Rise of the Living Forge

Chapter 142: Get up!

“Ifrit,” Jessen snarled, grabbing the arrow jutting out of his shoulder with his left hand and ripping it free. He hissed as blood poured out of the wound, throwing the arrow down to his side. “I did not think you would come to play again so soon. You appear to have gotten your hands on an interesting weapon.”

“I got impatient,” Arwin said. The anger in Jessen’s voice told him that he’d used up a fair amount of energy keeping the crystals from the arrow repressed.

Screams rose up from all around the camp as the Wyrmlings and Iron Hounds clashed with each other. The Wyrms behind Jessen both blinked wearily as they attempted to throw off the last remnants of his control.

Jessen clenched a hand, his jaw tightening. The Wyrms both shuddered and a flash of pink energy lit behind their eyes, fading like a snuffed candle as they both settled back down. He’d brought them back under his control already – but judging from the sounds all around him, the Wyrmlings were a different story.

“This has not changed anything,” Jessen said. “A mere wound will not be enough to bring me down. All you have done is accelerate what I would have already done.”

“Then you should be grateful to me. If you wanted to show appreciation, I wouldn’t mind if you killed yourself.”

Jessen bared his teeth in a smile. He reached up to his back and drew the huge black sword, holding it at his side as if it weighed nothing. “Bold words, but no power to back them up. If you are so eager to die at my blade, then I will not deny you that right.”

“Guess that means you aren’t killing yourself. Fine with me,” Arwin said. “I much prefer to kill you myself.”

A member of the Iron Hounds lunged at Arwin, aiming to put a dagger into an unprotected part of his body, but Arwin spotted him out of the corner of his eye. He spun, bringing Verdant Blaze around and empowering his blow with a hint of power from [Scourge].

The man’s head transformed into a fine mist of blood and his body hit the ground, rolling to a stop at Arwin’s feet. Energy pumped through his armor as the oppressive aura pouring out of his helm intensified.

It raced through his greaves and pumped into his muscles.

“Come, then,” Jessen said. “Try your hand.”

“Wait your turn,” Arwin replied with a smirk. He turned and sprinted for the nearest Iron Hound member. The woman was locked in a fight with a Wyrmling, and it didn’t look like she had the upper hand.

Verdant Blaze ended the question of who would win by claiming the kill for itself. Energy howled through the weapon as Arwin brought it down on the woman’s head before she even realized he was there.

A faint red mist swirled out from his armor and he felt himself speed up once more as [Dread Momentum] intensified. He’d gotten two consecutive kills with two blows. It wasn’t a massive boost, but every single bit would count.

The back of Arwin’s neck prickled and he threw himself to the side. A black line carved through the ground where he’d been standing, ripping through several Iron Hound members and a Wyrmling. They all crumpled to the ground, dead before they hit it.

“Running, Ifrit?” Jessen called. “Killing my men makes you no better than what you claim to hate.”

I don’t think Jessen is going to let me run around farming kills any longer, but that’s fine. It would only last for one blow anyway. This is enough.

Arwin sprinted toward Jessen. The guildmaster brought his sword down once more, releasing another thick blade of black energy. Arwin threw himself to the ground, rolling beneath it before coming up across from Jessen and swinging Verdant Blaze.

The hammer streaked through the air, flame curling off its head, and Jessen shifted back to dodge out of the way. He was strong, but nobody in their right mind was going to take a strike from a massive hammer.

“You’re right,” Arwin growled, taking the momentum from his missed swing and turning in a full circle to whip the hammer at Jessen’s injured side.

Jessen brought his sword around, and their weapons clashed with a resounding explosion. [Scourge] empowered muscles fought against Jessen’s higher Tier body and concentrated [Soul Flame] erupted into a sea of black energy. Both of them staggered back. Vibrations hummed down the hammer’s haft and into Arwin’s arms, threatening to shake it free of his grip. Jessen sprinted toward Arwin, black energy curling up his body.

Arwin braced himself to meet the man’s charge. Jessen swung his sword – and vanished. Only years of experience gave Arwin enough warning to throw himself to the ground. A loud whoomp assaulted his ears as a gust of wind passed overhead.

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Rolling to the side, Arwin swept his leg out and empowered it with [Scourge]. It slammed into Jessen’s feet and the man staggered, nearly falling but managing to keep his footing. He drove his sword down and Arwin rolled to the side before he could be impaled.

Jessen thrust his hand forward and sent a black spike into Arwin’s chest. It struck his armor before he could react. Arwin hissed in pain. A victorious smile passed over Jessen’s face, only to freeze when he realized that the spike had just barely driven into the armor and had failed to do much more than scratch Arwin’s skin beneath his defenses.

The gem at the center of Arwin’s armor hummed with black energy that it absorbed from the spell and Arwin lunged, slamming into Jessen’s legs and empowering his whole body with [Scourge].

Black energy tried to rise up and envelop Jessen’s body, but it sputtered and failed. The two of them hit the ground with a heavy crash, and a roar rang out from behind Arwin. It sounded like at least one of the Wyrms had freed itself from Jessen’s control again, but he didn’t have any time to look.

