Path of Dragons

Once upon a time, Ron had thought of himself as steady and unflappable in a crisis. After all, he’d completed his residency in the emergency room, where urgent situations were the defining characteristic of his job. He’d parlayed that cool-headed nature into survival after the world had changed. It was the only reason he or Hope had survived, and dozens of other people in their community owed him their lives.

Yet, as he looked at the swirling mass of darkness – there was a vaguely humanoid shape in there, though he could barely perceive it – he couldn’t help but lock up in fear.

Not that he could move anyway.

The moment he and the others had stepped into the chamber, he’d been forced to his knees. A second later, he was on his stomach with his cheek practically glued to the tile floor. After Kurik had identified the creature, it all made sense.

Gravity spirit.

Never had Ron wished he’d invested a few points into his Strength attribute more than at that very moment. His body was heavy, and in a way that rendered him entirely immobile. The same was true of Dat, whose attribute allocation made him almost as vulnerable as Ron. Kurik fared a little better, having only fallen to his knees. Thankfully, Elijah and Sadie remained upright.

If they hadn’t…

Ron didn’t want to dwell on that line of thinking. He’d faced death hundreds of times since the world had changed, and he’d found that it was better just not to think about it. Anything else, and he’d go insane with worry. Not for himself. He’d made peace with his own mortality well before the apocalypse. Rather, he feared for his daughter’s fate.

After all, Hope wasn’t well. She hadn’t been for a long time, either. And if something didn’t change, her disease was going to kill her. That was why he’d come to the Trial in the first place. Initially, he’d hoped to meet a proper alchemist who could replicate Hope’s medication – which, after five years, supplies had all but dwindled. But now, with all the levels he’d gotten, he hoped to become powerful enough to cure her himself.

After all, leukemia – especially the chronic sort – didn’t really behave like most cancers. To date, medical science hadn’t figured out how to cure it. Instead, it was treated via constant medication. Fortunately, Ron knew where that medication was produced, so shortly after the world’s transformation, he and his neighbor had set out on a quest to gather as much as they could so that Hope would have a chance of survival.

Jack hadn’t survived that trip, but Ron had managed to acquire enough of Hope’s medication to see her through for years.

Now, the supply was almost gone.

If she’d been a little older, she might have been able to fix the issue herself. Constitution and Regeneration were powerful factors. However, she’d only managed to unlock the system a year before, and she’d not had time to make appreciable gains. What’s more, she hadn’t been offered a combat archetype at all, which meant that her class options offered meager increases to the attributes pertinent to her survival.

The problem was the nature of her disorder. It went down to her chromosomes, which made it particularly tricky to treat, much less cure. Her medication worked, and remarkably well, but the limited supply meant that her continued survival was on a timer.

That was a difficult thing for a father to accept. He could deal with the idea of his own death. He’d even endured his wife’s demise remarkably well – at least publicly, mostly for Hope’s sake – but he was self-aware enough to know he’d never make it if his daughter died. He wouldn’t want to.

He’d already made arrangements with Dat for if he did pass. The affable man had promised to do everything he could to ensure Hope’s survival. And Ron trusted that Dat would move mountains if necessary. He was just that kind of person – the sort who’d sacrifice everything to help someone in need.

But Ron suspected it wouldn’t be enough.

Of late, he’d latched onto the notion that the only way Hope would make it was if he cured her disease himself. That was why he was so looking forward to his upcoming choice of Specialization, though his level ninety-five spell had given him some hope.

He’d yet to use the spell, but the description wasn’t difficult to decipher. It was an extremely powerful healing ability that came with a cost that wasn’t measured in ethera. Instead, it would require him to make a personal sacrifice where he would incur his patients’ wounds.

And it gave him hope for his daughter’s future. If he could use it to heal Hope, effectively transferring her disease to his own body, he felt certain that he could overcome it with superior cultivation and levels. And if not? Well, that was a trade he was more than willing to make.

Regardless, he couldn’t think about any of that at the moment, because even as he lay on the floor, completely immobile, Sadie and Elijah faced off against the gravity spirit. Fortunately, while he couldn’t move, he could still cast his spells – albeit sluggishly – so he focused on keeping his friends alive as they battled the monster.

* * *

Dat regretted not working more on his Strength attribute. Or his Body cultivation. If he’d gone that route, perhaps he would have been able to do more than wiggle about a little. But in his defense, other attributes were far more important than Strength. The same could be said for the other categories of cultivation. As much as he wished he could have it all, it just didn’t make sense to turn his focus from the things that actually affected his ability to do his job.

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Despite the fact that a battle was going on not fifty feet away, Dat could do nothing. All of his skills required some physical component – usually shooting his crossbow or swinging his shortswords – so he was entirely impotent.

He focused on the one thing that might make a difference. During the trek from the last rune site to their current location, he’d finally reached level one hundred. That meant that he had a choice in front of him, and one he’d only given a cursory glance on their way to the last site.

There was something to be said for each option. The Stalker would help him fill his role as the group’s scout. The Killer specialization would obviously make him more lethal. And the Dreaded option would make abilities like Hex of Tongues more effective. In addition, the last choice would affect the sorts of abilities that could turn the tide of a battle.

