Mage Tank

In a bit of role reversal, Nuralie had challenged
of the adversarial Littans to a game of hide and seek, which she was currently winning.
Presumably.
It’s not like I knew where she was. I assumed that meant she hadn’t been caught.
Meanwhile, Etja had migrated to the other side of the arena and was now chatting it up with the rest of the people who were trying to kick our asses. Nobody was interested in challenging
, which meant that I caught a couple more fights than I might have otherwise. I had some fun when an entire five-person party of Level 11 Silvers wanted to take a swing at me together. That was against the rules as laid down by General Connatis, but I agreed to it anyway.
One of them had a skill that turned everyone incorporeal. Not just her team. Everyone, including me.
Being incorporeal meant that I couldn’t interact with physical objects. That meant that my feet didn’t interact with the ground. Without a means of magical locomotion, I would have been stuck in one spot. Everyone on the opposing team had excellent movement skills, of course. And being incorporeal made them immune to my physical skills. Or it
have, had I not possessed an achievement from when we fought the Specter of Orexis back in the day, one that let me deal 25% of my normal physical damage to incorporeal entities.
I could still teleport to get from A to B, and in a pinch, I could use Therianthropy to fly, although I didn’t want to burn a charge. The obvious answer was to let Gracorvus carry me around with its fancy upgraded flight capabilities. Which is what I did, since all my gear became incorporeal along with me, and my hammers still kind of hurt when they smacked into something while acting as an Oblivion Orb delivery service. That spell didn’t care
incorporeal something was.
I was betting the incorporeal skill won that team a lot of fights in Delves, and would catch an unprepared Delver flat-footed, but it seemed like they’d built around it too much. Once it was countered, they were just a group of mediocre Silvers. I threw some unblockable, undodgeable hammer combo attacks, and they blinked away in rapid succession to receive the cold, calculated care of Surgeon General Bavecista.
The ordinary Littan soldiers had an unusually rowdy reaction to that fight. For one, they were happy to have finally watched a match they could keep up with, since being incorporeal naturally prevented the dust and debris of catastrophic attacks and high-speed movement. We weren’t invisible, either, just a bit ghostly looking. The normal soldiers also didn’t really process the difference in power between a Level 11 Silver and a Level 16 Platinum, even one without all of my advantages. As far as they knew, we were all super people, so it couldn't be that big a difference.
While I won the hearts of the masses, the
were growing ever more obsessed with Varrin. The big guy was facing down a series of opponents, each of them one level higher than the last. The speed of his exchanges was too fast for an ordinary person to follow, but as he put his fourth opponent down in a single strike, the Delvers were losing their shit. There was also quite a bit of money migrating out of the hands of Varrin’s doubters as they lost every bet they made against him.
Nobody wanted to call out Xim again.
The wisdom of General Connatis’s decision to host these duels was becoming more apparent with every passing minute. Most of these Littans had never seen us fight. Their knowledge of what we could do was limited to stories and rumors of dubious accuracy. It was one thing to
The ordinary soldiers here were going to be stuck running logistics for the Delvers for the foreseeable future, and this got them a good show before they became mired in their routines. Our opposition was getting a beatdown, and
was getting a good look at one of the teams that their government was bringing in to play
.
The only thing that kept it from being particularly fun for me was that the challengers came in levels all the way up to 19, but no higher. There seemed to be a heavy reluctance for anyone stronger to take a shot at us.
General Connatis volunteered an explanation. “In Littan Delving culture, there is this concept of the ‘chasm,’ which our soldiers sometimes refer to as the ‘one-five down.’ How much of a level difference does it take before another Delver is too great a threat?”
He stopped to give me a questioning look, much like a professor might. I expected he gave this speech a lot. “To summarize the theory, it is reasonable to think you might win against someone who is up to one fifth higher level than you, rounded down. Conversely, it is considered shameful to lose to someone who is one-fifth
level than you, also rounded down. Aside from being a guiding principle for engagements, it establishes boundaries for when certain things are seen as an abuse of power against someone of a lesser level.”