He threw himself to the side, rolling to his feet and bringing Verdant Blaze down on another member of the Iron Hounds that happened to be unfortunate enough to be in range. More energy pumped through his body and the oppressive aura pouring out of him grew even thicker.

“You’re right,” Arwin repeated, charging Jessen and bringing Verdant Blaze down for the man as he rose.

Jessen’s sword whipped up and he rose, blocking the blow moments before it could collide with his head. If it hadn’t been for [Scourge], the hammer would have gone flying from Arwin’s hands. Instead, their weapons locked as they both strained to overpower the other.

“Killing your men brings me down to your level,” Arwin snarled into Jessen’s face. “But mercy is for the strong.”

Arwin drove his knee up into Jessen’s chest. His greaves slammed into the other man’s armor and they both stumbled back a step. Magic swirled around Jessen. The magic oppression from Zeke’s helm was significantly slowing it, but he was strong enough to use it regardless.

Blades of black energy shot out toward for Arwin. Instead of trying to dodge back, he threw himself forward. It would have surprised a lesser opponent. Jessen wasn’t a lesser opponent.

The guildmaster brought his sword down for Arwin’s back as he rolled across the ground. It struck his armor with a clang, leaving a deep scar in it and ringing off. A whip of [Soul Flame] curled off Arwin’s chestpiece and slammed into Jessen, forcing him to raise his hands to protect his face.

Arwin shot to his feet and shoved Jessen a step back before swinging Verdant Blaze. The hammer sang as it passed through the air and drove into the side of Jessen’s chest. Metal rang against metal and Jessen drove a foot into the ground, refusing to budge an inch.

Verdant Blaze had left a large dent in his armor, but it hadn’t penetrated it. Jessen bared his teeth and lunged at Arwin. His fist slammed into the side of Arwin’s head, ringing it like a bell. The world spun, but Arwin reacted on instinct rather than sight.

He brought his elbow around, pumping it full of energy from [Scourge], and was rewarded with a satisfying crunch as it connected with Jessen’s nose. The two men staggered back from each other.

Arwin’s ears rang and Jessen’s form re-focused before his eyes. The guildmaster wiped the blood trickling down from his nose with the back of a hand and spat on the ground.

“You are no mere smith.” Jessen lifted his sword and lunged, driving the blade for Arwin’s chest. He twisted and it scraped along his armor. With a grunt, Arwin drove his shoulder into Jessen to send him stumbling back and then swung Verdant Blaze once more. He poured power from [Scourge] into the blow, pulling his reserves dangerously low.

Jessen blocked the strike with the flat of his blade, skidding a foot across the ground. Someone ran at Arwin from the side and he turned, but a shadow wrapped around their ankle and yanked them screaming into Rodrick’s sword.

The sounds of battle had started to recede. There were still Wyrms screaming, but between the Iron Hounds defending themselves and Lillia’s group tearing through both parties, their numbers were dwindling.

Jessen realized it too. Arwin could see it in his eyes, but he still didn’t look particularly concerned. There was no panic or worry in his features. That was a problem. If Jessen wasn’t worried about his horde dying, then they were missing something major.

If it isn’t the horde he cares about, then what –

Arwin’s eyes caught on the controlled Wyrms. Jessen hadn’t been planning on stopping after he fed the Wyrm horde. He – or the Wyrms – were going to kill all the survivors. Feeding an entire horde was borderline impossible, but forcing his Wyrms to kill a bunch of their own power boosted Wyrmlings would only leave him with two mouths to feed.

Hell, he might just kill the Wyrms too. Consolidate all that power he’s made and take it for himself. That’s why he doesn’t give a shit how many people die. He might lose a bit of energy in the conversion, but who cares when you’ve got so much waiting to be harvested? As long as he’s the one that kills the most powerful ones at the end, he comes out ahead. If that’s the case, the reason he hasn’t used the Wyrms yet isn’t because he can’t. He’s just waiting for enough people to die that he doesn’t have to worry about them getting injured.

Jessen’s lips pulled back in a smile as another Iron Hound fell. There were still several of them fighting both the Wyrmlings and Arwin’s group, but the only combatants left now were his more talented warriors and the strongest of the Wyrmlings.

“Times up,” Jessen said, holding a hand out to the Wyrms behind him. “You weren’t a bad fighter – for a smith. I look forward to seeing just what kind of equipment you’ve got. It’ll look good on my walls.”

The Wyrms roared as one. Arwin staggered, dropping Verdant Blaze and clapping his hands over his ears as a wave of pain slammed into him and his brain spun. Blue energy shattered around his body and the effect faded, letting him draw in a sharp breath.

One of the Wyrms rose to its feet, its lips pulling back in a savage snarl and pink energy swirling behind its eyes. The other one, however, remained in place. Jessen looked back at it, his brow tightening.

“Go, you lazy piece of shit,” Jessen snarled. “Get up! ”

Pink magic flared in his eyes. The Wyrm hissed and its body trembled. It forced itself upright, trembling. Then it charged – not at Arwin, but past him and toward his allies. Arwin called out a warning, but he couldn’t risk turning to try to interfere.

The other Wyrm crept toward him, its tongue flicking out to taste the air. Jessen watched with a cold smile, making no move to get closer. He didn’t need to.

“Kill him,” Jessen said.

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