Vincent Salvador

Morale was strong, but a dark current swept through the Sixty. A sudden brittleness to their stances when they reached where the Dead Thing had fallen. There was no drop in temperature, but their blood went chilly. It appeared to be just another tunnel junction, but to the heart it felt like a grinning graveyard. Everyone came to full alert as the raid party crossed the threshold. Readied muscles and eyes straining.

Like the junctions that came before, it was dominated by blue fungi. This one had four entrances. One led downward, three upwards. The usual packs of spined Ratsins dined slobbily. Every member of the Sixty cast their eyes over the monsters before glancing at the third upwards tunnel. The path that led to where the Dead Thing began its massacre.

Vincent saw all these things, but he also found the little signs left behind by battle. The scars in the fauna or damaged stone. A little observation and the swordsman was easily able to see the play by play of the whole fight. Not that those signs were necessary for him. He remembered it distinctly. The fight had been weighing on him, as it did to many.

The deaths were regrettable. They weren’t why Vincent was haunted. While he felt terrible to think it, the swordsman saw it as an ultimately good factor in their lives. Death had been made real to the Sixty. Spawning a new seriousness to how they approached monsters. What followed him into his dreams was the swordsman’s part in the fight. A feeling of failure that chased him into the training rooms.

Struggling with the Dead Thing had revealed flaws to himself. It bothered Vincent how little his skills had been effective. How much the swordsman had felt wanting at the end. Sickened that he had been unable to meet the challenge

He had faced the beast at the side of Malachi and Julia. All three had struck the beast in the desperate hope to defeat it before more life’s blood was spilt. Vincent acknowledged the exalted feeling of battling beside his students. A true blue surge of pleasure at seeing his teachings at work. Pleased at watching pupils holding their own against the fatal creature. Yet, it wasn’t the master that ended up slaying the rat. Not even close.

It had been a stark lesson. Vincent’s skill with a sword was so unremarkable that they went unnoticed by the beast. Julia's usage of Mana had been enough to claim the full attention of the Dead Thing. Malachi lost an arm, but ended the foul Ratsin. He mourned the lives lost, but the swordsman dwelled on how to become stronger. Consumed by the drive to rise to the challenge.

He concluded that his usage of Mana had been child’s play. A key weakness it had turned out. His sword skills just weren't enough in this world of Magic. Once realized, the swordsman dedicated the last few days to rectify that deficiency.

Vincent turned to Julia to learn. Asking after painfully putting aside his pride. There was no judgment from the shieldmaiden. His former student tried her best to impart how she flowed with Mana. They practiced forms while the swordsman sank deep inside and searched for the Heartsong. An aspect he had dismissed as mystical nonsense. Until his student and teacher described it as a meeting of two selves. The surface self and deep self. The ego and the true ego.

The search became easier after that.

When he found it, there was a burst of recognition. He knew this song. Had heard it before in moments of stress or great concentration. The swordsman soon only needed to reach out to find it again. Guidance from within was priceless. The Mana now came easier because of the whispered suggestions from the Heartsong.

Walking into the Dying Ground, he was ready to face that wrathful beast again. The old one might have been gone, but Vincent had no doubt there were others to be found. The Sixty looked at the third entrance with trepidation, but the swordsman looked at it with anticipation.

Still, no matter how eager, patience was a necessity. Malachi wouldn’t allow anyone to venture that way until everything else was clear. Vincent was happy to speed things along by volunteering as part of the detachment that would clear out the junction of Ratsins.

The swordsman breathed in and stepped out past the frontliners. He instantly felt better once unburdened by the crowd. A raising of spirits at being able to move freely. Move by the full length of swing and stride. Breathing out, the Mana and Heartsong flowed through him. It only needed to be a murmur in his ears to guide him to the proper flows. Soon he believe it wouldn’t need to be active at all

His sword left the sheath radiating a soft rose color. Mana surged through Vincent’s body in the structure of a Form to boost his abilities. Before he had used slapdash bursts for effect. Now, his usage was true and solid. He called it/the Heartsong called it, Prowl. The opening movement to close with the opponent and take in your surroundings.

Every sense was heightened as the swordsman took in the information from Prowl. He knew his exact location in relation to the rest of the detachment and how precisely the gluttonous rats were arranged. Mana surged, waiting as acolytes and archers prepared to support. This was the calm before a battle. Before a storm of death and doom. Vincent’s blood soared at the thought of the coming clash.

