Jackal Among Snakes

Argrave stared at the torrents of sludgy liquid metal pour down, illuminating their surroundings with some emitted light. He looked up at the Alchemist.

“Looks like… you did it,” he said, breathing heavily. “Just in time for the second phase.”

“I should be surprised that you did it. Your role was always my concern,” the Alchemist said cooly. Hands emerged from his body, running over each of them and casting healing magic. Orion was so badly injured that healing magic alone would not restore him to fighting condition—only time regenerating with his own blessings would cure his ills.

Argrave looked back at Hause and her court of mortal servants. They gave their party a cautious distance, acting more as temporary allies in misery than fellow participants in this heist. He didn’t know what her being here meant—either for this fight, or for the distant future. But they had succeeded. A challenge remained. Namely, getting the hell out of this place.

The Keeper walked across the top of the flowing liquid, and neither Mozzahr nor Argrave made to fight with this new arrival. They were like animals snarling at each other—even though they knew a conflict was inevitable, it still came with consequences that forced caution from both of them.

“You came into our home, bringing along a foul and monstrous mortal whose strength could be likened to a god’s,” the Keeper said contemptuously. “You killed hundreds of our emissaries, destroyed a Lodestar of the Annals of the Universe, and stole its power. You entered this vault, putting an end to creatures that have been alive longer than any of you. Have you any idea what it took to entrap those dragons? Do you know what Erlebnis surrendered to earn the fealty of the King of Beasts?”

“Ruining your home was part of the plan.” Argrave slowly rose to his feet, still feeling unimaginably drained. He didn’t think he could muster casting another Domain of Law. The Blessing of Supersession left him not too long after Mozzahr’s attack, and he’d been forced away from the old domain when the vault crumbled around them. He was dangerously low on blood echoes—perhaps thirty remained.

“You’ve almost entirely destroyed this Museum of Artifacts within the Magic Wing,” the Keeper continued, walking closer. “And along the way, you… you and the Alchemist, have pilfered a collection we collected over millennia,” he said, shaking his head. “But… none of that matters. Because this only ends two ways.”

“Victory or defeat. That’s how I always wanted it,” Argrave nodded.

“No,” the Keeper laughed. “You can submit to eternal servitude, or you can die here, forgotten. You will be relegated to a small footnote in history—an accident analogous to a freak housefire. Either way, by freeing Hause… we don’t think it’ll be a net loss. We can finally utilize her abilities.”

Anneliese rose to her feet, coming to stand behind Argrave. “This conversation repeats time and time again, does it not?” He eyed her injuries, and she gave him a reassuring smile. She was pale from her wounds, even though they’d been sealed by magic. “They say we have no hope of victory. We disagree. And then, we win. Am I correct?”

“True enough,” Durran agreed, using a divine artifact fashioned as a spear to rise to his feet. “Cut him some slack. He’s knowledgeable, but it’s clear creativity can’t be learned. All Erlebnis can do is learn what other people discovered, then hoard it and trade it.”

living, yeah? No time for talk.” Melanie insisted, standing

head. “In this

attack both your mind and our bodies. There will be no reprieve, no rest. I will lead us away from this place. When we

while using the Blessing of Supersession and the Inerrant Cloak in tandem, but the fact remained that

rear.” Argrave had so much

He brandished the weapons of the divine in each hand—swords, spears, all of it. The arms were flaccid and limp at first, but they slowly shifted and burst with muscle. The Alchemist lifted his head up,

prepared to follow… but he was consumed by

in his mind—not the Keeper’s voice, and not his own… indeed, he

roof of one of the towers of the Dragon Palace in Dirracha. His heart beat, sounding like a great bass drum in his ear. In mental warfare… there’s always a chance at victory. He held his hand to his heart, doing his best to ignore it, then stepped to the edge and looked down. He spotted

under him, its hand holding the tower in its palm. It was a Shadowlander. The moment Argrave recognized this its fingers clenched, crushing the tower. Argrave’s eyes

bell struck the Dragon Palace, it rung out in an ominous grandeur as the building crumbled away. Purple lightning struck all around him as he ran. When the roof ended, the great snake Vasquer’s

another Shadowlander rushed at him. Argrave panicked for half a second before remembering this was a battle of the mind. In this mental world, he triggered the Blessing of Supersession, held out the Resonant Pillar, and received its attack without injury to himself. With the Resonant Pillar charged, he swung it at the Shadowlander. It exploded into darkness, and Argrave was

an army of red chrome men stood before him. They were perfect metallic recreations of great warriors. Some of them were eerily familiar, and when Argrave faced the coming swarms of soldiers,

with an unmatched ferocity, brandishing the weapons pilfered from this vault with the fury of a

thrust into the heart of a battlefield. Their spells, their tactics, their intelligence… this army was a perfect recreation of what had ended the ancient elven empire. If not for their appearance, Argrave would’ve thought these were

darkness. When his vision returned, he stood behind a ward. Thousands of electric eels danced all around him, like a great curtain. And beyond it stood… well, himself. He charged a [Bloodfeud Bow], pointed

came flying at him. Argrave rooted around in his head, and found an answer quickly. This was his mind—spirits were not restrained here, as they were in Erlebnis’ vault. He cast [Requite]. It completed just as the

still, the thousand electric eels swarmed down, ready to finish the job. Argrave conjured a ball of ice and shattered it with wind magic. The fragments exploded outwards, making the

magic to sever Induen’s head. The scene faded away… and Argrave was

have you done?” Durran

past, carrying her viscera with it. The

head and picked it up. The sight brought him such a deep emotional discomfort it was almost too much to bear, but he narrowed his eyes and looked up. “I’m going to cry…” he began, voice shaking. “Do you honestly think Anneliese is so pitiful that I could kill her? Get a grip, you wormy bastard.