Archmage Abomination
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Chapter 18: Angry Archmage
🕑 Added 2025-10-19 19:39:22 +0000 UTCArthur's Dissonance was at approximately 450 points. He had 150 points of capacity remaining before he hit his damaged threshold. That was enough for one serious fight if he managed it carefully.
The shaman was already beginning another chant, staff raised, preparing to follow up the attack that had hurt Tao. The figure's body language suggested confidence. The shaman had probably seen Arthur's earlier defensive work throughout the city, where he had used the kind of magic that prioritized efficiency and safety over power and aggression.
This shaman believed Arthur was cautious. Careful. The kind of practitioner who avoided risks.
That assessment was about to become very expensive.
Arthur did not move from his position. Did not adopt a combat stance. Did not raise his hands in obvious preparation. He simply opened his Cadence fully to Attunement, reaching for multiple Harmonics simultaneously without the careful sequence of connection he usually employed.
Bedrock first. Surface Synchronization achieved in perhaps a tenth of a second. The ground beneath the shaman's feet responded to Arthur's will before the figure could react.
Stone spikes erupted upward. Not massive pillars like Arthur had used against the bear-warrior. These were smaller, sharper, faster. A dozen thin spears of rock bursting from the earth in a circle around the shaman's position. Each spike angled inward, creating a cage of stone that closed in less than a heartbeat.
The shaman's eyes widened. The figure tried to dodge but the working was already too far advanced to stop. The chant cut off as the shaman threw himself sideways, staff sweeping in an arc to deflect two of the approaching spikes with channeled external energy.
Arthur's Dissonance climbed to 456 points. Surface Synchronization with Bedrock cost approximately five points normally. With the Flush penalty: six points. Trivial expenditure.
The shaman cleared the stone cage with enhanced speed, landing in a roll twenty feet away. Fast recovery. The figure came up in a defensive crouch, staff held horizontally, already beginning a new chant.
Arthur was already attacking again.
Ember Harmonic this time. Shallow Synchronization. The connection formed while the shaman was still mid-chant. Arthur shaped the technique with brutal efficiency. Not a careful Lance like he'd used against the bear-warrior. Something faster. Something that required less precision.
Fire erupted along the ground between Arthur and the shaman. Not spreading naturally like normal flames. This fire moved with purpose; it turned into a whip of superheated air and burning plasma that lashed forward at the shaman's position.
The shamanic working interrupted again. The figure had to abandon the chant to dodge, throwing up a hasty barrier of external energy. The fire whip struck the barrier and scattered into embers, but the force of impact drove the shaman backward three steps.
Dissonance: 473 points. Shallow Sync with Ember normally cost fifteen points. With penalty: approximately seventeen.
Arthur did not pause. Did not give the shaman time to recover or reposition or complete any working. He was already reaching for Zephyr, achieving Shallow Synchronization as smoothly as breathing.
Wind gathered in front of Arthur. Compressed into invisible blades that hung in the air for just a moment before launching forward in a spread pattern. Five separate cutting edges, each one sharp enough to slice through leather armor, all aimed at different points across the shaman's body.
The shaman's staff moved in a blur. The figure deflected three of the wind blades with sweeping motions, external energy creating small vortexes that disrupted Arthur's technique. But two blades got through. One caught the shaman's left shoulder, cutting through fur and drawing blood. The other sliced across the figure's thigh.
The shaman stumbled. Not badly injured. Not crippled. But hurt. Bleeding. Off-balance.
Dissonance: 490 points. Another seventeen points for Shallow Zephyr. Arthur had spent forty points total across three rapid attacks. The shaman had been forced entirely onto the defensive and was now wounded.
This was the difference between an Archmage and a local practitioner. Arthur had trained for decades in efficient technique execution. His Cadence could shape multiple Harmonics in rapid sequence without the preparation time this world's cultivators seemed to require for their qi techniques. He could layer attacks faster than the shaman could respond.
The shaman seemed to realize the danger. The figure's eyes showed fear now, not confidence. The staff moved in a different pattern. Not defensive. Not trying to counter Arthur's attacks. Retreating.
The shaman turned and ran.
