N. Francis
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Chapter 130: The Second Faction
🕑 Added 2025-07-30 14:00:14 +0000 UTC“All the beans?”
“All the beans.” The furry badger man said, grinning madly.
“You’re fine when I kick your ass?” The Spear had the same wild grin as she hefted her spear.
“Yer’ been a damn good student, can’t be mad either way.” The Woodsman said. “Damn disappointing you weren’t a soldier back in the old universe, you’d have been a good one.”
“Tell that to my parents,” The Spear snorted. “So, shall we begin?”
“I think so.”
The two fast friends stared each other down before all at once dashing forward. In a collision of blows, their fists blurred out. A triple combo from the Woodsman meant to end the fight before it ever got started was fended off as the Spear struck aside the first strike as a well-timed thrust of her left arm pushed it aside, the next strike pushed down as she shoved it aside with her open palm, and the final strike, a heavy knee drive, was met by her knee, cracking against one another like a shotgun blast of noise.
Rather than looking annoyed he’d been thwarted, the Woodsman looked jubilant. The two of them had been sparring for years now, and while the Spear was a powerful foe, she had lacked the direct training that someone like Raving Badger had when they’d first met one another.
Now? Not so much, she had gone from a brutal pugilist to a genuine martial artist.
Another collision of blows as The Spear launched a triple kick combo at her shorter opponent's head, forcing him to intercept the kicks off his raised arms, each strike shoving him back as he grunted with effort. Had it not been for his fur's natural ability to diffuse the kinetic energy of an impact, each phase of the triple kick would have left his bones aching like a heavy hammer had struck him.
Biding his time, the badger-man caught her by calf on the final kick, snatching and spinning her before whipping her at a nearby rock. Flowing through it, the Spear twirled mid-air, landing with grace that a gold medal gymnast could only dream of.
“You didn’t really think that would work, right?” The Spear asked, eyebrows raising incredulously.
“Nah, but it's good to give ya’ the works.”
“A teacher through and through,” The Spear snorted. “Shall we get serious?”
“I think it’s about ‘at time.”
Standing apart from one another, their energy suddenly swelled before exploding as red energy radiated off of the Spear, and any loose detritus nearby suddenly lifted by the sudden swell of her aura.
She wasn’t alone, as the Woodsman likewise swelled his energy, his fur and body not just turning the color of steel, but literally hardening into metal.
As far as durability went, the Woodsman had high confidence in his own durability. To the best of his knowledge, he was just shy of the highest durability among any tier sevens, based on the attribute charts available for comparison within their tier. For someone to have had higher durability than him meant they were some durability purist who’d figured the best course was never to take damage, though he doubted if they could do any damage either.
Which was neither here nor there for the moment as the two opposing founders faced off, their boosting skills fully released.
Blood and sweat literally burning up around the Spear, she felt her heart pounding with excitement. The hotter her spirit burned, the more power she could draw from Ronin’s Rage. Initially, she could only draw power strictly from the feeling of rage, but over time, she’d developed the skill to draw on any hot-blooded emotion, as long as there was some spark of ‘rage’ within.
Now, the skill never said ‘angry’ rage, as long as your emotions were raging, that was enough.
Meanwhile, the metallic gleam of the Woodsman was entirely due to his boosting skill that allowed him to take on the traits of the concepts he had amassed an intestinal understanding of.
Yes, intestinal, not instinctual. Another skill of the Woodsman was that he could gain affinities or similar abilities through consuming certain substances. Eat enough rocks with metallic ore? He could ‘instill’ his boosting skill with defensive metallic properties. Now, the downside was that it wasn’t permanent, requiring Garfunk to ‘refill’ his reserves from time to time.
Interesting, but also not Allison’s cup of tea, unlike Garfunk, she wasn’t about to start eating whatever was lying around.
Either way, Raving Badger, clad in steel fur and his own second-to-one durability, faced Allison with her body burning in a red haze of raging emotions. After years of clashing, this was the final battle to determine the hierarchy. Was it understood to be a superfluous formalization, as the two of them already understood their standing?
Sure, but between two battle junkies, the only way to really settle things was with their fists.
Bringing her furious might to bear, Allison rushed the osferian, her burning red aura like a cloak that surrounded her as each fist struck into the osferian like a tank round. The Woodsman didn’t even bother attempting to match her pace. When she was clad in Ronin’s Rage, matching her pace was impossible; the best method he’d learned for keeping up was to give up on keeping pace, and instead, withstand her fury like a cliff defying the eroding sea.
