You don't become a powerful beacon of magik amongst a group of inhuman witches without becoming decisively ruthless.
Even after forming the Grand Coven, there were many naive witches who thought that she was an easy mark and, well, they were now crushed into becoming key ingredients in some of the special potions the aerial squadrons were throwing on the island.
But the man before her was different. It was in her blood to sacrifice lives and churn their souls into nourishment for her magik, something that allowed her perspective on the views of humans.
She could see the undue anger washing away the guilt of every time he swung his blade or cast a spell. Nagging in her brain told her of something amiss.
A puzzle waiting to be solved, but the question of the decade sprung into her mind; with all the benefits he was giving the Grand Coven, was it in her best interest to solve this puzzle? Her instincts said yes, but the allure of the trove of treasures he was giving up for his revenge had seeped into her brain. Instinct be damned.
"Hey!" His voice startled her, looking past him to see the utter chaos he had wrought in the room. "Focus up and look-out."
The man then proceeds to use an esoteric form of chantless magik that disemboweled the dead witches into streams of ash and dust. Weirder than that was that he was absorbing it into his body, as if he was gaining power the more he killed them.
She had already known of this ability when he had asked for a hundred corpses, but seeing it in person was more terrifying. She now understood why Aeneas was fearful of the man. She would be too if it were not for the agreement between them and his definitive lust for vengeance.
In fact, if not for her insistence to spare one witch to gather ardent information regarding the following rooms, then she figured none but the two of them would be alive after his battle. It might seem like the man was aggravatingly callous, but the fact was that his battle prowess more than made up because they were outnumbered and outgunned and behind enemy lines.
She removed her eyes from the streams of gray ash flowing into his body and sauntered closer to the spared witch.
"Listen here, deary. My friend over there," she motioned her towards Irwin. "Is not a man of patience or mercy. Unless you can tell us what you know about what is ahead of us, then you will become a fertilizer…just like what he did to your friends."
"P-please, no…" The witch groaned and bowed her head, tears and blood gushing out like rainfall. "I'll tell you everything."
She grinned, clapping her hands as if the witch before her was a puppy doing tricks. "Oh, goody! Dear Irwin, someone's trying to plead for her life over here."
The man rolled his eyes discreetly, but she could still see it. Witches were born to be underhanded and live life with ulterior motives. Frankly, it would behoove her to learn of the fleeting micro-expressions on her underling's faces.
He kneeled down to the withering witch, piercing blue eyes set with a steely gaze. "How many more are inside? How many demons and witches? Do you know how to disable the defenses of the inner island? If so, who else knows about it? And How strong is the High Priestess?"
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Irwin beheaded the witch, grateful for all the information she had brought him.
She had turned into a blubbering mess during the interrogation, but through careful consideration of her stammering and yelping, Irwin had a full picture of what was in store for him in the next room.
According to the witch, there was only a short hall and then one room left on this floor. The hall had four steel golems, all of which activate once someone entered the room without a specific branding within their skin.
Any normal invaders would be discouraged by such abnormal defenses. A singular steel golem alone would put Irwin into a tight spot if he was ambushed by the construct, but the four of them fighting as a team would undoubtedly give him a run for his money.
Unfortunately for the Borrower witches, he was a normal invader. When Charlotte had created that rock golem that helped them escape the compound, it reminded Irwin of Judah Initiative's Golem. Unlike that of a witch's construct, the Initiative's Golem was a living and breathing organism capable of thought and logical decisions. It could defend, attack, or even outwit an opponent without so much as an order from its creator or current master.
As such, when told of the trap in the hall, Irwin quickly invested his concentration on scouring the Consumables section of his Trade Store.
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▪︎Hubris Polygon▪︎
Price: 55 Credits
Type: Consumable; Human
Effect: Releases a gas that invokes a psychosomatic hallucination of its destruction to any True Golems. If inhaled by False Golems, the gas would act as a suppressor to its activation sigil.
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It wasn't until he found an item that deactivates the golems that he returned to listening to her sobbing.
Apparently, the last room had seventeen witches working as either guards or servants for the High Priestess. Five of which were used as a scrying medium for the witches on the battlefield, while the others were either guarding the room or the vault that contained the Borrower Coven's treasures.
That tidbit, however, gave way to a realization that Dagon's genuine treasure was never kept within the temple. He had expected it, of course, but it was still a drag, as that would mean he needed to defeat Dagon before trading them away.
