Chapter 75: Growth

Chapter 75: Growth

Leif forced himself to look away from the dozens of terrified faces that stared in horror at the retreating Empire’s Mercy. Far below, the wreckage of the bisected skimmers smashed into the rocky ground, they splintered and sparked at the impact, the sound echoing up like a haunting, dissonant melody.

The single surviving smaller skimmer cast off from the side of the bluff. It was full, the raft-like vehicle dropping dangerously. It was at the very limit of its capacity, forty people crammed themselves on board, some hanging over the sides due to the lack of space.

As Leif turned, he saw the stark, numb expressions of the men and women who had been fortunate enough to escape as they sat or stood bunched together on the deck of the Empire’s Mercy.

A ranking officer of the skimmer barked orders, they pitched their voice to be heard over the yells and pleas coming from the outpost. Men and women in blue and silver uniforms snapped from their distracted reverie and got back to work. It felt as though time had slowed to a crawl, it hadn’t been half a minute, but each second felt like an eternity.

Leif saw the faces of those few expedition members he knew best. Adriana wasn’t looking, her head ducked to her knees. Linus was staring up at the clearing sky, expression blank. Sieg’s expression was grim, his stance rigid and tense, a hand on Marcus’s shoulder. The sandy haired mage stood at the edge of the skimmer, eyes haunted, jaw working as he gazed blankly back at Far-reach.

Another beam of dark blue energy hummed through the air three or so dozen metres off to the side of the Empire’s Mercy, it splintered trees and shattered boulders as it sliced vertically along the countryside.

A form wreathed in mist swung across the deck, using the rigging that hung from the tall wooden mast that supported the triangular sail the skimmer’s crew were hurriedly unfurling. Darius landed in the small clearing on the deck the spriggan stood within.

“Can the skimmer land?” Leif asked, forcibly keeping his voice calm.

The young man shook his head. “Maybe if we pass over a plateau or hill that reaches high enough, but the route to Ahle-ho doesn’t pass over anything like that. Beyond the upcoming stretch of valleys it’s mostly flatlands.”

“So we’ll just leave them to die?”

Darius didn’t reply, he just stared up at the umbral sphere that hung over the outpost like a black sun. Leif didn’t need words to understand the man’s thoughts. If the battle in the sky ended quickly enough, maybe, just maybe, those being left behind could be saved.

But Leif knew what the presence of powerful shadow magic implied, or rather, who it most likely heralded. While he hadn’t seen the battle between orc and awakened enslaver due to being trapped below Pherin, he had more than felt the battle’s presence.

But there was hope. Perhaps, if Szesis had sided with Hera, Kaan and Pocht against the enslaver they may be able to win. But it would hardly matter if the survivors had been butchered by undead before that happened.

Leif realised something, that a part of him had tensed, eager to return. He cast his mind back, searching for what the man he had once been would have done. The answer came to him easily, surprisingly so. For an instant Leif imagined the old, human him, standing at his side on the skimmer's deck, long dark hair tied behind him, eyes fixated back on the outpost, ready to do whatever it would take to protect others, even if it cost him.

The spriggan’s golden eyes flickered, and the vision was gone, but his decision remained. He clenched a four fingered fist under his cloak. Perhaps it was stupid, foolish, even suicidal. But acting felt like the correct thing to do, and that made Leif’s choice easy. He pulled out the silver badge and held it up so its metallic face glinted in the morning light.

“I’ll be holding onto this, but I’ll come find you after this is over.” He said, tilting his head slightly in the scout's direction.

Darius blinked, looking between Leif and the badge. Then he glanced back towards Far-reach and his eyes widened. “Wait... what are-”

Leif pocketed the badge and stepped forward in one fluid motion. The scout's words were cut off as the spriggan vanished in a blur of golden light. It streaked through the expanse between the skimmer and Far-reach in moments. He appeared on the skimmer docks mid stride, several of the trapped men and women cried out, recoiling at his sudden appearance.

He could feel their fear, desperation and hopelessness, it hung in the air, heavy and grim. Someone shouted and grabbed onto Leif’s cloak, he ignored them, conjuring amber arms to push aside the crowd. With a pulse of his aura Leif forced his way through the despondent mass of humanity, finally bursting free as he stepped onto the hard stone of the bluff.

Some questions were called after him but Leif could barely hear them over the rapidly approaching horde of howls and screams. He jogged up the shallow incline, cresting the bluff’s peak in a few long strides.

He saw the natural stone arch, still partially slick with water. Soldiers retreated along its length, the barricades that had been hastily constructed on the far side having been overrun by a tide of reanimated corpses.

A final line of defence was being set up, soldiers lining up as they prepared to die. Leif’s perception brushed over them, allowing him to sense their tension, terror and resolve. It mixed and swirled in the air, like a physical blanket pressing down on the very world.

