An Unwavering Craftsman

Valerie's torso sprouted a dagger, as if it was some sort of fast-growing, pointed, metal plant. Fleta's second dagger slashed her spine. Then the sonic boom hit, sending them both tumbling out of the sky.

Valerie crashed into the frozen ground hard, her face frozen in a rictus of confusion. Fleta landed more neatly, using Valerie as a crash mat and bouncing off to the side. "Need to get used to how high I can jump now," she said, as if she hadn't just casually one-shotted a tier nine.

"She claimed that Murill sent her after you specifically," pointed out Shigeo.

"Yeah. Illumis framed me for murder, Kakkerxat triggered the crusade, and now Murill sent a champion. This is like the nobles of Hrellflan, except this time they're trying to kill me, and I'm not even sure what the stakes are."

"Still leaves Gaia and Grungle," muttered Shigeo.

"True, but Grungle gave me this class, and Gaia plotting an assassination sounds weird. Then again, so does Murill."

"Regardless, the sooner you finish your defences, the better."

"Not that I wish to interrupt your discussion, but she doesn't seem to be dead," pointed out Greenhair.

"The hell? Fleta stabbed out her heart!" complained Shigeo, as Valerie's [Phoenix Rising] kicked in and her body burst into flame. A bird-shaped eruption of fire leapt into the air from the corpse, which crumbled to ash.

"Oi! She melted one of your daggers!" exclaimed Shigeo, which Damien didn't feel was the most important point of the previous few seconds.

The flames condensed into a new version of Valerie, once more in perfect health. Alas, Valerie was all that had resurrected. Anything else carried on her person hadn't come with her.

"How about you stop attacking us, and we lend you some clothes?" asked Damien.

She responded by launching further blades of flame. Shigeo blocked them, but was pinned down while doing so, and those he was defending couldn't move either. Their enemy seemed to be banking that Shigeo would give way before she did. Fleta moved around, but Valerie had seen her speed now, and was on guard against a repeat surprise attack.

"Can you hold on for ten minutes?" Damien asked of his father.

"Yup, easy as pie. Why? Got a plan?"

"Nope. It's just that's when our friendly neighbourhood dragon is due back," he lied.

Damien had been whispering, but the tier nine Valerie had vastly improved senses. Just as Damien hoped, she switched from playing safe to a full frontal attack, diving at him and ignoring everyone else. Shigeo activated his [Take The Blow] skill, switching places with Damien just as Valerie struck. She bounced off him, stunned only briefly, but it was enough for the heavily boosted Fleta to sever an arm.

The wound immediately started burning, the flames growing, coalescing and dimming, leaving a fresh arm behind. It wasn't instant, though, and Fleta took advantage to remove a leg, which again quickly regrew. She was able to keep Valerie engaged and grounded, but she wasn't leaving lasting wounds and wouldn't be able to keep it up for long.

"Damn, kill her and she resurrects. Cut off her limbs and they regrow. Anyone have any other ideas?" asked Shigeo.

"Slime bodysuit?" suggested Grace.

"She'd just break out of it, but what about adamantite?" countered Damien.

"Great idea, my boy." Shigeo stepped into combat and slammed Valerie with his shield, propelling her in the direction of the adamantite pit. Fleta followed, slicing through Valerie's spine but being careful not to cause a fatal wound. Then, grabbing her hair in the second before she healed, Fleta flung her into the pool of molten adamantite.

Valerie screamed. Despite her tier, level, and the massive fire resistance that came along with her class, molten adamantite was far beyond what her defences could cope with. It didn't prevent her healing, though, her body constantly aflame as flesh regenerated as fast as it burnt.

Fleta pulled her out by the hair, flinging her onto the frozen ground. Some of the adamantite dripped off, or was rubbed away, but enough remained to do its job. The cold air froze the metal, trapping Valerie in a skintight prison. She continued to scream as she struggled, but failed to break free, the small amount of face on display showing blind panic.

With her high endurance, there was no way she could escape by suicide via something as simple as biting her tongue, but Fleta tore a strip of fabric from her tunic and shoved it into her prisoner's mouth anyway, simply to silence the screaming.

"Well? What do we do with her now?" asked Shigeo. "Think she'll do the same resurrection trick if she dehydrates or starves to death?"

"We could dip her a few more times to make a tougher prison. And when she resurrected the first time, the flames burst out of her body. Perhaps they can be contained?" said Fleta.

"Just bury her up to her neck somewhere out of earshot and let's get back to grinding our last few levels," said Damien.

"There must be some way of permanently killing her."

"Let's combine those ideas. We'll bury her, leave her until she's in danger of dying of dehydration, then dip her again to make sure she's completely covered," said Fleta, merciless in the face of a threat to her family. "If the adamantite contains her, great. If it doesn't, at least we've bought ourselves a few days to finish up your training."

"Sounds like a plan," agreed Shigeo, dragging the struggling Valerie statue away by the hair and ignoring its muffled screeching. The one eye still on display showed none of her previous haughtiness or confidence, but only abject terror.

