Slinging his warhammer up against his shoulder, Farmas started to shake off the Targeted Rage Boost Battle Art that had filled him with an incredible increase of power, at the cost of a reduction in his perception and focus, which was tracked onto a singular target.  It also brought with it an ache throughout his entire body after it was used, though he normally recovered after about 5 minutes.  This time, it might take twice that, as he had been in that rage state longer than normal, as he had been frustrated at every turn when fighting Vilnesh’s spawn.  Privately, he had expected the fight to be over in seconds, as there were two of them against only a single individual, so for it to have lasted as long as it had was both annoying and infuriating.


    Fortunately, he’d practiced with his Targeted Rage Boost enough times to keep his head, so when Syrlia gave him the signal, he was able to cancel it and retreat just in time for her spell to go off.


    “Utterly pathetic, half-breed,” he shouted at the soon-to-be-dead Fusionist inside Syrlia’s powerful Containment Crusher spell.  “I don’t know why Chinli thought you were a successful example of one of our progeny, but she was thoroughly mistaken.  You have pitiful combat abilities, you’re extremely weak, and you can’t even cast a single spell!  These Fusions that you’ve created might have some merit to them, but they cannot stand up to a single Containment Crusher spell!  The world will be better off without you, especially with all the trouble you’ve caused.”


    The speed at which the Crusher sphere condensed down slowed as he glanced over at Syrlia, seeing how utterly exhausted she was.  He felt the drain on his own Mana from what he figured was some sort of Mana Siphon effect, but he hadn’t even used or lost 10% of his massive Mana pool throughout the fight.  Syrlia, on the other hand, had been testing the defenses of the half-breed with her spells almost the entire time, evaluating what it would take to contain and kill Vilnesh’s spawn successfully.  He might have been overly confident going into the battle, but after his ineffective attacks against this Fusionist, he wasn’t too far gone into his bloodlust to acknowledge that he wouldn’t be able to kill this trash alone.  Over time, he thought he might be able to wear him down, but he didn’t want to spend any more time here than necessary; the damage that they’d done by being inside the Calamity would linger for a while as it was, so fleeing as quickly as possible was necessary to ensure the safety of the Kingdom as a whole.


    They just needed another few seconds for Syrlia’s Crusher spell to finish the main job.  The cleanup afterwards would be simple and quick in comparison to the current confrontation.


    “Are you alright?” he asked his partner softly.  He’d never seen her pressed this far, but he could tell that she was nearly out of Mana.  Unfortunately, for as powerful as the Guardians were, they were unable to link up to share the burden of a spell’s Mana cost – not that it was normally a problem.  This was a special circumstance, and it was all because of the half-breed.


    “I’m… fine… just… about… there…” she answered between gritted teeth, her breathing coming in ragged gasps.  Farmas looked at the half-breed’s arm, which he could somewhat sense as the focal point of the extremely powerful Mana Siphon effect, wishing he had been able to land a blow on it, but whatever was protecting him from harm had prevented him from landing even a single blow.  That lack of a satisfying *crunch* still bothered him, and he wanted another go at the Fusionist, but he knew that killing the half-breed took priority over his wants – so he didn’t try to push the matter with Syrlia.


    From the Mana she was outputting into the spell and judging how much she had left, he estimated that she would just have enough to complete it.  After that, she would be almost completely drained of Mana, but by that point, they could destroy the Fusion causing their Mana problems – or it might even be destroyed when it was crushed by the collapsing sphere.


    The Containment Crusher continued to shrink as Syrlia made one last push, and within seconds the half-breed was having to bend down as it closed directly around him.  He grinned in pleasure when he saw the spawn of Vilnesh wince as his head bumped up against the sphere, which pushed back violently; and soon enough the pathetic excuse for a faux Guardian was bent all the way over, curling up into a ball as the space continued to shrink.  Multiple flashes erupted around the half-breed as he attempted to stop the inevitable from crushing him, with none of it succeeding, of course; and soon enough the screams of agony that indicated that the spawn was being rapidly crushed to death filled his ears.  He couldn’t look away as he heard a hollow *snap* as the first of the half-breed’s bones snapped, followed quickly by a second—


    Farmas didn’t know where it came from, but something substantially larger than him suddenly crashed into him and Syrlia from behind.  As he was sent tumbling away through the air, largely unhurt but confused at what had just happened, he was able to stabilize himself long enough to see one of the wooden vessels the half-breed had brought with him zooming through the space where he’d just been with his partner.


