The Inner Odyssey

The poison-wielding assassins lunged at him from three sides.

They were absent from his perception, but the Guildmaster noticed extremely faint ripples in the blackness. Two attacked from the left and right, while their leader - and the individual who had taunted him - opted for a frontal strike.

As for how Alistair knew they were the one responsible for the vile taunt, it was pretty simple. Who else would have the gall to provoke him and then confidently face him down, other than their chief?

In any case, it didn't matter.

Leader or not, they would fall all the same.

The assassins neared, and Alistair remained calm.

The cold, calculating part of his mind gave him a detached, dispassionate outlook. With years of combat experience under his belt, the Expert Mage was able to glean the trajectory of the incoming strikes and adjust accordingly.

He took a half-step forward to the right, swinging his sledgehammer in a brutal arc. It sailed through the air, intent on crushing anything it encountered. Some of the billowing pillar of flame erupting from Alistair flowed into the brutish weapon, as well.

The assassin on the right reacted almost instantly. With impressive dexterity, they shifted, somehow keeping their balance as they ducked underneath the blow. A moment later, they were already past Alistair.

In one smooth motion, they had drawn their small blade - coated in darkness and poison -, leaving a scratch on the Guildmaster's side. Alistair would have hissed if he was capable of feeling pain. As it was though, right now, he had surrendered completely to the indifference of battle clarity.

Pain did not register.

...Or if it did, he subconsciously ignored it.

And just as well; Alistair imagined the poison would not have been a nice one.

Another side-effect of his indifferent state was a lack of self-regard. Normally, the Expert Mage would have hesitated to ignite his side, but the darkness-imbued venom had eroded through his polished Sun armour and began to eat at his flesh.

…This was the most logical, as well as the most efficient method to neutralise it.

Alistair's sledgehammer hit nothing, but that was okay.

He let his movements flow naturally, using the momentum of his failed strike to help him turn around. Now, the remaining two assassins charged at him from an angle. Instead of committing to the attack, though, the leader and the subordinate paused.

They released an alarming quantity of poison, venomous mist coalescing to form a hazy, indistinct shape. It remained unclear for a few more moments, before Alistair suddenly discerned what it was.

A large bird, an eagle perhaps, hovered above the two assassins, created from venomous mist. It released a silent cry. In the next moment, its poisonous wings flapped and it was upon the Guildmaster in the time it took for him to blink.

The venomous eagle exploded as soon as it came within a few meters of Alistair. In its wake, a malevolent cloud washed over the Expert Mage. Air hissed. It was as if the very world was degrading under the corrosive effects of its attack.

And in the centre of that large cloud, Alistair held his breath again.

Orange flame sizzled, warring against the venomous invader.

It was a strangely wonderful sight. Fire and poison battling it out, the latter appearing like purple smudges on a fiery canvas, with the sickly blotches stubbornly refusing to be erased.

'No matter.'

As the remains of the poisonous eagle swept past his wall of flame and hissed as it came into contact with his armour, Alistair remained unperturbed. Unhurriedly, he waved a hand and the blazing pillar he emitted shrunk, revolving around him like a fiery vortex.

A few moments later, it stilled, fitting snugly over the Guildmaster like a second skin.

…A second armour, to be more precise.

At the same time, Alistair's dashing figure disgorged three more vast fiery pillars. Instead of remaining as they were, however, they twisted and merged, forming a giant born of flame. It was as if someone had taken his reflection and fashioned it into a large, fiery behemoth.

The construct gripped an incandescent sword wreathed in furious flame.

However, with its free hand, it bent down and seized the poisonous cloud threatening Alistair, clenching its fiery fist. In the next moment, the venomous mist which had seemed like it would be the end of him, was no more.

Vaguely, the Guildmaster sensed a ripple flow through the crowd.

…They must have liked what they saw.

It was something that Alistair had spent a long time working on. Ever since he had contracted with his Sponsor. In fact, the nebulous being was a partial inspiration for this, alongside the skill [Flame Construct].

Alistair had used the latter against the Dark Elves, which was one of the reasons why he had escaped relatively unscathed. That, and also because three corrupted creatures were simply no match for him. In any case, after much pondering, this was the form he had chosen.

He was quite proud of it - the scholarly part of him appreciated the fine nuances required to pull a feat like this off. The other, more ruthless warrior side, though - and the one which dominated him - only had one thing in mind:

How to best use the Flame Giant to defeat those foul assassins.

Just before the members of the Silent Slaughter Guild could react, Elara and Nara returned to the fray. His wife stood a half-step beside him, while the latter attacked. More specifically, her target was the first assassin Alistair had fought, the one who had left a poisonous nick on his armour.

A jet of pressurized flame propelled her forward, the tip of her blade glowing like molten metal.

Her opponent reacted with impressive speed, snapping a hand into the fold of their clothing and crushing another pill. With mana-enhanced lungs, they blew the powder in Nara's direction. However, instead of backing off, a pair of illusory yet tangible wings materialised behind the Sunbrawler, increasing her speed.

That speed, in turn, meant more force.

Alistair saw his lieutenant blitz through the small, venomous cloud, her movements more refined and less wasteful.

…It seemed she had learned from her previous mistake.

Silently wishing her luck, the Guildmaster turned his attention back to the assassin leader and their subordinate. Towering above him, the Flame Giant raised its head and unleashed a snapping bellow, like the crackle of a great bonfire.