Things had really slipped through the cracks now.
The threat of a flood was on the horizon.
Maxine could feel herself gaining her edge. Each hacking swing of her sword, violent and swift, was as industrious as a blade clearing thick brush. Eventually, she would overpower the undergrowth to reveal the bright clearing that was her victory. Burn the bridges and the boats, she would have this podium of righteous over him. Just this once.
Then the magic happened.
Her pommel hit some sort of shield instead of skull, and she was sent backwards with a furrowed brow. Her feet scrambled to maintain her balance before she lost it. Her back foot planted. She willed her irritated blade arm to raise her guard.
And then she was hit with something she’d never experienced before.
It was sudden and unforgiving, whatever this burst was Kasoria had summoned despite the range she thought she still had to recover before the next attack. Air left her lungs around the same time her feet left the ground. By the time she had any inkling of the misfortune that just struck her, she hit the hard wall behind her fiercely.
The wince from the crowd at the sound was enough to tell her how bad it looked. It felt much worse, she’d assure them if she remembered they were even there. Pain exploded in her mind. Her rib, she knew, was broken or cracked. Probably more than one. She sucked air where she came to a brutal halt on the ground, and more agony confirmed her suspicions with every breath.
Get. Up.
Instinct was a powerful thing. The survival mindset of someone who was preyed upon and fought their whole life was deeply internalized. She planted a hand on the ground and started to push herself up, gladius shaking as she winced but she started to rise anyways. Even over the wind she could make out his biting reminder. She grit her teeth and tasted iron on her tongue.
I haven’t forgotten, you selfish bastard. I was just wondering when it would show up…
A wheeze came out instead of spiteful words.
Maxine raised her chin to eye the Old Man. He was now what she’d only seen in her dreams before they had found each other again in flesh. Inhuman, devoured by magic, and pulsing with a power that came only with the acceptance of the symbiotic parasite that was the Spark. He had three. The image of himself he presented was that of something she despised more than just about anything else in this world.
The Wind Armor bracelet on her arm came to life, adding an additional shield to give her a minor boon of protection against his next arcane assault. Her chest uncomfortably heaved a couple times while she started to ride the wall up to a stand. As she thought, the fingers of her free hand curled into a tight, knowing fist. It shook but not with exhaustion. She was wounded but that look in her eyes was no less wild.
Maxine stared at the seemingly omnipotent being before her and the hesitation in her mind vanished. She toggled her Stun Gloves on and accepted the price that came with that.
Kasoria was still talking, gibbering some false prophecy of her leadership when she lunged forward with a super-man punch that cut him off with the strike to his chin. Through her grit teeth, her wide eyes could see the moment of surprise and anxiety briefly on his face. It was not a juvenile strike, even at a serpent speed, that had his full attention now. It was the instant, violent severing of his connection to all three of his sparks.
The Band and those of the Delegation that hadn’t run from her ongoing windstorm stared with mouths agape. All that power, all that showing bare of ability and usurping of divine-like presence fit for a god, vanished like the severing of a head from the body beneath a guillotine. Sparks so loud with life and chatter went cold and silent, giving no answer to Kasoria’s calls within himself. It was a very temporary state of arcane impotency that would not last but not one he would soon forget.
Max immediately followed her overhand punch with a pommel to his nose. For this very brief burst of momentum she had him on his heels, his body and mind searching for equilibrium where it was stolen while she stirred herself to violence of action. She placed herself ahead of him on the curve but it was not one meant to last. By now he would feel his Sparks awakening to his word again. Power beyond his mortal talents had returned. She felt the danger. She reacted.
Triplet Twisters the size of a man ripped forward from three different directions outside the warring pair like the windstorm itself had borne them. They moved rapidly, looking to hurl the mage every time one of them found him like a cluster of debris caught in their turbines, swallowing and spitting him out for they cared not what power he boasted.
And then with a yell above her localized storm, Maxine hunted him again with her blade.