Seeing everyone in position, the swordsman acted first as the tip of the spear. The others were ready to rush in once he began the show. The closest Ratsin looked up when Vincent took his first step into the blue fauna field. Azure ooze squished beneath his feet and the spined beast half choked out a growl through mashed fungi.

Too late, thought Vincent.

He took another step and pounced. Prowl sprung its power. Freeing the energy that had been compressed to allow him to meet the monster in an instant. The meaty rat palms rose in surprise, but his sword was already slashing twice. Rose gashes crossed on the torso of the Ratsin. The light gleamed strongly within the wounds so that they would bleed freely. An actualization of the swordsman’s vision that what he cut, stayed cut.

The rat thing roared in a chorus as other fights rose up in concert with his own. He was comforted that there was support to call on, but determined not to need it. Vincent focused solely on this one as his Form changed to the next step. The word Tempest sang brightly as the new Form coalesced. His world narrowed to the space around the Ratsin and himself. Anything that happened within would be known instantly. Claws and blades slashed through the air.

Rose wounds sprouted across the mass of the Ratsin as Vincent dashed about like the wind. His sword found flesh and the claws were left to miss by inches. Eventually, the monster tried to heal, howling into the air. Acting as a block, the rose Mana resisted the azure healing. Reducing the effect to a minimum so the blood could keep flowing. Soon the beast slowed and the swordsman ended it. Sever, burned brightly in his mind. All of the Mana of the Tempest collapsed completely into the blade. Rose light burning densely. His awareness of the world reverted to normal. Left defenseless with a deadly blade.

The sword swung and passed through the Ratsin. A rose laceration began at the neck before cutting to the hip. The slash hung there before flashing. Two pieces of the monster fell to the ground.

Vincent straightened up to observe his surroundings. Mana flowed while he considered the options. The swordsman wanted to know where to go once Prowl reformed. Splashes of color flashed through the air as spells laid waste to the monsters. Several engagements were ongoing, but his help was unneeded. Elena and Zachariah were bullying their target. A few Ratsin snarled as Julia led several frontliners to suppress that grouping. The Sisters did the same with archers raining down support.

His eyes locked on to two Ratsins attempting to slide around the battlegrounds. Their snuffling noses had caught onto the Mana trails from archers and acolytes. The fighting had attracted rats from the walls as well. This forced more of the Sixty to engage. There was a chance no one else would notice the flanking attack. The two menacing beasts were moving fast. Risky to ignore.

Under the influence of Prowl, Vincent crossed the blue field at a smooth pace. Pushing to quickly cut them off. He considered pouncing again, but knew the distance and timing were out of place for him. He switched to an alternate path of his Forms. Skipping Tempest altogether, the swordsman activated Sever. Still running, he slashed out three times to create a six-point star that trembled in the air before him as he moved. Thrusting into the center launched the rose construct.

A high pitch filled the air as the Mana enhanced slashes sliced through the air. It barreled into the path of the Ratsins. The pair of them took heavy gouges into their sides as it passed between them. Three each. Unlike when Tempest was up, these wounds didn’t no glow with Vincent’s imbued Mana. They were heavy but healable. The monsters crooned in pain as they stumbled over each other. Slipping on their own blood. Delaying themselves as the swordsman hoped. Giving him the time to catch up.

When his Form began to reset, Vincent pushed it into Tempest. He dashed into the middle of the two of them and became a storm. His sword lashed out to deliver more wounds before the two of them could find their feet. They cowered before the onslaught, one scrambling against the stone as if to climb away and the other forced into a scooting retreat into the blue field.

The swordsman lunged and thrust at the fleeing Ratsin. Tempest snapped to Sever and the blade of rose elongated. It drove into the skull of the monster by the strength of both the thrust and instant growth. Sensing the dropping of his defenses to lay the blow, the wall-clawing rat turned vengefully towards Vincent. As it rose up, the rose sword pivoted and was whirled in a circle. The impaled Ratsin’s head broke into chunks and the one behind was cut down.

He looked around and saw that the rest of the fights were over. A quiet had fallen over the junction. That made it all the easier for Vincent to hear the malevolent hissing fill the air. There was more to it than sound, there was a grating saturation to the way it made you feel. The swordsman knew exactly what it was and rushed in that direction.

