The Inner Odyssey
Chapter 138 - 138: Moth to a Flame

As one, the dark-clothed assassins attacked.

The Sunbrawler's stood with their backs to each other, effectively closing any gaps between them. This limited the number of avenues with which their opponents could use to to strike, while their flames also threatened to banish the darkness cloaking the assassin's figures.

Those of the Silent Slaughter appeared unperturbed, though, simply flickering out of perception again.

The Guildmaster scanned his surroundings urgently, shuffling and spinning.

Suddenly, he spied an ominous object pierce the darkness and enter the light. Before he could dispose of it, though, it abruptly exploded. A burst of a virulent, hissing substance bloomed in the air like a flower.

Without hesitation, the Expert Mage commanded his flames to devour it.

However, unfortunately for him, Alistair discovered with a hint of dread that the miniature cloud, similar in appearance to the poison the assassins emitted, resisted his flame.

It wasn't complete immunity - his fire was still having an effect, evaporating some of the toxic substance, but the rate at which his flames devoured the poisonous cloud was not as fast as he would like.

In fact, the Guildmaster made the difficult and — split-second — decision to recall the ring of fire he had unleashed at the beginning of the clash. It had enveloped a considerable swath of the arena. Now, it merged with the orange fire Alistair controlled, bolstering them.

With it, his flames had an easier time resisting the venomous onslaught. However, it plunged him, Elara and Nara into a pocket of deep darkness, save for what little light their flames emitted.

A moment later, Alistair held his breath.

As an Expert, his frame had undergone multiple baptisms, his body nourished by higher quality mana each time he ascended a rank. This made it sturdier, as well as allowed it to handle more stress.

Currently, that meant he did have to worry about the lack of air streaming into his lungs. In his position, a mundane human would have panicked, or at least began to. And rightfully so, considering they possessed a much smaller lung capacity than he did - almost thrice as small.

In Alistair's case, it also helped that he had experienced a similar situation to this before, a few years back. During one of his routine expeditions through Nature's Grove, he had fought a particularly dreadful horror; a defiled flower which released venomous spores capable of infecting anything it touched with chilling poison.

…Including his lungs.

Compared to that, the venom the assassins used seemed almost paltry.

However, Alistair knew he couldn't afford to underestimate his opponents. Not every toxin was the same, and not every creature or individual who wielded it was the same. Gritting his teeth, the Expert Mage channeled more mana into his flames, willing them to burn brighter, hotter, and with more ferocity.

Surrounding him, his wife and lieutenant did the same.

Like him, Elara had faced the poisonous flower, so Alistair wasn't really worried about her. She slashed at her poisonous cloud with daggers wreathed in flame, striking with a speed and accuracy only an Expert could achieve.

Nara, meanwhile, concerned Alistair slightly. She was a very capable warrior - he wouldn't have brought her along if she was otherwise. However, she did lack experience fighting while holding her breath.

With mana-enhanced eyes, he could see a vein throbbing indignantly on her temple, a silent sign of her exertion. The lithe warrior swung her sword, flames hissing as the glowing tip sliced through the venomous fog.

The cloud parted under the weapon's touch, but Alistair noticed how Nara had expended too much effort in that single strike. She risked tiring herself out. Of course, an Expert's endurance was quite high, so she wouldn't run out of stamina immediately.

But, it was still quite troubling.

Mind spinning, Alistair tried to formulate a plan as he finally vanquished the poisonous fog intent on reaching him.

He didn't like how passive they were being.

…Something had to change.

And it did.

Albeit, not in the manner Alistair was expecting.

"A shame the spawn of Aerithale failed to have his way with your daughter. I'm sure her cries would have been… oh so delightful."

A raspy voice suddenly hissed from the darkness, streaming directly into the Guildmaster's ears. He wasn't sure if Elara or Nara had heard it, but he quickly discarded the thought as he registered the contents of the taunt.

Alistair's entire frame trembled. White-hot rage coursed through him, fire boiling in his veins like an ocean of incandescent lava. Externally, a pillar of flame erupted from his figure.

He couldn't make out any noise due to the sound of his blood rushing to his ears, but he imagined it had made quite a sound as well as provided quite the spectacle.

Fire burst to life in Alistair's eyes.

'How dare they talk about my precious girl like that.'

How dare they!

She was his little girl. His pride and joy.

She would forever be a little child in his eyes, the one who had tugged on his beard when she was extremely young and giggled happily. He remembered her small, incredibly dainty fingers reaching out in search of his own whenever and wherever.

He remembered how her face would light up whenever he entered a room, and how she always wanted to sit on his shoulders, no matter the occasion.

…Finally, Alistair recalled how safe Celeste felt in his arms, and his rage soared to new heights.

How dare his opponent utter such vile and reprehensible words!

Alistair would show them what it meant to incur the wrath of an enraged father. He knew they wanted to goad him - and they had succeeded in that -, but such tricks would become meaningless in the face of his furious might.

They had provoked the wrong man.

He stepped forward, breaking the air-tight defense the Sunbrawler's had. Elara and Nara were forced to pivot to close that gap. His wife tried to stop him, but Alistair had already moved.

Orange flame illuminated his surroundings, chasing the blackness away. He was like a beacon of light amidst a sea of bleak, oppressive darkness. Shadows scurried away from him, as if they could sense his fury.

To an outsider, it would seem like Alistair had gone berserk.

He, however, knew otherwise.

Sure, rage still flowed through him, instructing him to burn down everything and anything. That said, he did not let it consume the cold, calculating part of his mind. Drawing on his anger, the Guildmaster set his feet, attracting the assassins like a moth to a flame.

In the next moment, the three insidious warriors were upon him in a flurry of poison and darkness.

Beneath his helm, a vicious grin marred Alistair's face.