Chapter 652: Animal and Hunter

Traugott assessed the situation objectively, plugging in a new variable to the equation to adjust its answer. From the outset, he’d thought a few dozen S-rank spellcasters to eliminate him was a dire miscalculation on Argrave’s side. It made more sense upon the reveal that there was a relatively high-ranking Shadowlander here—moreover, a Shadowlander still linked to the hierarchy imposed by the Hopeful. Its presence meant the Hopeful was aware of this fight.

With that alone, he saw victory in the gnashing teeth of these overwhelming odds.

The Hopeful’s design made no accommodations for any outside of his direct control. He could suffer no interlopers or allies in his realm—it was antithetical to his long-term goal. Argrave and company were, at best, mercenaries brought to dispose of Traugott with their betrayal planned long in advance. At worst, they were slaves doing his bidding. Given Argrave’s tenacity, Traugott suspected their best-case scenario was what he was dealing with.

With that in mind, they were likely seeking one of two things from him—perhaps both, come to think of it. They wanted a way to escape from the Shadowlands after Traugott’s death, or they wanted to co-opt his liberation force to fight back against the Hopeful. Given Argrave’s predisposition to sticking his nose in where he didn’t belong, Traugott bet it was the latter.

Whichever it was, it didn’t matter—they were one in the same, fundamentally. Shadowlanders were freed from the hierarchy when they were exposed to the mortal realm.

To escape with Traugott’s aid, Argrave’s company would need an opening to the mortal realm. To replenish the numbers of the liberating force, they’d need the same. Traugott’s own action was the bottleneck to all their plans, he was certain. As ever, his ability to shift between the realms would be the deciding factor in his life and death. To that end, he had spent much of his time in perfecting it. He could slip through perfectly enough that nothing besides himself passed.

Anneliese and Argrave were clever—they likely already guessed that Traugott needed to be able to touch the Shadowlander in question to free them. Upon seeing how he fought, what he did and didn’t do, Anneliese would likely be able to guess that his ability to bridge the two realms was the key to breaking the hierarchy.

It hardly mattered. Traugott’s success had never rested in outrageous victories. Instead, he merely avoided mistakes.

This was to be a battle in perfection. Traugott would slowly learn more and more about the ability Anneliese employed. He would learn the weakest links in their group, and exploit what mistakes they made. Whoever made fewer would be the victor. Even if he lost—if Anneliese discovered how to free the Shadowlanders, created an opportunity to do so, and killed him—Traugott still won.

After all, he’d long wondered what came after death. It was merely another thing to learn.

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Anneliese felt rather like a starving hunter.

That wasn’t to say that she was overeager, but rather, she’d been tracking this quarry for a long while. Finally, she had it cornered—caught in a trap. The last thing that remained was dealing the finishing blow. Things were well at hand right now, but one small slip, and this crafty prey could slip free and avoid them all as it had countless times before. She would act slowly, act deliberately, and make no mistakes. Elsewise, she and the whole tribe would go hungry.

“Bhaltair, have your undead get distance. Send two to guard me,” she commanded. Hers was the only voice echoing in this place, as had been agreed long in advance. “Rider, advance. Suppress him. Do not overcommit.”

With her commands, the battlefield reshaped. The rider took the frontline, carefully holding the blade Argrave had created out in quiet standoff with the Manumitter. The undead formed what was effectively a ring around Traugott—not enough to attack, but enough to lash out at him if he was forced into a disadvantageous position.

Traugott played the part of cornered rat well enough, shuffling around carefully in consideration of all enemies around. He was no rat, though—in his red eyes she saw the growling tiger, waiting for opportunity to lunge forth. He fell into the mortal realm, and when he reappeared, had moved to the area his back had been facing. He probed at the undead with lunging attacks, retreating when their blades were ready to receive him. He changed targets back to the Shadowlander just as quickly, conjuring an S-rank spell of wind that slammed forth a mighty fist.

