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Chapter 40 Rising arc
🕑 Added 2025-08-15 06:22:09 +0000 UTCPdf and epub versions below. Marcus grunted, suppressing a hiss of pain. “Remind me why this will help me focus?” “It will ground your mind
Pdf and epub versions below.
Marcus grunted, suppressing a hiss of pain. “Remind me why this will help me focus?”
“It will ground your mind in the present,” Elly replied, dancing away as he struck. Her wooden sword impacted his hand, fingers tightening instead of letting go. “Good, good. You’re building proper fighting instincts.”
“This still feels faintly masochistic.”
“Big word for someone who can’t be tempted by a literal succubus. Defend yourself.”
He raised his guard, the sword being nearly smashed out of his hands not a second later. But not quite, and Marcus shifted his footing to lash out. His kick connected, pushing her back as she forcefully exhaled. He grunted. “I don’t need your pity. If we’re doing this, let’s do it properly.”
Her bad positioning was corrected in a flash, and before he knew what was happening her leg hooked behind his own. His back impacted the ground in a very familiar fashion, the air driven out of his lungs, and he resisted the urge to blast her with magic. To send her flying up and up and let her worry about him catching her.
Petty, perhaps, but it wasn’t like he could teach her magic. The beatdowns were either one-sided in her favor or equal, so he felt he was due some undeserved vengeance. Only in his mind, though. Cruelty was not him.
“Why do you look like you want to do something mean?”
“No reason,” he replied, smiling at her. It made her back up a little, the fear fake but hesitation real, and his smile turned into a grin. “No reason at all. But mission accomplished, I’m focused. I need to wash before we start the day's march.”
“Don’t let people catch you bathing with your succubus. We’re married now, your behavior reflects on me.”
Marcus sighed deeply. “One, that hasn’t ever happened. Two, we’re at war. Even with magic, washing is the best I can do. Three, you’re the one that insisted fighting shirtless is better for catching my mistakes. Only for me, though. Obviously.”
“And I stand by it,” Elly replied, not even having the decency to act ashamed. “It allows me to more easily see your form.”
“That’s kind of the problem.”
“Your fighting form, idiot.”
“Wanton female.”
She straightened. “You did not just call me a wanton female. I’m not even sure what that means.”
“I don’t know,” Marcus replied, shrugging. “Sounded insulting. You’re the one that grew up surrounded by crass soldiers.”
“You’re stupid.”
“That’s a lame insult.”
“You’re a lame insult.”
“I feel my intelligence draining away, so I’m leaving now.”
He turned, storming off as dramatically as he could. The gesture was somewhat undercut when she followed him, raising an eyebrow when he glanced at her. “What?”
“I’m storming off. That’s hard to do when you’re following me.”
Elly shrugged. “Fun aside, your guards aren't here. It isn’t me the Empire is fixated on, so until the war is over you’re not going anywhere unguarded.”
“You just want to watch me wash.”
“Not particularly, no.”
He sighed. “Fine, fine. I’d complain, say something like ‘I’m not helpless, you know’, but I know better than that. I still think you want to watch me wash.”
“I feel this relationship of ours is backwards,” she noted. “It tends to be men chasing women, not the other way around. Not that I am chasing you, but my point stands.”
Marcus stretched as he walked, weaving a simple healing matrix to ease his already forming bruises. The morning sun felt pleasant, though. “Nice save. And our relationship is unique, just like every other one out there. I don’t like to conform to someone else’s expectations of me, either. Comes with growing up as gifted, royalty and generally somewhat of an asshole.”
“Such a modest soul. Truly, yo-”
She pushed him aside a second before an arrow impacted the ground, Marcus dropping his healing matrix to snap his standard defence package into place. He didn’t waste any time on things like ‘who is attacking us’ or ‘how did they get past the army?’, and instead started jumping to the side. More arrows fell, though when he glanced at one already embedded into the ground he noted they were mundane projectiles.
Why use mundane projecti-
A presence bloomed, one he felt more than saw, and it was drenched in menace. In terror and the joy of slaughter, gliding past his senses like an ocean of blood. The shape appeared a moment later, a classically armored figure wielding a spear.
And wings. Two of them, flapping in the wind and stretching nearly six feet to either side, keeping the demon aloof a hundred feet off the ground. Marcus grunted, using his last free matrix to detonate a bright but harmless fireball.
