Heart of the Matter analysis (1024 words)
Best to cut to the heart of the problem and remove the wurm-beast. The sheer scale of its battle with the giant was sufficient to cause collateral damage for every minute that it proceeded unnecessarily. He took stock of the implements available to him as he prepared to move.
Even if focusing on evacuating people might seem like the more humane action, the fact remain that cutting to the heart of the problem and eliminating the wurm probably ended up saving more lives. It seems our choice of action has instilled our protagonist with a more utilitarian mindset than the alternative would have.
There was the Blade of the Tyrant's Forebear. It had broken alongside him in the process of delivering his final blow to its first wielder's progeny. Had that been simple overexertion or evidence of a deeper connection? It hardly mattered now. When he'd abducted the Blade from the Tyrant's catacombs it had bonded to him fully, had leapt to his hand from the crypt, fierce and eager in its willingness to serve, the vigor of a weapon suffering dire neglect...
It had never betrayed him across years of insurgency. In time they had become a single being, their story a single legend, the hero true and Sword That Was Stolen, of disparate origin but as thick as thieves.
I certainly hadn't expected the hero and the Forebear's Blade to have bonded to that extent! I wonder what exactly made the Forebear's Blade and the hero so compatible in the first place...
In truth it was inaccurate to think of them as separate entities. The sword was a part of him like his liver or heart, and just as essential to the hero's function. Before his infusion of Accursed power it had slumbered comatose, form and purpose shattered as he had been. All that remained of the bastard sword's blade was a jagged shard about a foot in length, but the Accursed's infusion of power had reached it as it had reached every other part of his self. The broken Blade had quickened once more, its mere presence imparting him with an echo of the Forebear's storied might, the power of Ruin suffusing his every strike.
Describing the blade as essential to the hero as his liver or heart seems like a strong claim... Would he really die if it was destroyed? In any case, the fact that such a fundamental part of the hero was restored thanks to the Accursed intervention is just another way in which the hero is indebted towards him.
But that was not the only artifact touched by the Accursed's spark. There on his hand was the ring Hunger, a band of black mythril surmounted by crimson, the final memento of his journey and the only one stolen from the Tyrant's corpse. Rumor abounded that the ring was the source of the Tyrant's martial gift, but in his hands it had only been a powerless token. Now it had awakened, bound to him by Accursed investiture and fused indestructibly to his index finger.
It impelled him towards action, towards greatness, the fulfillment of his human potential; prodded him to embrace the joys and sorrows of life fearlessly and without regret. So too was the ability it imparted: the hero's capacity to advance via personal training would be greatly diminished, but any form of conflict or genuine endeavor would grant power tenfold.
If Hunger had the same effect in the hand of the Tyrant as it does in the hands of the hero (though obviously not allowing as fast of a growth in power given that the Tyrant certainly was no Progression-type Cursebearer) it would explain a lot about both how the Tyrant became as powerful as he was.
A shame his armor had been stolen from him in the hours leading up to his assassination. But the Forebear's Blade granted resilience enough.
I wonder what that armor did (beside offering an increased level of resilience, obviously)? There was a statement by Rihaku that possibly, if the hero died by poisoning, it could nullify poisons. But I think poisoning doesn't really fit the little of what we saw... Most poisons are rather slow acting and somewhat unreliable and results in a rather unpredictable time of death. And the hero's enemies seemed to know exactly where and when the hero would die. It's also possible I'm reading too much into it and it was some form of super fast acting fantasy poison.
He bounded forth, greenery whirling by as yards and miles disappeared beneath him, towards the city of white stone in which the colossi fought. The situation became clearer as he approached: the common folk of the city, better dressed and fed than those of the Tyrant's world, were fighting a desperate action against a horde of hyena beasts, which streamed like spilled blood from the dragon-jackal's wounds. The city was pervaded by them, creatures beyond number, and he drew his blade as he reached the walls, propelling himself with a crack of thunder through an open gate and into the fray.
Like a falling meteor he struck, the steady tide of beasts become a sea in tumult. The force of his impact rippled outwards, monsters hurled like stray droplets as the fight began in earnest.
There was no time to waste. He scythed though their ranks with brutal efficiency, carving a path to the progenitor dragon. Thirty stories it towered above them, blotting out sky and sun, its reddish-brown carapace mottled with scars. As creatures poured from a wound, the cut itself steadily shrank in size. Troubling.
