65. Hell Freezes Over

With adds of her own to draw the heat, Serac was finally free to go on the offensive. And she knew exactly how she wanted to open the fight.

[Chamber One: CATHARSIS]

[192!]

The bullet flew across the arena, leaving behind a swirling contrail of Infernal flames. It didn't find a target, but that hadn't been its purpose. All it needed to do was consume as much of the [Ossify] dust as possible. The contrail exploded outward in a chain reaction of fire feeding on particulate fuel. Serac had combined what she'd learned from the Charioteer and Maiden fights, trusting that her [Catharsis] would blast out a large vacuum untouched by the Bone Lord's magic.

It worked. And into this dust-free zone stormed her soldiers, led by her general. The effect, while temporary, helped to slow the Wayfarers' [Ossify] build-up to a crawl. It also served to cripple the Pishacha army who, for all their numbers, still relied on bone dust to enable their spells.

Zacko led the way, masked up with VISAGE's [Dreamer] aspect. Two seconds for Footmen and one second for Archers. That was all the channeling time he needed to Poise-break each individual Pishacha, before leaving them for Serac's [Accursed] soldiers to finish off. He'd already mathed out the Karma exchange and assured Serac that the books still balanced out in his favor. Whether Zacko was right or not, it was a good thing the Pishachas gave out Karma like candy.

The ksshhh-ing Chariots required a bit more finesse. A pair of soldiers to sabotage the Chakra wheels, while Zacko jumped on board and took down the Charioteers themselves. The Manusya buzzed about the arena like a worker bee, using the trips between targets to keep himself Stamina-replete.

Serac was thankful for his effort. For it allowed her [Overburdened] self to camp in the center of the room and act as a Rakshasa turret. She took her time to choose her targets, because A) every squeeze of the trigger was a real drain on her Stamina and B) with so many allies fighting on her side, she wanted to avoid doubling up on the same enemy. Wily Archers who'd stayed back in the fringes. Poise-broken Footmen who'd escaped the [Accursed]'s notice. Those were the kinds of Pishachas ripe for Serac's picking.

An undead blitzkrieg, spearheaded by a laughing punching kicking headbutting Buddha. A six-shooter 'sniper' picking her spots with patience and precision. It was a potent combination.

By the time Serac cycled through two cylinders' worth of Cartridge, there were so many casualties on both sides that it was impossible to tell how much of the whorling dust was Bone and how much of it Soul. Some of her [Accursed] soldiers had gone down swinging (rest in peace), but the Pishacha army too had thinned to a much more manageable size. And that was her cue to turn her attention back onto the Bone Lord and his fluctuant Health pool. Come on, Mr Skelly, let's see how well you optimize your resources!

A dip into RELIQUARY's jar. A giant, skeletal hand once more scattered dust pellets throughout the room, with some shooting to the walls to call down more Pishachas and Chakras, while others reconstituted the ones already on the ground. Serac watched it all happen via her peripheries, with her main vision focused on the big honcho himself.

The opening seconds of the fight had already reduced the Bone Lord's mammoth HP by about a quarter, with neither Wayfarer having had to land a direct hit. This latest 'reassembly' of his army kicked off another round of decrementation, with the hourglass draining faster than it could fill back up. Instinct rather than calculation told Serac that the maneuver would cost the Bone Lord another quarter of Health, to eventually bring him down to half. Then the quickest math she'd ever mathed told her that the books balanced out in her favor.

She had the MP to cast and the HP to tank exactly three more activations of [Catharsis]. If the current pattern were to hold, she should at least win out in a war of attrition. Therefore, the fight proper—the race between two hourglasses—should come down to damaging the Bone Lord on top of his self-inflicted harm.

But Serac also knew her ideal scenario depended on too many 'shoulds'. As such, she wasn't surprised to see that the Realm Immortal already had a mind to break from the pattern.

The Bone Lord stuck both hands into RELIQUARY, then flung them upward in a violent flourish. The whole spire darkened, as its 'sky' filled with a dense sheet of onyx-colored arrows, which then scattered and flew down at speed.

A rainstorm to match [Ossify]'s cloud. It ravaged the battlefield, indiscriminate of friend or foe, piercing the bodies of dueling Pishachas and [Accursed] soldiers alike. And before Serac could fire off a dust-clearing shot of [Catharsis], she was forced to first defend herself.

If she were in a gambling mood, she might have tried to read the flight of the arrows and find a 'safe spot' to stand in. But too much was riding on this second bite at the boss. Serac made the split-Ksana decision to make another resource trade-off—a chunk of her HP for the right to simply stay in the fight. She stuck her left arm into the air, PULVERIZER up, then ducked under its shadow. With her elbow joint freed up, she was able to roll herself into a compact ball.

[35!], [35!], [35!] -> [105!]

Three hits, all mitigated, and no Poise-break. It was about the best outcome Serac could've hoped for. She'd lost some HP but still had enough to follow through with her original plan. She jumped back to her feet to do just that, with REVOLVER already primed on a full cylinder.

[Chamber One: Catharsis]

Stolen novel; please report.

[192!]

The rain of arrows had left the air even thicker with dust. Which, in this case, meant more kindling for Serac's Infernal flames to feed upon. The resultant explosion was even bigger than the first, and her [Accursed] survivors took full advantage, taking to their now one-sided duels with gusto.

