Lumos dashed, slipping to the right past Eshrod. He tackled Leonard, the black ink of her strength enchantments shifting shape at the sorcerer's command. The runes twisted into something entirely different across her skin.
Good thing my spell was already in place.
Electricity crackled around her body, arcs of lightning dancing before dimming into nothing.
The rune glowed a deep navy blue, absorbing her power.
"Kel, now!" Lumos shouted.
The fire-wielding imp darted forward. The sorcerer couldn't restrain her for long—not now that she was a First Finger, with the blood of the Class V's minion coursing through her veins and feeding her muscles with unnatural strength.
Leonard kicked Lumos off, but Kellta managed to grab her and drag her out of Elion and Eshrod's way.
Meanwhile, Farha crept closer from behind, trying to line up a shot on the abomination that was flinging the melee fighters around like rag dolls.
Lumos staggered upright as Kellta tried to restrain Leonard. His seal on her ability would soon overload—he needed to end this quickly.
He gritted his teeth.
This is going to be tricky.
He waited until his runes were nearly bursting with power, then shifted them. Kellta was thrown back by an elbow to the face, but Lumos caught her with one arm before thrusting his other hand toward Leonard.
His fingers danced a practiced pattern, and the ink crawling over the Zeus wannabe shifted, snaking up her neck and face.
She clawed at it desperately, but it wouldn't come off. The markings settled into a peculiar design—not very efficient, perhaps, since it devoured soul energy—but the runes were already saturated, having absorbed her lightning to the limit.
They solidified on Leonard's face, glowing navy blue. Her eyes rolled blank, her skin paling as though suffocating.
The lightning maniac collapsed unconscious.
"Is she dead?" Kellta asked, horrified.
"No, just unconscious," Lumos said. "The enchantment saps oxygen from the target until they faint—leaving just enough to keep them alive. But we should tie her up quickly. It won't last long."
Kellta nodded, wiping the blood from her nose and uneasily, dragging Leonard away from the fight.
"Not into the chamber," Lumos added sharply. "It repels the Class V's influence, and with its blood still in her veins, it might rupture her vessels trying to escape the First Finger's grasp."
The fire-wielding imp laid her down as far as possible. Leonard's limbs twitched faintly, the corrupted blood trying to force her body to move, but her oxygen-starved muscles refused to obey.
***
While Lumos and Kellta fought Leonard, Elion was still locked with the Class V's minion.
He dashed aside, narrowly avoiding a massive fist. His ribs were killing him, more than they should. The previous strike probably reopened the wound he received back against the High Lord. Without Eshrod fighting at his side, he'd already be dead—smeared against the wall like an insignificant bug.
At least Plan B was almost ready. He could feel her presence through his affinity, drawing near.
Alright… three, two, one…
"Eshrod, now!" he shouted, sliding next to the armored monster.
It swung down at him, but the motion exposed its left side. Eshrod drove her sword into its shoulder joint, shadows flaring along the blade and tearing through its flesh, wreaking havoc in the monster's body.
At least it was dumb. That was the case with the Frankenstein's monster wannabe, and fortunately this one was no different. The Class V either couldn't—or wouldn't—grant its minions intelligence.
Of course, the Gremlin's strike wasn't enough to kill it—but it was devastating. More importantly, it carved out a hollow space inside the armor.
Farha was already within two meters. She didn't even bother to aim—her rifle hissed, venting burning gas as a bullet vanished into the void and reappeared inside the Class V's minion. In the space Eshrod had managed to dig out with her sword.
The monster staggered, barely missing Elion.
"Wouldn't wear armor if your insides weren't weak, huh?" the young cook muttered.
The Class V's minion tried to strike him again, but another bullet was lodged into its flesh. Blood seeped into the cracks in its armor, but this time, it wasn't intentional.
Its movements slowed. It didn't seem to feel pain, but Elion could see its core was damaged; it wasn't long for this world.
But a cornered beast was always the most dangerous.
The blood coating its armor solidified into jagged blades. With a sickening click of joints, it wrenched the weapons free.
It turned down the narrow hall, searching for its tormentor—and left its back exposed. Elion tried to strike to avoid it unleashing hell on Eshrod and Farha, but his wounds caught up to him. His lunge was weak and awkward, not even warranting the Class V's minion's attention.
It surged forward, twin swords made of its own blood held tight in its hands, they had trouble holding their shapes, dripping with the crimson liquid and staining the ground. It didn't matter though. One hit and the blood would seep into the wound and possess you from within.
The abomination locked onto Farha, which wasn't far, and swung both blades, leaving a narrow margin for mistakes.
Fortunately, the Mute Demon was a battle genius. She weaved between both blood swords, but she didn't have time to push her rifle into the void. The barrel was cleaved at an angle.
When she regained her footing, she looked at the ruined weapon, then glared at the Class V.
The abomination… recoiled. Was it fear? Elion wasn't sure, but the weave animating its armor rippled like a shiver.
Farha's gaze was of pure, unbridled fury. The young cook had never seen anything like it before. Simple words couldn't describe what burned in her eyes.
Deep down, the Class V's minion knew:
It had fucked up.
Farha drew the greatsword from the void. Too large for the narrow hall, but mere stone wouldn't stop her.
She lunged, blade arcing overhead, scraping against the wall and sending sparks flying into the darkness. The monster broke out of its fear-induced torpor a second too late. Its blood weapons rose in a desperate attempt to block, but its wounds slowed it fatally.
Her greatsword cleaved deep into its neck joint. Blood sprayed as she released the hilt of the weapon embed in its flesh. She reached for another weapon from the void, then cursed silently—she'd lent them all out.
Her assault rifle remained, but it was useless against anything beyond a Class II. It didn't have energy tanks like her poor mutilated sniper rifle, so the bullets were powered by simple gunpowder and nothing else.
Elion quickly realized and tossed her his onyx blade. She caught it smoothly, dodging a desperate slash.
Farha grinned, her smile twisted in the pure glee of battle. Elion still feared that smile—ever since their spar in S33.
She jumped to the side, slashing for the other side of the neck, performing an impeccable blow. With the damage from her great sword added to the onyx blade's, it was enough to fully sever the neck.
Her precision was impressive—almost inhuman…
The neck joint was incredibly narrow and well protected. The flesh of the Class V's minion was extremely tough as well. If she had still been a new Unlocked, there's no way she could have cut that. Even then, she needed to use a lot of strength against such a precise target.
The abomination's head hit the ground with a heavy thunk. Its body followed, collapsing with a thunderous crash, blood pooling across the cracked stone floor.
Farha regarded the corpse with indifference, then turned her gaze to the onyx blade.
She approached Elion, helping him up since he was clearly struggling.
"Thanks for the sword," she said, returning it. "It really is a fine weapon, I'm almost jealous."
"Ah… no problem."
Farha held his stare for a second too long, her expression unreadable before she turned away to mourn her rifle. The cleaved barrel made her look almost heartbroken.
Meanwhile, Leonard's twitching ceased. The Class V's blood had gone inert with the abomination's death, her body beginning to purge it naturally.
Lumos released the choking runes. Leonard gasped, clutching at her neck, eyes wide in shock. She jerked up, staring at her hands.
"Fuck…" she muttered.
Her gaze found Eshrod, who still winced from the remnants of lightning that had nearly killed her.
"I'm… I'm sorry," Leonard managed weakly.
The Gremlin tried to smile reassuringly—and failed.
"It's fine… it wasn't your fault."