Vol. 2 Ch. 38: Desperate Struggle

Author's Note:

Recurring characters:

Peter: The protagonist of the story.
Mariah: Peter's Mother.
Avaris: The goddess of healing, agriculture, fertility, growth and compassion. She was depicted as a woman in her 40s with a round, motherly figure, standing solemnly. Her carved face bore gentle lines of wisdom, eyes deep with ancient knowledge. Currently, she is in the body of her mortal vessel, appearing like a 16-year-old girl.

Recap:

The goddess’s eyes—ancient, endless, and calm—met hers.

…

Mariah blinked. When she opened them again, she found Avaris floating directly in front of her. Mariah gasped, stumbling a half-step backwards. Her lips parted, but no sound came out.

Avaris raised her hands and held Mariah’s face, a benevolent smile on her face.

Mariah widened her eyes, her mind going blank.

“Alloweth me to help thee, my child,” the goddess whispered, leaning forward until her forehead touched Mariah’s.

A sudden warmth flooded through her. The goddess’s all-encompassing radiance invaded the darkest corners of her mind. She felt as though something had clicked into place inside her mental domain. As if invisible threads tied into knots had untangled, loosening chains that caged a part of memories that she didn’t have access to before.

The fog that hid decades of her life began to lift. Everything started to return at once. Forgotten faces, places, and moments stirred at the edges of her awareness. With them came the truth—the cold, bitter truth—that the man she loved so dearly isn’t alive anymore. She would never see him again, never hear him speak again.

She heard herself gasp, then the tears came without warning, hot and unrelenting. Her knees weakened, and she would have fallen if not for the goddess’s hands still holding her face. The golden light around Avaris dimmed slightly, softening, as if in compassion for the grief she had just restored. Mariah’s sobs broke the silence, raw and unguarded, the sound carrying across the square.

Avaris did not speak. She simply held Mariah as the tears flowed, her presence soothing Mariah’s nerves.

Mariah smiled, twisted as it might be, with tears flowing constantly like hot wax from her eyes. She found comfort in the strangeness of the situation. To be cradled not by a friend, not by kin, but by someone divine and eternal.

Gradually, Mariah’s sobs eased into softer shivers. She could breathe again, though each breath still felt like inhaling hot magma in her chest. Her vision cleared, and she realised that the goddess’s eyes were fixed toward the slums, a frown on her face.

Then, suddenly, in front of her very eyes, the goddess turned into a lance of light that shot into the sky, climbing into the clouds before falling somewhere into the slums.

…

Peter flew back, hitting a wall with a thud. While Eternal Ward managed to protect him from the fire spell’s destructive power, it couldn’t negate the kinetic force produced during the collision.

He immediately rolled away, just in time to dodge another fire bolt that hit the wall instead of him, decimating it and sending shards in every direction.

The air reeked of burnt timber, the haze of smoke blurring the far end of the corridor where the attack had come from. Even with the mana sense, he had trouble identifying the exact position of the mage.

Still, it wasn’t completely useless. He was able to tell when another spell was about to be fired at him. Peter dived to the side, his hand finally freeing the sword embedded in the spearman’s neck and hid behind a wooden crate. It was just in time to allow him to watch as an invisible shimmer—likely a wind spell—hit the place he had been present earlier, making a sizable hole in the wooden floor.

This is far too passive, Peter decided. He couldn’t keep dodging the spells. He needed to close the gap and bring the fight to the mage.

He increased the mana flowing into Eternal Ward, guiding it to thicken the protective coating around his body. Leaving the temporary safety of the crate, he rushed forward toward the source of spells being fired at him.

Peter moved in a zigzag pattern, his feet pushing against the wooden floor. He maintained a low posture, leaning forward, his hand gripping the sword in an iron grip.

The crate splintered behind him as another spell struck, shards of wood flying chaotically, some even hitting his back, failing to pierce the Ward. Peter didn’t flinch; his focus remained locked on the flicker of mana deeper in the smoke. He pushed forward.

The mage was there, somewhere beyond the ruined doorway at the end of the corridor.

The zigzag closed the distance fast. The moment he caught the faint outline of a figure through the drifting smoke, Peter’s chest tightened with fierce anticipation. He broke into a full sprint, sword low, feet pounding against the wooden floor.

The mage cursed sharply, thrusting a palm toward him. A flare erupted there—hotter, brighter than the fire bolts from before—and shot forward like a dart of molten light.

Peter moved to dodge, but it was far too fast. The plasma slammed into his shoulder, colliding with Eternal Ward and clashing against it before forcing its way through. He had underestimated the destructive capabilities of the mage.

Peter grunted in pain as agony flared, then Spirit of Fortitude surged to dull it, muting the pain to a manageable throb. 

He stumbled, his balance torn away, and crashed face-first onto the floor. The world spun for a breath, the floorboards scraping against his mask. Smoke entered his lungs, forcing him into a fit of coughs before Undying Vitality flooded his body. The bleeding stopped first, then the coughs, before the injury was patched.

“Stand down, you bastard,” The mage said, his jaw clenched. He fired another spell, hitting Peter on the back. It failed to have the earlier effect.

Peter had learned from the experience and thickened the protective coating even more. He rolled to the side, the heat licking at his back.

He pushed himself off the ground, rolling his shoulder to test the healed muscle, his eyes narrowing as he looked at the mage.

He had black hair, shoulder-length and tied in a ponytail. His hands moved constantly, making weird shapes in the air. He was in the middle of mumbling another spell, his eyes containing anger as he stared at his adversary.

