Chapter 129: Chapter 124 – Two Blades and a Tail V

Chapter 124 - Two Blades and a Tail V

Falling back in his chair, Zelos breathed a sigh and rubbed his sweaty brow with the back of his arm. They had been working for several straight days, the precise number of which he had already lost count. His head was spinning and his mind was numb. The only object that still grabbed his attention was the glowing metal disk that lay atop his desk. It was covered with a thousand runes, each of which he had painstakingly inscribed before leaving the citadel.

“Take a break.” The much larger man sitting opposite him spoke without raising his head. Like the elf, he remained fully focused on the metal. “I have enough mana. I won’t need any more for at least another five hours.”

The vertically challenged knife ear was not an artificer. His hands were steady and he was well versed in magical theory, but he was unable to manipulate the magitech so often employed by his companion. His contribution to their joint venture came not in the form of any hands-on construction, but rather the liberal use of his magical energy; the bracelet strapped to his wrist drained his mana and fed it into the battery that fueled the huskar’s work. For the most part, the device was harmless, but the constant theft of his MP left his body weakened and vulnerable. His head was spinning and his limbs were aching. Even the simple act of leaning back in his seat filled him with the urge to hurl.

“Alright.” Taking a deep breath, Zelos tore the bracelet off his wrist, set it on the desk, and fell forward, with his head against his palm. “I’m going out for a walk.” Shaking his head, he pushed himself out of his seat and stumbled to the door. “I’ll be back once I get some fresh air.” The tiny man already had a flask of liquor in hand, formed the moment he reached the building’s entrance.

“Take your time,” said Archibald. “I don’t need you collapsing on me.”

“Don’t worry Archie. I’ll be fine. You of all people should know that.” The elf raised the whiskey to his lips and emptied the container in a single breath. “Is the bed on the second floor still vacant?”

“No reason it wouldn’t be,” grunted the artificer.

“Great. I might borrow it once I clear my head.”

Tossing the empty flask aside, he summoned a second drink and closed the door behind him. Though it brought him emotional relief, the liquor failed to remedy his problem. If anything, the 1000MP flasks only served to exacerbate the load on his already overworked magic circuits. Still, he continued flooding his veins. A mere thousand mana was an almost negligible amount. He would regenerate twice that in a minute, so long as he wasn’t being drained.

There were a ridiculous number of birds out and about. Something in the range of ten thousand ravens were gathered around the tower, with roughly a third of them free from the dungeon’s control. The headcount was a value that only appeared substantial on paper. In practice, the ravens were a negligible force. The flock was just a mass of bodies with little to no value in the case of a fight. Even the strongest specimens were stuck in their seventies at best.

It wasn’t entirely their fault. Zelos was well aware that they were configured primarily for reconnaissance. Those seized by Alfred aside, the birds served as Archibalds’ eyes and ears. The ravens were barely intelligible on their own, but their brain chips allowed them to relay simple messages to the huskar, limited only by their poor but not outright dysfunctional language skills.

More suited for battle than the winged horde was the army buried underground. The mechanical monstrosities were numerous as an unending tide and ready to march on Archibald’s command. Though individually no match for a powerful foe, the various homuncular constructs were persistent enough to whittle down a titan, if given the numbers they needed to overwhelm its regeneration. Most of the constructs were shaped like ducks, with the occasional platypus-shaped specimen thrown into the mix. Functionally, the more duck-like model was far and beyond the better of the two, but the individual platypuses were shaped with more care and effort for no reason beyond the preference of their creator. It was a well known fact that Archibald was attracted to mammals with avian body parts. The woman that awaited him back in Rygar was exactly that.

Thinking back on his old life led the boy-sized man to frown. He had been a veteran sellsword, a part of a group that had operated in and around the capital for over fifty years.

Like most other blades for hire, he had left his hometown to chase a dream. Zelos’ desire was far from out of the ordinary. He had started his adventures spellbound by the lives led by the wealthy, but no more was he gripped by his unending lust. The naive little boy that had wanted nothing but to be surrounded by a hundred women was now a grown man with realistic expectations. His first real relationship informed him immediately that a harem was out of the question. Even one bride was too much for him to handle.

The adventures he went on with Beckard, Frederick, and Archibald had certainly been enjoyable enough but he wasn’t sure if he was willing to return to the life he had previously led. The time he spent in Llystletein had robbed him of most of his worldly desires and calmed his obscene temperament. He no longer felt the urge to continue with his ascensions. All he wanted now was to relax, enjoy his research, and live the rest of his life going between his hobbies and his family.

