinged with success.
The renewed black and white world shrunk to a circular arena. Mason crossed the gap as he unsummoned his bow and extended his Claws, racing straight at his foe. He roared as he swung. The champion, Ravasai, moved with impossible speed at the last moment, just dodging the first swipe.
Mason’s Honor Blades were waiting. One arm jabbed his enemy’s shoulder even as it escaped, the tip putting a hole in those smooth scales. He spun like the hunter he was, twisting and chasing like a hound after a rabbit around the limited space of his power.
He didn’t have much time. He had to get this thing grabbed or hurt badly before the effect wore off, or he had no doubt it would run. He said nothing, nor did his enemy. Mason didn’t even blink, didn’t look away, or allow any more thought. There was only a blur of physics bending pursuit, hunter and prey in the oldest game of living things.
A rabbit was a good comparison. Ravasai was fucking fast. Despite the limited space, and Mason’s speed, the demon managed to keep a step ahead of him, dancing around, slashing back as it feinted and scurried and even warped like Carl.
His Honor Blades proved their worth. With longer reach and the ability to twist and strike on their own in an instant, the demon couldn’t quite escape them. With every exchange another ghostly arm jabbed and tore at those scales, until his enemy was leaking black ooze. Still, they danced.
Stag thundered into the arena. The demon jumped like a surprised cat, twisting in the air as the planar beast rushed straight at its chest from the dark. It avoided the charge, but cost itself precious time. Mason was on it.
One Cerebus-enhanced claw raked across its flank, trying desperately to dig in and grab. The scales broke in his hand, slimy flesh giving way beneath his terrifying weapon. He closed his fingers, but the thing still managed to wriggle away. The piece of its body he’d grabbed ripped off like a lizard’s tail.
Then the challenge was over. It was too damn soon—the effect must have been limited on something so powerful. The black and white, distorted world came rushing back, though not as confusing as before. The aura must have reduced in effect when you were close, or if the champion was hard pressed.
Confused and panicked players were everywhere. Most were rushing for the wall, or fighting the demon army that was attacking with wild abandon. The abyssals especially were charging from every direction as if drawn and boosted by their master.
Ravasai took one last look at Mason, then warped away. But it was Marked and bleeding now. He watched it appear in the gloom, gesturing Stag to help cut it off as he again took out his bow and chased after it shooting.
He had to ignore his players. He heard Chinua shouting. Saw a handful of people he knew—big John sticking out above the others. Was that Tommaso next to him? That meant Becky would be close. She was the toughest thing in the world besides him, she’d be alright. He had to focus. Had to catch this thing and bring it down before it could…
It fucking warped again. Further this time. He cursed as his Power Shot exploded into the ground, tempted to take to the air. He needed help cutting it off, cornering it, or shutting down that warp somehow. He mentally swore at not having Streak and his pack, or any of his other bonded animals. But it didn’t help to complain. He chased and shot in the gloom, trying not to kill anyone, never letting the demon out of his sight.
The demon wasn’t the only insanely fast thing. It couldn’t do much but evade him, leaving only the occasional wounded player in its wake as it warped around the battlefield. He didn’t know if it would run out of mana, but he wasn’t going to get tired. He chased, and shot, putting the occasional arrow into the thing’s hide.
He and Stag soon sensed the pattern. It was either trying to stay near him on the field, or it was trying to get at the fleeing players, because it wasn’t going for the city. Maybe it had its own objectives, or limitations, but it wasn’t just running away. That made it vulnerable.
Teleport by teleport, he and Stag were closing in. Waiting for a mistake. He wanted desperately to Crippling Strike, but feared the scatter-like effect would kill one of his own people, and doubted it would work anyway.
So he waited, snaking through the battle, killing demons with his body if they got in his way, rushing past panicked players. He held his Power Shot for the best chance, finally hitting with a satisfying shriek of rage from his enemy. It couldn’t take much more of those.
“Wall’s in sight! Fucking help him catch it! Erik, can you shut down the teleport?”
Garet’s voice somewhere in the gloom. Clever as always. Mason smiled but didn’t expect they could. Not something this powerful. The last champion he’d fought was a duelist so powerful it was basically his match. This thing was almost weak in comparison, at least in a fight to the death. It was built for speed and killing power, and the game wouldn’t let them just shut it down. But slow it? Maybe…
Finally, it warped too close, escaping a charge from the dogged pursuit of the fey-path trained Stag. That teleport had a cooldown, however brief, and for a few seconds he was limited. Mason was waiting.
He slammed into it with a whirlwind of claws and stabbing arms, snarling with triumph as the thing came apart. And then again. And again.
Mason fell back slashing in confusion as the demon split into three, four, five, six, growing out of itself all around him. Each body was like a smaller copy of the original, half a dozen little hell lizards all staring like ‘you thought this sucked before’ across their awful little faces.
Apparently it had a phase two. How the hell was he going to chase down six of them?
Players and demons were converging from every direction. The battle swirled wherever the creature was, the army trying desperately to reach and support it. Mason saw Chinua coming up behind him panting with a few of his team. But he knew what the demon was about to do. Those little fuckers were going to split up and scatter in every direction. All he could do was hunt them down one by one.
It was like a moment before lightning, a calm second before the noise and chaos. He could only hope they were weaker. That they couldn’t just hack down players as easily as before. He broke the stillness, surging towards the closest, hoping to bring down at least one before they ran.
He blinked in confusion as the world went darker. What little light there’d been blotted out, the area around them going black as some kind of sphere formed around them like Mason’s arena. It wasn’t ‘magic’ dark, though, because he could still see.
The demons all looked equally confused, and Mason realized it wasn’t him. It was Becky’s wall. He looked over and saw her standing there panting beside an equally confused Chinua, Adela, Tommaso, and Garet trapped inside. All six demons were on another. One raked at the wall. Another seemed to try and warp through, and failed.
Good fucking work, Becky, Mason thought with a flash of pride, then concern. He looked at one of the trapped demons. The demons all looked back at him, and then at the other players, all of whom looked half blind in the dark. They all rushed together.
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