Handling Things

John no longer needed to breathe, yet deep instinct had him panting with anticipation as he stepped away from Adantia and immersed himself in the rising tempo of the battle. Memories of his last major fight danced in his mind, but John cast them away with the kind of effort that could move mountains in an afternoon. This was not the time for fears, for worries about consequences he had never come so close to facing before. This was the time to make a statement.

And that statement was best delivered by the edge of a blade.

The mages of the various guilds that comprised this GPA **** were already engaged with the undead. With the congealed wall of the semi-fused Barriers out of the way, the resurrected corpses that had not yet been able to cross over suddenly surged forward. That might have tilted things in their favor, but by then, their lines had been bolstered by the Springfield forces. Their lines met the fractured mass of undead head on, and the two sides crashed against each other like dueling monsoons.

That was the chaos into which John arrived. It was messy, it was loud, and it was frighteningly claustrophobic. John wound up wedged between Moira and Lerianna, watching every one of his own blows to ensure that he didn't accidentally interfere with his allies' blows, or worse, strike them by mistake. But they could not allow themselves more room than they already had; even now, the abominations before them surged into the tiniest of gaps, eagerly gnashing teeth and jabbing limbs into the spaces between flesh and steel, searching for any opportunity to overcome and surround those who stood in their way.

Flashes of holy light on both sides of him seared away corpses, but gained no ground - there was always another cadaver to take the place of the fallen. Even Lord Brighton's furious strikes, blows that cleaved whole sections away from the bulwark of carcasses, could not buy more than a moment or two of breathing room for those around him.

John struck with fist as often as sword in the limited space, and on occasion, resorted to outright shoving one of the bolder corpses back with an open palm, trying to avoid letting any wedge themselves into the line of defenders. He threw himself at the encroaching dead as if holding a door closed, rather than waging a proper battle. Spells arced past him from unknown sources, most with moderate effect at best. One missed its mark and found a home in his shoulder, a glistening blue thorn woven of pure mana. He bit back a curse and fought the urge to seek the source - he was grateful a second did not test that resolve further.

That viciously confined stalemate held for seconds that passed like minutes before it was broken once more by Adantia. This time she could not win it in a single moment, could not disrupt the totality of the battlefield with a solitary, almost token effort. This upheaval came in intervals, in awestriking displays spread out across the battlefield.

A singular cable burst from John's left, stood straight up from the ground, and then ruptured with heat and flame that seared bone to ash in an instant. When that one retracted, two rose farther into the mass of foes, runes gleaming bright enough to shine blindingly even in the midday light. The cables flexed apart first, and when they reversed to clash against one another, the shockwave that burst forth was accompanied by the snapping of bones and the nauseating tearing of flesh ripped apart through pure ****.

A half-dozen more battlefield-shaking spells were unleashed in the span of seconds. Lightning that filled the air with the festering smell of flesh that had long since rotted, now charred en masse. Ice that formed from the air itself, freezing nearly a hundred of the creatures in an instant. Raw arcane energy that leapt from body to body, inflicting no visible harm, yet rendering their undead foes as the lifeless corpses they once were with an effortless sort of efficiency. Cables that simply slashed and flailed in a pattern that might've been random, if they weren't so devastatingly efficient at what they did.

The tide of the battle shifted in a way that all their effort and all their mightiest blows had not. The endless reinforcements became finite, the odds became favorable, and the pressure weighing down on Moira's shield became lesser. John knew that it had, because the moment after a gust of wind uprooted six handfuls of the undead before him, Moira's arm extended with the **** of a swung flail, adding a heap more to the pile as her hammer began to glow.

"By the Lady, erase these abominations!"

John couldn't tell if those words were an incantation or a rallying cry—the effect was tremendous either way. Now each cleaving strike through their foes opened space. The battle shifted a little, a little further, and then all at once, the unbreakable siege was broken, the lines were pierced. For the first time since entering the battle, John had to take a step forward for his blade to find an enemy to sheathe itself in. Then another step. Then a leap.

Then, as one, they were all barreling forward together, weapons raised, a half-dozen war cries echoing around them as they charged into the scattered remnants of the resurrected forces.