In short, it was a choice between enhancing his non-combat abilities, offensive skills, or buffing the skills that had been affected by his Angel Core. On balance, it was not a difficult choice. The additional Dexterity would always be welcome, but the reason he was special wasn’t his class or his attributes. He was different because of his core. So, it only made sense to choose the third specialization option.

He did just that, though it didn’t have any outward effect. He didn’t feel any different, either. No influx of power. No new knowledge. That was as expected, he supposed, but it was still a little anticlimactic.

So, even as Sadie and Elijah fought the monster – the latter had changed into his smaller form and was currently savaging the creature’s back – Dat focused on the other order of business. He’d gotten an ability at level one hundred as well.

And Dat had no idea what it meant. The first thing that came to mind was the Warlock, Benedict. The man used sacrifices to empower ritual circles, which in turn summoned various demonic entities. The notion that he might have a similar ability terrified him.

Dat’s class was odd, dabbling in the very things he was supposed to fight. When he’d first taken it, he’d thought that he’d be hunting Witches and other evil creatures. However, when he’d gotten his first curse spell, he’d come to the conclusion that the class had a dual meaning. He was intended to hunt Witches and other powerful magic users. But he was also a Witch – or something like it – who hunted.

That had resulted in an existential crisis that he’d only gotten through because of Lisa. She’d helped him see that he wasn’t his class, that the power itself wasn’t evil. Rather, that would be determined by his actions.

And then she’d died not long after.

Dat still hadn’t gotten over it.

Perhaps he never would. There were days when he thought he saw her out of the corner of his eye, just as beautiful as ever. At times, he would wake up and expect to find her lying beside him. He often dreamed of her. Of the future they’d never get to have.

More than once, he’d wished he could change places with her, that he’d been the one to die while she got to live. She was a better person. The best person he’d ever known, in fact. The world was a worse place for her absence.

Perhaps that was the meaning of his new skill. Maybe he could sacrifice himself so that someone better might survive. Or it might mean that he could sacrifice someone else for the same purpose. It might even mean giving something up. The reality was that he simply didn’t know, and unless he managed to find information on the ability in the World Tree’s Knowledge Base, he questioned whether he ever would.

That had to be a priority when he reached a Branch.

But for now, he could only watch as his companions fought against the gravity spirit.

* * *

Sadie pushed ethera into Bulwark of the Faithful, shielding herself while simultaneously activating Consecrated Shield to protect Elijah, who’d shifted into the Shape of Venom once he’d reached the creature’s back. However, like the earth spirit, the gravity spirit was equipped to handle smaller attackers. Instead of spears of rock, it did so with a field of much increased gravity that pressed down on Elijah so hard that it was a miracle that he’d managed to hold on.

She wasn’t sure if the shield helped at all, but aside from her paltry healing – Light of Eskar was never intended as a game-changing spell, but rather as a stop gap that could keep her or an ally alive until someone better equipped to help could step in – it was all she could do for him. In the meantime, she used Call of the Crusader, hoping to keep the monster’s attention on her.

And it worked.

The swirling darkness solidified into a massive fist that fell upon her with endless weight. She met the fist with an upraised blade, but the Sword of Morning did nothing to stop the inevitability of the attack. Bulwark of the Faithful shattered, infusing her with increased attributes.

It didn’t matter.

With the weight of the gravity spirit’s aura pressing down her, she was entirely incapable of standing up to the creature’s attack. She crumpled. Thankfully, even as she felt bones breaking, Ron’s heals joined her own hastily cast Light’s Embrace. Unlike Light of Eskar, the effect of her personal heal was self-only, but it traded versatility for power. That, in combination with Ron’s spells, allowed her to survive the blow. As the creature’s fist retracted – shrinking back into itself – her bones mended and she used Blade of the Avenger to exact revenge.

The enormous sword exploded from the ground, slicing into the mass of darkness. It must have hit something solid – which she couldn’t really see – because the thing let out a scream that was less of a sound and more of a subaudible thump that immediately burst her eardrums and turned her insides to jelly.

Or that’s what it felt like.

Fortunately, Ron’s healing spells were still ongoing, so she recovered quickly. In the meantime, Elijah continued his own assault as he feebly bit the monster. It was a good thing that his abilities – at least in that form – didn’t require him to bite deep, because he could scarcely move, much less get much force behind his attacks.

On and on it went, and Sadie was reminded that being a defender was often a study in simple endurance. Not of the physical sort – that came with the territory – but rather, regarding pain tolerance and mental fortitude.

It wasn’t easy to take so much punishment.

And yet, that was the role she had chosen. That was who she was. For better or worse, she’d much rather be the one taking the hits than allow someone else to shoulder that burden. It was a sacrifice she was willing to make for the greater good – a decision she would make a thousand times out of a thousand. If her pain meant that someone else would be spared, then she would gladly choose that path.

Over the next hour, the monster slowly lost its fury as it succumbed to Elijah’s venom. It was a powerful toxin, but against powerful creatures like the gravity spirit, it was not fast-acting. Either way, it was effective and, eventually, the cloud of darkness dissipated to reveal a large, slender, and humanoid shape that, only a second or two later, collapsed in on itself.

It broke apart moments later, and the aura of gravity gradually faded until it was gone altogether.

Elijah shifted back into his human form, looked down at the gravity spirit, and said what they were all thinking. “Fuck this thing.”

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