Chapter Ten: Dreadspawn, Part Five
What the monster lacked in agility it made up for with its sheer size.
Even as Shirley returned to camp, her body lightened by the Alteration Shirou had bestowed upon her sword, she could still hear the monster descending upon them by the snapping of trees. If she had bothered to turn around, she would see it past the canopy of leaves.
Far behind her, the yoma's tendrils surged at Shirou like a bed of constrictors. Each time his greatsword cut off the heads, another set of tendrils would engage him while the wounded ones retreated out of range to regenerate. The tendrils circled his position, cutting off his retreat into the forest, and piled high into a barrier of flesh. One particularly brave appendage lashed out for his arm, only to be cut off with a flick of Shirou's weapon. With a grunt, Shirou reinforced his arms and cut apart the barrier with a single swing. He escaped through the breach before more tendrils closed it. The monster screeched in anger.
Other appendages reached for him even as he disappeared into the forest. He cut off the closest ones before running. They kept up with his speed, and the girth of the yoma made it difficult for him to outrun it―at least, not without reallocating his prana to mobility.
A great oak groaned a tide of unending flesh crashed into it. The tree snapped when the weight of the flesh overwhelmed its elasticity. Shirou cut apart the tree as it toppled in his way him, and was met with a shower of leaves and splinters. A single tendril reached for his forearms through the wood chips and branches as his swing ended.
cutting two speed two
The shape of his greatsword shifted slightly, the fuller thinning and the hilt lengthening.
As his Alteration took hold, Shirou twisted his body, pivoting on his foot and cutting through the tendril with a speed greater than he had a moment ago.
If the monster was surprised by this, it showed in the way its remaining tendrils flooded the rest of the forest, casting a net with its own body to catch its prey. Some tendrils ensnared wild animals from the woods―birds, mice, deer, raccoons―and crushed them before dragging the bodies back to the monster's waiting maw. The yoma's mandibles opened wide and ate the creatures it overcame, its mouth becoming a vertical abyss of teeth, flesh, and saliva.
Avoiding the worst of his attacker's attempts at capturing him, Shirou cut and ran and jumped and dodged. But no matter how many tendrils he managed to cut away or evade, more always came after him.
Regenerative properties extremely high. Numerous limbs. Long reach.
His eyes darted about when he emerged from the other side of the forest, searching for Shirley, his camp, or the direction Sandro stood. He saw instead the yoma's reach by the way the trees fell unnaturally behind him all across the woods.
Need to kill it before it reaches the town. High regeneration overcomes cutting properties in the long term. Either I inflict damage greater than its rate of recovery, or reduce its regenerative abilities to a more manageable level.
His eyes detected the monster's form growing larger with the pulses rippling over its flesh.
Damn it.
cutting two speed two cursed one
Again his greatsword changed, this time the blade growing curved teeth until it became a serrated edge. A dark miasma poured from its steel.
When a tendril pursued him, he cut it. As it retreated as usual, the stub that was once the head of a smaller set of jaws writhed in itself, the flesh unable to reshape. Further down the tendril, a violent shudder took hold of the appendage as a series of dark lines raced down the flesh. Everywhere the lines touched, the flesh would no longer regrow, stagnating under a curse. The pace of the lines spreading down the tendril slowed until it stopped at the base of the creatures arsenal of limbs.
Curse Alteration not potent enough to disable its entire regenerative abilities. Need to negate the rate of its spread.
Taking off, Shirou raced along the treeline, his sword carving the tendrils snaking out of the forest. Each one he cut apart fell beneath the curse of his sword, preventing them from regrowing.
Still, further down the treeline in both directions, more tendrils than he could count shot from the forest to become an ocean of flesh seeking another meal.
Not enough. Holy Alteration does not guarantee the kill.
cutting two speed three cursed three
The blade of the greatsword thinned as Shirou's speed elevated another level. His surroundings began to blur, and the miasma from his sword became a trail of black smoke billowing behind him. The lines his cuts made grew more numerous, even writhing the flesh that he cut until the flesh turned to ash.
Still, the monster's flesh flowed endlessly.
Sharpening his eyesight with Reinforcement showed Shirou that the tendrils were indeed reaching for Sandro. At this time, the town would be sleeping―prime targets for a hungry yoma.
Gritting his teeth, he pushed for more.
cutting five speed five cursed five
The heat of seven circuits burned in his soul. His surroundings became colors, the air became his blade, the darkness pouring from his weapon fused with the night. As he ran, great swathes of the yoma's flesh cracked and hardened into ash. His swings stole the air and used it to extend the length of the blade, the very wind becoming his weapon.
Still, the monster's flesh poured through.