Now the experience gain was not the only thing reminiscent of John's dungeon forays. The tempo of the fighting was much the same as well now. The congealed mass of simmering pustules, rattling bones, and putrefied flesh was sundered by Adantia’s overwhelming barrage and the efforts of their own forces to keep them dispersed. John's eyes darted back and forth frantically, trying to keep an eye on those not included in his party, but the effort was herculean amid such a tremendous crowd, particularly at the pace which Lord Brighton and Kwang Moon were surging forth.

The two patriarchs led the charge forward with their full might, each scrape or slash that managed to draw blood on one of them soon matched by a blow that carved away entire swathes of the undead forces gathered there. That left most of the surviving targets isolated, or close enough to it, reminiscent of the dungeons John was so fond of clearing. Weaker foes that had been fortunate enough to slip between the threads of Adantia's weaving strikes, and to not draw the ire of the older men acting as the tip of the spear.

John's party and the creations no longer included in it followed behind as the secondary wave, blessed with the gift of picking and choosing their targets. Moira and Kim followed in the direct wake of their fathers, with John guarding behind them, slaying any that slipped the wide arc of Kim's lethal blade and Moira's crushing hammer. Etriyya fought to stay close to her Warden's side, her blade shimmering in the midday light. The crimson essence was gone from her magic, but her blessed spells were as intimidatingly effective as ever against the blightbearers.

Shishun chose her targets with precision, identifying weak points in their own formation and reinforcing them by precisely sniping the most dangerous threats. Sophia switched deftly between blade and claws, tearing into flesh mercilessly and swapping to her sword whenever a foe's natural form was too dangerous to touch directly. Vallya spiraled and hovered along the front lines, never getting as close as the others, but keeping ahead of the Order knights and the alliance mages so she could blast pink fire across the battlefield with impunity. Lerianna finally put her armor to use against its intended foes, and the golden light that burst from each strike she landed seared and scoured what unholy forms it did not simply reduce to ash.

John lost himself in the frenzy, in the repetitive swing-swing-stab of the forms he had committed more deeply to muscle memory than proper knowledge. When he saw no more foes behind him, he whirled on the ball of his foot, searching for more, always seeking the next target. There were many left standing, to be sure, but none within reasonable distance, and none that required his intervention. They were clustered around the laggards, fighting smaller battles against the alliance mages and the few Order knights too weak to plow through them, even when they were disrupted. Their numbers were culled shortly, as the sections of their line that had completed the grim task turned to aid their brethren, quickly surrounding and laying waste to the undead that still plagued them.

"What now?" John continued to pivot slightly, his eyes and mind still searching, body fresh, eager to continue the hunt. "Search and destroy for any in the surrounding area? Head to the other side, reinforce them?"

"I'll handle that part." Adantia arrived with hardly a sound, certainly not one that could be heard over the clatter of armor and weaponry. "This side had the worst of it, but they'll need help over there."

"I can come with you. I'm still-"

"You're still holding up this entire Barrier," Adantia interrupted. She held her hand up in a silencing gesture, and kept it so close it seemed apparent she'd happily slap it over John's mouth if he tried to continue. "I don't care if that oversized gemstone in your chest is paying the mana, we need to keep you in good condition. Help everyone else rest and recover."

"Rest and recover?" Anxiety stretched thinly over John's features, but faded quickly as he eyed the party interface first, then those gathered around him. "I don't understand-"

A cable lifted from the ground, conforming itself to John's features and craning his head the way a frustrated parent redirected a child that had become incapable of turning to their left. John's eyes wavered, flickered, then focused - and he understood.

The front line was victorious and bold, breathing heavily, but otherwise undaunted despite the size of the **** marshalled against them moments ago. But the further back one looked, the more the signs of the price that had been paid became obvious. There were the mages of the Great Plains guilds, of course, many of whom had been pushing themselves to the edge since before there was a battle to join. Then there were the Order knights, and while all of them were alive, not all of them were entirely whole.

Near the far end of their line, a transport pulled into position, the doors barely open before a soldier with a blessed mace was gently hurried inside. Further in, five warriors sat in a tight circle. They were talking in what could almost have been a comfortable sort of tone, but it was the shaken conversation of long-time friends who had just shared something deeply frightening. Their hands glowed with golden light as they spoke, healing each other's wounds between jests and boasts. Those not injured were quickly moving to line the edges of the Barrier, those of able body and magic quickly forming a perimeter to guard those less fortunate.

"...Alright."

