122. Free-for-All

  A fire ant flew into the mouth of the abyss, and in so doing, subjected the other ants on the ground to pure chaos.

  A veritable storm of falling prawn legs. And not just legs, for the Frostkrill now writhed and bounced in genuine pain, throwing its immense weight and gargantuan frame behind every convulsion. The ice fragmented some more, new islands drifting farther and farther apart. It left an aquaphobic Rakshasa precious little room to maneuver. Good thing her Manusya partner was quick to lean into their two months of amphibious training, combining [Fan] and [Staff] to ‘steer the ship’. An inanimate iceberg was no substitute for a turtle, but scramblers couldn’t be choosers.

  Other ants in the vicinity weren’t as quick. Or perhaps as lucky. Several more members of the Kronvakt fell victim to megaton punches and gigaton body slams. Clouds of Souldust dispersed into the Interstitium with no one to claim them. What had started as a platoon shrank to barely a squad. Exactly the outcome Team Serac had hoped for, and yet…

  There is another way. And why wouldn’t there be? The slopes of Mount Meru are vast enough to accommodate all walks of life—all manner of Paths to tread.

  Watching Rathor’s antics—some brilliant, others downright horrific—had restimulated Serac’s flip-or-flop response. Which in turn resurrected her earlier misgivings about her team’s chosen tactic. Renate no doubt had the right idea and was taking her approach to the Realmhunt in good faith. After all, the frog woman did win the damn thing ten years ago. Even so, there was more than one way to skin a cat…

  Or, in this case, to barbecue a shrimp.

  The Frostkrill’s throes of pain came to an abrupt end. It then spat out a Yaksha-sized speck. Said speck trailed green flames and black smoke as it shot earthward, before crash-landing in a puff of powdered ice and aerosolized blood.

  Serac took a moment to reassess the situation. The Frostkrill’s jade-green carapace was still intact, as was the analogous coating over its Health bar. But the reddish shade underneath that represented the actual HP had taken a visible and significant deduction. Nearly half the Frostkrill’s Health was gone, just from the one attack that had bypassed its shields.

  As for the hunter responsible, his crash landing looked to be a nasty one. But Serac had no doubt he’d pull through, for more reasons than one. I’m sure Prince Sicko would’ve found a way to ‘sacrifice’ his girlfriend again. This latest thought dripped with plenty of contempt and none of her earlier fascination for Rathor Tyrsen. At least this was one flip she’d never flop on again.

  Yet, despite her newfound contempt for the man, Serac nevertheless took more notes on his fighting prowess. Not only in frank admiration (because there had been plenty to admire), but also in preparation. For one reason or another, she was convinced the knowledge would become relevant in the not-too-distant future.

  But not now. Right now, a giant prawn had half its Health left to burn. Not only that, but the Frostkrill now showed a distinct shift in behavior, presenting new opportunities for a pair of landbound hunters.

  A limb flew down from the sky as the Frostkrill righted itself. Serac hopped off her island and onto solid ground, just in time before the iceberg broke apart into even smaller chunks. She promptly spun around to fire REVOLVER from the hip, catching the prawn leg before it took to the air. A lead spark against a jade-green shield. No damage number. But Serac wasn’t discouraged, now waiting for the next opportunity to test her budding theory.

  “Wrong target!” Coach Renate rebuked from the water. “Rathor did us a favor there, but he won’t get a chance to repeat the same trick. Don’t lose sight of the goal now, not when we’re so close. Not until—”

  “Until what?” Serac snapped at Coach, finally giving into her rebellious side. “Until there’s one of us standing? Until I’ve gotten rid of Hilde, Rathor, and maybe even Zacko, just to make sure I’m the only one that can finish off a shield-less Frostkrill? Because that’s what your ‘tactic’ is leading up to, isn’t it? That’s how King Tyr got his smites… and how you won your Hunt.”

  The water fell silent, sending nary a ripple in response. Serac wanted Renate to know there was no accusation behind her words. She didn’t mean to demean or cut down, but to include and uplift. She merely wanted to find her happy place—and stay there.

  “There’s no arguing with Serac when she’s like this, Bubblegum,” Zacko chimed in then, though his gaze stayed on the potential threats above. “Besides, I think the game itself has changed. Enough to warrant switching up our tactics. See for yourself!”

