28 Hours until The Culmination
Blake hurled a curse in response to the expanse of goblins waiting in the tree tops, "Shit."
One goblin—its face disfigured, tattered with scars, and clad only in a small cloth covering its genitals—leapt down, swinging a dagger right past Blake's face.
His eye instantly tracked its trajectory, and with quick reflexes, Blake jerked his head to the right, a portion of his hair clipped by the blade before he retaliated.
With the goblin now sprawled on the ground, Blake raised the temperature of his fist until flames erupted from it.
He drove his fist straight through the goblin's chest, wasting no time to revel in the kill as more foes approached.
He yanked his fist free just as four more goblins dropped from above, knees bent, poised to lunge. Two fixed their gaze on Blake, the others on Xerxes.
Xerxes was inspired by how Blake fought so effortlessly, and he knew now if he made a mistake or even acted inefficiently, it would leave a bad impression - so he readied himself to fight with ferocity.
The grotesque creatures were moving closer, and Xerxes gripped his sword, anticipating the attack. The goblins roared at him, raising their daggers like wild beasts.
The goblin on the left thrust his dagger forward, and another threw the dagger towards Xerxes.
Aya wailed "XERXES!" outstretching a hand, intending to make it seem like a beacon of strength and valor, but he didn't need it.
Upon entering the forest, he had kept one hand wreathed in fire. Now, he thrust it forward, unleashing a thick flame that engulfed the goblin on the right.
Drawing on his training with Dorian, he knew it would be time to use his sword.
Cutting through the air, a dagger from one of the goblins was approaching. Xerxes steadied himself—instinctively slashing upward to deflect the airborne dagger before dashing forward and driving his blade straight through the monster's stomach.
It wasn't ever that simple in battle. In one moment, you could be fighting a person who seemed by themselves. The next, you could be swarmed by an army of them.
That was the case for Blake.
A hoard of goblins had surrounded Blake. By the looks of it, there were more than 15, and Xerxes didn't have the firepower to take them all out.
He began to feel frustrated, acknowledging Blake's position that would be a strenuous situation to escape.
Blake suddenly called out to Umiya.
"Umiya, try to keep them safe." Umiya nodded with a smile, understanding what Blake was preparing for. Umiya then looked towards Xerxes, knowing that the distance between him and herself was too far, as she shouted.
"ADVENTURER BOY, GET COVER NOW; OTHERWISE, YOU'RE GONNA TURN INTO A FAILED EXPERIMENT." Failed experiment, Xerxes thought, trying to understand her cryptic way of speaking as he followed the part of the instruction he could understand.
He instantly got behind a tree, and it was good he followed that advice because the temperature began rapidly soaring in temperature. Sweat beaded on his forehead; it felt like standing inside a cauldron.
Then, he noticed Blake pressing his hands together, a faint glow emanating from his sternum—a sign he was invoking a Tier 5 fire spell. Parts of the body were known to illuminate when channelling mana beyond Tier 6: Tier 5 at the sternum, Tier 4 at the ankles, Tier 3 at the wrists, Tier 2 at the back, and Tier 1 suffusing the entire body in a subtle glow.
Blake allowed himself a wry smile as the goblins, now acutely aware of their peril, scrambled to flee—futilely. Earthen pillars erupted from the ground, curving inward to form a dome, sealing the creatures inside.
Loud bangs echoed from within, the structure cracking but not breaking. The screeches and frantic scratches of the trapped beasts were unmistakable—a signal that the spell was reaching its climax. Blake's incantation was barely audible, but Xerxes didn't just hear it; he felt it. The pressure of the spell was palpable to all.
As the heat intensified, Xerxes knew to brace himself. A cataclysmic explosion of raw flame erupted, sending chunks of stone flying in all directions. The deafening screech of fire drowned out all else. The shockwave obliterated the canopy and any creatures lurking within.
Umiya called out, "Partner, you still kickin', or did you hit the bucket?" Blake flicked his shirt back and forth to cool himself, surrounded by blood and charred corpses. His expression remained stoic, but the toll of such power was evident.
"I'm good. Just a bit hot—nothing major. Everyone else alright?" Umiya gave a thumbs-up, while Aya stared at Blake in awe.
"That was incredible! Teach Xerxes that spell—teach me too!" she demanded. Blake sighed, unwilling to take on extra burdens beyond this forced mission.
"Nah, I only teach if I'm paid, Aya. Anyway, we should move. Their soul shards were incinerated—no point searching."
Soul shards were a means of advancing one's magical prowess beyond mere training. All organic beings possessed them—crystalline remnants that, when absorbed, could impart fragments of the creature's memories, enhancing one's abilities or accelerating progression through the tiers of magic aligned with their innate affinity.
Fortunately, Xerxes and Aya had already claimed such gems long ago, gleaning an ability or two.
Xerxes' body was still adapting to the change of the goblinsoul shard, while Aya had a longer road ahead, given her gem's focus on physical combat—a discipline she had trained in extensively.