That's what they got for being even momentarily lax with his security, he supposed. The enemy tended to take advantage of it, no matter if they had a good reason. A third of his guards were dead, after all, and the Royal Guards needed to be reorganized. He was with Elly, anyway, so everyone else was set-dressing at best.
Such good, sound arguments. It didn’t stop the Demon Knight from descending on them, spear flashing forwards as gravity gave it momentum. Elly moved forwards to intercept, and Marcus didn’t even have time to warn her when a small sphere was thrown at her face.
The grenade detonated with an explosion of sound and light, his last-minute attempt to cover her in his own sensory protection a hair too slow. Elly staggered, enhanced perception betraying her as the chemical weapon exploded.
He really was starting to hate the Empire's ability to make those things.
The Demon Knight ignored her wholesale, somehow being summoned in equipped with the grenades, and Marcus scrambled back. Barry’s own summon had given him a very thorough understanding of the things, and they did not play around. Their weapons were infused with the very idea of war, of death and bloodshed and agony, and that whole branch of magic was one poorly understood by humans.
Marcus did know they were very efficient at breaking magical shields.
A second presence bloomed, Barry probably having felt the unfamiliar signature and coming to the right conclusions, but it would take time for them to get here. Elly was still out of it, might be for a long moment, and trying to heal her mid-fight was pointless.
The spear descended, slicing through his shield like butter. Marcus stepped aside, the movement almost automatic, and dropped his sensory protection to weave a two-tiered wind matrix.
A gale bellowed outwards, pushing the winged demon back. Not enough, not nearly enough, but some. Hard to stay still even for something as powerful as mid-level demons while mid-air, apparently.
Elly screamed something inaudible and sprang upwards, eyes closed and ears bleeding, and Marcus took the distraction for all it was worth. Space twisted as he weaved his best defensive spell, dropping his regular shield to create an impossibly thin tear in reality.
The demon twisted, avoiding the spatial arc with extreme care, and Elly’s sword impacted it in the shoulder. She probably sensed its location, tracking it, but she was limited. Slowed. The Knight slapped her aside, gouging a deep gash into her side but mostly content to ignore her.
Marcus moved back, but too late. The spear came again, but this time there was nothing to hit. Nothing to break or decay. Space itself wobbled as the spear was deflected, but Marcus stabilized the matrix with an errant thought. Again the spear stabbed, and again it went off course.
The Demon Knight barked something harsh, darkness gathering at the tip of his weapon, and then the other Demon Knight was there. Dashing through the morning dew without a care for subtlety, sword and shield at the ready. Marcus backed off, more than happy to let those two fight it out.
A brief moment of panic went through him when the allied demon came straight for him, but nothing came of it. The knight jumped, easily clearing twenty feet, and its winged enemy tried to ignore him. Tried to push towards Marcus anyway.
Tried being the operative word. Barry’s summon didn’t let it, and Marcus could already hear more guards approaching. Horses digging hooves in the earth, enough of them to shake the ground. Not majorly so, but there.
Xathar stepped through the portal as Marcus summoned him, taking one look at the fighting demons before turning around. The horse barely waited for Marcus to get on before turning to a full sprint, a shout from Marcus seeing Elly retreat alongside him.
She was blinking rapidly, wiping the blood from her ears, and he grimaced. Pulsed his magic, which made her pay attention, but it wasn’t like they could communicate through that alone.
The winged demon kept trying to pass its grounded enemy, at one point even throwing the spear, but enough distance had been made. Xathar was uncharacteristically quiet, just running as fast as he could, and Marcus could feel how much energy Elly was burning to keep up with him.
A mounted retinue found him before they got back to the camp proper, though he would have steered Xathar away before entering it. No reason to get a few hundred soldiers killed to buy a couple of seconds, and once he got Elly a healer they could probably take it together.
Most likely, in fact, considering how carefully the demon had avoided his spatial arc. The group came to a halt, Xathar exhaling great plumes of hot air, and Marcus risked a look backwards. The winged demon was at least a minute out, though its additional mobility might cut that down.
“Heal the Queen,” Marcus ordered, pointing at one of his mages. Karl, he was pretty sure, and a reliable healer. The man nodded, setting to work as Marcus tensed. He’d do it himself, but dividing his focus sounded like a really bad idea. “Create a dome. The winged Demon Knight can throw its spear, so keep sharp.”