The rider swatted away the spell with the back of his hand in an unimaginable display of power, then thrust his blade at Traugott. The man had already dipped back into the mortal realm, and reappeared right beside the horse’s backside. Anneliese observed carefully as he thrust his stump of a left arm out, placing it against the horse’s haunches. When he pulled free his arm, he tore with it a new hand, pristine. The horse folded inward, much of its substance lost, and the rider fell to the ground.

body, he could restore it by mere contact with one

calm at

had bypassed the undead, seeking some of the casters. Ghislain, though, had never once been idle since the battle began—every second, he created a weaving maze of illusions, hiding things and people in quiet recesses. Traugott sought to dispense with one aspect of this

magic to smaller sizes. The might of an S-rank wind spell contained in a knuckle-size ball—the penetrative power was amazing. He thrust his arm forth into Traugott’s shoulder blade, and it appeared almost

allowing herself to be

assigned to follow her words to the letter, keeping her eye only on her prey. Traugott’s red eyes darted around not in panic, but in revelation. He held both arms to the ground, then Anneliese saw the mana ripple of higher ranking magic only a few seconds before quakes split the ground. Ghislain’s illusions required a physical medium to function, which was the ground in this case—to that end, with the ground disturbed they all shattered at

the battlefield in that monotonous, bland tone

into the mortal world, yet

shouted urgently. “All casters, spread out! Group into pairs and

horseman obeyed, conjuring a steed from his own blood, Traugott began to show the terrifying might of his A-rank ascension. By now, he had learned full well that retreat was the only condition Veid’s heart barred. Now that all were exposed, he didn’t need to dodge, wait, and observe. Instead, he became the

in the heart of their formation with no warning or indication and rained attacks upon them. His first few attacks were clumsy, imprecise strikes—the pairs could respond in time

their magic, Anneliese was forced to divert some of the flood of vitality steadily coming from Argrave’s battle to replenish their magic supply, praying that it wouldn’t hinder Argrave’s fight if he was temporarily deprived. If she knew him, by now he was having a

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rider as he came to her side.

he was a menace. He was a sea creature biting at those floating on

Anneliese knew Traugott was not one to be

deduction from her intense scrutiny, when Traugott vanished to the

spell in her left hand, and Traugott leapt out directly in front of her. She cast the spell.

heart. Her weapon struck right beside those gleaming red eyes of his. The blade was a divine artifact, forged from the heart of a powerful god, and tempered by the Fruit of Being—even a Shadowlander’s flesh couldn’t resist it. The force of Traugott’s charge railed against her arm, but so too did her blade. It sunk through skin and bone, cutting through his left eye,

cast a great distance away, unable to keep her grip on her blade—but then, the weapon was a fundamental part of her. She slowed her roll and landed on her knees, then called her weapon

great deal of his face had been destroyed. Even now, he made no signs that pain truly bothered him. He crammed his hand against his face, and

at Traugott’s skull. She had been expecting from the beginning the rider would, given the opportunity, act on his own initiative. His loyalty was to the Hopeful,

sight, but possessed of his other senses—stepped into the mortal realm. The rider tried to hunt him, thrusting his arm in the smallest crack. His act of recklessness finally confirmed something Anneliese had already been suspecting, given Traugott’s abundance of caution regarding his ability. Upon exposure to the light of the

desperate attack, yet his eyes had returned to him. The rider struggled to pull free his arm from the rapidly-closing portal, and while he did, Traugott walked up and slammed his foot upon his back. He pulled flesh free of the Shadowlander like a vulture might tear strips of meat free from a carcass, healing his wounds in seconds while the rider screamed. Anneliese thought the Shadowlander’s pain was more than physical—leaving the hierarchy had wounded him mentally, and he laid there helplessly as Traugott gorged

Anneliese. She rose calmly, holding the sword toward him. They both gave the other a silent appraisal of the other’s

take a bite. She called for no help, gave no command… instead, she merely went outside herself.

to her right, like the

stayed in place. From above, she saw him appear slightly behind and to the left. He charged, intending to tackle her. In this

her blade and empowering her throw with a powerful wind spell. It rocketed forth faster than Traugott could react to, stabbing into his shoulder. He staggered, but kept charging. He’d not seen that Anneliese could call the blade back to her at a whim. Anneliese stepped to meet Traugott, then with one thought, had Veid’s heart back in her hand. Traugott, in a panic, abandoned his attack, fading away to the other side

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