Rune Seeker

“Go,” Hiral said, taking the greatsword in both hands, then dashing ahead behind Left and Right as they shot forward.

Crisscrossing as they went, their hanging streamers of light and water drew the Lord’s eyes while Hiral lagged behind. Wider and wider the doubles went with each cross, forcing the Lord to turn his head, and Hiral activated the Rune of Gravity in the sword and tethered it to the Lord’s chest.

The sword grew heavy in his hands, pulling ahead like it was falling in that direction, and Hiral waited until the copies made a final wide sweep, then poured energy into it. His feet left the ground as the force of gravity seemed to make ahead act like down, and he rocketed straight for the Troblin Lord.

Left and Right shot in like a closing pincer ahead, but the Lord’s spear spun once, twice, knocking the doubles back, and it squared its stance to prepare for Hiral. Instead of hitting it head on, Hiral thrust his hand at the ground and activated his Rune of Rejection. Falling up and arcing over, Hiral’s sword stayed aimed right at the Lord, but the momentum of his rush carried him past until he paused, hanging in the air, then started falling toward the Lord’s back.

One foot coming ponderously up and down, the Lord began its turn as if in slow motion to block Hiral.

Its spear moves fast, but its body is slow!

Hiral pumped more solar energy into the Rune of Gravity, increasing his speed, wind whipping in his ears, and then slammed into the Troblin Lord. The glowing energy tip of the Emperor’s Greatsword drove an inch into the Lord’s armor, and then stopped, flipping Hiral over and past the Lord. A pulse of his Rune of Rejection kept him from faceplanting on the wooden floor, and a second pulse flipped him into the air to land on his feet, though he still skidded back toward the hall where he’d started.

Just how strong is that armor? I’ll need to keep hitting the same spot like I planned after all.

Despite the massive sword jutting out of the Lord’s back, the Troblin simply retook its fighting stance like nothing was out of the ordinary.

“Time for the other plan,” Hiral shouted, then darted forward while he activated the connection between his Rune of Attraction and the Emperor’s Greatsword. The sword twitched in the Lord’s back, then twisted out and flipped through the air as Hiral got to within ten feet of the monster, whose spear was already sweeping out for him.

With plenty of warning, Hiral lowered the weight of the sword with a thought as soon as the hilt slapped into his hand, bringing it to his side, and then increased the weight again to parry the Lord’s heavy blow. Sliding sideways from the impact, Hiral cancelled and resummoned Left in consecutive seconds, the double peeling off him within the Lord’s guard. Around and in the Dagger of Sath went, stabbing into the earlier crack and then exploding with force, while Hiral raced past. Now behind the Lord, with its attention on Left, Hiral planted his foot and spun, increasing the weight of the greatsword mid-swing.

The six-foot-long sword slammed into the Troblin’s shoulder where he’d hit before with ten times its usual weight, biting deeper into the armor and actually shattering a piece of it. No sooner had the wooden epaulet started to fall than the Troblin backhanded Left out of existence, and continued around with a one-armed swing of its spear.

Thanks to the Lord’s slow body movement, Hiral had time to get his sword into a defensive position and increase the weight just in time to absorb the worst of the blow. Still, he didn’t put enough power into the rune, and he launched backwards from the sheer heaviness of the Lord’s swing. Readjusting the weight as he soared, he dropped it down to next to nothing, then quick-stepped back when he landed to absorb his momentum.

I need to be able to adjust the weight faster and more accurately. Every time I don’t put enough in, the Lord sends me flying. If I put in too much, it slows me down. Well, like every other time, since I don’t have the natural talent, there’s only one option—practice.

A smile spread across Hiral’s face as he lowered himself back down into a fighting stance, practicing in the life-or-death battle. Why did that somehow make him… happy? No, happy wasn’t the right word. Comfortable. Nothing had come easy to him. Nothing had been given for free, even though he’d made progress. Testing. Training. Practicing. Improving. Those were his strengths. And now his life—and Cal’s—depended on it.

It was almost poetic.

Hiral summoned Left as the Troblin finished its turn and dropped into its customary ready stance, spear pointed in Hiral’s direction, then thought back to how he’d seen Picoli fighting. Well, the thing that Picoli had become, more specifically. The way she’d used the runes… Could Hiral do that too? Most of it would be too much to try right away while he was focused on the Emperor’s Greatsword, but there was one thing she did that he might be able to replicate.

Turning his attention to the soles of his feet, Hiral leaned forward and gently pushed power into his Rune of Rejection. The wood cracked beneath his boots as he shot forward like an arrow, so fast he didn’t even have time to alter the weight of his sword as he swung it around at the Troblin Lord. Sword met spear, then Hiral was past, spinning in the air and putting energy into his rune again the second he touched down. His knees bent as momentum fought against the magic of the rune, but he flexed his muscles and practically ricocheted back toward the Troblin as it tried to follow his movement.

