Makhus instinctively rested the Fragment Sabre on his shoulder, striding towards the Wildfire Kite alongside his companions as they plugged their ears. He had obtained the blade from a traveling Ankhezian merchant, as it was unique and happened to fit his requirements at the time. Or, more accurately, he had tried to trade for it, but Ezaryl had decided to throw around her clan's stupidly massive fortune by buying it for the merchant's eye-watering stated price. That was not to say he didn’t appreciate it. His reason to desire such a blade was not the simple want for a larger or fancier weapon, but a twofold need. Firstly, he needed a blade that retained the same relative scale to Acala Nova that a kriegsmesser had to Makhus when he was out of the suit. Secondly, he needed a blade that wouldn't be whittled away to nothing by Acala's ability; what he had learned to be Armament Aura amplification. This Fragment Sabre happened to, suspiciously conveniently, also possess the ability to separate into pieces and reshape itself into smaller blades. Unlike Carnifex Fulguris, the change was quite a bit slower and only covered three fixed forms - the full-sized grossemesser, a kriegsmesser plus a small knife, and two short messers.
A never-dulling, shapeshifting blade. Fit to be a heirloom. Makhus felt bad for not appreciating it more.
The Wildfire Kite roared. A blast of wind whipped past the three of them, the ground shuddered, and dry leaves rained down. Lydia winced, while Lucian visibly grit his teeth, pressed his hands over his ears, and froze in place. The shockwaves put him off-balance despite the earplugs. Makhus was unaffected; not only because of Acala, but because he had become tolerant of far worse vibrations surging through his body.
A small, cowardly voice deep inside Makhus cried out in protest of the fact he was the vanguard.
“Focus,” Makhus sent over aetherwave. “Lydia, support my initial attack and proceed as you deem appropriate. Lucian, get around the back and try to occupy its tail without getting yourself killed. Watch out for the Kitelings.”
The only response he received was a pair of affirmative pings. Makhus placed his foot on a rock and pushed off it, sending himself flying forward. He didn’t bother zigzagging until he was already within ten meters of the dragon’s nest, at which point he leapt straight up to avoid an eruption of flame from the beast’s gaped maw. With a pulse of light from the beast’s eye, the flames flowed back and twisted into spears trying to skewer him out of the air, but Makhus had foreseen something like this. Not exactly this; Acala’s prediction was that the Kite would most likely pull its head up, but that was enough.
His Armament Aura, amplified by resonance with the belt, enshrouded his blade in the form of white, brightly glowing mist. With only two cuts, Makhus shattered the dragon’s spears of flame, the backlash forcing the creature to blink. This particular technique was specifically suited to disrupting the arcane, and despite the dragon descendant’s greater power, it paled in comparison to Ubul… And Makhus had grown by leaps and bounds since he had cut Ubul in half in a moment of death’s-doorstep clarity.
DHARMIC SWORD OF WISDOM
POSSESSING TRUE CLARITY OF MIND
THERE IS NOTHING ONE CANNOT CUT
PURGATION ARTS: DISPELLING BLADE
Landing atop the Kite’s head, Makhus attempted to drive his sword right into its eye. To no surprise on his part, it swatted at him with its tail, forcing him to jump down. He proceeded to engage the beast to the fullest extent of his abilities, evading its attacks and nipping away at it at every opportunity. The beast moved faster than any animal of its size had any right to. It spewed flame at every opportunity, manipulating it into twisting flows that resembled a striking serpent, trying to encircle and cut off escapes. It snapped at him faster than any spring-loaded bear trap and with enough force to cut a boulder in half, and its long neck allowed it to maneuver its head at angles utterly unreasonable. Even the Kite’s wings, which were not its premier offensive tool by far, were far nimbler than they should be. Folded up as they were, the Kite didn’t swipe or scratch with its wings - it punched, and each strike shook the earth underfoot, punching holes in the ground with the thick spike protruding from that section of either wing.
Makhus gave himself over to the flow, letting his thoughts drift away as instinct, reflex, and muscle memory took over. For the years he had wasted trying to comprehend the fundamental secrets of the Sanger Sect, in retrospect it all seemed so obvious now that he knew the true meaning of the mystical bullshit. Each second sprawled out before him as if an hour, and each minute snap-movement went through with the smoothness of something performed at a leisurely pace. Yet, at the same time, the moments passed him by at a breakneck pace. The Fragment Sabre clashed against the Kite’s wing-spikes, at times even shaving bits off them or scraping them. Acala Nova constantly bombarded him with possibilities, and in this manner, sealed inside the suit, he mentally floated away from reality, gaining the clarity of an outside observer. He wasn’t fighting for his life, he was playing a game of tactics using himself as a piece. Then, at the moment of a clash, his awareness momentarily snapped back into the here and now, only to once more pull back out when he broke off and hopped out of the dragon’s immediate melee range.
An opening wide enough to fit a more impactful strike would eventually present itself, but Makhus was, for all intents and purposes, a tank in this situation; meant to draw enemy fire while dishing out punishment. He fully expected Lydia to deal the lion’s share of damage to the beast, and she fully lived up to those expectations without a moment’s wait.
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