In the Holy Theocracy of Jurelli, in the grand cathedral of Murill the Dreamer, the [Oracle of Murill] snored loudly in her bed, watched (and heard) by a dozen priests and bishops. It wasn't that her private chambers saw particularly heavy traffic, but rather that her bed was placed at the foot of Murill's likeness in the first hall. This sculpture was fashioned with arms crossed over its chest, eyes closed, and head tilted forwards. The statue wore no crown of metal, but rather a circlet of cloud haloed the head, unattached to anything.

A loud crack echoed through the hall, and the oracle awoke with a scream. The priests crowded around in alarm, half facing outward, ready to defend against a threat, the others checking on the oracle.

A priest wiped his hair when something damp hit it, and his hand came back red. Looking up, he was the first to see that the eyes of the statue were now open, and crying rivulets of blood, while the arms clutched at the chest. The circlet of cloud evaporated as he watched.

"If my maths is correct, I am done," said Greenhair, emptying a vial of purple liquid onto the floor. It hissed, a small pit melting away where it landed.

"Want to do a few more, just to be certain?" asked Damien, wondering what that potion was supposed to be, and whether it was a success or a failure.

"Sorry, please permit me to rephrase. If my maths is correct, I was done half an hour ago. The remainder was in case it was not."

Damien grinned. "Right. Let's go find Ariana!"

The group of six began the short trek back to Sanctuary. "Is it just me, or is the southern source-light looking odd?" asked Lana, eyes fixed on the exact opposite side of the world.

"Yes. Something large is partially eclipsing it from time to time. There were flashes of light visible last night, too. Brenhin-Tân is probably fighting there."

"What? We need to hurry then!" exclaimed Damien.

"You're already hurrying. If we told you, you wouldn't have slept."

"We can go a few days without sleep!"

"And when the fight is over, there's a possibility you might have to. Here's an adventurer's tip for you; always ensure you're well rested before going into an unknown situation."

The party picked up their pace, finding Ariana at home and with her help stacking enough perks to finally diverge their feedback loop.

"Infinite power awaits!" cheered Damien, rushing back to their residence, where his real materials waited.

Above the sea to the south, the shattered wreckage of a large fleet drifted. The water was saturated with corpses, the local scavengers looking forward to a feast the moment the fighting stopped. Nevertheless, a surprisingly large number of combatants were still alive, leaping from one piece of floating debris to another, using skills or feats to walk on the water, or some even flying.

Not all the combatants were human. There were high-tier elves present. There were, incredibly, orcs. Neither Damien nor his parents were aware, but orcs were followers of the Five every bit as fervent as the humans. When their gods told them to join forces with humans, they did so without a second thought. All hell would break loose once the fight was over, but for now, the alliance was holding strong.

Brenhin-Tân launched balls of flame at the water, each of them exploding with the force of a bomb and killing dozens of combatants each.

"[Resurrection]!" shouted Kari, the tier nine [Chosen of Gaia], and a hundred corpses sprang back to life.

Valerie Spiratine was publicly known and had been granted a noble title for her work. Kari was not. After all, if it became widely known the temple of Gaia had a means of resurrecting the dead, kings and nobles the world over would be drawn into conflict over the power. Respect for the Five only went so far, and as Damien's family could attest, threats to loved ones could easily push people over the edge.

The dragon fought to reach her, to end her, but the constantly replenished defenders didn't permit it. He launched more balls of flame, defenders blocking the attacks with their own bodies. The force of the explosions was enough that even their bones were turned to dust, but to Kari, it didn't matter.

"[Resurrection]!"

Clouds of dust knitted themselves back into people. Corpses floating in the sea twitched and rolled over. All attacked the dragon once more. The most effective of the forces came from the temples' secret immortal legion, filled with people capable of fighting in hostile environments with no weapons or armour, with the required mindsets to fight on after dying ten, a hundred, a thousand times.

Unable to destroy the source-light, or to permanently kill anyone in the defending army, Brenhin-Tân chose a third option; it would attack the western source-light instead. It had attacked the southern source-light on the grounds that there was no ground, and the lack of footing would tip any fight in its favour, but the defenders had anticipated that, and placed most of their forces here. That must mean the western light was poorly defended.

The defenders had anticipated that, too. While the primary army delayed the dragon, a secondary group worked underwater in a ring around the conflict zone. The moment Brenhin-Tân turned to flee, a magical cage sprung up. Magical lightning surged, striking the dragon again and again. It had given the ambushers too much time, and had been too focused on its attempts to annihilate the defenders to notice the trap closing in.

Brenhin-Tân fell from the skies, the tier ten ancient dragon dead before it smashed into the sea.

Kari concentrated on bringing back the rest of the dead. A couple of fliers left to fetch a few vessels, waiting at a distance, to pick up the stranded army. Despite treading water, their ships and equipment destroyed, the army broke out into cheers. The thief was dead, the source-light protected, and there hadn't been a single casualty. At least, not for long.

Kari and the immortal legion boarded one ship, the orcs another, the elves yet another. The human fighters who weren't under the direct command of a temple boarded a fourth. The exhausted warriors, finally able to rest, were shown to densely packed cabins.

Cabins which filled with poison gas the moment the occupants closed the door. Doors which locked themselves.

Sometimes, keeping Kari's abilities secret required sacrifice. Her minders on their vessel, the only one not filled with corpses, congratulated her on her job well done as they carried out their job to keep her in blissful ignorance.