Except he was going to shoot wide—he’d angled his trajectory wrong—and would completely miss the opening on the Lord’s exposed shoulder.

Unless…

Hiral brought his leg forward like he was taking a step, then activated his Rune of Rejection again on the air. It wasn’t perfect—hell, it wasn’t even solid—but he managed to push against a brief plane of rejection with his foot and hurl himself off. Again, overshooting, but if he’d done it once…

A second pulse of energy, and it was just like back in the Time Trial from Fallen Reach, kicking off theone triangular island and the next to correct his direction and keep moving forward.

Suddenly in the perfect position, Hiral swung the greatsword around, twisting his whole body as he went for maximum impact. He cut the top six inches of the blade through the Troblin’s shoulder as he went past.

Damnit, forgot to increase the gravity!

Hiral sailed past the Troblin Lord, his sword carrying a trail of green blood with it as he went, then hit the ground in a run before naturally slowing and turning.

One bloody hand coming away from its shoulder, the Troblin Lord looked from its fingers to Hiral, that same sense of presence washing out of it like a wave.

Dynamic Quest: Update

Congratulations. Achievement Unlocked: Kneel Before Zob

You have shown potential to entertain the Lord of the Troblins. Continue to rise to the challenge.

Please access a Dungeon Interface to unlock class-specific reward.

…if you survive that long.

“That last part wasn’t necessary,” Hiral mumbled, but then he snapped his attention from the notification window back to the Troblin Lord, a visible ripple of green energy ballooning out from it.

The wave of energy passed over Hiral and his doubles before he even had time to react, but it didn’t seem to be a kind of attack. No, it felt more like… like a release. Like taking the top off a boiling pot that was about to explode.

Hiral’s eyes narrowed as the wound in the Lord’s shoulder sealed up like it’d never even been there—the Lord’s health bar also jumped back up to full—then pieces of its armor began to drop off. Clunk… clunk… clunk. Clunkclunkclunkclunk. They fell faster and faster, until the entire massive suit lay in chunks around the bare-chested Troblin. Rolling its neck, the absurdly muscular Troblin stepped lightly out of the ruins of its armor, a dangerous deftness to its movements that hadn’t been there before. It turned left and right, stretching its arms and legs while the spear spun almost lazily from hand to hand.

But there was nothing casual about those motions, each and every one containing an almost palpable edge, the air whistling as the leaf-blade of the spear cut through it. The Troblin grinned, and then dropped down into the same fighting stance as before, indicating it was ready to resume.

“Be careful,” Right said, coming over to join Hiral. “Something’s different.”

“You don’t say?” Hiral deadpanned, but Right was correct. The Lord looked to have the same strength and speed with the spear, but from the way it moved, it wouldn’t suffer from the lack of mobility anymore. The advantage he’d gained from using the runes was already gone…

Which is exactly how it should be. I haven’t earned this yet.

That same smile from earlier crept back across Hiral’s face, and he flushed power into his Rune of Rejection to launch himself forward. The Troblin Lordburst ahead at the same moment, spear a blur of motion as he attacked, and all thought of practicing with the runes fled from Hiral’s mind as he was forced to focus every ounce of his attention on simply not getting skewered. Practically weightless, his sword turned aside the Lord’s blows, but each contact sent painful reverberations through his body or sent him flying.

Parry, fly, land, set his feet, parry, fly, stumble, recover, parry… it was everything he could do to keep the spear from getting through his defense. Even alternating between long and short sword styles—possible only because of the weapon’s negligible weight—didn’t buy him any advantage, and he was left completely on his heels. Left and Right chased in, barely able to keep up with Hiral and the Lord darting around the room, but the Troblin hardly even acknowledged them. A casual swat or sweep kept them at bay before it was right back after Hiral, spear dancing through the air in a way that would make Yanily green with envy.

A minute that felt like an eternity later, after a low-left parry, Hiral was in the air again, feet skidding and quick-stepping as he landed, but the Lord didn’t follow. Right and Left, who’d been charging in from behind, veered off as the Troblin set its feet. Another pulse of intent rolled off of it. It wasn’t the same as earlier—this one contained impatience. Hiral wasn’t living up to the Troblin’s hopes for him.

“You’re just too damn strong,” Hiral muttered, but the words rang hollow in his ears.

The Troblin was strong, but Hiral was also keeping up. He could see the Troblin’s attacks. Could parry them. He just needed to weave in the usage of the runes, and then he’d give the Lord the fight it wanted.

The Troblin Lord’s head turned to look at Cal still lying unconscious by the entrance, its eyes lingering there, then it turned its attention back to Hiral. Another pulse of intent rolled off the Lord. The meaning was clear, along with the sensation of a countdown: Hiral had one minute to entertain the Lord, or it would go after Cal.

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