Weapons of Mass Destruction

POV The First Disciple of Nathaniel Gwyn, minion Vega

“You shouldn’t do that. Your master tailored it to aid in your growth.”

The red-haired human woman has appeared again, as she tends to do.

“Creepy woman!” I call out to her.

As usual, I can’t feel her heartbeat, and she insists it’s because she’s just a projection. But I wonder if she’s not really sick and hiding a weak heart out of shame? My master told me never to trust strangers—especially when they act nice.

“Why don’t you come up with a better way of addressing me,” she says, jumping up to sit on a fallen tree nearby. All the while watching me with those strange yellow eyes of hers as she speaks.

“No.”

The woman shakes her head, and I look back to the mana stone Master gave me. Even the first level is packed with information about these seven stances. Master says he got them from a super powerful demon. I wish I could see him. He’s probably not as strong as Master, since Master managed to force or trick him into giving up his secrets. But it would be amazing to see them fight!

“Creepy woman, do you know how to unlock the secrets of the stone Master sent me?” I ask lifting the stone toward her.

“Ha! Probably because you can’t. My Master’s techniques are too much!”

Instead of answering, she only smiles.

Tsk. So she hasn’t fallen for it? I could try acting cute. Master said I’m good at that. Or maybe I could try to play on her sympathies; which worked against Master before we opened up to each other. But the way she’s looking at me tells me she won’t be swayed. Well, it’s up to me again. I know the way I’m supposed to do it is probably best, but if I could just tweak it, even a little bit, I’d feel like I was winning against him. Just a little bit.

“Does that envious guy still want to hurt me?” I ask as I start moving my mana the way I was taught, as I continue to examine the stone.

“Sometimes.” She nods.

“And Master knows?”

“A little.”

“So he’s going to kill that envious guy.”

The red-haired woman chuckles and moves the hair off her face. “It’s not so simple. He might not look like it, but he is very powerful.”

“But Master wants to kill him, right? Because that guy said he would kill me, and because he’s always messing with him?”

“Yes.”

“Then Master will kill him.”

“Or die trying,” the red-haired woman states bluntly.

I smile and jump to my feet and leap back onto the tree to take a seat next to her. “Yes,” I confirm.

She must already know the answer if she’s truly observed Master for any length of time, but she still asks, “Wouldn’t you be sad if he died because he took on someone too powerful, especially if he was protecting you?”

“A little bit, but so what, as long as it’s something he wants to do?” I reply with a smile and reach out a hand, which passes through her body as though it weren’t there, though her image remains. “I would do the same.”

Once again, she shakes her head and smiles sadly, tapping her finger on one of my horns. Even though I can’t touch her, she can touch me, and she loves to pick on me.

“Lady Lissandra, Nathaniel, and you, little minion. People like you live such fleeting lives, yet in that brief span, some shine brighter than any other, like the beautiful final flare of a star as it begins to fade. It’s a shame that those like you rarely see the end.”

“I don’t even know who Lady Lissandra is! But look, I’ll give you the horn from a beast I killed a few days ago and a bit of its meat if you show me how to unlock the secrets in this mana stone faster. Master said he was going to call for me during the tournament if possible, and I can’t look weak in front of him!”

She taps on my horn again, and before I can try to hit her, she’s gone, just like she always does.

POV Nathaniel

For the first time, the mimics launch an attack on our camps. They’re weaker monsters without hosts, but they move in groups of hundreds. And even though these weaker variants hover around level 200 and therefore can’t possess anyone from Group 4, their bodies are still powerful and more than capable of enduring the cold.

When they’re not hiding their natural forms resemble little more than a mass of tentacles which they use to propel themselves forward, while the central mass is covered in a great multitude of mouths and a dozen or so eyes only made worse by the long tongues coated in corrosive saliva protruding from the gaping orifices.

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All of them are wiped out without exception, and a few of the more powerful ones are hunted down by the mercenaries and lumorans.

That’s also when the countdown starts ticking, marking the moments until the stronger ones locate our position. Whatever the Champion wants to do here is now on a time limit, and it’s not helped by the death of Ardenyx pilot’s and the lingering damage to Exoria and Praxion.

The already-tense mood shifts further and our free time is cut short while the lumorans continue to give out an ever increasing flood of supplies in an effort to maintain morale. And I’m sure the point is fast approaching where it won’t even matter.

Every day Tess rounds up Group 4, making plans and getting used to the items the twins stole—something Serabeth has continued to let slide. Though our group does miss out on the normal increases to our “hazzard and overtime pay”.

Fair. Honestly, I’d probably be harsher.

Tess keeps going over the plan in case the camp falls, the plan for when the Champions start fighting, the plan in the event that the weather worsens, and the plan if the lumorans turn on us. She also sets measures to ensure no one is taken over by a mimic, making sure no one is ever alone.

Sophie starts working on some kind of web that could theoretically defend someone’s mind in the case of a powerful mimic attack. She even thinks about trying to connect our mental strength to defend a single target, almost like the Framework they had in Mindblender City. She really is good at this mind-blending stuff.

