Discordant Note | TBATE

Chapter 78: Chance Meetings

Toren Daen

I wasn't given time to process my surprise. Darrin slid next to me on cushions of wind, gliding to a stop as if he were skating.

"We gotta get out, now!" he called, punching the skull of an elite before it could fully escape its concrete tomb.

I shook my mind free of questions for the moment, stabbing a zombie through the skull with Oath's point. It came back free of blood, but there was a coating of some sort of rot over the red-layered metal I had to burn away with a flourish of fire mana.

"Follow us," I said to Sevren. "We need to get far enough away that they won't follow, and do so without making a sound. Keep close to me. My sound barrier only extends so far!"

Sevren nodded, but the elites had already burst from the ground. I was forced to lash out at one with a dozen quick, telekinetic punches. It crumpled, but not before another four tried to pile on me from every side. I lashed out with Oath, turning one of their weapons aside. A cutting arc of wind impacted my telekinetic shroud but broke without cutting deeply.

A conjured fireball intercepted the next scythe of wind, exploding midair. Meanwhile, I thrust my saber through a thin gap in the snarling undead's chain armor, skewering its heart. I withdrew my blade with a flourish. When I swung the saber next, a wave of fire billowed out, consuming one of my attackers whole.

As Promise drew its ragged edge across the eyes of my assailants, I spared a glance at my companions. Darrin was using measured steps, throwing his fists out in a blur. Every time he did so, fists of wind appeared at odd angles, hitting the undead from unexpected areas. Almost every single swing of his fists downed one of the zombies, their inability to keep up with the strange directions of his attacks working to his advantage.

Sevren, however, was a blur. Every now and then, he appeared to take a step forward, before a strange buzzing sound burst outward, and he'd appear several yards away, skidding to a stop. He didn't use his dagger how I would've expected. Instead of holding it in his hands and using it to parry any incoming attacks, he threw the weapon with pinpoint precision. Then he pulled on the thin wire tied to the loop at the back, causing the weapon to jerk in specific movements as it turned midair.

He ducked and whirled, swinging the wire around him and using the dagger like a wide, cutting scythe. He used it like some amped-up rope dart. Sometimes the elites tried to latch onto his wire, stopping him from using it. Whenever they did so, his hand blurred–similar to how his entire body had before–and the wire sheared right through whatever was trying to hold it with the sound of a whip cracking.

A handful of fireshot punched holes in an approaching zombie's chain armor, searing holes in its heart. It dropped, allowing me an easy line of sight to another elite. That one tried to deflect Promise, but the blade darted out of its way and then buried itself in its hateful violet eye.

Our run to the nearby buildings slowed as we were assaulted by legions of spawning undead, each kill letting two more spawn. I was beginning to feel worried when we finally reached the edge of a taller brick building.

"Darrin!" I yelled. "I'm going to grab you with my spellform! Let it through!"

I couldn't check to see if the striker had heard me. As Promise returned to its sheathe–the effort of controlling it along with Darrin too much–I pushed out with my emblem. The mana shuddered for a moment as my mind clashed with the Unblooded leader's innate defenses, but he thankfully let them slip for a brief moment.

I thrust my hand up, willing the striker to follow. He lurched into the air with a whoop, arcing up toward the rooftops.

I turned to Sevren, whose wire had just finished wrapping around a corpse's throat. He flicked his arm, making it blur. The wire went taught with a buzz, severing the head and making the dagger return to his hand with a thunk.