Once Michael was done with his healing rounds he went back to his tent to collapse for a little while. He fell asleep partially armored and if it hadn’t been for his recovery he would’ve been incredibly sore the next morning. He awoke in the dead of the night and drained his canteen before crawling out of his tent. There were still a few Cantalian’s milling about, but everyone in Gemini seemed to be sleeping aside from a few that were posted to keep watch.
Devahn had already put away the food for the night and Michael didn’t want to wake him so he dug through his pack for something to snack on, grabbing his small hand mirror as he did so. He summoned a small orb of light so that he could properly look at it and then he began to divine himself in the mirror’s reflection. Nᴇw novel chapters are publɪshed on NoveI~Fire.net
Michael took note of the changes. The change to his blessing made sense given what he’d done for Pyotr only hours before. His healing now included the ability to remove poison. He hoped that it would cover disease as well. Unfortunately, he was certain he’d have the chance to test that soon enough. Military encampments weren’t exactly the healthiest places, after all. He focused more closely on his new title.
Michael squeezed his hand. All of his strength based boosts were deed based so he could feel the minor boost to his strength very clearly. Durand may only give strength with his title, but it was a good boost and one that shored up a lot of Michael’s weaknesses. That was not to mention the fact that he’d removed whatever limit the other gods had placed on his ability to use Smite. He still didn’t know that he should be using it too freely, but it was the strongest offensive tool in his arsenal and having it freed up provided him tremendous value.
He looked through his other Champion titles to see if there had been any other changes.
The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.
He smiled and took a few moments to thank each of the gods, even the ones that had not yet granted him any improvements. He was a bit surprised that he hadn’t received any improvements from Nykas beyond his initial title, but he was
He turned his attention to his mace and focused on it. The flickers of golden lettering that had been on it in the past had solidified into words that slowly manifested until he was able to read them.
This weapon can change forms to be what it once was and what it has become
Michael frowned at the title and grasped the mace firmly in his hand. He concentrated on it for a moment, touching the spark of the divine within it, and watched as the metal of it elongated and remolded until it was a shortsword. He recognized the style of it as the same Stent shortsword he’d trained and practiced with, the same one that had been reforged into the thick sword he’d used until the metal was reforged again into a mace. It seemed that the metal remembered what it had once been. He smiled, new form, but the same soul. Now wasn’t that familiar?
He gave the sword a few swings, finding that it felt like exactly what he’d trained with and wielded back in Stent. He changed it back to a mace and was glad that it had the same shape as before as well. He did this back and forth a few more times, and found that the transition was easy. He’d already kept a sword on his belt as a backup and frequently used it against more lightly armored opponents, but now he had one that had the durability of a titled item and could shift into a mace as needed. Somehow the sword also felt lighter, even accounting for the change in how the metal was balanced. He wondered what happened to the excess mass, but decided that would be a question for the rhetorical physicist taker he might meet someday.
He shifted it back to a mace, deciding that was the shape he preferred for it overall. He’d trained with a sword for longer, but there was something about the power one could put out when swinging a mace full force that suited him. It also suited his more simplistic fighting style better overall, but now that he had the option to switch things up, maybe that would help to shore that up a bit. The extending of the mace into the blade to give him slightly more reach on a swing could be a tremendous help in most fights.
Michael took a breath and decided to go back to his tent until everyone else woke back up for breakfast. Now that his stomach was full and his thirst quenched he was able to fall back asleep until morning.
“Get up everyone! We need to move!”
Michael shot up in his tent and quickly grabbed his weapons and popped on his armor, tightening it before he secured his helmet and rushed out of his tent.
The camp was a flurry of activity as everyone quickly retrieved their arms and armor. Michael saw Marcus slinging his rifle over his shoulder. He seemed the most prepared of all of them, with his armor already secured.
“What’s going on?” asked Michael.
“Burndun troops are heading straight for the camp. They’ll be here in minutes.” He spoke calmly as he checked the sights on his rifle before grabbing another of them and slinging it over his shoulder as well.
Davi, Pyotr, and Ollie were all out of their tents at this point too. They’d only been a moment behind Michael.
“How?” asked Davi, bastard sword already in his hand as he began to look to the north where the enemy would likely be approaching from.
“I don’t know, haven’t exactly had time to figure it out,” replied Marcus before his entire body snapped to face the north as well and he aimed his rifle, firing it up at the trees.
A brown feathered winged dropped from the trees and hit the ground with a thud.
“In the trees!” yelled Marcus to the other Gemini near them.
Ollie summoned a shield above them and as he did so a half dozen rocks slammed into it, fired from slings. He muttered something about swooping season and the next several rocks that hit the shield actually seemed to sink into it for a moment before they all shot out in a cluster and dropped a few more of the winged.
Michael, Davi, and Pyotr were no help against foes in the trees, and so turned their attention to the forest ahead of them. To make sure they could react to any other threats that were approaching.
“Everyone, fall back slow and steady. The Cantalians are the experts on this kind of thing, just keep yourselves alive!” Yelled Finn.
They all started to move quickly, abandoning their tents, but not their packs as they began to fall back through the swamp. This area wasn’t as swampy as southern Cantalia had been, and a number of planks and bridges had been erected to allow them to cross over the more treacherous areas quickly.
As they fell back though, the sounds of a larger approaching force began to grow, and they caught glimpses of armor, spears, and shields through the trees.
The Cantalians showed why the Burndan forces hadn’t broken through the swamps. They quickly formed into small groups. They would move forward lightning quick through the swamp toward the enemy force. Michael would hear the screams of people who’d been poisoned or hurt, and then the Cantlian forces would scatter and reform further back. They even dismantled some of the basic infrastructure they’d built such as small bridges and wooden platforms to help them move as they fell back, making it harder for the enemy to catch up.
In spite of that though, the Burndan forces were somehow gaining on them. It was quickly becoming clear that they’d need to fight.