Jackal Among Snakes

Nikoletta stared down at a head. She had a strong image of Rovostar in her mind—big, brawny, bald, clean-shaven… but his time on the run made him grow both a beard and hair. And his big body was half-buried in the sand, bleeding even now. He hadn’t even been able to mount a defense—the elves were efficient. He and all his servants were dead. All they managed was a scream.

She had been envisioning this as some desperate struggle, but it was a complete slaughter. Most of that result was due to the man next to her. He was a wood elf and an A-rank mage, and he had been particularly zealous in helping her recover her father. Her father, Duke Enrico, was sitting off to the side, a little bloodied, malnourished, and ill-treated…but decidedly alive. And that was what mattered.

“Argrave told me there’d be a woman with them,” she looked at the elf who’d been so helpful thus far. “Georgina. Did you kill anyone like that? She’d be a mage.”

Every single one of the wood elves she’d seen had red eyes, but this man had rich green-blue eyes that danced like a pool of water. When she’d asked him, he said it had something to do with his A-rank ascension.

“I’m afraid not,” the elf said smoothly. “Only men in their number, I’m afraid. Or extremely ugly women. I don’t care to check…”

Nikoletta laughed through her nose quietly.

“I can say firmly no one escaped,” he added.

Nikoletta nodded. “I’ll ask my father about it, then.” She focused on him. “I have to thank you for trying so hard. I’m not sure that my father would have made it if not for you…” she trailed off slowly.

“Perhaps not,” the elf shook his head. “But I think it best that elves and humans cooperate. It’s in their best interest, wouldn’t you agree?”

Nikoletta nodded. “Indeed. And… what’s your name?”

The elf smiled broadly. “Dimocles.”

Nikoletta blinked for a few moments. She didn’t know anyone by that name, but… even still, it drew her attention for some reason. “That name… it’s from Vasquer, isn’t it?”

“It must be some coincidence. You can see these on my head, can’t you?” Nikoletta looked at them—indeed, his ears were elven without doubt. The man continued, “You can pull on them

you,” she politely refused. “Is

wear does fascinate me, but it seems a family heirloom. I can’t very well ask you to give it up.” He clapped his hands together. “Why

eyes. “…sure, I suppose I can do

places,” Dimocles smiled. “Anyway… I’ll give you

as he walked off, and then turned back to her father the duke.

to watch as he stroked his ears. As he stroked, they stretched a bit further out. After examining them in the mirror, he squashed them back down, and they shrunk back to where they

go fine,” he muttered, putting the mirror

######

as one giant nullified one of Argrave’s primary strength in dealing with a powerful foe—namely, his [Bloodfeud Bow]. He might take out a large chunk of the ants, sure enough, but the rest of them could reform to recover from the

as other insects. It had no true weaknesses—not elemental, at least. And with things like this, it was time for Argrave to fall back into a practiced tactic… with a new bloody

on watching me, stop me from getting hit or snuck up on. And I… I’m gonna

meanwhile, put his hand on Argrave’s shoulder as silent

He held his left hand flat off to the side, while the other faced upward at the giant constructed of ants.

one they spread, again and again, until they were twenty. Argrave felt a headache developing from focusing on so many things, and if he’d needed to focus on keeping himself safe this would have failed. He barely saw the

Eels]. His right called forth [Bloodbriar Bullwhip], and a thorny tendril hundreds of feet long erupted out of his hand. The blood echoes called upon their essence,

B-rank spells of devastating power met it, cutting straight into the meat of their constructed body. It endured the power of the attacks ably—it had flinched from

the bullwhips struck in droves, one after the other. And this encouraged him to pull his hand back and try again. Twenty more whips came—crack, they echoed, the sound multiplied by the sheer volume of blows. Crack, crack, crack,

it called upon his blood. As pain exploded up his wrist, he fell to his knees, his concentration broken. All of the blood echoes returned to

most anything Argrave had fought before. They danced across

to spread through all of them, but they split apart, and only a large clump was hit. Hundreds burst into blinding light, but hundreds more fell to the ground unharmed. They formed into smaller giants, each perhaps