If Percy’s body had felt like a furnace before, it was now closer to a volcano’s magma chamber.
Every inch of his flesh convulsed with each violent heartbeat, small rivulets of blood streaming out of tiny holes in his vessels. His higher grade and the life mana muted the side-effects to an extent. That said, he’d injected himself with a lot of ink, and his body had already been on the verge before. Some of his bones cracked under the strain, his skin painted crimson from head to toe.
If there was one silver lining, the boost to his physique allowed him to better endure the pressure in his channels, making his mana network the only thing to actively benefit from his gamble.
At least, that was the case at first.
But Percy hadn’t used the tattoo for a chance to relax – he’d done it to win. Taking advantage of his higher capacity, he pushed even more mana into his channels, soon hitting his new limit again.
It hurt… so fucking much.
Yet, he didn’t care – he was only getting started. Today, he’d kill that bastard, if it was the last thing he did.
As if responding to his emotions, the teal wisps grew even larger, some faint features appearing on them for the first time since Melodia. Percy didn’t have the mental capacity to examine the faces, but he didn’t miss their shrill cries as they sucked in all the ambient mana around him.
Dancing around and through his soul, they left blazing trails behind them, almost resembling a second set of ribbons. Their paths were curved and seemingly random, spiralling in and out of the maelstrom in his chest. At the same time, the teal ribbons of corporeal mana ignited too, flames of the same colour now burning erratically as they fed into his pure channels.
Just like that, the Dance clicked together with Synchronization in Percy’s mind, yet his Status remained silent, seemingly waiting patiently for something more.
Two teal stars now thrummed in unison inside Percy’s torso, his feet breaking into motion. Dashing atop the dark swamp with unprecedented speed, he left the clawed hands far behind him as all his surroundings turned blurry. His mutated eyes had to work overtime to make out the details as he closed the distance to Acton far faster than ever before.
Seemingly realizing that something was off, the Green-born stopped conserving his strength, pumping mana out with thrice his previous intensity. The blob of sludge swelled, the domain growing even more suffocating as the clawed hands formed faster, trying to cut Percy’s path.
In addition to that, a series of smaller, more insidious constructs formed. Lots of thin snakes shot at Percy through the gaps in the giant digits, trying to stab him full of holes, or perhaps to wrap around his joints.
To counter Acton’s spells, the teal wisps flared toward the scythes on their own, igniting their curved edges. The weapons now spun faster, drawing and converting ambient mana to fuel their own enchantments. Repairing and duplicating themselves, they fought against the Green-born’s attack.
And with that, the Dance clicked together with the Infinite Harvest too, but Phoebe’s Decree had nothing to say about it.
In mere seconds, Percy found himself at a spot right above his opponent, dancing between the colossal hands and the twisting snakes as he hurled his constructs at Acton by the dozens.
The Holy Child wasn’t done yet, however.
Clearly realizing he had to change tactics, Acton stopped advancing. He focused his efforts on his domain, slowing down the incoming attacks even more, swimming through his mana skilfully to evade the lethal blows.
At the same time, the vast stretches of mud that they had left behind over the past few minutes flowed like rivers towards them, joining the rest of the swamp. What used to be a blob of sludge was quickly turning into a maelstrom – a real one – as the mud swirled around Acton and Percy, rising a hundred metres into the air. More clawed hands formed, shooting at Percy from both above and below.
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Gritting his teeth, Percy focused on defence once more, relying on the short-lived projections afforded to him by the Grim Battlefield to avoid falling into their grasp.
At some point, he missed a step, however.
Not due to any mistake on his part, but simply because his knee finally buckled under his weight, unable to endure the strain any longer.
Percy barely managed to roll out of the way as three hands splashed in quick succession where he’d stood a moment ago. Struggling to climb back to his feet, he realized his muscles and his bones had already reached their limits. ꞦÀNộᛒÊṤ
‘This can’t be it… There has to be more I can do…’
Another hand was about to hit him, three snakes shooting at him from various angles.