Which was easier said than done.
Keeping his guard up, the flurry of blows continued to rain down upon him, his metal fur absorbing each blow to the best of his ability, his sharp canines cracking down and chipping from the force that he gritted his teeth.
As powerful as Ronin’s Rage was, it couldn’t be maintained indefinitely; she’d burn herself out.
Under the pressure of her boosting skill, eventually her mind would wear down until she was left a blob on the ground, her emotions so thoroughly spent as fuel that she couldn’t muster the wit to do more than laze.
Or so had once been the case. Enduring the blows, Garfunk began to notice something.
She was picking up speed, her grin growing more savage and wolfish.
Aye. She really is the best damn student I ever had.
Ronin’s Rage, a skill that burnt through her own emotions as fuel, was now fueling itself, like a perpetual motion machine, the damn crazy bitch had mastered herself, her revelry in a hard fought battle, the act of pushing Ronin’s Rage only made it more powerful, spun up more fighting spirit to sustain the skill to even higher temperatures.
Garfunk was in the midst of getting his ass beat, his metal fur creaking under the force of her might, an avalanche of power, and yet he was prouder than he’d ever been before.
This. This is what I’ve been looking for.
Growth wasn’t even, and it wasn’t ever fair, some were simply more talented then others, could climb higher where others stumbled.
The Spear was proving to be just one such person.
Yet, in his pride, Garfunk felt something within his own chest flare to life; the boundless pride for his most outstanding student sparked his own spirit to begin burning hotter.
I ain’t winning this through pure defense.
In the past, when Ronin’s Rage was time-limited, his tactic might have worked, but now it would only snowball, her offense growing faster and stronger as his defenses waned and weakened.
Ain’t no victory without risk.
Inspired, just as Allison had shown off something that Raving Badger had never seen before, it was time for Raving Badger to return the favor. Grabbing from several affinity sources at once, he shoved, forcing them to bend to his will and play nice, a greater foe than one another before him.
His fur remaining like metal, it was the other parts of his body that suddenly changed: his skin turning into bark, his flesh taking on the composition of mightier beasts, his blood pumping with the eddies of a raging river. Everything about him was augmented in tandem, achieving perfect synchronization.
Allison, who had felt the tide of the battle turning to her inevitable victory, was taken off guard as suddenly his fist swung out, catching her in the side of her ribs as the badger man snapped a surprise strike out, her bones cracking from the force of the undefended strike.
Rather than anger her, Allison’s excitement soared, as the mentor she had been on the verge of totally eclipsing achieved a breakthrough. She could instantly recognize something had changed about him, a sense of power she hadn’t felt from him before.
Snapping up a high kick, it was met by her temporary mentor’s own high kick, their legs crashing one against the other, forming an X with their bodies.
“To the last?” Allison happily growled, her throat rough from the constant low thrumming growl that emanated unconsciously from her the entirety of the time she maintained Ronin’s Rage.
“To the last,” Garfunk agreed.
The meaning was clear: This wasn’t a battle to surrender, it was a battle to see whose body gave up first, their bodies physically incapable of continuing.
What the battle turned into couldn’t be described as simply ‘Power versus Defense’ as it might have been not long ago. No, it was a battle of pride: two martial artists, versed in their own styles and strengths, fought to assert their dominance—the Spear’s more wanton show of force against the Woodsman’s blend of offense and defense.
For nearly an hour, they continued their exchange, pushing themselves well past what would have been their ordinary ending point as each sought to achieve the upper hand.
It was a hard-fought battle, but the deciding factor came down to sustainability. While Raving Badger Garfunk was still arguably the most skilled martial artist, the Spear was a machine who knew no defeat; every time her body waned, her spirit raged. If she had no strength left today, she would draw from tomorrow, her spirit an inferno that only grew.
And that was the difference maker. Garfunk could draw joy from a hard-fought battle, but even his mind would slowly wear down.
Districted for what wasn’t even a millisecond, entirely due to his own growing mental fatigue, The Woodsman faltered, reacting less than a hair’s breadth too late. The Spear’s leg snapped up, a titanic kick to his jaw that launched him skyward, before falling back to the earth. The alone wouldn’t have been enough, but just before he could hit the ground, a fist with a red comet’s tail crashed into his gut, launching him like a line drive through several trees as blood erupted from his mouth, several organs rupturing together.