"Three squadrons are not reporting back, Irwin." Olivette said with a worried tone.
"The demons are fighting back." He remarked with a light chuckle.
She glared at him and spit out admonishment with venom in her tongue. "Is this amusing to you? My Coven is being slaughtered out there and–"
"They're inconsequential." He interrupted. "The treasures inside of that room are worth more than three squadrons a hundred fold. So, shut the fuck up and just move."
Irwin walked towards the ornate double doors that led to the hall, placing his back against the wall as he slowly turned the handles and led the door ajar. Within his obscured vision was a hulking lug of metal with gilded lines along its length.
Irwin reckoned that it was at least ten-foot tall. A single Pagan rune was etched into the lug's supposed head, while its legs and arms ran interconnected sigils that converged into its torso.
Like Charlotte's golem, they were made of a mountain of steel. No form nor function were engraved upon the design, save, of course, for its sole function to destroy any living being that it deemed hostile.
Not that they'll be doing anything as Irwin procured a large metal dodecahedron, almost twice the size of his hands. He tossed it between the gap of the opened door and quickly closed it.
A sibilant hiss echoed from within before a dull pop rang out, then a few seconds of a more pronounced hiss. Smoke began slithering under and over the frames of the door for a few moments before Irwin heard a dull thud and another and another and a final thud.
Irwin pushed open the door, causing the compressed smoke to billow out towards their room. Irwin channeled his magical energy along his body and released a wave of energy so he can see their path forward.
It was a long and tight hallway with each indentation on each door frame that housed the inactive golems. The sides of the dodecahedron were now full of holes, the mechanism in which it produced that thick of a smoke were beyond Irwin as of yet. Not that he was looking for an answer, merely lightly contemplating as to how such a fairly small object contained that much content.
Olivette followed after him, humming along like she wanted to say something but did not. At least for a while.
"Don't you think this has been a bit easy? You're not even mildly injured." She remarked. Trouble brewing was brewing in her eyes.
'Easy for you to say,' he thought, 'My Stamina and Magik Reserve's barely fifty percent.'
"Well, lucky for you, this room's gonna be harder." He replied, motioning for her to take a look.
Olivette inched closer, brows quizzical of the man's actions. As she neared the door, she could not help but question him, "What is it that you're–"
Irwin vanished for a split second before appearing behind her with his left leg up in the air. With one swift kick, he pushed her into the door and sent her body flying into the room.
Olivette, for all her posturing earlier, was quick to steady herself, anger slowly morphing her aged face. But before she could do or say anything, a dozen or so bolts of magical energy soared into the air and targeted her.
The destruction wrought by the dozen spells caused a cloud of smoke to permeate a few feet out of its initial target.
Unfortunately for them, Irwin does not need sight to know where his targets are.
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[Class 2 Creature]
[Class 2 Monstrosity]
[Class 2 Creature]
[Class 1 Monstrosity]
[Class 3 Creature]
[Class 2 Creature]
…
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A dozen messages of the same vein as his system appeared on his retina, reminding him of where his enemies were and where they were going.
The movement of his feet cracked the floor beneath him as he rushed forwards, blade in one hand and a flaming whip in another.
He emerged from the dust cloud with a swing of his blade, tearing off a nearby witch's arm. He changed his grip on the blade and pierced the witch through her ear, wiggling it around in case that didn't do the trick.
He ducked low and rolled to the left when he sensed an impending attack. A second later, a dozen bone spikes protruded from the floor which he stood earlier and launched marble in the immediate surrounding.
With the witches now on his tail, Irwin scurried forward and attacked the monster he saw earlier. It was a Strigoi, like the clan he had decimated a few months ago. He sent his whip after the monster before it could disappear on him, controlling the spiked cracker to pierce the monster's throat.
The flames quickly burned her body, but not before Irwin used her to propel himself forward, evading yet another onslaught of spells.
'Do they not run out of reserves!'
An explosion from further inwards caught Irwin in surprise, more so when Olivette's form broke through the quickly dissipating cloud of dust.
Irwin's grin grew wider. Of course, she would survive. He would have been sorely disappointed if she had not.
Irwin yelled from the other side of the room. "Olivette, you're alive. Great news!"
The High Priestess of the Grand Coven turned her glare towards Irwin. "YOU SON OF A BITCH!"