An officer turned at his approach, one eye caked closed by a layer of blood. The man’s one good eye widened in surprise as he saw Leif. “What happened at the docks? Who are you?” The officer demanded, his voice almost cracking due to the tightly wound tension.

“Two of the skimmers were destroyed, and who I am doesn’t matter. Hold off any undead who make it past me.” Leif said as he stepped through the single file rank of soldiers and onto the bridge.

The officer called another series of questions after him but Leif’s focus was planted firmly on the fight before him. A final pair of men hobbled past, one supporting the other's weight. Hot on their heels was a duo of skeletal dogs. Leif pulverised the first with a pair of amber arms, the second he sent wheeling off the side of the archway with a contemptuous backhand.

He grabbed the now unmoving body of the first hound and let the remaining death energy that coursed through its rotted form trickle up his arm and into his body, there the foul power met his pool of golden vitality and was subsumed. Another undead came at him, this one some kind of bear.

A spear tip of gold met the monster's charge, the pointed blade passing through one of the reanimated beast's eye sockets and out the back of its head. He dropped the hound, its energy all but gone and grabbed hold of the now still bear.

A sense of serene calm passed over Leif as he fought his way along the bridge. It was too wide for him to bottleneck by himself, but the ever growing well of life-force that was building up inside of him was more than a tempting lure.

Undead threw themselves at him, at first they came alone or in pairs, then he faced three, then four. The barricades the soldiers had erected at the far end of the stone connection between both bluffs was stemming the flow of undead, but with every passing second more and more flooded onto the bridge.

[Blight’s Bounty], a skill that allowed him to syphon life-force with his attacks and grant up to a forty percent increase to every attribute, was a constant boon. Ever since the fighting had begun earlier that morning the skill’s effects had never faded in their entirety.

With the maximum increase to his attributes Leif felt alive, stronger, faster, more aware and durable. His aura, strengthened from his investments into [Charisma] pressed down on the onrushing undead like a physical force.

Leif swiped out, battering aside a swarm of goblin sized ghouls. A rain of arrows and ranged skills whipped through the air, passing to either side of him and felling the next rank of undead. He had a second to breathe, and he spent the instant to glance up.

The dark sun still blacked out the sky directly over Far-reach, blasts of blue energy lancing out in all directions. Leif mentally pulled in his aura, firming his resolve. It tightened around him like a veil. Then he flared it out, directing the full force of his intent and defiance at the rotting horde.

The hood of his cloak blew back as he yelled wordlessly into the wall of death. The air rippled, the closest undead let out screeches as they staggered back, only to be ploughed into by those directly behind them. Leif charged forward, trusting [Grounded Stance] to keep his footing stable as he crashed into the disoriented mass of twisted limbs.

Undead pressed in from every side, his amber limbs lashed out, fending off raking claws and snapping, fang filled mouths. His body was tough, the natural physique of what he had become was far greater than that of the human he had once been.

That resilience had been further amplified by his classes and skills. Even still, he wasn’t immortal. Every glancing blow that landed chipped away at his bark-like skin. The sheer press of bodies enough to strain the structure of the golden arms conjured by [Gold Iron Physique].

He roared as teeth bit down into his side, the bent steel from a sword wielded by a reanimated soldier cutting into his neck, and something punctured his lower back. Bit by bit he was being worn down, with every strike he sustained the vitality churning within him rushed forward to mend and restore.

With immense effort Leif managed to take a single step forward. He streaked backwards in a blur of golden light. He reappeared several metres ahead of the horde. His cloak was ripped and torn, amber sap dripping from dozens of newly opened wounds.

He shook away the phantom impressions of pain that burned across his body. Ever since he had been reborn, certain feelings and sensations had been denied to him. Though the thought of what he had lost brought more agony than any number of physical wounds.

Leif flexed as three sets of amber arms reformed, replacing the cracked and fractured limbs that rose from his sides and back, poking out from small strips he had created in the heavy cloak Hera had gifted him.

With grim amusement he noted it hardly mattered now. The cloak would be nothing but tattered strips before long. He repeated his tactic from earlier, gathering up his aura before slamming it forward and into the mass of abominations.

Leif backed up a few steps, then charged forward. Again he plunged into the violent mass of rotting limbs, again he sustained enough minor damage to have killed an imperial soldier twice over.

It was a gruelling, desperate battle of attrition. His body was aflame with golden light as his cultivated vitality boiled in response to every scrape and cut. Leif’s attacks were draining and converting death attuned energies faster than he could expend the vitality to fuel his other skills and restore his body.

His cultivated life-force strained against the limits his soul could handle, forcefully expanding his maximum capacity at the cost of burning him up from the inside, sending lances of soul deep agony through his entire body.

