Chapter 4: Determination

Chapter 4: Determination

A number of the crow-people here are fighters; they all step forward, holding rickety spears that I assume are Firmament-enhanced. There's no guarantee they've stayed that way, though. I remember quite clearly the way the chairs just failed and fell apart, and there's no reason this will be any different.

Something about a Raid disrupts Firmament enchantments, is my best guess. And the implications of that are worrying. I have no doubt this is going to keep happening, and if other places are even more reliant on Firmament...

It doesn't matter. I'm thinking too far ahead.

The children are being ushered away, but not nearly quickly enough; those harpies are descending fast, and the crows don't have the time to evacuate their people. Half of them have barely even registered the danger I see some kids pointing excitedly to their parents, hopping up on their feet, struggling and fighting to stay.L1tLagoon witnessed the first publication of this chapter on Ñøv€l--B1n.

That stops when they notice the missing arms. I force myself to ignore the screams. They know how to take care of their own, I tell myself. Meanwhile, if we want to stand any chance of beating this Raid, I have to think strategically.

I have three chances to make this work, and two skills that are my current assets Tough Skin, which is going to help me passively anyway, and Temporal Echo, which won't be useful to me until the next loop. My odds of beating this raid first try are low. I can't risk everything to try to beat it in one go. Whatever I do now should set me up for the next one.

The harpies are getting closer. They're spreading out, too, I note; there isn't going to be a single defensible position. The crows are trying to organize, but failing spectacularly; it's clear that they've never prepared for this. They're tripping over themselves to try to get to the right positions.

Figure it out faster.

I risk a quick glance at my stats. My original plan was to wait them out and gather enough points to bank larger amounts at once, in the hope of getting a higher-rank skill. I might be forced to abandon those plans, and I make my peace with that.

If I want to deal with this many harpies at once, speed is going to be drastically more important, though that's at least partially dependent on how much these crows can help me.

I glance at a crow, and note the way his spear is trembling in his hands. I note how scattered they still are.

...Best not to rely on that.

Strength is the least important of the three. It doesn't take that much effort to cleave through flesh when you have a scythe. It's the reason I was going to risk banking less points into it. I don't know that any Strength skill will help me out here.

I'm going to have to build Reflex and Speed as fast as I can, I think. I get speed if I push myself to be fast

The harpies land, spread out, scattered across the village. A dozen exactly I count as rapidly as I can, filing the information away in my brain.

And then there's no more time to think.

I launch myself forward, running as fast as I can; I'm not used to running like this, my weight thrown off balance by the scythe I'm carrying in a hand. The harpy closest to me seems almost surprised by the sheer audacity of my approach, and it's probably that surprise that allows me to score a deep gash on her flesh with the scythe before she screeches.

I duck. It's pure instinct, pure reflex; something in the world thrums when she does it, and a flash of memory the memory of Temporal Echo calling to me, thrumming in the air turns into a split-second reaction.

The air visibly warps. A blast of compressed air rips out over my head, and the shockwave is enough to knock me off balance and throw me to the ground but considering it shatters the hut it strikes just behind me, I got off lucky.

Not good enough. I'm too slow. The harpy kicks at me with a clawed foot, and I roll out of the way just in time; all around me, the sounds of combat erupt, filling the air with a cacophony of noise.

And amid them, more screams. Those screams are the harpies' at first the screeching bursts of sound as they use their Firmament but then the screams turn wet and choked and broken.

I don't look back. I thrust the scythe forward instead, a hooking jab meant to slice through skin. The harpy dodges out of the way; the movement was too slow, too predictable, but I'm off balance and on the ground. The point is that it gives me just enough time to hop to my feet, and I rapidly swing the scythe again.

The harpy's nowhere near me. It doesn't matter.

I'm setting up for the next run.

I just need to run as long as I can. They're dying, too. It's just a matter of who dies faster.

Not having an arm throws me off more than having the scythe did.

Faster.

They're still chasing me. I have a plan here, but the plan involves one of the harpies collapsing, or slowing down, or something. Neither of them are screaming, though, and that makes me thankful, even if I have no idea why. Maybe they've drained whatever it is they need to use that skill. Maybe they're just playing with their prey.

Too bad for them. That's not what I am.

One of them trips. It's the first harpy she's bled enough now that she doesn't quite have the strength to move properly, and so her leg catches on a rock and she goes tumbling. I've been waiting for this moment, and so I reverse course immediately, catching the second harpy off-guard; I make to grab at the scythe stuck in her chest.

But I try to reach out with my left hand. The missing hand.

A split-second moment is all it takes. The harpy rears back and kicks at me, clawed feet digging straight into my stomach and sending me tumbling back; I gasp with pain, struggling to hold on through blurry eyes. Something in my spine snaps. I don't bleed. The claws don't break through my Tough Skin.

Not that it matters. I can't move. I try, but I can't even wiggle my toes.

It's tempting to let go. I can fall into the next reset, the next loop; my injuries will be gone, and I'll have a brand new set of credits to play with.

But I need every last scrap I can get, and so I cling on.

I don't think the harpy notices that I'm still alive. She moves on immediately, going off to slaughter more of the village; I try to move, to go after her, but I can't. The first harpy is still lying on the ground. She hasn't moved since she fell. Hope rises in my chest maybe she's bleeding out.

Maybe I have a chance.

If I can outlast her if she dies first, and I get a burst of durability... I remember how Tough Skin healed me.

Seconds tick by. I bite my lip to keep myself from passing out. I grind the stump of my left arm into the dirt for that sharp spike of blistering pain, hoping against hope I can thread that edge of pain and unconsciousness.

I think about the Integrators. I think about the body of that little crow, the head torn clean off. I think about the way the mother's arms wrapped around her child in the moment of her death.

My anger grows, but my vision fades.

I only barely see the notification, a second before I slip into nothingness.

[ You have defeated an Elegy of the Lost (Rank E)! +7 Strength credits. +33 Durability credits. +17 Reflex credits. +15 Speed credits. +4 Firmament credits. ]

Durability credits. Spend.

[ Are you sure ]

Yes!

[ 38 Durability credits spent! Rolling for results... ]

[ CRITICAL ROLL. ]