Jackal Among Snakes

“I’ll be watching,” Vasilisa told Argrave. “But like I said, it’s not like there’s much I can do to help. This is your battle, not mine.”

Argrave nodded at her, then turned his head back to the ocean ahead. Most of his clothes barring his underclothes had been removed and set aside. He knelt in the sand before the bloody ocean, facing Chiteng. He didn’t know why, but he couldn’t be at ease unless the giant elven god was in his sight. He didn’t think he was in danger, yet even still he couldn’t dispel this idiosyncrasy of his.

He had gone through this procedure in his head half a thousand times. Even then, he wasn’t quite sure he’d be able to do it right, so he ran through it again. The fundamentals of this A-rank ascension had been peer reviewed by peers that weren’t really peers—namely, they were people far better than him at magic. People like Anneliese, Castro, Rowe, Vasilisa, Hegazar, Vera, and essentially every powerful friend he’d made had their hands on this process of Argrave’s.

They had refined the method greatly. Argrave thought that his undying soul was a clear and necessary element for this procedure, but Rowe and Castro had analyzed that idea and applied it to a normal soul. After redevelopment, they made it work with any person, not just someone who so happened to be very lucky and born with an undying soul. Or unlucky, depending on whether or not a necromancer got their hands on them.

Having an undying soul amplified the power of this A-rank ascension beyond compare, however. Argrave’s base idea was simple, inspired by seeing the vampiric beast within Galamon. He would use his soul as an anchor for what he called ‘blood echoes.’ Like the silver bracer on his arm currently, these would store the essence of blood magic, eliminating the need for the caster to use their own blood in blood magic. Additionally, they could be projected and used elsewhere.

With an undying soul… Argrave could create as many of these echoes as he wanted. He had the heaviest anchor in this world for them to attach to. And with his black blood, forget blood magic—these echoes could be a store for all magic. He could project these bloody apparitions and make a firing squad of deadly magic—deadly blood magic, at that. All of this… at zero cost to health and wealth.

The idea was simple. Was doing it simple? Not particularly. Argrave needed to rewire his veins, essentially. It wasn’t his veins, in truth—it was more so the magic conduits that drew blood from the body when blood magic was cast. He had to link those to his soul, inextricably. The ‘inextricable’ part was the tricky bit. These conduits were fussy. Blood echoes were foreign to them, and they liked to revert to the mean.

These conduits would become both the method for the creation of blood echoes, and the path by which A-rank matrixes were completed. It was similar to other ascensions involving blood magic—Argrave hoped that meant Blood Infusion into other spells would be viable for this method. Regardless, he had to place his blood pipes into their proper place.

Naturally, toying about with the pipes made for blood magic wasn’t risk-free. And so Argrave came here.

Argrave’s breathing grew heavier as he recognized what he was about to do. He held out his hand and cast an exceedingly simple spell of blood magic. He was cognizant of slight pain as the spell completed, but ignored that and sought out the conduits that siphoned his blood into the primal power of the sacrificial magic.

After a time, he found one, drawing away his blood for its purpose. Then another, another, all up and down the vessel that was his body. His will was a tangible thing in his body, like a sparking imagination moving through his body with his hand guiding it. He slowly took a survey of all the spots in his body siphoning his vital essence into magic. One after another, he got his hands on them. He found his soul, too—Vasquer had helped him with this part, so it was considerably easier.

With everything in place, he pulled the conduits away.

Fiery pain lit up Argrave’s entire body, yet he stayed firm. He moved these conduits towards his soul, hoping to get them all into rough place where he might then do a more precise manipulation. It was a trying task, like trying to pull fifty separate wires precisely with only two hands. And the pain… the pain didn’t stop. The pressure kept growing and growing, pushing out against the container that held it in—namely, his mind.

Argrave felt pulled back to this world with startling clarity. He hunched over and puked blood into the already-red ocean. It wasn’t just puking, though—his eyes, ears, nose, all of him was bleeding. He heard people panicking behind him—Vasilisa, Orion, Nikoletta. He succumbed to the terrible sensation. Meanwhile, a great budding warmth spread up within him, mending the wounds as quickly as they came. It was the power of this elven realm.

After a long, long while, Argrave felt cognizant of the world again. Vasilisa held him, preventing him from dipping headfirst in the red ocean. Her blue eyes were wide, concerned, and trembling.

fine,” he told her, blood still leaking through his lips. “Small pipe leak. I’ll get it fixed in no time.” He started

god damn is wrong with you?” Vasilisa held him, shaking. “You were crying blood.

his eyes to see better. “Take it easy. Not my first time bleeding from every

had healed him, just as he suspected.

“Alright,” Argrave nodded. “Again.”

up beside

his hand with the spell

#####

in the crook of his arm. The rest of his equipment was laid out before him, polished and ready. All that remained was putting it

left. He was

“We didn’t part on the best

nodded slowly. “Because

ended up leaving the Burnt Desert, nothing done all the same.” Boarmask

Sethia. You saw what became of me there. Paraded about through town, mocked, called a traitor… I was ready to do

Boarmask stared, curiosity lining his blue

Durran pointed, then fixed his dark hair back with the

then placed his helmet down. “I

the latter days. Still, she’s

his eyes.

no one else is willing to do.” Durran looked off to the side. “Plan’s pretty simple. Argrave told me Fellhorn’s going to come to the Burnt Desert, eventually.

only stared with a serious smile on his face, and Boarmask gradually began to understand that his friend wasn’t

pivotal details I’m missing,” Boarmask took

But you can learn

us, of course.” He watched Durran’s face, and when he saw the same serious smile as earlier demanded, “There’s no

course not. But Argrave started alone, and look where he

the royal bastard of King Felipe

in all the

rapped his knuckles against his helmet, sighing. “What in the blazes goes on in that

severed head,” Durran nodded. “Want