Regeneration through the production of minions, truly an unfair power! Thankfully, the minions in question are extremely weak compared to the main body, not that that seems to be much comfort to the city inhabitants given that they apparently have no effective method of defending themselves outside of the biomechanical abomination currently occupied by its fight with the wurm. And that's supposing that the mech is even associated with the city in some way, rather than being an intervention by some form of exterior force.
Still, nice to see that the inhabitants of the city seems better of than the inhabitants of the Tyrant world, despite their seemingly primitive level of technological advancement.
Nearly of a height with it was its opponent, a bio-mechanical giant armored in dark grey with accents of red. Hydraulics and ceramic plate spoke to a degree of sophistication that was absent from the city around them, but its overall appearance was disheveled, parts ill-fitting or in disrepair. Its head bore little resemblance to that of a human's; a fierce and angular thing with livid gold eyes, sporting an enormous maw filled with cruel, curving fangs.
But that was hardly its strangest feature. At the top of each arm where the shoulder would normally lie was another armored head, neckless as if in place of a pauldron, similar in structure down to the fanged maw. These had eyes of green; the rightmost face stared appraising down at him. As he watched, the giant attacked, pulling aside the dragon's arm to bite at its neck, shoulder-face tearing into the flesh of that arm as it came into range.
It was probably this thing that had sparked his feeling of affinity, this devourer with three heads. Indeed he felt no hostility from it, though it hardly seemed overly solicitous.
After this update, I'm pretty certain that the mech is some kind of relic from some an ancient civilization destroyed in some cataclysmic event and that it's far beyond anything that the current human inhabitants of the world are able to understand at their current level of advancement.
He had almost reached the place of their duel, its radius of devastation increasingly apparent, when he was stopped short by a bolt of phantasmal force.
"Another outlander! Can you help me evacuate these guys?" An inappropriately cheerful voice accosted him. The interloper was a woman in a finely-tailored dress, its gossamer material streaked with trails of blood and gore, though none of it appeared to be her own. Blue eyes, pale violet hair and distractingly beautiful, inhumanly so. The hackles of his suspicion rose. Some form of Fey? Her ears seemed normal enough, but that could be glamour.
Strange that the hero would immediately jump to fey as the explanation for Gisena beauty when we know that Accretion can boosts the appearance of its users. Plus, in any case, using explanations from his previous world to judge that kind of thing doesn't seem very sensible.
She was leading a large convoy of civilians out from the epicenter, so likely not an enemy. Her bolts seemed to stun and disorient those beasts they struck. It could be a ruse, improbable as it seemed. He'd allow it, at least until the civilians crossed the boulevard, but would stay on guard.
We see the psychological toll that the hero's experiences has taken out of him, that his first reaction to seeing someone helping to save civilian live in the middle of a crisis is to suspect a trap. At least he recognize that it's a rather improbable scenario.
"Fine," he assented. "Stay out of my way."
"So grumpy," she huffed, arriving at his side. "Wake up on the wrong side of the bed today?"
"Maybe I'm always rude."
She laughed airily. "A handsome knight like you? I don't believe it!"
He sighed. "Is now the time for this?"
"When better? We could die at any moment, you know. What, afraid you can't keep up?"
"Yes. So focus on the battle."
This brings to mind the kind of banter that Nameless had with his companions except unilateral, given that the hero seems to have no interest in it whatsoever, deploying an attitude similar to the one the one that Amouthanos demonstrated in that last council before the final battle.
"Liar. You're even faster than me! So, where are you headed next? Going to attack that dragon? I could help..."
Finally the civilians were through. Tides of translucent force emanated from her, sweeping through the hyena-beasts emerging from the dragon. Where that magic passed, the creatures swayed and sat as if in a stupor.
She seemed capable enough. "Yes. Come if you like."
"How forward! I knew you liked me after all."
More banter, and we also see Gisena stating all her tactical inputs in a non-imperative form so as to dodge the Tyrant's Doom. This make her not only good a countering enemies magic but also a precious help in getting more information on what make them tick.
"...Circle around to the far side. I'll hit it from the front."
"As if you'd get rid of me that easily! If you get me to the head, I can bypass its healing. Then you finish it off?"
