Return of the Tower Conqueror

  Trials of Champions (III)

"They're coming," Emma warned as she took a battle stance on top of the stairs, warhammer hanging from her shoulder, oppressive aura leaking out of her like tidal waves.

Ethan withdrew into shadows; his role wasn't to stand tall and stare the devil and death in the face and he was beyond thankful for it. Instead, he was tasked with doing what he did best: single out specific enemies and take them out as quickly as possible before escaping. Though he didn't understand how a single woman could withstand the crashing waves of foes, he chose to trust her. Partly because he was inspired by their conversation, but partly because, well, he didn't really have a choice.

It was better both for his sanity and his state of mind for the battle that he believed they would get out of this well and alive and even stronger, perhaps. He gulped down a mouthful, staring at the shaking bottom of the stairs where, from the ripped void itself, first silhouettes and then figures emerged. They were humanoids, at least at a first glance; upon closer inspection, Ethan saw that they were hunched forward slightly, their spines bent, faces hidden beneath a thick masks, their bodies chorcal-black, muscle lines evident in the reflection of the light.

Each donned a pair of weapons, whether they be axes or swords or even spears, with only a few in the back bearing unique ones. Both Ethan and Emma immediately concluded that they were likely mini-bosses of the rush, though the 'main baddie' was yet to appear.

The sea emerged right after, with dozens immediately flooding up the stairs while dozens more followed right behind. Staring at the swarm, Ethan froze, his heartbeat quickening. He had never experienced anything like this; he had seen huge battles and even participated in them, but the key distinction was that they were usually numerically matched. Ten on ten. A hundred on a hundred. A thousand versus a thousand. Never this.

In fact, something like this was antithetical to the very concept of the Conquest. The advantage people held was their ability to swarm the seemingly-unbeatable foe with insane numbers... never the opposite. Yet, he was told this would become a norm -- battles beyond battles, fights inches away from death.

What shocked Ethan perhaps even more than the swarm itself was Emma's reply-- she spat into her palms and rubbed them together as a huge grin formed on her face. Her body flashed in bright-white for a moment before reappearing again, armored to teeth. Smacking her breastplate and nodding, she grasped the warhammer and beheld it back as she jumped-- jumped directly into the swarming mass, like a tiny drop of water trying to wet a desert.

Blood-colored swarms of Mana gathered around the hammer's head, smoldering, as she crashed like a world-ending meteorite. Roars erupted as the blood surged out of her, coalesced Mana devouring its surroundings. Bodies flew back and off the stairs, ripped by the void into a rain of blood and gore. In their midst, she was a reaper, a devourer, untouched, unbent, unmatched. She forged forward like fire, each swing of her hammer taking ten or more lives at least.

Ethan, rather than impressed, was beyond horrified. Terror akin to that of death itself ran through his thirsty veins; rather than fearing the creatures that numbered in hundreds, he feared her. He feared for the world itself, that it had forgotten them. And even the one or two that it remembered, the world misunderstood and underestimated. He had seen the 'superstars' in action, seen the immortalized TV figures who conquered floors and defeated bosses, and not just on their own, but even in massive parties they wouldn't be able to of doing what she was doing.

In fact, he suspected that Emma alone, all other members ignored, would be enough to quash the debate over who was the strongest Conqueror by simply killing every other contestant with a single swing of her oversized, blood-infused warhammer.

The blood continued to flow, some of it hers that she coalesced out of Mana, most of it being of the creatures. The silver-spangled stairs were now dyed crimson, parts of organs strewn about, some still fidgeting like worms in a strange and eerie fashion. Yet, Ethan's sight was transfixed on the figure that still... smiled. In the midst of the shower of blood and gore, her smile appeared bedeviled and demonic, outright evil even. It was also then that he noticed she had already pancaked two mini-bosses without even realizing, rendering him entirely... useless.

She was unapproachable, like the sun itself-- though from a distance beautiful and mesmerizing, it was certified death for anyone dumb enough to come too close.

He clutched his fist abreast, shaking. He was supposed to be able to withstand five hits from her? Impossible. Even if he was given a decade, he had zero faith in being able to accomplish it. She held back-- considerably, he realized. He already knew that she did due to the fact that she didn't use any skills, but only now did he realize by just how much. If she wanted to, she could kill him before he even knew what happened... and he was an Assassin, the supposed master of speed and evasion. What about the others, then? What about, what he now learned to be an entirely false misnomer that Elementalists countered Paladins absolutely? What if those poor, confident souls met her and realized... there was no counter to death itself?

