Sna felt useless. Her expressionless face was hard to read, but a keen observer might have caught the slight droop of her left lip corner, betraying a hint of frustration.
Hovering in the air by sheer force of will, the Tier 4 had shed her humanoid appearance to reveal a serpentine body covered in scales and supported by a pair of bat-like wings. Looking at her, it was obvious she was different from the rest of her tribe.
Born a serpent, Sna had been captured nearly a millennium ago by a Snahert shaman. The man had raised her for her unique venom, guiding her to Tier 3. After centuries of struggle, she had finally succeeded in altering her physical form. They had then produced offspring to see if her unique trait was hereditary. It wasn’t.
Centuries later, when their father died, her children had convinced her to stay with the tribe. She had agreed to beco the new shaman of the Snaherts, in part to have easier access to ingredients for longevity elixirs. Without rare spiritual dicine, the soul of a Tier 4 began to collapse after a thousand years, and Sna wasn’t ready to die.
That was why she was here today. She and the other crafters were part of this raid, hoping to find more fragnts of an internal world’s fulcrum. After all, nothing extended one’s lifespan like a Tier up.
So far, her efforts were disappointing. No matter how hard she pushed her Concept, Excess couldn't penetrate the Fallen's defenses. Three hundred ters below, the black do of the Divine Kingdom rippled as a rabhorn erged. The Tier 3 creature leaped forward, breaking the sound barrier as it tried to escape the cataclysmic battle raging in the Fallen’s lair.
Sna flexed her Concept, shifting the concentration of carbon monoxide near the horned rabbit to one hundred percent. The lethal gas replaced the oxygen in its blood, causing it to lose consciousness within seconds. The higher a creature’s physical attributes, the more energy its tabolism required to move.
A few seconds later, the Tier 3’s heart stopped. At no point had it detected her presence. There was only one Tier’s difference between Tier 3 and Tier 4, but the chasm between low and mid Tiers was vast. Even a crafter like her could terrorize a fighter.
Yet all this power still wasn’t enough to breach the Fallen’s defenses. No matter how much Excess altered the air’s composition to create explosions, the do showed no signs of weakening. Frustrated, Sna let her anger erupt. In an instant, the concentration of the most toxic molecules in the ground and air spiked. A heartbeat later, there wasn’t a living plant for kiloters.
The violent emotion of a Tier 4 had just ravaged millions of trees, turning an entire valley into a wasteland. Such was the horror of the mid Tiers.
“An excess of frustration? I expected better from a colleague,” Mama Apo grunted as she levitated toward Sna.
“Our Concepts change us as we approach Unity,” Sna replied flatly.
“Civilized people fight those changes. I guess, deep down, you're still a beast.”
Sna ignored the jab. The hatred between the Snaherts and the Gaeserts ran deep. “Do you have any idea how to pierce these defenses?”
Below them, the ink-black do marked the boundary between the Fallen’s Divine Kingdom and Elysium. The crafters’ role was to shatter it, stripping the enemy of their ho-field advantage. The four fighters had chosen to dive inside, realizing brute force wouldn’t be enough.
Mama Apo thought for a mont before summoning a snake-shaped scepter. “See if you can corrupt the dinsional veil with this.”
Intrigued, Sna took the staff, deciphered the complex ritual within, and began channeling its power. The ophidian eyes etched onto the weapon spat two drops of venom at the pseudo Divine Kingdom. Ten ters before contact, a white barrier appeared, blocking the poison. The reaction ant the venom would be effective... if it could reach the do.
“The Fallen must have spent decades charging their defenses,” she said after summoning a dozen more drops of venom, which splashed uselessly against the barrier. “Given the strength of these protections, the inside of the Divine Kingdom must be filled with traps. This raid is turning into a siege; it’s ti to cut our losses.”
“Not necessarily,” Gryphe interjected as she approached. The specialist in formations, arrays, and rituals was studying the barrier with a focused expression. “I’m pretty sure I can hack this, give a few minutes.”
“... You’ve got ten minutes before I call back Braato,” Mama Apo declared. “Leaving my tribe unsupervised for too long is a recipe for disaster.”
Ignoring Gryphe’s grumble, Sna watched the massive hole the fighters had carved at the start of the assault. They had been engaged for twenty minutes now, and the whole island trembled under their blows. Even for her, getting too close to the fight would turn her into mush. I just hope Ophis can find an opening...
A wave of corruption jolted Sna’s animal instincts awake. Alerted, the three shamans turned to the horizon. A true titan, fifty ters tall, was making its way toward them, crushing everything in its path. Its presence was so vile that it distorted the ambient aether, cutting off all long-distance communication.
The three crafters backed off to a safe distance, fully aware they stood no chance against a fighter. The titan stopped at the edge of the pit. On its shoulder, a young man reeking of corruption looked in their direction. Sna hesitated to act before holding back; necromantic creatures were particularly resistant to poisons.
After ten seconds of tense standoff, the undead turned away, and the titan leaped. A dozen barriers appeared to stop it, but they all shattered on contact.
The tremors ceased for a second before resuming with even greater intensity.
“This is our chance,” Gryphe said.
Sna raised the scepter and began crafting dinsional poison.
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