Peter shifted his stance, aimed his sword at the middle-aged man and used Inspect on him.

[

Inspect…

Name: Carter

…

Level: 128

Class: Apprentice Mage {Common}, Arcane Savant {Uncommon}

Health: 2760

Mana: 2100

Stats:

Constitution: 138

Spirit: 105

Strength: 15

Agility: 15

Dexterity: 15

Intelligence: 55

Perception: 15

Skills:

Mana Sense, Mana Manipulation, Intent Casting, Spell Casting, Fire Manipulation, Wind Manipulation, Mana Ward, Volt Dart, Fade Presence, Chant Compression

]

Carter flinched, his eyes widening in realisation. “You bastard!” he shouted, thrusting both of his hands out.

A jagged bolt of lightning tore through the air, striking Peter square in the chest due to how close they were. Eternal Ward glowed bright, rippling under the impact, but it held strong.

The jolt rattled Peter deep in his bones, but he remained standing. He burst forward, an angry shout leaving his lips. The gap closed fast, too fast for the mage to prepare another large spell without breaking concentration.

Peter slashed, aiming for the abdomen. A blue shield materialised in mid-air as the blade inched closer to the mage, stopping it from causing any harm to the caster. Peter frowned and increased the mana output to the sword, sharpening its edge further. The blade gained a visible sheen in blue that slowly darkened in intensity.

Carter fired a sharp burst of compressed air at him that exploded on contact with his Eternal Ward, throwing him back and stopping him from breaking his mana shield.

Peter fell upon a wooden chair, its frame breaking under sudden weight. The crash echoed through the room, but he was already rolling back to his feet, shards crunching beneath his boots.

Carter remained in his place, one hand raised, the other tracing sigils in the air as fast as possible.

Peter clenched his teeth in frustration. He lunged, closing the distance again, sword raised high. Another translucent barrier shimmered into existence. His blade slammed into it, the impact sending cracks through the shield, but it held. By now, there was enough mana pouring into the weapon that the glow around the blade turned a deep, electric blue, sparks leaping along its length.

He swung again. A shout escaped his lips, filled with anger and frustration. Peter was determined to carve through before the next spell could—

A roaring crack split the air as the floor between them erupted in flames, the blaze rising upward into a thick wall of fire that devoured the space like a living thing. The sudden heat slapped against Peter’s skin, and even Eternal Ward trembled under the sheer intensity.

He stumbled back a step, eyes narrowing against the glare. The fire hissed and twisted, fed by a constant stream of mana from beyond the barrier. The smoke stung his lungs, forcing him to draw shallow, quick breaths. He couldn’t wait this out; the building was wooden, and every second the flames grew meant less room to manoeuvre.

He wondered if it was a good idea to continue this fight. At the rate the man was throwing fire spells, it would be a surprise if anything was left of the building. Peter shook his head, discarding the thought. Now, he wanted the man dead.

Peter’s blood boiled looking at his face. His grip on the sword tightened until his knuckles whitened. Mana flooded the blade, its blue light flaring like molten steel fresh from the forge. He slashed at the wall—once, twice—the arcs of energy cleaving through the air, but the fire swallowed each blow as if mocking him.

Gritting his teeth, he surged forward, diving into the inferno. Heat scorched his cheek, but he pushed through, using Eternal Ward to shield against licking tongues of the flame.

When he almost made it to the other side, Peter caught sight of Carter’s outline through a brief gap in the blaze. He looked calm and focused, his lips whispering some spell. The sight only stoked the fury twisting in Peter’s chest.

The floor beneath him groaned, boards blackening and curling under the relentless heat. So far, the mage had managed to limit the flames to a specific area, extinguishing them as soon as Peter moved away from them, but for how long that would remain the case, Peter didn’t know. The heat was growing wilder, less controlled, licking higher up the walls and crawling along the ceiling beams. One wrong move, and the entire room could become a furnace.

Before Peter could move to attack the mage again, Carter was done with his spell. Sharp winds howled from both sides, slamming into the wall of fire and whipping it into motion. In an instant, the flames spiralled upward, twisting around Peter in a roaring column of heat and smoke. The air thickened, the swirling currents dragging at his clothes and hair as if trying to pull him off his feet.

The temperature spiked violently. Sweat poured down his face, stinging his eyes, and every breath scorched his throat. Eternal Ward flared into a solid, thick wall under the onslaught, but the heat bled through—slowly, painfully, as if the world itself was leaning in to cook him alive. Spirit of Fortitude and Undying Vitality worked alongside Eternal Ward, trying to keep his discomfort at a minimum.

Peter frowned, struggling to stay on the ground. The flames pressed closer, licking at the barrier, and the wind clawed at him from all sides, making every movement a battle. His mana output climbed even higher, the shield strengthening once more, but he knew he couldn’t just stand here trading endurance with the mage.

They were causing too much commotion. Even if gang reinforcements didn’t arrive, it would surely alert the authorities. He needed to put an end to this as fast as possible.

Left with no other choice, Peter decided to recall Deathknell back.

His shadow expanded, spilling beyond the tornado to cover the entire floor of the room. Waves stirred within it like ripples across an ink-dark pond, spreading in every direction until they lapped against the walls. Then, suddenly, it all rushed towards Peter, covering him in a cocoon of darkness which exploded soon after, revealing his transformed form.

…End of Chapter…
Phew...This chapter was seriously hard to write. I hope it looks good and shows the struggle Peter faced in this fight until now. He was trying to bite more than he could chew.

I hope this is a good lesson for him and he realises that he isn't all that overpowered. Let's see what happens in the next chapter.