  The game wasn’t the only thing that had changed. As the sun dipped into the horizon, the Frostkrill’s Zealous-imbued carapace glowed brighter with a jade luminescence. It conveniently served as a new light source for the surviving hunters. But more crucially, it also highlighted the Frostkrill’s volatile state of mind.

  A giant forelimb, one meant for hunting rather than locomotion, flew in from above. It was aimed, not at Rathor the prey-turned-predator, but at Serac the opportunistic scavenger.

  Serac was ready—had all but anticipated it. She dove backward to avoid the intentional attack, all while aiming REVOLVER into the point of impact and firing from midair. Again, no damage. But the shot coincided with the exact Ksana where ABYSSGAZER’s aura dimmed. The effect was brief. The entire carapace quickly lit up again, jade swirling with white, leaving no visual evidence that Serac’s bullet had done anything at all.

  Pathsight, however, couldn’t be fooled. The change was so subtle you would’ve missed it unless you were looking out for it. And Serac indeed had her eyes on the Frostkrill’s Health bar. One tiny piece of the jade coating had chipped off, exposing a sliver of the lurid red underneath.

  “Impossible,” the water murmured, awestruck.

  On the surface, Serac readied to dodge another attack, assuming she’d just volunteered to be the main tank. To her surprise (and, let’s face it, relief!), the Frostkrill’s forelimb changed course and swept across the ice, back toward the still very-much-alive Rathor.

  The prince [True]-zipped out of harm’s way and took to the air, no doubt to resume his tanking duties. But then the Frostkrill changed tack again. Vicious pincers closed in on another Kronvakt member on the far side of the ice. This third hunter, evidently, wasn’t as alert as a Serac or a Rathor—and his Hunt met an untimely end.

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  So it went. The Frostkrill spun and skated on ice, ‘cycling aggro’ with every subsequent move. Each time, ABYSSGAZER too cycled its aura on and off. On when shifting its focus and off when committing to its kill.

  Serac rolled with the changing tides, all while putting two and two together. Rathor’s HP-halving counterattack had touched upon something primitive in the Frostkrill’s core, triggering its fight-or-flight response. ABYSSGAZER’s magic was now less an equilibrium and more a series of wild pendulum swings. A cornered quarry mounting its last and most desperate defense—in the form of naked, reckless aggression.

  “Ha! That’s more like it!”

  Serac took to the mutual tactical shift with gusto. The enemy had finally presented her with a clear avenue to whittle down its defenses. Forget square pegs and round holes. It was time to take a hammer to the box and smash the whole thing to pieces!

  [Auxiliary Technique: THE GRIND]

  Cognizant of the per-Cartridge limitations of REVOLVER, Serac chose to give PULVERIZER its chance to shine. It upped her risk of losing it all, requiring her to stay at melee range even as she sidestepped megaton punches. But it was also the bluntest, crudest tool at her disposal, best-suited to the job of deshelling a shrimp.

  And Team Serac wasn’t alone. Soon enough, the entire ‘alliance’ got on the same page, timing their counterattacks with ABYSSGAZER’s off-switch for maximum effect. Piece by piece and chunk by chunk, the jade coating fell away, revealing more and more of the final objective.

  But the shrimp wouldn’t stay idle while a whole hunting party tried to eat it alive. It was, not for nothing, the BIGGEST, strongest, most perceptive Wildspawn in the land. Its myriad eyes saw and its all-knowing feelers read the location and stance of every hunter, no matter their position on the aggro ladder. The Frostkrill began to mix things up. Leg sweeps and barrel rolls to catch hunters off-guard. More Wayfarers turned to Dust, having lost their chance at glory with the finish line so close.

  And therein lay perhaps the ‘biggest’ problem Team Serac had to contend with. Time.

  The Realmhunt’s finale was nigh, and there was no guarantee it would end with a smite. The alliance lost their firepower with every fallen Hunter. Could they finish deshelling the Frostkrill in time for one of them to deal the smiting blow? Serac needed a prawn-sized injection to her score in order to win the Hunt—and her wager with Rathor. As such, she felt the time pressure more keenly than most… though perhaps not as much as—

  “There’s no time!” Coach Renate shouted her loudest advice yet, waves be damned. “Go back to the original plan and shut off ABYSSGAZER for good! Use the confusion to your advantage!”