He needed more.
I̸͢͝ ̷̸̴͜͞a͏̸̛m͝ ̧̢̀t̷̷̵h͏̵͡é̡̀͜ ͏̕͘͢b̕͞͠o̶n̢͜͢͡e̵̶ ̴̡͝͝o̵͡f̶͢͠ ̶̀̕m̵̨̧͠y͡ ̷̕͝s̀͜w̧̨͘͝ò͞҉̛r̢͟͡҉d̷̢́͝͝
Clare spotted a lone girl running from the forest in the distance with shocking speed. The forest had come to life with activity, trees toppling, birds flying, the yoma crying. Behind the girl was what seemed to be the yoma's limbs racing after her like gigantic snakes.
The warrior picked up her speed with her yoki, and, with a mighty swing of her weapon, cut through the mess of tendrils pursuing the girl. In the following motion, she picked up the girl by the collar of the girl's tunic and leapt through the air, landing on a hill a ways away from the direction the tendrils moved. She released the girl carelessly, and the girl fell on her behind. Clare twirled her greatsword once, ridding the weapon of the blood and gore that caked the blade, before laying the tip against the ground with the intent to use it soon. Though she kept her eyes on the yoma in the distance, tracking the movements in case the yoma turned its attention to her, Clare addressed the girl with her words.
"What are you doing here so late?" she asked.
The girl fumbled her words through heavy breathing. "Shirou," she finally said coherently. "My teacher. He's still fighting. I think he needs help."
"Your teacher is dead," Clare said simply.
"No, he isn't," the girl answered. A frown touched the girl's face. "He's a Saint."
"Your teacher is dead. He is a human―'Saint' or not, humans cannot fight yoma and survive. Especially not this kind of yoma."
The forest was nearly no longer. Almost all the trees had fallen, toppled over by the yoma's creeping limbs. Slowly but surely, the yoma crept over the remains of the forest, grabbing whatever was in reach and devouring it to sate its hunger.
"Shirou is Rabona's Saint. He has slain monsters like these. He is still alive."
Clare turned a disapproving glare at the girl for a moment. The girl looked as if she believed in her own words. Clare's next words were consciously intoned, as if having said them many times over, to the point where she sounded as if speaking to an infant without an understanding of the world. "If humans could so easily slay yoma, there would be no need for one such as I. Can he find a yoma within a village? Can he do so while it wears the face of another human? Can he do so without hurting anyone else in the village?"
The girl scowled. "Yes. I've seen him do it. He is fighting the yoma now. That is why I am alive. You are a silver-eyed witch. Help him kill it!"
"I don't have time for this," Clare said. "The yoma is headed for the village."
"Where are you going?"
"I will warn the villagers. They will evacuate unless they wish to die a terrible death."
"No!" The girl pulled Clare's arm. "Even if they listen to you, they will have nowhere to run. The yoma is too fast for them to escape. The only reason I could stay alive was because of the sword and dagger Shirou blessed."
Clare looked curious. "Blessed?"
"Here, look!" Shirley offered Clare her shortsword.
Clare received it. She felt the change in her body in an instant; her body felt lighter even without yoki coursing through her body. It changed to such a drastic degree that the warrior was sure she would topple from a soft breeze. "Amazing. A blessing, you said?" Clare asked as she studied the blade in the moonlight. "Your teacher did this?"
"Yes! He blesses swords and gives them power. He's fighting the yoma right now, I'm sure of it!"
Silver eyes rose to the creature in the distance. "Perhaps I can help; however, I will need to borrow this. You should leave this area in case the yoma comes this way."
The girl nodded solemnly. "I will do my best."
The girl ran, her legs carrying her slowly across the grasslands towards Sandro. Compared to the speed the girl possessed before, the pace she moved in now was like a snail's pace. Clare marveled at the potential of the effects the 'blessing' granted to the sword. She infused her legs with yoki and held the shortsword she borrowed from the girl low as to avoid cutting herself. She ran, and―for a moment―she felt as if she were the wind itself. More than that; her boots barely touched the ground with every stride before she continued on, as if she were flying low over the ground. The long-lost luster of such a novelty returned, and Clare basked in the sensation of her newfound speed even as the forest of tendrils drew near.
Then, sliding the borrowed shortsword beneath her belt, Clare drew her sword and entered the fray.
Sensing her approach, tendrils surged forth to meet her. Her yoki flowed into her arms to strengthen her swings. Thus the attack that met the tendrils severed them entirely from the body.
She didn't look back to see the regenerating tendrils. Her experience with yoma refined sharp instincts in her, and those instincts told her to march onwards. The tendrils were distractions from the vulnerable parts of the yoma: the head and the heart. With her abilities alone, confronting the yoma behind the forest of tendrils would have been suicide.