    What?


    Angry at himself for ignoring potential danger from another source, and for not holding down the watch while Syrlia finished up her spell, he shook off the impact and sped toward the wooden vessel with murderous intent.  However, he stopped in shock as he witnessed his partner cartwheeling through the air below him, completely uncontrolled in her descent.  A glimpse of her face as she spun showed her eyes and mouth wide open in shock, but he immediately knew that wasn’t actually what it was; instead, she was suffering from the backlash of her spell being disrupted at the very end, where most of her remaining Mana had been invested into it.  Normally, this would’ve been a big deal, as it only lasted a few seconds, and an infusion of Mana throughout the body was enough to soothe sudden pain, but that wasn’t going to help her because she was out of Mana.


    As it was, she wouldn’t recover before she hit the ground far down below.  He didn’t think she would die if she impacted the ground at this height, but she had been his partner for long enough that he wasn’t going to risk it.  It was only as he swept down to pick her up that he suddenly realized what her spell backlash meant.


    The half-breed was free.


    It didn’t take long for him to find the spawn in question, either, as the Fusionist was flying toward the plummeting form of his fellow Guardian, the intent to finish her off clear in Farmas’s vision.This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.


    “NOOOOO!” he shouted, before plummeting as quickly as he could.  “GET AWAY FROM HER!”  If he was fast enough, he could probably stop the half-breed from killing her completely, as while she wasn’t as durable as Farmas was, Syrlia was still a Guardian and therefore physically strong.


    Unfortunately, he was too slow to catch her himself, as he saw Vilnesh’s spawn – who had recovered quickly from nearly being crushed to death – swoop in and catch her.  Unlike what he was expecting him to do, the half-breed didn’t immediately try to stab her, slit her throat, or snap her neck.  Instead, Farmas watched in confusion as the Fusionist placed a small, silvery plate up against the back of her head…


    …and then the filthy spawn simply let her go.


    Well, if he’s not going to kill her, that gives me a chance to catch her.


    He sent out another Force Blade Battle Art that arced out from his warhammer and closed the distance between him and the half-breed, expecting it to do the same amount of nothing it had been done before, but a portion of the Blade that wasn’t blocked by a piece of what looked like solidified Pattern Cohesion impacted against the spawn’s leg.  There was a brief spray of blood as it made contact, the first bit of damage that Farmas had been able to inflict upon the half-breed, and he felt his bloodlust rise at the sight.  It was only a little bit, likely no more than an irritating flesh wound, but it was enough to bring back the feelings of rage he’d activated not so long ago.


    There was a split-second argument he had with himself about whether or not to take advantage of the half-breed’s sudden weakness, but he eventually resolved to wait until he caught Syrlia; he figured that if the spawn was vulnerable now, he’d probably still be vulnerable in a few seconds once he secured his partner.


    Reaching out with an Air Cushion spell, he targeted the area under Syrlia, creating a large cushion of air that fell at a slightly slower speed than her freefall.  Tying off the spell so that it would last for at least a few minutes, he watched with half of his attention to make sure she impacted the cushion and then started to slow down, with his other half focused on the no-longer-bleeding half-breed.  For some reason, the filthy traitor to the Guardians wasn’t even looking at Farmas; instead, his attention was fixated on Syrlia as she landed on the Air Cushion.


    Why is he looking at her?  Wait—what was it that he did to her?


    Even as he had the thought, his focus was pulled back down to his partner.  A surge of Dominion magic flooded out of her, more powerful than he’d felt in a long time, though it was completely devoid of any type of focus.  It simply spilled out like water draining from a bathtub, flooding the area around her but ultimately doing nothing.  Expelling it like that was wasteful and stressed a Guardian’s body and mind, which was why they had been taught at a very young age – more than a thousand years ago by this point – to be very clear on how it was to be used.


