- CHAPTER 41 -REASONS
With a laugh, Rolan flipped backward over the wall of rubble and landed atop it, feeling as light as a cat, as agile as a grasshopper. The Cryptic was focused on his master now, its headless tail lashing angrily. Rolan ducked as it whipped over him, and sliced upward, taking off another section of tail.
But this was no good, and he knew it. They were hacking the thing apart bit by bit, only making it angrier. They needed to strike the center.
Rolan ran forward, making use of his newfound speed. The rubble and cobblestones flowed beneath him, his feet hardly touching the ground as he sped below the Cryptic’s belly. Aligning himself directly under it, he gazed at the dark swirl of the aleth over its core.
“Here goes,” he breathed.
Then he leaped upward, yelling, sword held aloft, no doubt lookingfantasticallyawesome—
“Oof!” Rolan grunted as something heavy and thick caught him around the middle and flung him into the wall of a nearby hat shop. He fell to the ground in a rain of bricks, glass, and crumpled hats. Spitting out a mouthful of gravel, he stumbled to his feet and blearily tried to see what had hit him.
“What?”he moaned. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Twelve oily tentacles had sprouted from the monster’s belly and swirled around like it was a boxer preparing for a match. It had twelve limber fists ready to sucker punch Rolan under the chin.
“Luc!It’s growing new parts!” Rolan yelled.
Luc, hard pressed to defend against the Cryptic’s slavering jaws, shouted back, “Of course it is! It’s a Rank Seven!”
“Did you say RankSeven? They only go up to five!”
“I haven’t taught youeverythingabout Cryptics yet!”
“Great,” Rolan muttered. “Spectacular.”
So this was athingCryptics did, was it? Just sprout new body parts at will and evolve into ranks so big and horrible that they couldn’t even be written down in the Histories? Rolan did not like that one bit. It was blasted unfair, changing the rules of the game halfway through.
And why, of all things, did it have to betentacles? He hated those more than claws, fangs, and biting tails all lumped together.
“What do I do?” he called out.
But Luc either couldn’t hear him, or was too busy fighting for his life to reply.
Gritting his teeth, Rolan yelled wildly and charged in, a glowing,sword-swinging maniac. He chopped at everything that moved. He thought he might have gotten one tentacle—the meaty, fleshy squish of it sent a shiver of disgust down his spine—but he wondered what the point was. It could just push out another to replace what it lost.
This thing could only be brought down by a single blow, and until that happened, nothing else mattered. They would fight until they dropped from sheer exhaustion, and it could dissect them at its leisure.
Rolan was just about to bring up his concerns to Luc when the Cryptic struck a nasty blow to the Arcanist’s chest.
Luc flew through the air and collided with a marble pillar. Cracks crackled out across the stone, and Rolan watched in horror as the pillar crumbled atop his master.
“LUC!” Racing across the cobblestones, Rolan skidded to a halt between the Arcanist and the advancing monster. The Arcanist groaned, the blue light fading from his eyes as his Arcana faded. Not even his tattoos glowed anymore. He was drained dry and his leg was pinned under the fallen column.
The Cryptic took a step toward them, webs of saliva dripping from its jowls, its blue eyes slits of pure hate, each tooth longer than Luc’s broadsword.
“No!” Rolan snarled, raising his glowing blue blade, wisps of Arcana hissing between his clenched teeth. “He’smine! You will not hurt him!”
“Go,”whispered Luc weakly. “Rolan,run.”
“Not a chance,” Rolan replied. “You promised you’d never leave me. Well, I promise you the same!”
The Cryptic stretched its maw wide, no doubt planning to chomp them both into bits with a single bite.
Rolan braced himself, half terror, half fury, and all determination.
“COME ON, THEN!” he roared. “TRY ME!”