After emptying another five drinks and wandering around the marsh for half an hour, the elf finished contemplating his life choices, rinsed his face off with water, and made his way back to his old friend’s lab.

A sense of malaise overcame him as he closed in on the tower. 

The neverending squawking that came with the raven population was gone; the trees were bare, and there was hardly a bird in sight.

Those that remained were corpses, floating either in the water below or left in the undergrowth above. It was difficult to get an accurate headcount, but a quick estimate revealed that the death toll was in the triple digits. The sudden decline in the local bird population was certainly problematic, but it was nowhere near as concerning as the gaping hole in the side of Archibald’s tower.

Someone had brute forced their way inside, right through the building’s center.

“No! Not now! We were so close!” Zelos grit his teeth. “When the hell did he catch on!?”

It could only have been Alfred.

He had finally uncovered their scheme, at the most inopportune possible time.

Calling the wind to his aid, Zelos enhanced his ears, lowered his hips, and placed a hand on his blade. To his relief, he heard not silence, but the continued clashing of metal on metal. The battle was still ongoing. Archibald had yet to die.

Three songs emerged from his lips as he charged into the building. The first was a hymn of valour, its chords made of short, vibrant notes, full of energy. Its effect bolstered his combat stats threefold, and would keep him empowered for as long as he continued to sing. Next was a lullaby of suppression, a traditional bedtime tune sung by elves to their children. And finally, the harmony of the void, his own invention, an overture that would restore the strength he had before he entered the lost library, even if only temporarily.

Together, their tunes melded into a single melody, a symphony of baritone notes that would have left most other bards biting their teeth in jealousy. It was an impossible feat without the skill he had acquired when the class first reached its 750th level.

He burst through the broken wall and dashed into the building’s underground, ready to confront the ancient demigod with his cursed, goblin-forged blade. He was prepared to see Archibald bloodied, battered, and on the verge of defeat, but the room had not a hint of blood splattered over its interior.

His assailant was not a demigod, but rather another familiar individual. The chimera had transformed into a full fledged lamia. Her tail was wrapped around the cybernetic dog, keeping his limbs locked in place as she bashed his head with the handle of a dagger. The weapon sported a strange but familiar design, a form factor he had the vague impression of once dismissing as ridiculous.

As a whole, the scene was so absurd that he was almost petrified. It took him a full second to regain his composure and raise his voice. “Claire! Stop!” Her assault was unrelenting, but otherwise relatively harmless. Though she had somehow deduced that bludgeoning was more effective than stabbing, she was unable to get through the huskar’s defenses. “Claire!”

He began walking across the room, but he was flagged down by another party before he could intervene. “Hey Dad!” His daughter was waving at him from atop a nearby counter, her tail seated under her chin and her eyes focused almost entirely on the battle.

Taking a deep breath, he lowered his weapon, but didn’t return it to its sheath. “Sylvie? What’s going on?” He still wanted to step in but his daughter’s calm demeanor left him hesitant.

“We were just in the area, so we decided to swing by.”

“That doesn’t explain anything,” said the elf.

A shout came from across the room as he pressed his face into his free hand. “Don’t just stand there, Zelos! Get this vicious thing off of me!”

“You’ll be fine!” He shouted back and returned his gaze to his daughter. “Could you please explain why she’s attacking Archie?”

“She’s finishing a quest, duh!” said the fox.

“And how is any of this accomplishing that?”

“Because her quest is to kill him. Why else?”

His daughter tilted her head, prompting the elf’s face to cramp up. “Please make her stop. Archie is an important part of you-know-what.”

Sylvia blinked, confused. She didn’t nod in understanding until Zelos pointed to one of the devices that had been knocked over and left on the ground. “He’s the one in charge of most of the final construction, and I’d really rather you not mess around in the workshop of all things. We’ve put a lot of work into this.”

“Oh… oh crap!” Her tail shot straight up as she got to her feet. “Well uhmmm… I think you’re gonna have to step in. She’s not listening right now.”

“Yes, I can see that,” he said with a sigh. “Has she acquired a berserker class?”

“Huh?” Sylvia tilted her head. “I don’t think so?”

Zelos focused his eyes, and confirmed that Claire was unchanged. Her classes had leveled at a somewhat worrisome rate, but their tags remained identical. The discrepancy led him to scratch the back of his head. Berserkers were meant to be the only ones with complete mental immunity. Of course, there were always outliers and exceptions. Anything that happened to develop with continued exposure to a similar spell was almost sure to unlock at least one resistant evolution or ascension. Claire, however, had clearly not developed under the listed circumstances. Sylvia had already proven that her lullabies worked when she dragged her into the burrow just the other day, and his were just as effective.