    This, however, didn’t seem to be voluntary, because a second after the Dominion magic started flooding out, she began to scream uncontrollably, a haunting shriek of pain that he’d never heard any Guardian make before.  Farmas paused in his pursuit of the half-breed as he turned back to her, directing his Air Cushion to rise to meet him halfway – not that the vile spawn seemed to be running at this point.


    It only took a second to get to her side, and Farmas could see her entire body vibrating as the last of the Dominion magic she had stored inside was completely pushed out, draining her entirely.  He grabbed her by the shoulders and then turned her over so he could see exactly what the half-breed had done.  From this close, he could see its magical signature, and he was reminded of a few days before, when the captured Volunteer had been brought before the Grand One.


    If this is what allowed that slave to resist even the Grand One’s Dominion magic, then what will that do to Syrlia?


    Farmas turned her back over so he could speak right to her.  “Hold on, Syrlia, I’m going to remove this thing and—”  Almost as soon as he began talking, his partner stopped screaming, and her searching eyes found his.


    “Farmas,” she whispered, as if talking normally was beyond her at the moment.  Tears ran down her cheeks, which was almost more shocking than everything else that had happened combined together.  “I… I’m sorry.  We were wrong.  We were all wr—” she breathed out, before her breath seemed to catch in her throat.  Her eyes bulged out of her sockets temporarily as she seemed to lose control of them, before settling down a moment later.


    “What’s wrong?  What were we wrong about?” Farmas asked.


    Her eyes locked on his again, piercing into the depths of his very soul.  “Everything.  The half-breed is the—” she whispered, before letting out a sudden scream as her back arched, her strength rising as she wriggled out of his grip.


    “Syrlia?!  What’s wro—”


    Her head, which had been whipping back and forth as her entire body trembled violently, snapped back toward his direction.  “I finally see!  The answer was in front of us all along!” she shouted, her previous whispering completely discarded.  “We’ve been deceived!  Yes, do it!  You can save us all!”


    “Huh?  What are you talking about?”


    It was only when he felt something slap against the back of his head that he realized Syrlia wasn’t looking at him when she spoke.  Rather, she was looking at someone behind him.


    He whipped around with his warhammer, intending to hit who he suspected was there, but the half-breed was located approximately 100 feet away behind him, controlling one of his stupid little Pattern Cohesion platforms.  Confused, he brought his hand up to the back of his head, but the skin was already closing over whatever had hit him.


    There was a sudden lurch in his body that he felt deep down, and his Dominion magic began spilling out of him uncontrollably.  He attempted to suck it back in or keep it inside, but it continued flooding out, despite his best efforts.


    What is this?  Was Syrlia talking to the half-breed?  Is she a traitor, too?


    Whatever was happening, he was still under his own power, so he backed off from his long-time partner, betrayal spiking through his emotions.  Watching her trembling and contorting by this point, he wasn’t even sure what to think as she finally looked at him again.  “I’m sorry, Farmas.  This is nec—”


    She never finished whatever she was going to say, because her body exploded violently from the inside, something that Farmas hadn’t seen in over a thousand years.  He vividly remembered how so many of his people were destroyed by the influx of power flooding into them from the tear in the world they’d created, which had ended up looking a lot like what had just happened to Syrlia.


    No!  I’m not going out like that!


    Pulling out a small knife he always kept on his belt, he reached back and cut into the back of his head, using every bit of his Strength to get through his tough skin.  He didn’t care how much damage he did, because he knew his Body Regeneration would heal him back up fairly quickly, so he reached inside after cutting off a large section of his skin and flesh down to the bone.  Reaching in with his fingers, he gripped onto what he felt inside, a small metal plate that seemed to be adhered to his skull.  Dismissing the consequences, he pulled with all his might and ripped it out, tossing the blood-covered plate away as soon as it was free.


    Even as a sense of relief overcame him from getting it away from him, it suddenly occurred to him that it was too late; all of his Dominion magic had drained away while he struggled to free himself from the Fusion that had been placed on him.


    And that was when a clarity of mind suddenly overcame him as he fell, all thoughts of keeping him aloft with his Mana gone as the truth finally hit him, confirming what Syrlia had mentioned in her final moments.


    Less than 30 seconds later, pieces of him hit the ground, including a scrap of his face, which still had a hint of the smile that had graced it in his last seconds of life.