Finally coming to a stop, Raving Badger Garfunk attempted to rise once more, to continue facing his opponent, but as much as he urged his body to move, he could only lie there in a jello-like pile; his boosting skill had finally reached its limit.
Within moments, his former student shambled over. She was staggering and bloodied all over, many of her muscles had been reduced to pulp from overuse, but you wouldn’t be able to tell from the look on her face.
As she stood over him, looking down, her fiery grin redoubled.
And it was in that moment that Garfunk knew, knew it in his heart of hearts.
Thumping his fist to his chest, Garfunk returned the grin.
“Raving Badger, at your service.”
She had won, and in doing so, there was no doubt in his mind that until the day he died, he would follow her.
“You fucker, you caught me by surprise,” Allison offered her hand to him, as he shook his head.
“Need a moment. Crazy bitch, this much damage, I’d be dead even a tier ago.”
“Hah,” Allison snorted as, rather than offer her hand, she dropped to her ass on the ground next to him. “Then don’t mind if I do. The fuck was that, suddenly able to indue several concepts at once?”
“Inspiration.”
“Hah,” Allison shook her head again, her mood better than she could ever remember.
That was, until a certain notification appeared.
Factions are born
With the defeat of the Woodsman by the Spear and the following joining of forces, a second faction of Founder-allies has been born.
Rankings
1. The Architect
2. The Spear
3. N/A
4. N/A
“You are god damn shitting me,” Allison uttered, in disbelief. “That fucker is still ahead of me? What the fuck are these rankings even based upon? And who the fuck did he get to join him if he made a faction before me?”
“Ya really don’t like that Architect fellow,” Garfunk mumbled, talking hurt somewhat given the liquified organs.
“They’re a pretentious prick.”
“Have you ever met ‘em?”
“Well… no.”
“Hah,” It was Raving Badger’s turn to laugh, spewing blood droplets that he promptly ignored. “Fuck it, who cares, everyone needs a good rival.”
“I appreciate the support,” Allison said, not altogether surprised that Raving Badger had decided it was easier to agree with her.
“Shit, your Right Hand can’t be goin against ya’ already, eh?”
“That’s what you are, my right hand?” The Spear questioned, lifting an eyebrow.
“Sure as fuck. I ain’t ever been one to be in charge of shit aside from kicking some recruits' asses.”
“Hah, well, In the end, what does it matter?” Allison said with a shrug. “Aelia told us long ago that this is a competition to see who comes out on top. Who cares if someone is already working with him? In the end, we’re winning this shit.”
“Damn straight.”
Afterglow of a major battle slowly fading, Allison looked up into the sky, imagining some would-be mastermind seated on a throne, far off, gloating over her.
I’m coming for your ass.
---------------------------------------
“Oh, mother fucker,” Rory groaned, cradling his head. “You so did that on purpose!”
Mid-experiment with his golem project, Rory had been in the middle of directing the flow of energies directly, using himself as the medium to sense exactly how things were flowing and messing up, when a notification had popped in front of his eyes without his permission, the sudden distraction surprising him enough that he’d lost control as the entire thing had spiraled out of control. He had barely managed to prevent another energy explosion, but in the process, he had suffered some rather intense mental backlash.
As for the notification that had been so pressing that it needed to pop up instantly?
Factions are born
With the defeat of the Woodsman by the Spear and the following joining of forces, a second faction of Founder-allies has been born.
Rankings
1. The Architect
2. The Spear
3. N/A
4. N/A
“Seriously?” Rory mumbled, taking it in. “That’s what was so important?”
Sure, learning that apparently another one of the founders had defeated one of their peers and thereby formed some faction was interesting. It's just that, it wasn’t exactly news, it was something he had always known was coming.
And more importantly, there was nothing about it that was so urgent it needed to bypass the standard permissions.
The only interesting thing to note was that apparently, he and Zoey were considered a faction, and that they were ranked first.
I mean, we’ve been working together for a while now, and if they only just joined forces, not much of a surprise.
Jinn floated over, patting him on the hip with its stubby ‘arms,’ its wispy face looking at him as if consoling him.
“Thanks,” Rory mumbled. He was covered in blood and fat from stitching together the golem, as well as metal burns that would fade shortly. Looking down at himself, not precisely the image of kingly power, he let out a slow laugh.
“The mighty Architect, his faction that stands atop all the others. Ye looketh upon him and tremble at his might.”
Laughing once more at the absurdity, Rory switched to clutching his head, grumbling.
Hah. The Mighty Architect. When pigs fly.