The group organized with admirable speed, nine strong. Only three mages, though another three had Life Enhancement coursing through their veins. A second presence bloomed, one of Barry’s older elementals, and Marcus relaxed slightly.
It and the allied Demon Knight could take care of the winged demon, though he doubted it was the only layer to the ambush. Another bolt proved him right a split-second later, carving through four shields like it was nothing.
He was really starting to hate dispelling runes. Xathar moved in time to make the bolt miss, reacting faster than anyone else, and one of the mages barked an ancient word in a guttural tone.
Stone walls rose around them, closing up at the top with a nearly soundless hiss. Marcus raised his eyebrow, that being a rather advanced—not to mention magically draining—technique, but it would do. A bird silently flew out of a tiny portal as Marcus was left in near total darkness, its minor telepathic ability useful fo-
Marcus turned in time to avoid the sword slicing at his torso, not having to do much of anything as the man’s skull was caved in a moment later. Xathar lowered his hooves, tone appreciative, and Marcus nodded at the bird warning him of the attack. So useful to have summons close, especially subtle ones. “The Archmage wishes you dead very badly, bush mage. This is a great honor.”
“Not a shapeshifter,” another mage commented, one Marcus didn’t know. The woman's tone soured. “Must have been a traitor. I don’t recognize him, but he’s wearing the armor of the Royal Guards. Probably snuck in during the chaos.”
Marcus shrugged, mostly focused on his non-physical senses. The winged demon seemed to be winning, but the greater elemental was joining the fight. “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, well. Apparently you can’t. Redundancy is the key to security.”
Elly finally escaped from her healer, eyes red but seemingly functional. She looked at the dead man on the floor and shook her head, knocking on the stone walls surrounding them.
“Strong,” she commented, turning to the guards. “You, you and you. I don’t know you, so you’re coming with me. Everyone else I’ve at least seen before, so you’re protecting the King while I secure the surrounding area. Xathar, keep kicking traitors to death.”
Xathar stamped his hooves on the ground, positively radiating joy. “With great vigor!”
A portion of the wall was lowered, clearly straining the stone mage, but after that, time mostly passed uneventfully. A few bolts impacted the wall, which did nothing, and no one else tried to kill him again.
Marcus mostly spent the time thinking in circles, two pieces of information chasing one another around and around. The Archmage wanted him alive, going so far as to inform even low ranked officers of that, yet kept sending assassins. He idly ordered the disruption bolt collected, storing it away with a shrug.
The Archmage wanted him dead, then alive, now dead again. Burned priceless resources with each attempt, he had little doubt Elly would catch, interrogate and kill the mage which had actually summoned the winged demon, and those weren’t exactly plentiful. Not even for the Empire.
Eventually, after nearly an hour, he had only one real possible answer. It felt wrong, having little to do with the actual invasion, but so far the Archmage seemed to want pressure. Not death, necessarily, but to force Marcus to innovate.
Which, as Elly returned with a mounted escort fifty strong and Marcus rode back towards camp with double his usual guards, made even less sense. Why attempt to make someone you’re fighting stronger? Force them to improve?
It made no sense, but then again it was an Archmage. They did things that made no sense all the time, either because they worked with information no one else possessed or because they just wanted to. Because they found it funny, a break from waging endless war against the dungeon.
Barry joined him once Marcus was deep inside the camp, Elly off to lead another hunt for traitors. He would almost pity whichever weakness had made itself known this time, though not as much as he pitied Yonas. The captain of the Royal Guard was going to have to adapt again. Adapt to flying Demon Knights and traitors.
But that was for later, and Marcus nodded to his best summoner—one more talented at the art than Marcus himself—while steering Xathar towards the spatially enlarged wagons.
Just because he’d been almost killed didn’t mean the work stopped.
“Thank you,” Marcus said, bowing his head. Barry looked uncomfortable, seemingly unsure of what to say. “That’s twice now your Demon Knight saved my life, and it wouldn't have been here if it wasn’t for you. Your talent for summoning is as impressive as it is useful.”
Barry grunted, looking away. The kid was growing up, Marcus noted. His frame was losing the last traces of baby fat, and as much as the summoner disliked combat, a pink scar ran down his shoulder. Only the tip could be seen, but it looked angry. Red and only healed to a point.
