The Legendary Fool

Chapter 122: Aura Shift

[Card Name: Aura Shift

Rank: Uncommon

Level: 1

Ability:

Mass Increase: Envelops the wielder in a red aura that amplifies their mass to a maximum of x 1.5 times their body weight. Allows the wielder to adjust between regular and x1.5 times their body weight on a sliding scale that comes with a slight time lag.

SP cost increases with increasing mass and falls with decreasing mass.]

Aleph’s lips were pursed as she gingerly cycled through the three cards in her hands, moving from one description to the next with increasing interest.

Then she handed the cards back to Tom and sighed.

“These are better than I expected,” Aleph admitted. “Way better.”

“Told you,” He said. “So, which one do you want?”

Aleph gave him a flabbergasted look, before shaking her head.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get used to this,” Aleph said. “But, I think you should take the Aura Shift card.”

“I can’t say I’m opposed to the idea, but any reason why?” Tom asked, his tone thoughtful.

“You’re our hardest hitter by far. With Zirel out of commission for a bit, it makes sense to amplify your strength in case we run into someone troublesome,” Aleph explained.

“Well, I was going to ask if I can have that one anyway,” Tom admitted sheepishly. “The assassin could also lighten himself to move faster, so it doubles up as a movement and strength card.”

“That’s oddly powerful for an uncommon. I wonder why it’s not a mezzanine.”

“Because it’s not that strong. Or, rather, it’s strong because I’m strong and it’ll be fast because I’m already rather quick,” Tom answered. Compared to throwing around crystals and forging metal into throwing knives mid-fight, amplifying strength and speed didn’t seem all that deadly.

“I suppose you’re correct. If you get the mass decrease ability later on, try and practice it before using it in battle. There’s no guarantee your proprioception will keep up with a great increase in movement speed.”

“I will, though that’ll come after I ask Zirel if he wants it,” Tom replied.

“It’s your card, you won that fight on your own,” Aleph retorted as she crossed her arms. “I know why you want to do this, but if your goal is to keep us all alive, you need to pick up what you want for yourself. If only because you’re the strongest out of us.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Tom answered. “So, anything catch your eye?”

“I’d be lying if I said nothing did,” Aleph allowed a defeated sigh to escape her. “Why couldn’t the assassins have had uncommon cards as well.”

“Considering how easily they went down?” Tom asked. “I’m pretty sure they were just reinforcement for the Gatekeeper dude, while he did the heavy lifting.”

“Well, if you don’t want it, the Heat Infusion card is something I could work with. If the Gatekeeper can heat metal, then I can heat crystal. Probably.”

“Can you use both cards in conjunction?”

“Conjunction? No, what— do you think my crystals come from a Rare card? I can’t, just like the Gatekeeper couldn’t. But once they’re formed, my ability’s role is over until I need to manipulate them.”

“Heated crystals, eh?” Tom mused. “That’s pretty nasty.”

“It is,” Aleph said, her gaze shifting to Zirel’s invisible battle with a Wildeclaw. The feline creature had two long tusks jutting out from it’s mouth, it’s snow white fur marked with spots of red. It snarled as it’s claw swiped forth in the air, sending an arc of wind shooting forth where it had last seen Zirel.

The wind blade harmlessly passed through the spot where Zirel had been standing, as the man in question appeared behind the Wildeclaw and swiped his phantom blade, taking out the Wildebeast’s hindlegs.

Neither of them could help Zirel if they wanted him to get 100% of the soul experience the Wildebeast had to offer and from the looks of it, they wouldn’t have to.

“The card isn’t of much use to me right now though, not until I level my rare,” Aleph added, reminding Tom. “Though from the looks of it, it doesn’t seem like killing common carded beasts is going to be too helpful in levelling a Rare.”

Tom grunted in affirmation, his gaze shifting from Aleph to the foliage in the distance.

“Well, it’s a good thing that our guests have just arrived then.”

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A squelch sounded out from below them as Zirel finished off the Wildebeast.

“Guests?” Zirel mouthed from afar, his unspoken word not escaping Tom’s perception.

“We’ll let you finish them off,” Aleph offered what Tom did not want to voice and to his credit, Zirel didn’t even bat an eye as he gave them an understanding nod.

Rannok was having a terrible day.

Sure, there was never a time when he had truly liked Jerrick. No, the ostentatious glaive wielder liked the sound of his voice far too much for that.

But he didn’t want Jerrick dead. Because for his faults, the Gatekeeper had been competent. The Master was wise to see Jerrick’s talent and recruit him, giving him a way out of a Noble’s service he was bound to.

Few would make such decisions. But then again, there few as competent as his master. Few who could take an ordinary guild, one amongst thousands, to a force that was reckoned as it was feared. They were not the strongest guild by any means, perhaps not even in the top hundred amongst the three kingdoms.

But their coffers were piled as high as the skies and for a guild of assassins, they almost never failed.

Almost.