“So, add twenty percent to your level and round down to find your upper limit,” I said. “We’re Level 16. Adding one-fifth gives us 19.2, rounded down to 19. Whereas a Level 20 minus one-fifth is 16, meaning a Level 20 risks their honor by punching down at a Level 16 or less?”
“Just so, King Xor’Drel.”
“Sounds like a good formula for tournament brackets, but nobody at Level 19 is going to get very far against us.” I drew insight from my beard with a thoughtful stroke. “I suppose you’d considered all of that when proposing this little scenario.” I waved out at the sand. As I did, a dark-clothed figure fell from the rafters and hit the ground with a grunt. It was a Level 18 Littan with an arrow in his glute.
Good to know that Nuralie was still winning her match.
General Bavecista cleansed the fallen man of our alchemist’s poison, but left him to deal with the arrow on his own. She then reached out to grab another man by the throat as Denial was triggered, keeping him from falling once he’d appeared. This man had an arrow in his lung, which Bavecista
remove before cleansing him.
He released a gurgling, bloody scream as the general tore the arrow free, letting us know how lucky he felt to receive her personal ministrations. This was accompanied by a wave of sympathetic groans and hisses from the audience. Bavecista then declared both men as losers.
You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.
“Do other military healers share General Bavecista’s methods?” I asked.
Connatis chuckled. “Olivia got her start as a triage medic fighting the savages south of Choval. She studied medicine and was a battlefield surgeon before ever becoming a Delver.” The general turned from Bavecista to look me in the eye. “When a dozen men are dragged into your tent, all with lethal wounds, and you are the only one there to treat them, you learn how to prioritize care rather ruthlessly.” ŘÀꞐОＢΕṧ
Just then, a Littan wearing an ordinary soldier’s uniform appeared in the arena with a
“I caught her!” he yelled, then hefted the bag over and onto the ground with a thud. I noticed that a pair of leather-clad legs were sticking out of it, along with the tip of a Geulon’s tail.
“Who carries someone around in a sack?” I asked. “That’s some cartoon logic right there.”
“Specialist Rufio is focused on tracking and capturing VIPs and other high-value targets,” said the general. “His skills are… strange at times. But effective.”
While the general and I discussed, the man pointed at the sack, glanced up to make sure that Bavecista was watching, then shouted, “Pickled grapefruit juice!” That was apparently some kind of pass phrase, because the sack sprung open, twisted itself into a cloth belt, then snaked through the air to wrap itself around Rufio’s waist.
Inside the sack was Nuralie.
Except it wasn’t Nuralie.
It
like Nuralie, but her soul was missing.
“Grotto helped me make it.”
I jumped, along with several other nearby people on the bleachers, and everyone turned to find Nuralie crouched down behind me, peeking out over my shoulder at the arena floor. “His Subterfuge skill is very well-developed,” she added.
General Bavecista squinted down at Rufio’s captured fake and seemed to come to the same conclusion I had, since she didn’t announce the Specialist as the victor. Nuralie drew back on the arrow she had nocked, but paused before firing.
“Call it,” she said to Connatis. The Littan general’s eyes had widened a hair at Nuralie’s appearance, and opened even wider with the challenge.
“Left eyebrow,” said the general.
In the distance, Rufio was gesturing at the fake Nuralie, which I now realized was one of her mechas. He was trying to argue with Bavecista, a move that didn’t seem terribly bright. He was facing to our right, which meant that his left eyebrow was on the other side of his face from the one we could see. Nuralie drew the arrow back another half inch. Her mecha held up a hand, which made Rufio hesitate. Nuralie adjusted her aim a few degrees to the right, then loosed.
Her arrow hit the mecha in its palm, bounced off, and scraped across the left side of Rufio’s head.
“Ah! Fuck!” shouted the specialist, reeling back and gripping his eye. He dropped his hand and checked out his palm, then looked about wildly for the eyebrow assassin, exposing a raw spot where the fur above his eye had once been. Nuralie’s shot was so clean, it hadn’t even broken the man’s skin.
“Nice shot!” said Connatis, turning back to Nuralie, but the loson was already gone. He cleared his throat and smoothed out the front of his uniform. “Her ability to disappear is… very well developed.”