Arthur was already moving. Not physically chasing. He did not need to. Torrent Harmonic came easily to his Attunement. Standard Synchronization this time. More expensive but worth it for the power output.
Moisture condensed from the air in front of the fleeing shaman. Gathered into a mass. Compressed. Then released as a hammering column of water that struck the figure from the side like a physical blow.
The impact lifted the shaman off their feet. The figure flew sideways, hit the ground hard, rolled twice before coming to a stop. The staff clattered away across the stone street.
Dissonance: 530 points. Standard Sync with Torrent cost thirty-five points normally. With the penalty: approximately forty points. Seventy points remaining in his capacity.
The shaman was trying to stand. Slowly. The figure was hurt now. Really hurt. Blood ran down the shoulder and leg from the wind blade cuts. The water hammer had likely cracked ribs. The shamanic energy signature was flickering, the external power connection destabilizing from the physical trauma and concentration loss.
Arthur walked forward. Not rushing. Just steady, measured steps toward the downed practitioner. His expression remained calm, but his eyes were cold. This shaman had attacked a child. Had hurt Tao badly enough that the boy was unconscious against that wall. That required a response.
The shaman seemed to recognize the situation had become desperate. The figure's hands moved to a belt pouch, pulling out something Arthur's Attunement identified as organic. Probably animal parts. Bones or organs preserved for ritual use.
Then the shaman's hands moved to their own body. Sharp nails dug into the shoulder wound, opening it further. Blood flowed freely. The figure's other hand pressed the ritual components into the blood, mixing them, beginning a chant that was different from the earlier workings.
Arthur recognized blood magic when he saw it. Not from personal experience. The Symphonic Spire forbade such techniques for good reason. But the theory was documented. Blood carried life-force. Could be used to fuel techniques beyond a practitioner's normal capacity. The cost was damage to the body and typically long-term health consequences.
This shaman was burning their own vitality to fuel something big.
The chant rose in volume and speed. The blood on the shaman's hand began glowing. Not with qi. Not with Harmonic energy. With that external power the shamans channeled from whatever spirit sources they accessed. The glow intensified rapidly, spreading from the blood up the shaman's arm, across their chest, up to their face.
The shaman's eyes rolled back. Their mouth opened impossibly wide. And from that mouth came something that was not physical but absolutely real to Arthur's Attunement.
A face. Massive. Translucent but visible. It emerged from the shaman's body like smoke given form, growing larger as it manifested. The face was beastfolk in structure. Wolf-featured. Old. Ancient. The eyes were hollow pits but somehow Arthur could feel them looking at him. Judging him.
An ancestor spirit. The shaman had called on their lineage. Had used blood as payment to summon something powerful from whatever afterlife or spirit realm existed in this world.
The face was still growing. Ten feet tall now. Fifteen. Twenty. The translucent form towered over the street, its mouth opening in a silent howl. Arthur could feel the external energy pouring into it from somewhere beyond normal perception. This was not the shaman's power anymore. This was something the shaman had invited in. Something far stronger than the local practitioner could normally command.
The face began descending toward Arthur. Slow but inexorable. The mouth opened wider, large enough to swallow a person whole. Whatever this technique did when it connected, Arthur suspected it would not be pleasant.
His first instinct was a standard defensive response. Deep Synchronization with Bedrock to create a thick stone barrier. But Arthur ran the numbers quickly in his head. Deep Sync would cost seventy points with the Flush penalty. That would put him at 600 exactly, leaving no capacity for anything else. And given the amount of external power flowing into this ancestor spirit, Arthur was not confident a simple stone wall would hold anyway.
He needed a different approach. Something more efficient. Something that targeted the technique's structure rather than trying to overpower it through brute force.
Arthur's mind worked through the problem at speed. The ancestor spirit was not actually here. Not fully manifested in physical reality. It was being channeled through the shaman. The blood ritual had created a connection between the shaman's body and whatever spirit realm the ancestor occupied. That connection was the anchor point. The conduit through which external power flowed to give the spirit form and force in this world.
Break the connection and the spirit would lose its anchor and dissipate.
Or at least, Arthur hoped it would.