Min-Jae is off preparing to leave with the twins soon, waiting for Serabeth to be in the training hall, letting out steam and working off her frustrations. Ever since he saw how she dealt with those mercenaries, he’s recognized the similarities in their skills and has taken to asking her for pointers.

Lily is packing another bag full of my arms off to the side. At this point, she could probably do some crazy stuff if she used them all at once, especially now that they’re a much better [Sacrifice].

Izzy, Maya, Biscuit, and Noodle are soon heading out too, to talk with Hed and his group in case something happens. They’re the group currently recognized as the most reliable.

And I… I also do stuff. I train a lot, yup.

By now, I think I’ve seen all I can in Workshop Number 2, everything Leth can show me at least. I’m sure he has deeper knowledge, but it’s simply knowledge memorized by rote. I want to see Quent at work; I want to see the level 9 technician Ito—the one who oversees Exoria—at work. I want to see Exoria, Praxion, Ardenyx. But I don’t think they’ll let us. It’s more like a shiny jewel they’re dangling before us, they’re never actually going to let us have it.

I’ve had that feeling before, that’s why I started going on these scouting missions around the camp.

Standing up, I begin preparing. Soon, I’ll be heading out again, and at least I can keep testing [Empyrean Lance] since we encounter mimics almost every time now.

After another twelve hours of scouting and killing some mimics, I follow our leader. Even now, I can’t sense where the camp is, so I just keep my eye on him. As before, he reliably leads us until we pass through the first layer of defenses, then we wait for Serabeth’s elites to test us with the Signature Isolation Framework.

While we line up for the Framework test, a palpable tension coils through the air. One of Serabeth’s elites mutters something to one of the others, quiet enough that I can’t quite hear, and they glance in my direction. It doesn’t bother me at first, these elites are always looking for threats, always suspicious.

A cold breeze whistles around us, and the other scouts fidget restlessly. Our leader peers over at the technicians manning the control crystals linked to the Framework and taps his foot as if waiting for a signal.

“Good job this time too, Assistant Nathaniel. To be honest, I was iffy about you, but you did well. I can see why the technicians like you,” the lumoran scout leader says, standing beside me as the others pass through the framework.

“Because I’m cheap.”

He laughs shortly and points at my crown. “That too. But also because of that. He says, pointing at my crown. We lumorans have our own methods of storing mana, so [Mana Crown] is extremely rare for us.”

“So you like me because I’m a good mana battery.”

“The fact you’ve acquired a crown shows you have a strong connection to mana, something we also have. Plus, your obsessive nature might anger the technicians, but they like you for it too.”

“All craft-people are a bit weird.”

“I agree,” he says, smiling and gesturing me onward.

I’m one of the last to step into the framework and take my chance, “Maybe you could tell them to show me more. I could help…”

Something in his expression changes—first surprise, then shock, and finally regret. I follow his gaze to the framework around me.

Unlike before, it’s not lighting up.

A sudden hush falls across the area, as though everyone has stopped breathing at once.

Before I can open my mouth to protest, Serabeth’s elites spring into action. In an instant, multiple mana circles blaze to life around me. A swirl of crackling electricity arcs from one side, while jagged shards of ice take form, hovering in midair on the other. Someone hurls a sphere of raw kinetic force straight at my chest—no hesitation, no mercy.

I react on pure reflex, drawing Fracture in one swift motion. Its blade devours the surrounding air. The first barrage of spells collides with the shortsword. Lightning fizzles, ice shards dissolve into mist.

I catch a glimpse of the scout leader’s face twisted in regret. But it’s too late. The rest of the elites move in, each brandishing weapons or spells, determined to finish me off as quickly as possible. My heart pounds in my ears, and my mana surges again, feeding me with power. A thrill races through me; my entire body hums with the influx of mana, as though my blood had caught fire.

They attack to put me down before I can retaliate. I feel each assault like a drumbeat, slamming into my barriers and into my passives with relentless force. Yet I hold on for that little bit. The world shifts to black and white, my thoughts racing so fast that even the movement of my mana feels sluggish. Sparks erupt across the clearing as spells collide with the barrier, fracturing it. A harsh wind whips up snow and dirt, obscuring the edges of my vision.

In the split second of calm between attacks, my eyes dart around, searching for an opening. The camp’s defenses activate, and the scout leader acts alongside Serabeth’s elites.

No one waits for an explanation. The Framework’s detection is absolute.

I swing Fracture, the blade appearing to devour the very air around it, and I swing it to defend against the onslaught. The mana in the crown above my head compresses, instantly turning pitch-black. It shatters the array surrounding me and begins devouring a dozen extremely powerful attacks, each one adding a surge of mana to my stores.

The air grows heavier as the crown’s black mana pulls in the surrounding mana like a whirlpool.

I lift my blade once more.

If they want me dead, they’ll need to do better than this.