I threw up my hand in tired, limp-wristed resignation. “I have an entire evolution dedicated to finding her, and I still can’t.”
While Nuralie returned to her battle royale, Kai of Seaward made another appearance. At first, I thought the Level 20 had finally decided to challenge me, despite the social disgrace it might cause him. Surprisingly, he wanted no such thing.
“Sir,” he said, saluting the general.
“Major Kai,” said Connatis, acknowledging the gesture. “Tell me, what do you think?”
Kai of Seaward looked Varrin and Xim over, then his eyes settled on me for a long moment. “It is difficult to tell, sir,” he said. “They have been holding back a great deal.”
“What did you expect?” asked Connatis. “I requested General Bavecista to attend because I did not believe a lesser healer would be able to keep mid-level Golds alive against this group. You have read the reports of how they handled the Hierophant.”
“It seems that Lieutenant Colonel Tavio did not exaggerate,” said Kai.
“Tavio got a promotion?” I asked. I hadn’t heard much from the burly Littan since our last major training session in the Forest.
“Ha!” barked Connatis. “The options were to give him a promotion for saving the city, or to see him court-martialed for letting it be destroyed. I believed a promotion was the more reasonable response, although there were some who advocated for the latter.” He grinned at me. “Lucky I have the final say.”
“Well, good for him,” I said. I then asked Grotto to add, “Get Tavio a cake,” to the List.
“Colonel Tavio’s promotion would normally place him in charge of a battalion," said Connatis. “However, for our operations in the Forest, we are only deploying Delvers into combat zones. Because of this, everything is compressed. Tavio will be in charge of a company of Delvers, which equates to twenty full parties. Yours will be included among them. Major Kai here is now Colonel Tavio’s primary staff officer.”
“Really?” I said, then turned to Kai. “Have you worked extensively with Tavio?”
“Everyone has heard of the colonel,” the brooding Littan replied, “but this is the first time that I have come under his command.”
I nodded and considered what I knew of Littan social structures. It wasn’t unusual for the military to shuffle people around, but something still smelled off with Kai’s assignment. “Given Team Pio’s vital role in the Battle of Krimsim, Captain Pio’s own exemplary performance during that conflict, and her history of working well under Tavio’s command, I would have thought
receive a promotion and be assigned to the Colonel.”
Connatis gave me a sardonic grin. “If the world bent to my will alone, then it would have been so.”
“All right. I hope this doesn’t come off as egocentric, but did Major Kai’s attitude towards Fortune’s Folly play into
being assigned to Tavio, rather than Captain Pio?”
“Quick,” said Connatis. “It did. I will not bore you with the politics of it, but let us say that there are certain people who will feel much more comfortable while Major Kai is involved with handling your team.”
The idea that my party had inadvertently gotten in the way of Captain Pio’s career irritated me, and a thoughtful frown sprawled out over my face. I reevaluated the stern man before me, Major Kai. He gave no reaction to our discussion of his distaste for me and my party, despite it happening right in front of him.
“Well,” I said, “if we’re to be working together, I’d like to know what history we have. You don’t give off the vibe of somebody whose liege lord got outed by the X-files. I assume there’s something more personal happening.”
Kai gave me a stiff nod. “When you chose to fight your way through the naval blockade off the coast of Eschendur, you decided that your own desires were worth more than the lives of those men and women.”
“You are being overly casual, Major,” said General Connatis, giving him a stern glare.
I held up a hand. “It’s fine, General. We’re not holding court, and the constant repetition of ‘Your Majesty’ is kind of annoying if I’m being honest.” Connatis wobbled his head in a way that said he disagreed but wasn’t going to argue. I considered the idea that Kai’s claim presented. “I object to your framing, Major, but won’t argue that it’s a valid point of view.”
Major Kai’s eyes flicked to Connatis, whose nod spurred him onward. “Some of those lives were more important to me than my own,” Kai said. “Their deaths were your stepping stone. I am the scum that trodding upon them has left on your boot heel.”
His eyes narrowed. “By daylight, I hope that your goals are worthy of the ruin you’ve brought. In my selfish moments, I wish for you to be exposed as frauds. Then I would know their deaths were not justice.”