Most of the Sixty hadn’t noticed yet. Too involved in their finished fights or distracted by the victory. Though, when he stopped away from everyone to stare in the direction of the hiss, he wasn’t alone. Julia and Malachi came to stand next to him. The three of them stared into the gloom as two pricks of red grew larger. Earlier than expected, a Dead Thing made an appearance. Vincent grinned, ready to engage. Before he did, the swordsman looked at Malachi. Waiting for the signal to get started. This wasn’t something to risk fighting alone.

Not that anyone would let me anyways, thought Vincent with a mixture of humor and annoyance.

Malachi looked at Vincent and Julia. His eyes weighed the decision. Nodding to himself or them, their leader took a deep breath. The one-armed man bellowed his orders, “Sixty! Execute Red Wrath, protocol one! Damian, Harken, and Clarissa, support us!”

Vincent sighed with relief. He thought, Excellent, we’ll try a small party first. We could blow it up by pure force, but that won’t always be possible. Of course, I would make that argument because I want to test my blade against this horrible thing.

A little laugh escaped as the swordsman dashed forward at the approaching horror. Malachi frowned and Julia huffed but followed after. He knew they were expecting to wait until support arrived. Apparently, they weren’t aware it already had. A shower of green arrows announced Clarissa and stole first blood. Instead of pure Mana, these were imbued arrows. The spread of fire told Vincent that the redhead was trying to pin the creature. It had little effect. Slowing down the monster for only a moment. The Dead thing tore its flesh to keep moving forward. Absently leaving shreds behind.

Violet light shining in the background marked Damian’s arrival and the recasting of defensive magic marked Harken present. Julia became a shining blue warrior as her Form blazed into life. As they got close to the hissing menace, Malachi raised his sword and roared a single phrase. “Slay it.” A wave of silverish Mana passed through Vincent. He felt warmth fall over his shoulders. His desire to kill the Ratsin throbbed stronger inside him and the swordsman felt empowered by the impulse. As if agreeing with their leader’s decree made him stronger.

Determined to at least be next to attack, the swordsman activated Prowl for a burst. He met the Dead Thing head-on. His rose blade flashed as it struck the monster’s face. The momentum of the blade drove across to the shoulder and his speed took him past it on the right side. The sword tip dragged across the torso, tearing up dried flesh and papery skin. Hissing erupted from the Dead Thing and it shifted to chase after Vincent. That’s when Julia came blazing in. Her dark blue blade exploded upon the exposed left shoulder. She followed the swordsman’s example headed towards the rear. In her wake was the shattered arm of the Ratsin.

The monster turned after Julia as the bones clicked back together. Malachi fell upon it, blade crackling with electricity. There was a roar of thunder and a flash of light. Tendrils of lightning rushed through the Dead Thing, leaving scorched and ignited flesh behind. Their leader leaped back so that they surrounded the Ratsin at three points. Each watched warily as the thing twitched and burned. It grew still and then got back up. Completely unconcerned by the smoke rising from itself, the baleful red eyes studied them. Hateful and considering.

The air grew thick and Vincent felt his blood pumping. Pace quickening. Tensions rose as the three glared at the one. A grin rose from the swordsman, enjoying every moment of this. Even the delicious pain of anticipating the perfect moment to dive in again.

The redhead archer was the one to provide it. A spray of green streaks of Mana passed between Malachi and Julia. They impacted the Dead Thing and threw off its stance. As it hissed in the attack’s direction, Vincent moved. He charged forward, putting all possible force behind the point of his blade. The sword slid home between two ribs and a word bloomed in his mind, Skewer. Rose Mana concentrated at the point before exploding outwards like roots through the soil. Dry flesh parting easily before Mana blades. Several broke through the skin before the swordsman ripped it all free. A shower of brittle bones and mummified meat.

The Ratsin howled murder and a red aura flickered around it. Between the archer and the swordsman, large chucks had been removed from the beast. It crooned to the missing pieces. Calling them back, but Damian denied the effort. Tiny balls of violet energy zipped in. Small explosions where they landed obliterating the undead’s bits. Reconstituting was now out of the question.

As the last one to attack, the Dead Thing turned towards Vincent. He faded back as Julia and Malachi dove into the open. Red eyes flashed and the Ratsin swirled in a ball of thrashing claws. Both of them were cut off-guard. The one-armed man flicked out a half-powered Fire Blast as a distraction. Talons screeched on steel as the shieldmaiden went full defensive with her shield and Mana.