Rannok held a black ball in his hands, a set piece forged by their artificer. Of course, the source of the artificers powers came from the same pool theirs did, a card. But they were so far from most people’s reach, that they might as well consider it a different kind of power. For a card that allowed forging of artefacts was automatically a mezzanine and it’s worth was a hundred times what a normal card at the same rarity would be.

After all, artefacts needn’t be strong to be immensely useful. The black balls came in sets of two and each assassin in Jerrick’s team had one.

It had not taken them long to determine that all three remaining black balls pulled them towards the same direction and it was not surprising that Jerrick had called for aid when he ran into a powerful opponent.

After the black balls shatter, they would turn to dust and cling to the wielder’s body. As long as their corpses were not devasted beyond recognition, they would find them.

Rannok was almost certain that Jerrick’s killers would’ve looted their bodies and left. They would have no way of knowing that Jerrick had backup waiting in the vicinity, said backup had a way to track him dead or alive and even if they did, it made little sense to stick around.

Jerrick had powerful cards that synergised with each other and the tricky bastard had known how to use them well.

The master valued Jerrick and he would certainly be annoyed at his demise and more importantly, the loss of cards that came with it, but he did not govern through fear.

Jerrick’s killers were likely already inside the tower and there would be nothing any of them could do about it.

Well, they would die anyway, but there would be no more gains or losses for the Shadow Guild.

Rannok called for a halt as he stopped a tree, his features tightening. Controlling his breathing to slow drastically, he peeked out behind it.

“Shattered dagger,” Rannok whispered a curse under his breath. In a small clearing, where the canopy of the forest thinned to allow a flood of light, was a pile of corpses flanked by trees in every direction. Corpses both monster and human.

His gaze zeroed in on Jerrick’s body, noticing that his armor was gone, leaving behind only ordinary clothing that had been punched through by a large metal glaive that was embedded in his chest.

That was not the work of a beast.

Rannok called for the shadows and they answered, enveloping his form. Telling the two assassins behind him to wait, he moved from tree to tree, hugging the shadows the canopy above him offered.

He scanned the treetops and looked for signs of disturbance in the grass, only to find nothing out of place besides the pile of corpses that was marked by trails both human and beast.

He circled around the area, his ears open as were his eyes, listening for anything out of place while he scoured areas he himself would choose to hide in if he wanted to hide in.

The killers were gone.

“Come on,” Rannok said, dismissing the shadows that still clung to his form.

“What happened here?” The assassin to Rannok’s left asked, his tone sounding more confused than anything else.

“Jerrick bit off more than he could chew,” The final assassin said, before crouching down before the corpses as he inspected them. “Looks like the beasts were drawn into the fight due to cards being activated. Jerrick would’ve expected to make quick work of them, but he seems to have met his match in a more skilled metal user. Zen and Karif just had common cards, they weren’t going to survive someone that killed Jerrick.”

Rannok walked over to Zen, noticing the jagged puncture wound in his shin. “Looks like hardened rock. Maybe some type of crystal.”

Then he moved to Karif, shaking his head as he noticed the puncture wound in the neck on the otherwise necrotizing body.

“He was probably dead before the poison took him, but this was one vicious group,” Rannok noted, memorizing the details so he could report back to the master with unerring details.

“Not like it matters now,” One of the assassin’s chimed in. “They didn’t even bother to try and hide the bodies, so they’re already in the tower. Nothing left to do, it’s just the risk of the trade.”

Rannok sighed and he was on the verge of nodding when his peripheral vision picked up on a blur of red.

He turned, the word “Ambush!” escaping his lips even as he did so.

He watched as a person emanating a thick red aura pushed off from a tree, using it as a springboard to launch himself towards him.

Rannok’s hair stood on end as he swept the sword outwards through pure reflex, aiming to defend himself from the sword artefact in the man’s hand.

His instincts hadn’t failed him as the man blurred forward with speed that had to be empowered by a card. The terror in Rannok’s eyes calmed as the man’s sword took a path that would clash with his own, his years of experience as an assassin not having failed him.

As fast as the man was, if Rannok could survive the ambush, he had items that could help him survive.

Their blades collided and Rannok’s short sword flew out of his hands without the slightest amount of resistance.

He had thought the man to have heavily focused on speed augmentation, but he could not have been more wrong as his opponent simply crashed into him shoulder forward, having too much momentum behind his charge to do anything else.

Rannok felt like a runaway beast had slammed into him, the sheer force sending him rocketing backwards and slamming loudly into a tree.

His ribs had almost definitely snapped, the metallic tang of blood pooling in his mouth. A blow meant to injure had left him on death’s door.

He blinked away the spots from his eyes in search for the man, but he was gone.

The man had not even considered him worthy of finishing off.

Rannok felt numb as he reached for his inventory, pulling out a healing potion.

The moment of distraction cost the assassin greatly, as reality itself rippled next to him. Rannok turned, his eyes wide with disbelief as he witnessed a concealment ability that rivalled, if not surpassed his master’s.

Then, a blade snaked for his throat and all was silent.

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