She had shaken his view on not only the Tower and the Conquerors but even the so-called 'balance' of Classes, some things that were, by now, so ingrained in the culture nobody questioned them. Paladins were tanks-- their damage was abysmal and trying to increase it was a waste of time. Elementalists absolutely countered Paladins. Assassins used Paladins as whetstones. If she broke all his pre-existing notions... what about the rest of the group? She already implied that both Senna and Cain were layers ahead of her in terms of strength... not to mention the fact that they went AWOL for six years.

"Oi, what are you doing?"

"Aah!" Ethan yelped and fell back on his ass, not even realizing when she had appeared next to him. She was entirely dyed in red, from head to toe, only her face partially cleared, with remnants still there, though. "Shit, you scared me."

"Why am I fighting mini-bosses as well, eh?" she chided. "Are you trying to take advantage of me?"

"Fuck no!" Ethan immediately replied, standing onto his feet. "I'll be off, m'am."

"... why are you suddenly calling me m'am?"

"Is it not good enough? Uh... Sir--no, that's stupid. Lord? Uh, no. Queen? God? Goddess? Which do you prefer? I'll say anything, I swear!"

"... just get to the mini-boss slaying."

"Yes, Sir!"

"..." Emma stared strangely at the fading figure, smiling bitterly. She had expected this reaction. Slowly but surely, over the past six years, Emma, Senna, Kramer, and others had realized just how out-of-loop they truly were. When they saw people who were considered 'superstars' fighting, they felt... strange. Most of the so-called superstars executed skills as given, with zero personal variation. What separated them from others were mostly just base stats-- the raw output.

Little by little, everyone in the group realized that Cain had essentially chiseled them out until they barely resembled other people. It wasn't just their skills and such, it was also the way they fought; while most other Conquerors were extremely cautious, especially the 'stronger' ones, almost never engaging a fight if it seemed impossible, Emma and others were the exact opposites. They loathed going against weak foes, and adored the challenges.

They all tossed themselves into whatever hell invited them without a second thought. Just like here-- someone like Ethan would have never jumped directly into the fray, no matter what. They would likely let the creatures climb on top of the plaza and use the houses and streets as trapping points.

That was also the reason she showed him this style-- he had to see it and she had to see if he had any potential. The mentality of 'if I overextend I might die' will not work, she knew. While abandoning fears was insanity wrapped and presented as courage, being able to drown them is necessary.

Even during the six years they spent outside, Cain rarely told her much about his past life, especially when it came to what bosses and fights they should expect. This was partly because neither Emma nor Senna truly probed for much, but it was far more because he didn't want to condemn them straight from the start. If he had told them in advance what kind of battles they would be fighting, few would be willing to tread the road.

Nowadays, the prime example was Lana-- she was already demanding she be taken on their 'journeys' yet, Emma knew, even if the whole group begged and promised to keep her safe... for as long as Cain lived, Lana would never become a member of their party. It had nothing to do with her talent or her choice of class or her willingness and everything to do with... this. Even Emma, despite being weak to Lana's please, would never want to see her own kid engage into a battle like this... in this way, especially.

Ethan returned some ten minutes later, wounded and bleeding, but with a partial smile on his face. Emma used one of the skills she obtained after her Awakening, healing him completely-- much to his shock and dismay-- and suddenly ruffling his hair.

"You did well," she said.

"I... I only managed to kill one," Ethan said through gritted teeth. He had failed, utterly and completely. He used almost every defensive on defeating a single foe.

"One was all that I wanted out of you," she chuckled. "What? Do you think being on the frontier is that easy? Ha ha ha, you're in for a big shock, lad. You did your job-- you proved to me you've got guts. And that you're unwilling to part with them."

"..."

"Now, just sit back and relax. Leave the rest to me."

Before the battle, Ethan might have even suspected the validity of that statement and would have considered it as a bit braggy... yet, now, he simply relaxed. In fact, he even took out a table and a chair and made himself a lunch, having grown weaker due to the blood loss. Even if his body was repaired, the artifacts of the loss still remained and needed to be rectified.

If someone were to record and show his actions to the rest of the world, everyone would likely just assume he'd become suicidal due to the shock. Yet, the reality was opposite; Ethan had never felt more alive in his life. Tossing all caution to the wind and jumping into the battle blind and having to use everything just to kill one creature was... liberating, strangely enough. Like the final piece of the puzzle that was missing was finally fit into place. And now he could see the whole picture, and in that picture he was a shadow to the light that swallowed the world.

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