“It was your books that allowed me to summon Ƚuprȳy ḆiǨðræ in the first place,” Barry replied, tone growing firmer. “I’m good with languages, especially non-human languages, but learning from native speakers is harder than it sounds. Good instruction saves me months of guesswork, of slowly building relationships with beings who cannot understand me, nor I them. Trading favors seems… beneath us. Like jealous cats hissing over rotten fish.”
Descriptive. Marcus snorted, feeling adrenaline leaving to be replaced with sluggishness. “And we are not cats. I shall leave it be, but just know that service is rewarded. Gretched likes scaring new students and Kleph enjoys his forest, but while both contribute, you’ve embraced it. Are actively seeking new ways to make the Academy prosper. Just know that if you ever need something, be that for the Academy or personal use, you shall have it.”
Barry nodded slowly, steering his horse away after muttering a goodbye. Somewhat introverted, not that Marcus judged. Wouldn’t before, definitely wouldn't now.
Elly joined him by the time he’d finished with the first of the wagons, ensuring any further destabilization in the runes would only spread the contents outwards. Somewhat dangerous, but frankly they couldn't afford to lose any more food. Neither could they afford to have their supply train lag behind or live off the land, so this was the next best thing.
“Inelegant,” he muttered, ignoring her for a moment. “Drawing a second circle of runes around the first to slow critical decay until gravity can be temporarily reversed. Waste of energy, waste of elegance, but most of all a waste of time.”
Elly leaned against the wagon, eyebrow raised. “In a grumbling mood, are we?”
“Maybe. Might have something to do with being almost killed, again. Again again? I think it's at least three times now, if we count the general dangers of war. Stirring up some unpleasant memories.”
She hummed, tone quieter. “How many times did you die, inside?”
“Dozens?” Marcus asked, unsure. He shrugged. “Probably more. I stopped counting after a while. I still have that little voice that says to risk it all, to assault the Archmage and die extracting some information. Some clue about what the Hells that man is thinking. Can’t, of course. Won’t. But the voice is still there. Let’s talk about something else, please.”
Elly frowned but complied, her left eye twitching slightly. He moved up to properly heal it, which did mellow her as she spoke. “Fine, fine. But we’ll talk about it later. I’ve grown somewhat fond of you, husband, and replacing you would be inconvenient. Annoying, even.”
“I adore the way you talk sweetly to me.”
“If you want sweet, go eat fruit. I’m a soldier.” She turned her head as he pressed his hand against her eyes more fully, keeping it to the one matrix. Eyes were delicate things, and not one he had a lot of experience with. Elly grumbled. “It's stupid how you’re good at like fifteen different things. Very convenient, but stupid. You know who else is stupid? Mirre. Your commander of the Redwater city watch.”
Marcus snorted, tone dry. “And it's stupid you have super strength, highly advanced reflexes and senses that no magic can emulate. But I’m familiar with Mirre, yes. Why is she stupid?”
“She won’t work for me. Probably the best Mirranian commander we have, at least when it comes to moment to moment battle, and nothing. No interest in joining the army, no interest in sharpening her skills, no interest in taking a protege. I hate seeing talent wasted like that.”
“She’s that good?”
Elly hummed. “She is. A sharp mind, cool under pressure, good at making snap judgment and reading the battlefield. Only Pator is objectively better than her, and he’s been at this a lot longer than she has. Some of my veteran commanders are like her, if in different flavors."
“You’d think one battle wouldn't be enough to know for sure.”
“Eh,” she dismissed, sighing deeply as Marcus fully relaxed her nerves. A trick Margret had taught him a few days ago, and a very useful one. “Not for everything, of course, but generally? Yeah, it's enough. You look at certain basic characteristics, and everything else can be taught. She ticks all the boxes, yet refuses to learn, and that’s why she’s stupid.”
Marcus withdrew his hand, checking her eyes to make sure they were fine. Not fully healed, but better. “Another session after dinner, and you should be healed by morning. Mirre will be needed to guard Redwater, and if she doesn't want to leave, she won’t. I’m not going to force her.”
“And neither am I,” Elly assured, stretching. “Now I have more traitors to hunt and you have wagons to fix, but first, breakfast?"