  “Nothing confusing about any of this!” Serac clapped back, scanning the jade-lit sky for her next opportunity to strike. “There’s a giant monster, so we hunt as a pack.”

  “You still don’t get it, do you?” Renate croaked at the top of her lungs, a note of pleading edging into her voice. “The rules are there to deceive—to trap the hunters into an inevitable outcome. The Realmhunt isn’t a team sport! Never has been, and never will be!”

  Speaking of team sport…

  Unbeknownst to all on the ice—save perhaps for the Frostkrill itself—a pair of new arrivals had joined the Hunt. They weren’t reconstituted Kronvakt, hustling back to the scene after a miraculously brief pit stop in the Interstitium. Nor were they the royal couple, reneging yet again on their promise to stay neutral.

  No, they were the Tomasen twins. Roots-born sturgeons denied a place in the Kronvakt (and therefore tickets on the back of Gulloyne). They’d spent the last hour following salamander tracks to the final battle—and charging up their magic all the while.

  [COASTER Spell: BUZZER BEATER]

  Lars was ice and Hans lightning. Their combined elemental dynamo zipped across a jade-lit sky, to then smash into the Frostkrill’s neck.

  [FROSTKRILL Status Effect: SNAP FREEZE]

  [FROSTKRILL Status Effect: PARALYSIS]

  The twins must’ve exchanged an ungodly number of passes on their way here. And the result was nothing short of spectacular. The jade coating over the boss’s Health bar disintegrated in an instant. So too did ABYSSGAZER’s aura fade in its entirety, throwing the proceedings into near-total darkness. The attack even proved potent enough to eat into the Frostkrill’s HP proper, halving it a second time.

  Now, the BIG boss was well and truly within one-shot territory, provided any one of the surviving Wayfarers brought the heat. What was more, the combined effects of [Snap Freeze] and [Paralysis] had temporarily turned the giant prawn into a stranded guppy, writhing in place and unable to fight back.

  This was it. The moment of truth. The smiting blow was up for grabs… and the hunting alliance broke down for the last time, proving Renate’s warning prophetic.

  The twins, with initiative on their side, were the first to act. They gripped their OARs anew, ready to uncoil another [Buzzer Beater] (with a much shorter wind-up!). But their effort was foiled by:

  [Auxiliary Technique: TRUEFLIGHT—KALASUTRA]

  A spinning wheel of black-green flames. The physical force of Rathor’s imbued [Flight] knocked both of the sturgeons out of the picture. In their place, the prince himself squared up to the frozen wound on the Frostkrill’s neck, GUNGNIR raised for another throwing mo—

  [THE FIFTH DAO—PAULDRON]

  A NINEFOLD shoulder barge dislodged the would-be smiter. The impact sent Zacko and Rathor tumbling onto the ice, taking both of them out of contention. Which left…

  Whether by uncanny foresight or sheer dumb luck, Serac found herself with a fully loaded cylinder. Zacko had cleared the way, and there was only one thing left for her to do—only one tool for the job.

  [Chamber One: CATHARSIS]

  [235!]

  [99!], [165!], [329!] -> [593!]

  The black flames of Penitence flew true, and a seafaring soul did meet its demise… but it wasn’t the Frostkrill! Hilde the manta-ray woman had spread wide her pectoral fins—bloodied, battered, and mutilated as they were—and thrown herself in front of REVOLVER, thus denying Serac the sure smite.

  What is wrong with you? Serac flashed with genuine anger. Even so, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of remorse—or was it pity?—at the sight of Hilde’s whirling Souldust.

  [19,800 ?]

  It was a lot of Karma, but it wasn’t what Serac needed! And even as she hastened to squeeze the rest of REVOLVER’s cylinder for all they were worth, she sensed it was too late.

  For the prince had risen again, buoyed and fueled by his devotee’s latest act of sacrifice. He fought off Zacko with a dismissive flick of his burning trident, then had the gall to smile at Serac… before squaring up to the Frostkrill to finish what he’d started.

  Yet, somewhere below Serac’s feet, the dark waters rippled, carrying timeworn memories as well as fresh intent.

  multiple underachieving sports teams possibly hamstrung by subpar coaching (depends who you ask), I feel Serac's pain!

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