Zacko too went right back to target-hopping, looking no worse for wear after the change in weather. His movement in turn helped guide the destinations of Serac's unimbued bullets. She emptied the third cylinder into a trail of Poise-broken statues left in the NINEFOLD master's wake.

The Wayfarers were ruthless, and their army resilient. Even after the boss's big burst of AOE damage, the challengers quickly found their footing again, converting their resources into smites at maximum efficiency.

If anything, it was the Bone Lord himself who'd taken a beating. His latest attack had been as 'expensive' as it'd appeared, taking with it a large enough chunk of HP to push past the halfway point. While the Wayfarers sought a way to deal extra damage, their enemy had kindly served up the solution on an onyx platter. From where Serac stood (she hadn't moved an inch since the fight had started), she could conclude that the good guys had 'won' the preceding trade. Now, if they could just win a couple more—

"In days of yore, battles—even large-scale ones—were often decided by individuals rather than armies." The Bone Lord's contrabass suddenly rumbled from above. "A contest between champions, chosen and touted by their peers as the best among them. I now give you leave, Wayfarers, to choose your champions. I, of course, nominate myself!"

The skeletal colossus thrust a fist into RELIQUARY with so much force that it looked as though he might smash the urn to pieces. The ensuing impact gave rise to a high-pitched screech that split ears and rattled the very air. It was an oddly mechanical and almost sterile sound, the likes of which a hell bumpkin like Serac had little reference for. Without seeing or knowing what was happening, she could nevertheless picture it well enough. Piles of Bone—both ancient and new—sawed and ground into fresh dust.

The headache in Serac's right temple flared anew, more urgently than ever. At the same time, a chill raced down her spine, carrying with it a vague yet dire warning of what was about to come. She couldn't know, but she could feel the impending disaster—deep within her own bones.

"Zacko! Get behind me, right now!"

She bellowed at the top of her lungs, which instantly filled with dust. Her bloodshot eyes bulged and her cinnabar face purpled as she fought down a coughing fit. She needed to focus. Trade bodily comfort for the right—nay, the need—to stay in the fight.

Zacko, to his credit, responded with the alacrity the situation demanded. He ducked behind Serac's scrawny frame, as though he too had sensed the need to protect himself. Then, by way of signal, he gave her a tap on the back. As soon as Serac felt the touch, she pointed REVOLVER straight ahead and—

[Chamber One: CATHARSIS]

[192!]

Not a moment too soon.

The mechanical screeching ceased abruptly. In the same Ksana, the storm that raged from and within RELIQUARY all but vanished—condensed into a minuscule, roiling ball of energy—before expanding again to fill the entire spire.

Tremendous waves of [Ossification] exploded from the center, immobilizing in an instant all caught in their paths. The black flames of [Catharsis] went up to meet the waves, but this time, the bone dust that should've been its kindling was too cold to catch fire. Instead, Serac's fire and the Bone Lord's ice spun into each other, producing a vaporous vortex that enveloped the Wayfarers within its freezing heat.

[23!], [19!], [26!], [21!], [24!], [22!] -> [135!]

Six ticks of 'frostburn' damage. It was more HP loss Serac hadn't accounted for. Even with the passive healing from [Lesser Regen], she was now well below the threshold where she could realistically tank another cast of [Catharsis]. Less than ideal, but it'd also allowed her and Zacko to neutralize the worst of the [Ossify] nuke.

Looking around, it was easy to see how badly things could've gone for them. What had been a raging battle only a moment ago had turned into a museum. The room was now chock full of statues, both of the Pishacha and [Accursed] varieties. Many of them had been encased with their weapons still raised mid-swing.

The Bone Lord had frozen the entire arena—including his own army—leaving only himself as its final champion. But then… where was this champion himself?

The first place to look was up, but to no avail. Gone entirely was the skeletal colossus, leaving only the spire's ceiling to taper toward an unseen apex. Serac then looked to the throne, where the limp, sleeping body of Dashi remained suspended in air. Finally, she rotated in place to scan the floor, seeking an onyx shadow amidst the pale-gray diorama.

Nothing. No sign of the Bone Lord anywhere. The only movement came from RELIQUARY, which continued to churn out more bone dust into the air.

"Where is he?" Serac demanded of no one in particular. "He made a big show of nominating himself to decide the battle. So why isn't he here to fight us?"

"Maybe he's hiding?" Zacko suggested, though with a dubious frown. "Trying to wait us out again?"

As much as Serac hated to believe it, the possibility carried weight. The [Ossify] cloud had filled the air again, and the Wayfarers' hourglass had resumed its steady drain. On top of that, Serac could no longer use [Catharsis] to create a dust-free zone.

After all that angry taunting… weren't we supposed to go for each other's jugulars? Is this really how you want to end this, Mr Skelly? Is this how my journey ends?

Serac's feet began to move on their own accord, stumbling about the place aimlessly. All thought of Stamina preservation had gone out the window, replaced by the desperate need to find the gods-damned thing she was supposed to shoot in the face.

"Where are you?" she screamed, wincing at the pain that flared in her right temple. "Show yourself! Come out and—"

"Serac! Watch out!"

She spun toward Zacko's voice, just in time to see the swinging arc of a pale-gray sword. An [Accursed] statue she'd just walked past had come back to life! And the soldier now pointed its blade into its own king.

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