“Then I’ll just have to sing a little louder,” he said. “She must not have heard me the first time.” A little uncertain of his own conclusions, he cleared his throat and straightened his back, but his daughter cut him short by holding up her paw.

“It’s not gonna make a difference. Look at her ears! She’s literally not listening.”

Following the younger elf’s line of sight, the Greenwood native realised that the lyrkress’ oversized hearing organs were encased in ice. It was a thin layer and quite difficult to see from afar, but the crystalline structure gave itself away with the way it reflected the light.

“That… is certainly one way to keep the sound out. Can she really not hear us at all?” asked Zelos.

“I don’t think so, but I’m not really sure.” The four-legged elf began brushing her tail. “Sometimes, it’s hard to tell if she can’t hear me or if she’s just being mean. Kinda like how you can never tell if mom is spying on you.”

Zelos chuckled. “She does do that from time to time, doesn’t she?”

“More like all the time!”

“Cut the chit chat and help me already!” screamed the huskar. “Damn it, Zelos, you stupid masochist midget! I’m not like you! I don’t enjoy this, goddammit!”

Though still in one piece, Archibald was starting to look worse for wear. One of his eyes was starting to droop, and his back was already slouched. The swordsman was sure that his friend’s skin had yet to take any real damage, but the constant rattling couldn’t have possibly been good for his brain. It didn’t help that he was being hit harder and harder. Claire had switched from striking him quickly to putting more force behind each individual blow. And more importantly, all her hits were landing straight on the side of his temple.

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She didn’t bother looking at Zelos until he approached, sword in hand. “Stay out of it and I’ll leave him with just a concussion.” She spoke as she raised her weapon and delivered the heaviest strike yet. “Get in my way and I’ll break his neck.”

“Do you hear this crazy bitch!? Hurry up and get her off of me!”

The elf chuckled and sheathed his sword. “Why are you hitting him?” There was no reason for him to be concerned for Archibald’s safety. He was suffering not injury, but mild discomfort. And only because he was too uncultured to enjoy the extenuating circumstances.

“Damn you traitor!” choked the huskar. “Short piece of shit!”

“You can hear me?” The father scratched the back of his head.

“No,” said Claire, her eyes on the lower half of his face. “How do I get past his skin?”

“I swear to the gods, Zelos Redleaf.” Archibald’s voice was raspy but solemn. “If you expose my weakness, I will tell your wife about everything that happened between you and your cousin!”

“His skin loses its toughness if he isn’t aware that he’s in a fight. He has an air duct in his throat. Plug it, and wait. It’ll only take him a few minutes to lose consciousness.” The elf spoke quickly, relaying precise orders as would a skilled commander.

“No!” The huskar’s face paled.

“And please do me a favour. Hit him hard enough for him to lose at least most of his memories. I’d also rather you refrained from smashing his eyes. I just fixed those.”

Nodding, Claire grabbed an awfully rectangular ingot off a nearby shelf. “Open wide.”

“I will do no suc—”

The metal was crammed into his throat as he tried to speak. It struck his artificial voice box, destroyed it, and left him incapable of making any further noise.

“Idiot,” said the chimera. She melted the ice around her ears, pushed him to the floor, and looked back up at the elf. “I’m hitting him because he made the birds scatter. I would have killed them all, if not for him.” Her tone was flat; her words and actions served as the only notable indications of her frustration.

A grimace crossed Zelos’ face as he realised that it was possible he had made a mistake. He had assumed that she had no intention of murdering the dog in cold blood, but looking at her blank expression made it difficult to say for certain. There was always a chance that she would pull the trigger and stab him in the neck.

Gulping, he returned his hand to his blade and kept his eyes peeled, but fortunately, he didn’t need to intervene. She did as promised and hit him a few times in the back of the head before stepping away, sheathing her weapon, and nodding in what he could only assume to be satisfaction.

“Why are you here?” she asked. The snake-girl prodded the unconscious dog’s face with her tail as she magically retrieved the steel brick stuck in his mouth. Not letting it reach her hands, she released it with the smallest of frowns and allowed the oil-laden ingot to clatter onto the floor.

“Archie and I happened to be working on something,” said the elf with an awkward laugh.

“Then why didn’t you stop me?”

