He wasn’t finished, though, despite how much that must have hurt. As he blasted out from the point of impact, Balta rotated his body to protect his head before he slammed into the roof of the tunnel, where the rock shattered around his frame.
Even from that position, Balta was able to fight back. His free hand gripped the hilt of his Living Stone blade, sending a wide defensive slash toward the beast as he freed himself from the stone.
Contrary to his opponent’s expectations, Grey did not choose to follow up on his advantage; instead, he chose to be patient. Eyes wide, he studied everything. How hurt was the golgari? How effective had his strike been? At the same time, he focused on regulating his breathing and ensuring his state of mind was not disturbed. It’d taken a long time for him to learn the necessity of resisting his urge to chase, but it had been a valuable lesson.
As Balta dropped back to the tunnel floor, Grey flexed his hands and shook out his legs, ensuring he remained as limber as possible.
“That’s a very tough mineral you have bonded to your skin,” he observed conversationally. “Quite a rare find.”
Balta sneered as light glittered on his true skin.
“We prize the stone above all things, beast. Naturally, the best ore is destined to fall to the best of our people.”
He was unbalanced to his left side, Grey was sure of it. The moment he detected the weakness, his pupils dilated, and the breath caught in his throat for the briefest of moments, then it passed, and he was in control once more.
It was unfortunate, but in that moment, he lost control of his bloodlust, the murderous aura of the hunter had surged out of his body, and judging by the expression on the noble’s face, he had sensed it. It was almost funny. Balta had been so willing to call him a beast as a taunt, not realising the description was quite apt. Grey was a beast, and Balta was his prey.
A wide and feral grin stretched across Grey’s face as he accepted the rising tide of the wolf within.
“Naturally,” he growled through his exposed fangs, “and I suppose you won that ore by your own hand? Did you, Balta? Or did someone else buy it, like everything else exceptional about you?”
The mix of fear and outrage on the noble’s face was like ripe wine on Grey’s tongue, and he didn’t wait for a reply before he lunged. The golgari responded with excellent reflexes and high-Level Skills, slashing out once, twice, thrice with his sword in the blink of an eye.
The sword light howled with malevolence as it carved through the stone floor of the tunnel, but Balta paid it no mind. His foe had dodged at the last possible moment, he sensed it. His eyes flickered as he tried to track his opponent, but the aged wolf had become even faster, and his instincts were yet to catch up.
He never saw the final blow coming.
Grey had leapt above the sword blows and used his shifting cloak to blend with the stone behind him. In a battle of this level, losing track of your opponent for an instant was ten times longer than they needed to end the fight. Focusing hard on his inner self, Grey breathed and shoved hard with both feet.
To the outside observer, it looked as if the wolf-kin pushed off thin air, descending on his unaware opponent like a fanged comet. A vortex of Mana and stamina formed in front of him, and he rotated his body to give it more speed and power. When he reached the High Blade, he sent that energy driving into the giant, rock covered frame with the points of his claws.
BOOM!
The stone around them shattered like porcelain as Grey drove his foe deep into the ground. By the time his attack dissipated, he found he’d buried the golgari in ten metres of solid rock. As he had no personal grudge with this foe, he ensured the noble still lived before he hauled the fellow up and carried him back to the tunnel floor.
Once there, he lay Balta on the ground so that he might be collected by his people, turned, and headed back to the nest.
A nice little fight. Just enough to whet the palate.
145. The Siege, Part 23
At least those crazy malformed humans were good for experience. Whatever the Legion did to turn them into… what they were, they certainly lacked the finely tuned discipline of their more regular compatriots.
Even after I’d demonstrated the ability to rip into them using my Doom Chomp, cutting down several at a time, they continued to come, almost ant-like in their eagerness to sacrifice themselves for their allies. If they would just fight defensively, be a bit more cagey, then I wouldn’t be able to hit their numbers even half as hard as I do.
I’ve not been paying attention to the notifications Gandalf has been whispering into my ear, but I’m sure I must have racked up three Levels from these clowns. If they want to throw experience at me, I’m more than happy to take it!
Although I am a little tired from having to use the draining Doom Chomp so many times, which is possibly their aim.
Doesn’t look like I’m going to get time to rest, either. When the bizarre creatures pull back from the ant line, they slide expertly through the perfectly aligned ranks of heavy armoured Legion soldiers waiting behind them. The moment the way is clear, the ranks reform into a solid wall of shields and blades that begin to close with us at speed.
“Bring up the humans!” comes the call from the generals huddled near the front. The words are repeated all the way up and down the line before reaching the human Antmancers dotted throughout the battlefield.
With an enthusiastic roar, the first real sound from our side of the field beyond Tiny’s racket, the human volunteers and the robed figures of Beyn and his true believers take their places in our formation. A half-second before the two forces collide, a rush surges throughout my body as the potent buff rolls through me from the nearest Antmancer.
Every ant around me stands a little taller, a little firmer, as their stats get a healthy bump from the aura effect. It’s needed too; without it, most soldiers simply aren’t able to stay in front of the more powerful Legionary soldiers for long. For me? It makes me a real pain in their backside.
The nice thing about the aura provided by the Antmancers, is that it doesn’t cancel the benefits we gain from the generals, so that’s neat. The stat boost they give also affects all stats. Which means my brains get the slight edge they need to be able to handle the construct I have spinning without me having to interfere with the main mind nearly as much. Gwehehehehe. It might not be much, but I’ll take every advantage I can get in this contest for the survival of my family.
The two lines smash together as carapace and mandibles contest against stone and steel. A shield is thrust in my face, and a short sword flickers like a snake tongue, seeking my eyes. Always the eyes with these people! Is my Diamond Carapace so impressive that you’ve just given up on ever breaking through?
With my antennae still functioning and my reflexes primed and ready, I’m able to make small adjustments of my legs, shifting my head by a few centimetres in order to deflect each attempt.
Get out of here, punk!
Firing my legs in a Dash, I surge with my head tilted to one side, using my ‘shoulder’ to smash into them with extra speed. The new muscle augmentation isn’t just useful for my mandibles. I’ve found that if I set my legs before a Dash, I can snap out with more power and acceleration. Which is certainly handy! Faced with my bulk, the soldier has little choice but to give ground as I crunch him back into his own ranks. They brace together to absorb the impact, but I’ve gotten the bit of breathing space I wanted.