The party pressed onward, Umiya posing a question to Xerxes: "Hey, adventuring boy, how'd you know they were hiding in the trees? In other kingdoms, goblins don't do that—most adventurers miss it. Even me, Blake, and Blondie did. So how'd you remember?"
Xerxes glanced down as he ran, collecting his thoughts before answering. "It's something I've always found odd about Layne's monsters. Eshvir Forest and Merkaties are close, and some beasts react to the subtle poisonous gas from the city. Most humans in Layne have adapted, but monsters haven't—they seek higher ground to avoid it. That's how I knew."
Umiya scowled, frustrated at overlooking such a distinctive trait. Blake acknowledged it too, so the party kept their eyes on the treetops, dispatching goblins with ease—Aya's precision magic and Blake's firepower ensuring no delays. Then, a deafening roar shook the forest.
Umiya was the first to react. "Okay, woah—what was that? The Orc? Blake, what're you thinking? Give me something to work with."
Blake met her gaze. "It's obvious. The orc. Sounded like it came from down there. Let's move carefully."
The party stayed close, none straying far, as Aya whispered to Xerxes, "Do you think someone's already fighting it?"
Xerxes frowned. "I can't say, Aya. But one thing's certain—that thing's furious, and this won't be easy."
Pushing through the foliage, they soon confirmed the beast's proximity. The dwindling number of goblins here suggested the Orc's dominance—a small mercy, granting them time to recover their magic and scout the area.
Umiya produced four vials of emerald liquid, handing one to each. Aya examined hers. "What's this, Umiya?"
"Ah, Blondie, when you're in a pinch, chug this. It's a health potion—boosts your body's durability by 50% and can even enhance magic, provided you don't need too much healing, m'kay?"
Aya accepted it gratefully, Blake nodding at Umiya's uncharacteristic cooperation. Xerxes swirled the vial thoughtfully. With this safeguard, even severe injuries wouldn't spell the end. Convenient, he mused.
Suddenly, Blake barked, "DOWN!" forcing Xerxes and Aya to duck as Umiya dropped flat. Another adventurer hurtled past, crashing through trees before landing in a bloody heap.
Blake stared at the mangled figure. "Well, shit..."
Xerxes paled, stammering, "Blake, what—what was that?" Aya, too, was shaken. This was no ordinary beast—it was an orc, one of the ancient races that fought in the Great War of Succession. Centuries of battle had honed it into a predator for whom most adventurers were mere prey—as the bleeding man proved.
Umiya didn't hesitate. "Damn it, I've gotta patch this idiot up. Sit tight—I'll join the fight after." Without waiting for approval, she rushed to the injured man. Xerxes felt no relief—every second without her was a risk.
Fear gnawed at the two youths, their minds racing with visions of maiming or death. Blake turned to them.
"Xerxes. Aya." No response. He raised his voice—a rarity. "XERXES! AYA!" They snapped to attention, their faces etched with dread.
"Tell me—are you scared?" The question felt like an interrogation.
Aya forced a laugh. "Of course not! I'm Aya, and this is my knight, Xerxes. We—we don't do fear..." She trailed off, sweating. "Right, Xerx?"
Xerxes swallowed. "Right..."
Blake crouched, meeting their eyes. He hated this, but it had to be done. "Listen. You're thinking, This orc's huge, terrifying—hundreds of years old, battle-hardened. But here's the truth: orcs weaken with age. This thing's way past its prime."
They didn't respond.
"You've got the faces of adventurers. Scared? Maybe. But you're still here. So why turn back now? After all the work you've put in? Hours of training, right? Look at you—you're eager. If you weren't, you'd have fled already."
They nodded slowly.
"Every mage, every adventurer, faces a hurdle before they truly grow. Run from this, and you may as well abandon your dreams. I know it's daunting, but growth comes when the odds are against you. When you're pushed to the limit. You'll get knocked down—but will you get up? From what I've seen, 'giving up' isn't in your vocabulary."
Aya and Xerxes exchanged glances, steeling themselves. They remembered their promise—to strive, to become legends.
Blake's final words were firm. "So, for the last damn time—are you going to cower, or are you going to fight? Because even if I couldn't care less about this mission, I won't let anything happen to kids whose dreams burn hotter than any flame I can conjure."
Aya stood tall, wind swirling around her forearms, a determined grin on her face. Xerxes rose too, gripping his sword with both hands. "Aya, back up my fire," he instructed.
Blake nodded, flames wreathing his fists. Before advancing, Xerxes shared a crucial insight with the group.
After a brief discussion, Blake clapped Xerxes on the back. "Let's move."
He stepped into the clearing, face-to-face with the beast. Towering at seven metres, it was no ordinary orc—it was albino, its pallid skin stained crimson from years of slaughter. Tusks jutted from its maw, a grizzled beard framing devilish red eyes. A belt of hides hung at its waist, its twisted-branch mace clutched in one hand.
Blake fired a beam at its head. "Hey, fat ass, down here."
The orc snarled, its voice guttural. "More human come to die. You wan' die too?" It swiped at Blake, who vaulted over the blow. Trusting the others to execute their plan, he charged—and the battle began.