Percy chased Acton, though he had trouble catching up.
He was confident he would have killed him already if they had merely run on level ground. However, the Holy Child wasn’t that dumb, apparently, having recognized the threat he posed. Constantly expelling colossal amounts of mana from his body, the Green-born allowed it to mix with his domain, hiding himself inside an ever-expanding blob of mud. Like that, he put more and more distance from Percy, shielding himself from the attacks.
The storm of spinning scythes flew toward Acton from every direction, the man’s soul still visible beneath the sea of filth. Sadly, Percy had a hard time pinning him down. The fused mana had no issue phasing through the mud, yet it couldn’t ignore the domain embedded in the moving swamp. Every inch they travelled, the Harvesters slowed down, barely even budging by the time they neared their target. Meanwhile, the Holy Child swam through his mana like a fish in water, dodging the sluggish attacks with practiced ease.
As much as it pained Percy to admit it, this was the correct way to deal with him. After all, Acton was “only” two grades above him. For anyone else, this would have already been an insurmountable gulf, but he had already bridged a similar gap multiple times before, against the likes of Rambert and Jason. And he’d done that even before his recent power-ups.
The one advantage Acton had was his domain. But that was a huge thing, elevating Blues to a whole other level. The easiest way for the Holy Child to win was to weaponize it, using it to sap Percy’s strength and augment his own. For that to work, he had to essentially set up his own private battleground, and force Percy to fight inside it for a prolonged period of time.
It appeared that he had realized it too, no longer the naïve child he’d once been. Acton should be in his thirties right now, having caught up with Percy due to his head-start in the Valley. Perhaps he didn’t have as much combat experience, since the beasts here had never posed as much of a challenge for him, but he clearly possessed at least a basic grasp on strategy.
It had barely been a couple minutes since the two split off from Elaine and the other Blues, yet the Holy Child had already accumulated enough sludge to fill a small lake, without putting even a dent on his reserves. The mud had already expanded far enough to force Percy back, reaching dangerously close to his feet.
Acton was clearly content biding his time in preparation for a strong counterattack, having likely realized the situation was less favourable for Percy.
Sure enough, Percy’s muscles already burned, his flesh and soul torn by his own boosting art as he fought against the Green-born’s domain with everything he had. The pain alone helped him snap out of the mental component, but the effects of the Holy Child’s domain were already tangible. It wasn’t at Galahad’s level, but it was strong enough to slow down his movements, his bones creaking under the pressure.
“It’s you, isn’t it?!” Acton suddenly asked.
Percy would have expected the Green-born’s voice to sound muffled as it passed through dozens of metres of sludge, but that wasn’t the case. It was strangely clear, as if resonating with the omnipresent domain to reach his ears.
“The previous owner of the crow… The one who got in my way before,” the man continued, oblivious to his thoughts. “I admit, I thought about you once or twice over the years, wondering if you’d given up on rescuing your pet after all this time… Evidently, not.”
“To think you’d chase me – Me, of all people! – all the way to this place... I’m not sure whether I should commend your courage or laugh at your stupidity. Do you honestly think you stand a chance?
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The Holy Child’s voice turned colder near the end.
“Even if a little Orange-born rat like you were to beat me… then what? Do you think you’ll be forgiven? For killing a Holy Child? That you’ll be able to hide that bird of yours?! The only reason the Order hasn’t thrown the little freak in a cage yet is because it’s mine!”
Percy felt his blood boil upon hearing the Green-born’s words. Pulling more ambient mana from his surroundings, he saw the teal wisps burn more brightly beside him. They hopped in and out of his soul erratically, filling him with new strength. The ribbons fluttering behind him grew longer, as both sets of channels stretched to their limits, saturating his body with mana.
A fresh wave of agony rippled through him, but he welcomed it, using it as another tool to resist the suffocating domain. The colour of his fused mana snaked a little closer to his cores, stopping just outside the silver and cyan stars thrumming in his sternum and abdomen.
‘I have to take a risk. I can’t let him keep building up mana.’
Deciding to take a gamble, he leapt on top of the rolling blob. His feet exploded with power as he shot forward, each splotching step leaving behind a short-lived crater in the mud as he tried his best not to sink. Staying atop the viscous sludge took less effort than the Mirror Lake’s surface, but this wasn’t a neutral battleground in the slightest.
The swamp shifted beneath his feet, constantly trying to knock him off balance. Colossal waves shaped like clawed hands rose from every direction, slapping down at him violently. Whenever his steps slowed for even a moment, the mud parted beneath his boots, trying to drag him down into its dark depths. Even worse, the domain grew stronger the closer he got to its source, the Blue mana amplifying its effects further.
Perhaps in an attempt to distract him, or maybe because he simply enjoyed hearing his own voice, the Holy Child spoke again.
“Well? Do you not understand that the bird is better off ? Once I become a god, I might even find a way to keep it by my side. It might be alive for eons after your bones have turned to dust!”
Carefully scanning the tumultuous currents of sludge, Percy started seeing projections of the clawed hands a mere fraction of a second before they manifested. It wasn’t much, but it gave him more room to evade them, letting him catch his breath a little. At the same time, he adjusted to his sluggish movements somewhat, slowly beginning to advance towards the centre of the blob, like a moth guided to the silver flame of Acton’s soul.
Settling into a rhythm, he finally got the chance to respond to his opponent’s taunts.
Seeing that there was no point in attacking Acton until he got closer, he retracted whatever was left of his scythes, breaking them into pieces and pumping mana into the enchantments to increase their numbers again.
More clawed hands rose, each as tall as a tree. They fell at him from all sorts of insidious angles, trying to snuff the life out of him. Every now and then, one came close to succeeding, only for a flock of invisible scythes to spin through it, shredding it into a million pieces.
Like that, a Red-born and a Green-born fought, one doing his best to advance as the other strove to keep him at bay.
Sadly, this wasn’t sustainable for Percy.
His stamina dwindled at a scary rate, the Dance breaking his own body apart from within. Left with no other choice, he gathered some mana to his arm, breaking four of the twelve leaves on his tattoo. A rush of life mana flooded his body, though the effect wasn’t as potent as it used to be. It did alleviate some of his exhaustion, and it even patched some of his wounds up, but it didn’t take long for his skin to tear again, undoing his efforts.
‘I can’t get any closer…’
Percy’s steps slowed down once again, his feet already sinking a couple of inches into the mud each time. By now, his fatigue affected him as much as the domain did, if not more. Worse still, he had yet to close even half the distance to Acton. He wouldn’t be able to attack him .
But what choice did he have?
Should he try to escape? Wait for Elaine to win her own battle? But what if she needed his help for that? Would Acton even let him get away?
No. This wasn’t an option. They’d fought for so long to create this opportunity. He couldn’t afford to squander it. Micky had spent decades in the bastard’s clutches. And it wasn’t the crow’s first time suffering either. He had spent an entire lifetime stuck in a damp cell, before dying a horrific death. This was supposed to be different – his second chance to live a better life!
Was he really destined to endure the same cruel fate again? Before he even got to recover his lost memories?!
‘I’d sooner die than let that happen.’
Gathering mana to his back, he broke the trollsfury tattoo. All of it. His boosting art was already difficult to bear, so straining his body further was ill-advised. But it wouldn’t matter anyway, if things stayed .
His veins bulged as the fire mana burned a path toward his chest. Then, it reached his heart and…
…all hell broke loose.