Jackal Among Snakes

Everyone, including Argrave, had seen Anneliese descend down from the wyvern into the field of grass between the two armies. He had watched it with a heavier heart than anyone else, but he knew that she was the only one who could reliably pursue the most important goal—cutting off the head of the ugly beast that had wormed itself around the Great Chu.

Perhaps, however, it would be more accurate to say this Dimocles was a mere hand of the beast—the true beast was above, raining hellfire upon the countryside of the Great Chu. While Anneliese did battle on the ground, Argrave’s battle would be altogether different… while she fought on the front, he was to swat away the gnats: Erlebnis’ emissaries.

Their scouting capabilities were robust, fortunately, and they noticed the monstrosities lurking throughout the surrounding countryside long before they could ambush and destroy vast amounts of people by channeling Erlebnis’ power as pure magic. Dimocles must’ve called in Erlebnis to ensure victory. These creatures, while possessing the Blessing of Supersession the same as Dimocles, lacked the capacity to use shamanic magic. This made them vulnerable to spells like [Requite], whereas a mortal like Dimocles would be capable of neutralizing any such spell.

And standing with him on the battlefield for the first time Argrave could recall… the Alchemist rose dozens of feet above the army, clad in chitinous armor made of his own flesh and blood and still brimming with magic even after the procedure on Argrave and Ji Meng. With him on his right, and Orion on his left… Argrave felt infinitely reassured.

“Such tedium,” complained the Alchemist. “I have better things to do with my day.”

Argrave’s royal guard eyed the giant figure warily. The perceptive few were vaguely aware that this person existed, but now he stood openly on Argrave’s side. It was a marked change.

“If you do your best, we might be able to go home early,” he tapped the Alchemist on the wrist. “For now… let’s keep the nosy pedestrians off Anneliese’s stage.”

Forward they marched, seeking to cut off the grasping hands of the Qircassian Coalition. The gods watched the skies close at hand, ready to intercept any interference.

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would surely be preventing him from acting on these thoughts. As the two

it was the most dangerous, there was something Anneliese had long ago embraced. It was in the heart of the battlefield, caught

her left and the blue-gray sword in her right proved no obstacle to spellcasting, as she’d ample practice fighting like this. A writhing blizzard, shards of ice formed into daggers, hurtled across the field of grass destructively, shearing a

mortals the very heart of their magic. Their defensive wards buckled beneath the sheer pressure of her attack, straining, and as they broke they became her strength. It was against an army that [Life Cycle] was most at home, sapping

eye could see, but she had been prepared. It struck her ward. Shortly after, countless other attacks followed. It was like the army was a giant swatting an insect it had just been made aware of. When their first effort failed, spells fizzling away on her ward and empowering her once more,

sent her own attacks—writhing whirlwinds to blow away the blades of ice that sought to bleed her, great walls of rumbling earthen magic to ward away the lightning that sought to stun her, towering infernos to turn geysers into naught more than steam… she cast without thought, with reckless abandon, and each attack she sent thrived

the battlefield all on our own, the armies ahead and behind splitting in twain in deference of the absolute destruction bridging the gap between Anneliese and Dimocles’ entire army. Where there had been a serene plain of grass once, there was now only a desolate field of earth that was blackened, twisted. All before the two froze, melted, or turned to dust in a state of constant flux from the

tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot

many—old masters that’d seen thousand of battles and hundreds of wars, or the talented and ambitious that, much like herself, achieved outsized advancement at a young age. She dealt with A-rank ascensions uncountable—people that could meld with the earth and appear near her, those who could leave spells like landmines, or those that could constrict the very air

Anneliese outlasted them all.

prudent judgment and the discerning eye offered by her blessing of [Truesight] at all times, or a blow would sneak past her. She wasn’t perfect; some attacks landed. Yet the Inerrant Cloak lent to her by Argrave consumed her magic to block most any attack. Magic flowed into and out of her in the heart of this absolute chaos, meaning it could absorb countless blows—she deliberately let some pass to take advantage of the artifact in this dangerous match

and more of Dimocles’ elite forces to Anneliese’s wrath. Her allied forces, meanwhile, were a constant pressure that sought to constrain rather than decimate. Their goal was not slaughter: it was to cut off the head, and so

spells of her enemies but tearing it free from their very flesh and blood. She was like rushing water against dirt, wearing people away

Emperor, Dimocles, who had been rooted in place. Even they seemed jarred that their emperor would not retreat… but they couldn’t

emperor in his palace, they were well-suited for defending their master. Their weapons could cut through magic itself, reducing

ahead, she felt that problem was soon about to be remedied. Dimocles glowed with power unimaginable, the Blessing of Supersession pouring oceans of magic all throughout his body. The Blue Emperor’s body twisted, and the front of his body erupted past his armor into dozens of arms with dozens of hands,