Jackal Among Snakes

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.

#####

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.

new body, he could restore

at this revelation, commanding,

battlefield was immediately filled with blinding white light from lighting and flame both. She kept her eyes wide open despite the terrible brightness so as not to miss a single detail. When the chaos faded, Traugott 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 ambush, yet instead he found

sizes. The might of an S-rank wind spell contained in a knuckle-size ball—the

him,” Anneliese declared, not allowing herself to be swept

arms to the ground, then Anneliese saw the mana ripple of higher ranking magic only a few seconds

cut across the battlefield in that monotonous,

came alive. Traugott fell back into the mortal world, yet she could

casters, spread

well that retreat was the only

first few attacks were clumsy, imprecise strikes—the pairs could respond in time to block, even counterattack. Even in his imprecision, his power was such only S-rank wards stood a chance of blocking

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

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she told the rider as he came

became a whirlwind of a dance as the man learned how to fight in this style. Appearing above, behind, besides, and between them all, punching, kicking, casting spells… he was a menace. He was a sea creature biting at those floating on the surface. To their credit, the resurrected heroes could be likened to snapping

Traugott was not

a simple deduction from her intense scrutiny, when Traugott vanished to the other side one

forth like lightning, swinging that blade of his. She heard nothing, but assumed the rider had missed. She prepared a spell in her left hand, and Traugott leapt out directly in front of her. She cast the spell. The blast of lightning hit nothing but air as Traugott vanished again. Despite the double-feint, Anneliese confidently

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, his nose, and then exiting

to keep her grip on her blade—but then, the weapon was a fundamental part of her. She slowed her roll and landed

made no signs that pain truly bothered him. He crammed his hand against his face, and Anneliese realized he was using his own flesh to reconstitute his

healed himself, without order from her, the rider leapt forth from his horse swinging his blade 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, first and foremost—the Hopeful wanted only

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

had a new wound in his chest from the Shadowlander’s 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

sword toward him. They both gave the other a silent appraisal of the other’s chance of victory, in that moment. Anneliese stood alone, her most physically powerful ally defeated. Even the undead were

the shark was circling about, ready to take a bite. She called for no help, gave no command… instead, she merely went outside herself. She quietly sent her consciousness

in this gloomy realm, flew above. She watched from above, scrutinizing the terrain with the utmost care for any movement. Traugott began to appear to her left, to her right, like the shark’s fin poking above the water. She could tell from his body language they were feints, one and all, and waited patiently for the true attack. To her, nothing existed in the battlefield beside the

toward her. Even as it melted the ground and burnt her skin, she stayed in place. From above, she saw him appear slightly behind and to the left. He

turned swiftly, tossing 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