Leif’s vision blurred, his consciousness fuzzing around the edges. He tried to step forward and trigger [Amber Steps], but the sheer mass of the undead pressing into him from all sides restrained his movements.

The arms of gold he used to strike out with and restrain his enemies began to crack, then shatter under the endless assault. He reached out with a physical arm of ivory wood and grabbed onto the undead directly in front of him.

“Heal.” He rasped, the command sending healing energies flooding into the corrupted monster. It dusted at his touch, bone and flesh disintegrated as he pushed every drop of cultivated energy into [Healing Touch].

The internal burden caused by excessive vitality lapsed temporarily, but something within him twinged violently. Leif, surrounded by hungry death, fell to one knee as [Grounded Stance] finally gave out.

He pulled at his aura, trying to wrap it around him but his attention was being tugged in a hundred different directions. Something latched onto his right arm, the ivory limb falling limp as faux tendons were severed.

[Under My Protection] snapped into existence, the golden shield flaring around him, only to almost instantly break under the onslaught of attacks coming from every direction. A clawed hand raked across his face, the vision in one of his glowing eyes winked out. A colossal undead shoved its way through the horde, the abomination crashed bodily into Leif and knocked him back.

Bones snapped as he fell back on an unfortunate pair of zombies, their bodies crushed under his weight. The abomination grabbed one of his legs and tried to rip it free. Leif flooded the limb with as much healing energy as possible, he succeeded in preventing the dismemberment but was yanked forward along the rocky ground.

Level up! Class [Attuned: Life] is now level 3!

For successfully controlling a vast amount of life attuned energies and utilising it while under the threat of death you have gained a level!

+1 to [Willpower] +1 free point!

The level up notification flickered briefly into his awareness before the grey box with red and gold trimming was minimised. From what he saw it hadn’t provided anything that could potentially save his life.

I’m going to die. Leif thought, the truth slamming down into him. He had expected panic to rise up, for fear to take hold of his body and mind. Instead he found himself accepting the fact with a grim, almost callous resolve.

It had all been for nothing. His second chance at life, every obstacle he had overcome and every step he had taken. Worthless, useless, pathetic...

Leif shook himself, violently wrenching his mind from the spiral of dark thoughts. Surely he could do something, anything. He had one option, it would grant him power, but it was a last resort that would almost immediately result in his death. Out of panicked instinct he reopened the most recent system prompt. There was nothing new, but maybe...

Recently he had upgraded the skill granted by his [Attuned: Life] class. In the chaos of the day's events he hadn’t taken the time to explore and understand the new capabilities of his newfound authority granted by [Life Spells II].

And you are me? He asked, half delirious.

“Everything, nothing, all at once.” It replied.

Leif felt it begin to draw away, leaving him in his final moments. He reached out with his aura and brushed up against it. He had so much to say, so much to do. The will of life paused, as if giving him one final chance to satisfy its interest.

Life is protecting others, it is acting to preserve. He thought, desperate for the world's mana to stay for even an instant more. Life is change, even if it’s unwanted. Life is connection, the bonds that tie us together, that make us strive for more.

“All acceptable answers.” The mana said. “And yet you hate? A part of you despises it, despises yourself. Why?”

Its words slammed into Leif, a metaphorical slap to the face. It was an uncomfortable, unsettling truth. Ever since he had returned, growing from the earth and into a twisted parody of what he used to be. It had been lurking in the back of his mind. Regret, anger, disgust, fear. It was twisted around the very essence of what he had become.

He didn’t want to accept it, but in his final moments he felt that it was impossible not to. Amber tears fell from twin slits in his mask-like face.

Life is nurturing, loving, caring.

The will of the world didn’t respond, the silence was like the gavel of judgement slamming into his soul.

Life is... I am... life.

“Yes.”

A young man, caked in blood, his ripped clothing and armour layered in mud and grime. His dark eyes stared up into the cloudy sky as he bled out, every passing second drawing him closer to death.

Leif knelt next to him, body aglow with golden flames. He went to reach out, to heal the man, and bring him back from the brink. But he couldn’t move, amber light scorched every cell of his monstrous body, burning him like kindling on a pyre.

The man coughed, blood bubbling up between his lips. Leif’s heart twinged at the sight.

“What do you want?” The mana asked.

“I want to live.” Leif replied, speaking out loud even though his body no longer worked.

“Is that so?”

“Yeah, even if it’s only for a moment more.”

“Why?” The will of the world asked the monster.

“I can’t grow if I’m dead.” He said. “I can’t do, be better if I don’t try.”

“Acceptable.”

Congratulations! Your [Attuned: Life] skill [Life Spells] has met an upgrade threshold!

