Inb4 the update; sad that I procrastinated on this too long to affect the vote, but exp is exp. 1029 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.
It seems our choice has made the Hero more decisive; harm reduction avails little when the menace still abounds. And now we confirm the wining vote!
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.
Considering the legendary status of the Blade, that fact that the Tyrant did not utilize it himself is very intriguing. The mere fact that it might be due to compatibility issues is already good information, as it suggests that the Tyrant and the Forebear had some pretty fundamental differences, ones the Tyrant was loath to discard. Though, I'm surprised he didn't keep it close to him at all times considering it's power.
And so we took the abandoned blade and gave it new purpose. Opposing a Tyrant with the blade of his ascendant is a pretty interesting legend, I must admit.
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.
If the blade is sufficiently symbolic of his state as to have broken when it did, It makes sense that the Accursed's power wasn't able to restore it. In fact, it may never be restored until we are "whole" again. Or at least, when he considers himself whole, or accepts his new status as a broken man and let it stay like that. The symbolism of the latter doesn't appeal to me much.
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.
Huh, interesting that Huger came from the Tyrant. Would Talon have the same origin, I wonder? It was described in pretty sinister terms. Both items together would incentivize letting "worthy opponents" live so you can advance off their opposition, then slay them at their peak so you gain goodies. A very high risk/reward strategy.
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.
The details of his assassination becomes ever more complex. By now we know he must have seen it coming for quite a while, though we don't know if he tried to resist, or how.
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.
Breaking the sound barrier with his leaps. The people still seem medieval, although they are more prosperous the those in our world. The result of preserving things from their apocalypse? The narration doesn't remark on any advanced weapons however, so they must not have preserved much. Given they were advanced enough to make super-soldier programs, I wonder how much of their science was preserved.
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.
This is a pretty complete weapon if it's meant to be used against cities; attempts to beat it just accelerate the destruction by creating more and more beasts and it can do so for a while given its regeneration. You have to defeat it quickly and decisively, otherwise even if you kill it the city may be lost due to a huge monster swarm. Very troublesome.
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.
Very-EVA like. While they don't have such huge fangs, the moments where the EVA units open their mouths to scream savagely are one of the most iconic parts about them. It seems this mech possess a similarly animalistic nature. The head pauldrons are seen enhancing grappling, but given the Hero noticed its gaze, they likely expand its field of vision as well. Is the ability to fight multiple monsters at once an important design consideration? If so, it implies the original makers were likely heavily outnumbered in whatever conflict this was made for.
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.
How rude, introducing yourself by the way of dangerous energy bolts!
It seems the Hero has a pretty visceral beauty equals danger association. Was it just a result of the improved looks given by sufficient Accretion, or is specifically about the Fae? He doesn't seem to consider one of them helping civilians a ridiculous thought, so maybe they weren't inherently dangerous?
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.
Even in this situation, the Hero remains suspicious. Given the treachery he suffered, can't say I blame him.
Nullity's bolts seem to disrupt enemy control, so they are definitely not autonomous, but have signals transmitted to them by magical means. The monster likely can't focus much on them given the whole giant robot fight.
"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."
"Liar. You're even faster than me! So, where are you headed next? Going to attack that dragon? I could help..."
Ah, Gisena, it's so like you to start flirting in the most inappropriate situations. But the Hero's heart is too loyal to just surrender himself to some thot!
The voters however...
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."
"...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?"
Man, she's relentless.
I suppose, if you know the healing is magical, going for the head immediately makes the most sense. I suppose given our displayed physical might, she correctly assumed we could climb this thing.
He grunted in assent. "Can you survive a fall? I could throw you into range, then sprint up the tail."
"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.
Flirting even while performing a highly dangerous maneuver; she's fully internalized the YOLO principle, huh?
The Hero performs some deduction about this mysterious woman; discovers she has some beautifying power. A natural conclusion, given how Accretion worked in his universe. I'm surprised he didn't extrapolate more similarities; wise, but surprising.
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.
It's good to see that the Hero retains at least some humor for his condition. This could have easily been an angst-filled lamentation, but he mostly seems low-key exited at this new opportunity.
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.
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.
Quite Shadow of the Colossus, I must say. Ruin plus Nullity's efforts seem to have done a number on his regeneration and prevented the spawning of beasts, which assume would normally impede a tactic like this.
Once we reach the weakpoint, it's quite anticlimactic. It didn't even seem particularly reinforced, though it may have been just too weak to matter. Must have not been prepared against this tactic.
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.
This is your future now Hero; killing and growing strong.
Interesting that the warm glow came from Hunger. Is that how it "multiplies the exp", so to speak?
"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."
I agree that's pretty interesting. Building a monster of this scale seems like a monumental task for a civilization in the medieval stage; so probably a remnant of past ages. It seems way less advanced than whatever the Devourer is, so maybe it was built at a later date when then already had started to degrade? Or maybe not all polities are medieval level.
"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!"
What a humble introduction.
I guess she isn't wrong, but still.
Someone calling herself a scientist must seem pretty shocking given his previous world and the apparent tech level of this one.
"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.
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.
The steam is a very Attack on Titan touch; makes it more imposing against a back drop.
This affinity is pretty spooky, I must say. The Accursed's doing? Or maybe considering the likely inspiration, maybe it's the Apocryphal Curse seeding our downfall or something like that. I'm not one to refuse power when it's offered though, shady as it might seem!