Thinking of something in his desperation, he commanded the mana in his channels as he normally did with his scythes, forcefully bypassing his muscles to push his body out of the way. Like a puppet, he darted to the side, his flesh now animated by the willpower in his mana.
Realizing this was a promising way to keep fighting, Percy capitalized on his idea. Every inch of his body was currently saturated with mana – more so than ever before. Relying on it, he dragged his limbs around as if they were his constructs, dancing between Acton’s attacks.
At first, his movements were clumsy, as he wasn’t used to fighting . But it didn’t take him long to notice he could apply the same principles behind his Vengeful Weapons spell to control his body more efficiently. In fact, he could do the same with his armour, pushing his flesh around from inside out!
Partially surrendering control to his mana, he worked alongside it, while drawing whatever strength still lingered in his muscles, flying through the spinning maelstrom of mud even faster. Leveraging the otherworldly assistance of his mana, he stepped, and pivoted and rolled atop the filth in all sorts of unnatural ways, expanding his fighting style in directions he had never even dreamt of before today.
This time, the Infinite Harvest formed a tentative link with the Grim Battlefield in his head, as he understood that his body was really just another weapon, just like his weapons were an extension of his body. Another piece fell into place, bringing the boosting art closer to perfection.
He wasn’t the only one growing stronger, however.
The maelstrom grew larger and larger as the final patches of mud reached them. Percy could tell Acton was improving too, manipulating his constructs with growing finesse. It wasn’t that strange either, if he thought about it. This was quite possibly the first time in the Holy Child’s life that he got driven to a corner. Just like the Green-born had forced Percy past his limits, so had Percy done for him.
Realizing his time was running out, Percy consumed four more of the green leaves on his arm, repairing some of the damage in his body to keep going. The mana interfered with the trollsfury tattoo this time, robbing both of some of their efficacy. Luckily, Percy had grown used to his evolving spell by now – enough to maintain it regardless.
His eyes darted around the battlefield, the projections growing more distinct as he adjusted to his new speed. Below the surface, countless scythes closed into Acton, trying to sink their burning edges into his soul. Above it, Percy evaded one attack after the other – both real and unrealized – his body drifting like a boat amidst a storm, animated by blood and willpower both.
The Green-born wouldn’t go down so easily though.
At some point, he managed to surround Percy with four clawed hands, and just as many snakes. According to the projections afforded to him by the Grim Battlefield, he only had two viable escape routes. He could try to roll through a tiny gap to his left, though a fifth hand would manifest on the other side if he did. Alternatively, he could try jumping vertically, though that wasn’t exactly a safe option either.
Not having time to think deeply about it, he chose the second path.
That was when the blazing ribbons beside him shifted once more. Reacting to his momentary indecision, his mana acted on its own, a teal wisp shooting away by itself. Not in a random direction though. It sank directly into the projection – Percy’s projection – from the future he had just ignored!
Drawing torrents of ambient mana, it expanded, stretching into Percy’s armoured figure, breathing life into the forsaken shadow. Of course, it was little more than a hollow shell – a mere illusion that would crumble at the slightest touch. It wouldn’t take more than a glance to tell it apart from the real Percy either.
But it seemed to have caught Acton by surprise regardless.
In the heat of the moment, the Holy Child ended up splitting his focus into two, manifesting a pair of smaller hands instead, trying to attack both figures. The first clawed at the illusion, phasing through it harmlessly. As for the second, it went after the real Percy, but it was weak enough that he could dispatch it rather easily with a couple of scythes flying nearby.
With that, a fourth and final link was established, this time between the Dance and the Grim Battlefield.
Once more, there was no notification, however. Of course not – as Percy had yet to explore the new spell to his satisfaction! He knew he had barely even tapped into its potential, and his Status seemed to understand that just as well.
Glancing at the silver silhouette inside Acton’s body, his lips curled upwards. It was clearly shaken this time, the flame burning erratically, brimming with fear.