With the 'blessed' sword in her possession, it was just slightly less so.
Both soaring and running, Clare wove herself in between the tendrils, her eyes closed and brows furrowed in concentration.
Closing her eyes helped her see the things she couldn't see just yet. It was the yoki in herself as well as the yoki in her surroundings. Yoki―the internal energy that empowered the yoma and instilled violent cravings―saturated the air around her. Imperfect as the technique was, shutting her eyes to force her senses to detect motion based on yoki concentrations in the air was what allowed her to navigate through the forest of tendrils without dying.
Her sword reacted to the changes of yoki in the air reflexively, deflecting and cutting whatever she couldn't avoid herself. All around her the tendrils tried to skewer her, and by a hair's breadth she evaded them in the darkness of sightlessness.
When it became evident that holding off the tendrils was a fruitless endeavor, he made a choice: retreat and consider a second plan, or press forward and eliminate the enemy before it could potentially harm anyone.
His decision spoke much about his beliefs.
Shirou weathered the endless flood of tendrils with a sword in each hand. As the swords moved, the tendrils turned to ash, and he would find a frame of opportunity to push onwards. Within him, his connection to a distant Grail fed his diminishing supply of prana with more. And the very space about him produced more swords, each the same as the ones in his hands, spewing a miasma that turned the tendrils into ash.
The yoma couldn't touch him. A storm of its limbs tried to penetrate the vortex of steel and miasma that surrounded Shirou, but it was like fighting an alien force of nature.
Futile and incomprehensible.
He was near the root of the tendrils, at the base of the gigantic yoma's body. His proximity and threat brought him the full might of the yoma's assault; the tendrils attacking him blotted the sky over him. Steel and darkness were his weapons, but they came with a cost; the circuits thrumming with power in his soul burned as he used his power.
Two-hundred and seventy units of prana spread over twenty-seven circuits.
A single blade took him one unit of prana to create, and increasing units to alter. As such, his weapons took him sixty-one units of prana of manufacture each.
Mathematically, Shirou was already well over his limits. Only the generous trickle of prana he received from his bond with the Grail kept him upright. Still, the effect was like holding a roaring fire within his body. As the sweat beading his forehead fell down his face, he summoned all his strength to overcome the growing ferocity of the yoma's assault. The swords floating around him changed, losing their potency as their outlandish designs became more modest. In exchange, the air rippled, and steel poured forth in number to meet the yoma's tendrils.
Steel met flesh, and flesh turned into ashes.
With a screech, the yoma shuddered as its tendrils vanished into dust. Gritting his teeth, Shirou pressed forward with his two swords at hand.
What happened afterwards took but a heartbeat.
A barb the size of a small truck extruded from the yoma's towering body. It propelled itself through the air at Shirou like a missile, faster than the body could react. The touch of the miasma surrounding Shirou corroded the missile, but not quickly enough to reduce it entirely. The defense he had built of steel and curses was punctured immediately by the sheer size of the projectile, and then it closed the distance towards him.
A silver blur rushed out from the ruined forest where much of the yoma's remaining tendrils still wreaked havoc.
Penetrating the miasma with the same ease as the barb had, Shirou found himself being carried away from the path of the projectile. He was deposited with haste on the ground.
A pair of golden eyes shifting into grey met silver.
It took a moment for him to comprehend who he was seeing. She was not a ghost of his past; her eyes were different, as was her build. It was hard for him to shake off the illusion of her image, but he did.
"You are that Saint the girl spoke of, correct?" the stranger said.
One of the witches?
As mindless as the yoma seemed, it had no intention of letting its enemies rest. Its body produced more barbs. It fired.
explosive two homing one
Swords emerged from the air around him, flying like bullets at the incoming missiles. The swords exploded as they intercepted the barbs. Quickly, the sheer number of swords he produced overwhelmed the yoma's own firing rate, and the explosions cut a deep gash into the monster's side.
If the witch was surprised, she didn't express it. Instead, she headed towards the yoma in that blur of silver, and her sword plunged into the yoma's side.
Then she ran. Up.
A second gash opened up the side of the monster.
With an earsplitting scream, the yoma shook violently, dislodging the witch racing up its body. The witch flipped gracefully in the air as she fell onto her feet.
And as Saint and witch stood united against their foe, a small ripple spread.
a/n: Somehow I got this done even with my (first) part-time job and my classes starting. I know all of you have been waiting for Clare and Shirou to meet since the very beginning. I can't promise that it'll be as 'epic' as you would like, but at the very least I'll do my best to make it interesting.