Seeing his companion stuck under an assault, the swordsman dove back in. Angling to come at the rat opposite of Julia. He raised his sword and Tempest, but quick as a snake the beast turned on him. Vincent was trapped in a swarm of claws with only his sword to defend. His Form snapped into Deflect, a defensive style that he wasn’t as practiced at.

Sweating every moment, his Mana empowered blade redirected attacks as he contoured his body to often narrowly miss bleeding. Unable to keep up little nicks and cuts started to add up. Angry red light welling in them. He growled defiantly as the Ratsin hissed like a mad grin. The cavalry came in the form of a giant spear of green light.

You can’t ask for better help, thought Vincent as the long green arrow struck the head of the Dead Thing and planted it into the ground. The stone rumbled under their feet at the collision. Cracks radiated outwards from the impact site. The green projectile continued to persist, keeping the beast pinned. All four dusty claws gripped the stone as it tried to pull free. Tugging hard enough that the neck was likely to snap and leave the creature headless.

Vincent was fairly sure that no one believed that would be as debilitating as normal. Striking the torso may have better results, though the current vision was hilarious enough to cause the swordsman to chuckle with a light heart. Death machine or not, it was a funny sight. Even Julia cracked a smile and Malachi looked like he was trying hard to maintain a serious look.

The sudden flare of red wrath quickly paled the humor of the moment. Gritting their teeth, the three of them all dived in. Their time was limited, hateful flames were corroding the green spur holding it down. His blade surged like a fountain of blades, forming and reforging over and over. Malachi’s sword brimmed with silvery sky blue Mana and a comet of dark blue launched forward with Julia at the center.

A mirror of a past moment, but enhanced. Before they had acted without hope. Only pushing for out of despairing need. This time was wholly different. Their resolve was sharpened deadly. Each was devoted to ending the Dead Thing. Focused entirely on stopping the beast before it could harm anyone.

The shieldmaiden hit first, her shield slamming the Ratsin into Clarrisa’s giant arrow. Eye blazing blue, she swirled like a chainsaw. The tail and legs were instantly removed and much of the hips were ground away.

Their leader’s cloak furled like it was caught in a wind radiating from the bearded man’s sword. It shimmered and commanded attention. A pillar of sparkly blue sky that lit up the cave. With a shout that reverberated in the bones, Malachi stabbed into the monster’s chest cavity. A shockwave tore outwards, ripping meat free from bones and cracking them.

When Vincent approached, the Dead Thing was a broken creature. Yet still scraping by. Always would it struggle to keep going. The beast would keep trying to get free even with an exposed and broken rib cage.

He had approached slowly this time. Allowing the others to hit before him so that his strike would be as strong as possible. The wild jaggedness was gone, the Mana concentrated to just the sword’s edge. The air rumbled around it as the rose energy ruptured the space around the swordsman. The blade felt heavy. His limbs felt like they were moving through liquid; as if the world was resisting his swing.

He swung. A laborious one, that cut through the whole of the Dead Thing. He swung again. This one was easier. Less of a strain to slice through at another angle. Both slashes hung in the air as he prepared the third swing. He swung and there was his six-pointed star. The sword was light now, but still rippling with power. The swordsman went wild. Each slash binding as it severed and held the monster. Dozens of new six-point stars branched off the main one. Rose Mana glowed like a flurry of snowflakes.

His cuts divided the Ratsin up into pieces and at the same time holding them together.

Stepping away, he watched the Dead Thing fall apart. An avalanche of rat chucks. Some sides glowed rose from the imbued concept of severing. The pieces began to shift together, but the violet spheres rained down bringing obliteration again. The great green arrow dispersed. There was silence.

The skull screamed out the crater and over the center of its powdered remains. The swordsman lunged forward. Attacking the cyclonian skull before it could act. A rose line separated it in two, but the Dead Thing erupted before he could do more. A wave of wrathful flames tossed him aside.

Vincent stood up painfully, his skin irritated like it was on fire. A glance saw that Julia and Malachi had been thrown too. Their attention was set between the three of them. Centered on where a red aura convulsed hatefully around the split skull. Bone shards and dust shifted within on angry tides.

With an ecstatic smile, the swordsman said, “Ok, round two.”