Would you like to upgrade [Life Spells] from rank II to rank III? Y/N

Everything snapped into perfect clarity as the system window appeared before him. The world began to speed back up, the overflowing vitality within him ignited as he triggered [Embolden Vegetation]. Every undead on the natural bridge flinched back as lifeforce exploded from Leif’s body. The closest few partially dusted from the outpouring of energy.

Something resonated within him, a connection blooming into life.

You have displayed excellence above your ability!

For resonating with a law of mana, convincing it of your worth and reaching a state of peace in your final moments you have gained the following!

+20 to [Spirit] +20 to [Charisma]!

Strength flooded his body, it intermixed with the rampaging vitality, swirling and twisting until both were indistinguishable. Leif’s body began to change, the protrusions of twigs on his head grew rapidly into a crown of branches.

The red leaves littering his body multiplied, tripling within seconds as every muscle and joint flexed, then expanded. He enlarged, rising half a foot within the span of a second. Leif let out a final, almost bestial roar as the enslaver descended upon him, broken mandibles glinting against the radiant glow of his body.

Leif mentally reached for [Gold Iron Physique], willing the skill to activate one final time. He mentally probed it to use every last drop of vitality it could manage, to rip the enslaver into bloody pieces.

The world shifted ever so slightly, responding, if only just, to his desire. With the very last drop of strength in his body Leif brought up both of his ivory arms, each criss-crossed in dozens of golden cracks. He brought them together with enough force to make the air ripple. His skill didn’t work with [Life Spells], the differing aspects didn’t allow for such a use.

Leif didn’t care, he did it anyway.

“GROW.”

Congratulations! Your skills [The Well Within III] and [Life Spells III] have harmonised with one another!

Would you like to fuse [The Well Within III] and [Life Spells III] into the [Amber Blight Spriggan] skill [Font of Life]? Y/N

===

Font of Life III:

Aspects: Cultivation (Blood)* (Life)*, Spell (Blood)* (Life)*, Empowerment (Body)*

The limitless potential of your vitality resonates with your authority over life.

A portion of vitality you absorb is permanently added to a pool of energy that resides within you, you may develop and strengthen this pool by utilising the differing aspects of this skill.

You may command the will of the world, increasing the potency of skills or altering their usage.

The closer to death you are, the more potent this skill becomes.

Mastery of all aspects of this skill are required for further upgrades.

===

A dozen golden arms burst from all over Leif’s body, reaching and grasping for the undead ant that loomed above. A dozen arms became two, then three dozen as Leif forced every last drop of life-force into the activation of the skill.

Hands grabbed hold of the enslaver's mandibles, pulling them apart as the monster launched itself downwards. Spear tipped limbs punctured obsidian carapace, bladed arms severed legs, one hand ripped an antennae right out of the creature's head.

The ant spasmed as it was dismembered, crushed and impaled. More and more amber arms struck out at the enslaver, even more brushed aside the lesser undead as they howled and attacked. The limbs grew up and outwards, elongating and twisting to do as much damage as possible.

It was a veritable forest of gold, unstoppable and unrelenting. Leif pushed more and more into the skill, the arms tensed, then redoubled their efforts. A fist crushed the ant’s right eye, another dug sharpened fingers into the gap between armoured carapace.

For what felt like an eternity, life and death struggled for supremacy. Then, with one final heave, the sound of tearing flesh and bending carapace echoed across Far-reach. The enslaver let out one final, pitiable scream, then it was ripped in two.

The emerald flames that infused its body flickered out, then vanished. Two halves of the building-sized monster fell from the stone bridge, blood and ichor painting the bluff’s side as they tumbled down, hitting the ground with a sickening finality.

The stone archway cracked as what could have been hundreds of hands descended, splintering stone and shattering rock. The bridge collapsed, undead tumbling down in a howling cacophony and rage.

The rock beneath Leif’s feet began to crumble, he used the forest of limbs to tug his useless body away from the encroaching chasm, dragging himself back to the safety of the smaller bluff.

The vitality within him guttered, then died. A soul deep chill replaced the raging inferno of golden light. Leif hit the stone ledge of the bluff as the last of the bridge fell away. Everything was numb, cold, silent.

Peaceful.

System prompts and windows flashed before him, a veritable cascade of information that he had no desire, nor ability to parse.

Golden motes of essence drifted up into the sky as his golden limbs broke apart and dissolved. Amber light rose far above Far-reach, disappearing into the clouds and shimmering against the sun’s rays.

With the last embers of his consciousness, Leif triggered one final skill. A skill he had never used, a skill he had never planned to use. But in that moment, as he lay motionless on cold, blood splattered stone, it felt right.

Leif activated [Settle]. And darkness claimed him.