The hero's plan wouldn't have worked nearly as well as the one that was implemented (and certainly would have been a lot less awesome), so it's a good thing Gisena proposed a better one. It seems that that's yet one more benefit of Gisena: she's a savvy strategist.
He grunted in assent. "Can you survive a fall? I could throw you into range, then sprint up the tail."
YEET! The mental image is kind of hilarious but that probably wouldn't have been very good for Gisena continued survival. She might have superhuman physical abilities, but clearly nowhere near the level of the hero.
"A delicate flower like me? I'm not so acrobatic. Carry me?" She batted her eyelashes.
"Fine. Climb on."
"I'd prefer a princess carry, but this is fine too." She kipped up and hugged his neck, crossing slender legs against his stomach. He did his best to ignore the prominent sensation of her chest against his back. Her skin was milk-pale, no sun exposure, hands free of callous. Likely a life spent indoors, with servants for menial work.
Yet her speed and precision were above the level of ordinary humans. A product of her magic alone, rather than experience? No. She was composed in battle, suggesting some level of familiarity. Perhaps that selfsame magic reverted any changes to her form.
The hero must indeed have lost all the natural vigor of his youth to manage to be so coldly analytic in such a situation!
Once she was secure, he sprang forward, leaping up to land on the dragon's tail. From what he could recall, he'd never actually slain a dragon before. That would have been a memory worth saving.
Priorities... The hero sacrificed almost all his memories of Earth down to his country of birth and even his very name to preserve his most cherished memories: those of the friends that fought by his side. But if he had any memories of slaying a dragon? Apparently, he would have prioritized those!
Plunging his blade into its side, he ran up its length, too quick for it to toss. Had its attention not been diverted by a renewed assault from its chief opponent, perhaps it could have dealt with him, but not in its current sorry state. Where his blade passed, flesh parted cleanly and sloughed to the side, up and across the whole of its spine until it came apart as if unzipped. The sorceress followed up with another wave of her magic, nullifying its regeneration.
Not much to say here, except that I really like the kind of mental images that Rihaku battle scenes evokes.
He attacked with savagery as they reached the head, blade-force projected into great thrusts and cleaving arcs to carve away at the dragon's skull. The sorceress shifted, holding her left arm against his collarbone to fire away with her outstretched right. Before long they had reached the brain. Crossed slashes cut it into quarters; a volley of bolts and it trembled, falling still.
All in all, a pretty easy fight. Of course, our enemy was distracted and weakened by his fight with the mecha, the strategy that Gisena proposed worked perfectly and the synergy of the hero physical abilities and Gisena anti-magic is phenomenal. This fight probably wouldn't have been nearly as easy if we had chosen King of Sorcerer or Twice-Great or if we had to deal with the wurm without the support of the mecha which opposed it.
The ring Hunger pulsed on his finger, a warm flood of power radiating outwards into his body, and through him the Forebear's Blade. The spoils of victory, progression so rapid it felt unfair. He would have to get used to that.
Yeah. Progressing may time faster than a Progression-type already would, just by fighting things is kind of unfair, isn't it? That ring was totally worth it.
"I hope this thing doesn't dissolve beneath us," he grumbled.
"It won't. The flesh itself is nonmagical, it was only infused with magic. Mostly its nervous system, which distributed the power as it was needed." She leapt down to inspect its wounds. "What an interesting specimen! It's a shame biology's not my forte."
"You're a scientist?"
"The very best!" She exclaimed, standing up to face him with a lecturing finger. "Lady Gisena Allria, Sorceress of Nullity and genius technologist, at your service!"
Given that the mech as been described as biomechanical, it indeed is a shame that biology is not her forte... Would have been to easy otherwise, I suppose... Still, we see more of her ability to analyze magical effects and I suspect her scientific expertise will come in handy at some point.
"What do you think about that?" He pointed his chin at the humanoid abomination, which stared at them unblinkingly. Steam hissed out from a set of cylinders in its neck, a pillar of smoke to join the countless coiling upwards into the sky.
I'm really interested in hearing her answer to that question...
The sense of affinity had grown with proximity, almost sharp now like an ache. He was certain. It was this thing - the monster itself, not any pilot or creature that resided within - that held that affinity to him, aligned across some inexpressible valence.
I wonder where that sense of affinity come from. It seems almost too convenient to have a mech with an affinity for our hero fall into his hands this easily...