He shrugged. “I was going to make him sleep if you didn’t.” Leaning over, he grabbed his friend by the cuff and dragged him over to the bed in the corner of the workshop. “We’ve been at this for days. He needs a break, just as badly as I do.” Though the dog man was twice the swordsman’s height, the vertically-challenged knife ear had no trouble lifting the huskar off the ground and shoving him under the sheets. “What about you two?”

“We were just passing by!” said Sylvia. “And Claire wanted to kill some steelwings because they tried to bully her when she first got to the meadow.”

“Please don’t,” sighed her father.

Claire narrowed her eyes “And why not?” She wasn’t the only one to react negatively. The fox on the opposite side of her room puffed up her cheeks and began angrily slapping her tail against the counter.

“Yeah, what the heck, Dad? Steelwings are jerks and no one likes them. And plus, they’re not even supposed to exist! Al doesn’t care because he thinks they’re funny, but they annoy the crap out of everyone else!”

Zelos pursed his lips. “Archie can explain once he wakes up.”

“Then I’ll keep killing them. Until he wakes up.”

“Please, Claire. I would really prefer it if you didn’t.”

The plea was met with a glare. “And I would have preferred if you didn’t bring Mittens to me.” Her calm demeanor vanished into a hostile hiss. “After I told you I wanted to work alone.”

A frown crossed the elf’s lips as he recalled the violence with which she had treated the missing rodent. “Right, and I’m sorry about that. I didn’t realise you were on such bad terms.”

“Anyone would be. With him as he is.”

“I thought he was rather charming,” said Zelos. “Reminds me a lot of what I was like in my youth, with a few extra quirks tacked on. Really quite passionate about his dreams, that one.”

“Dreams?” Sylvia tilted her head and curiously flicked her tail to and fro. “What dre—”

She was cut off by a pinch to the cheeks. “Don’t ask,” said Claire, before turning to the fox’s father. “And you. Don’t answer.”

“I won’t.” Zelos raised his hands and shook his head in an exaggerated display of surrender. “And I understand that you’re still bitter, but please don’t take your resentment out on the ravens. At least not for another week.”

The chimera rolled her eyes. “I’ll consider it if you stop lecturing me.”

“Don’t worry, Dad!” said Sylvia. She rubbed her cheeks before climbing up onto Claire’s shoulder and retaliating in kind. “We were gonna leave anyway.” The attack prompted the other girl to pick her up by the nape and lob her, but she was unharmed. She landed on all fours, atop the table in the middle of the room.

“I’d appreciate that very much,” he said. “Oh, and Claire?”

“What?”

“Next time I see Geoff, I’ll give him a strict warning and tell him to avoid you. I can’t promise he’ll listen, but I will at least try to convince him.”

The chimera pulled her hood over her eyes and nodded, but said nothing.

“Oh yeah, we were gonna go to the Green Belt,” said Sylvia. “Want us to bring you something?”

He paused for a moment, but soon shook his head. “No, I’ll be fine, thank you.” There was no point in accruing any more resources, with the timeframe being what it was. “Oh, and I’d like the two of you to come to the citadel in five days.”

“Why?” asked Claire.

The elf crossed his arms and twisted his face into a frown. “Does it matter? All my advice has been sound so far, hasn’t it? It’s not like I’ve done wrong by you yet.”

“Mittens.”

“Him aside,” Zelos laughed awkwardly, turned his face away, and scratched one of his ears before finally speaking again. “Well, whatever the case, it’s something that I’m sure you’d find awfully… entertaining.”

After taking a moment to stare at him suspiciously, the chimera turned around and walked out the doorway. “Fine.”

“Hey, wait for me!” Sylvia leapt off the desk that had become her seat and ran after her companion. “Bye Dad! See you in five days!” She spun around, waved at him, and waited for him to return the gesture before scampering off.

“You’re free to come back sooner if you’d like,” said the elf.

“We won’t,” said Claire. “I’m avoiding the citadel.”

Chuckling to himself, the bard began to sing as they stepped out from the building’s confines. His enchanted voice wrapped the building’s shattered bits in a soft glow and floated them back into place. The interior went through a similar process, with the broken chairs moving back into position and regaining their unblemished forms.

The only thing that he couldn’t be bothered to fix was the mess of paper strewn all over the floor. Leaving pages scattered, he used his sword as a cane, walked up to the second floor, and limped his way over to the guest room.

“That went more smoothly than I thought.” Closing the door behind him, the elf took a deep breath. “All the pieces are finally in place.” He stepped over to the window and looked outside, at the strange three-layered world that had become his second home.

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