The word landed with the same weight that had fallen on John's shoulders. He had not fought with such a widespread **** in a very long time. Consciously, he was aware of the Order's full presence, but it had become detached and faceless in his head, an indistinct mass of might and magic. Setting his sights on individual faces and wounds quickly brought color back to the gray mass they had become in the back of his mind.

"Good. I'll be back within an hour. Then we can worry about getting the Barrier divided up and back in someone else's hands, once the Fateweavers have had time to rest." Adantia turned to the east. The ground began to rumble, a tremor with no immediately visible source. "This time, try not to die while I'm gone."

"I'll do my best."

"Yeah, I've seen your best. Do better." Cables curled and wove their way over the terrain, shaking the ground with the **** and number of them. They formed a strange sort of railed walkway into the distance, upon which another tendril curled itself into a tight spiral, forming a circular platform. Adantia stepped onto the flat disc and was off immediately, accelerating to a breakneck velocity so rapidly that the laws of inertia wept.

John stared after her long after she crested the hills to the east, taking the relative quiet of the moment to breathe, to think, to take it all in. He could hear Moira in the background, her voice reaching his ears with the sound of prayers and chanting as she tended to her wounded. Lord Brighton and Kwang were talking as well, both to each other, somewhere near the edge of the perimeter. Etriyya had gone to tend to the wounded, despite the sweat on her brow and the empty space of her mana bar.

Only Kim remained beside John and his family. The group sat at a half-rest, weapons and armor still readied, bodies only relaxed enough to breathe freely.

"The line holds," Sophia observed. Her attention did not linger on the soldiers of either side. Her attention was fixated on the boundaries of the Barrier and the distance into which Adantia had disappeared.

"They'll make another attempt." Vallya spoke with the certainty of a woman who had already envisioned her own response to the defeat. "Not right away. But they chased Adantia off once. They'll come up with something new, then try it again."

"We'll be ready when they do." Lerianna carried her own certainty the way she always did - confidently, boisterously, one hand resting almost arrogantly on the hard lines of her hip.

"We have to make sure everyone else is ready, too," John added quietly.

"You seem to be taking the sight of our casualties quite severely," Kim noted when the silence grew too dense to maintain itself any longer. "I thought that we were quite fortunate, considering the state of things when we arrived."

"That's what worries me." John's shoulders sat tense and squared, as if he could physically brace himself for the times ahead. "This probably is a good day. I'm not sure how to prepare for a bad one,"

"The same way you prepare yourself for every dungeon." Kim's focus narrowed on him until John had the impression of being studied down to his very soul. "By being aware of what is at risk and what could go wrong, so that you know exactly what to protect."

"I don't usually worry about one of us dying in a dungeon." It was true, though recent events made the words feel beyond foolish. "We have more control in those. We know what we're up against, we control how we engage with it, we know how we work together against different enemies already. I can control the variables of a Dungeon Barrier."

"Then work to assert that same control in whatever manner you can," Kim advised. "Scout the land, learn its form. Master our surroundings so that you know when they shift. Find our enemies, learn their movements, choose the time and place of our battles, and do not allow our enemy the grace of control or readiness for our assaults. If a dungeon is where you feel most in control, turn this front of the war into a dungeon in your mind, and control your opponent as thoroughly as you would control a Barrier."

"Well, that does make sense..." The analogy was helpful, if a bit generalized and vague. John wasn't unused to the idea of security and defenses, either, although most of his experience was in fortifying and securing his own private world, not a **** Barrier on a battlefield. He didn't need ideas, but direction. "Any idea on where to start with that?"

Kim stood with the thoughtful brooding of a teacher scouring for the right foundation to set her student on.

"A Barrier begins with boundaries. Even your unusual dungeons do to an extent," the Slayer responded at length. "Establish boundaries, and reinforce them until you are confident that you own everything within them."

John didn't set himself into motion right away. He let his thoughts breathe, let plans form and deconstruct in their own time. Four sets of eyes rested on his back, and their weight layered over Kim's unyielding gaze.

"Vallya, line the Barrier's borders with as many detection wards as you can sustain without impacting your fighting ability." John turned in the same moment he began to speak. His voice rang out with all the casual steadiness it held during their training runs. "Sophia, patrol the skies, inside and out. Shishun, do a full sweep of the zone to the east in Adantia's wake, look for anything held further back from the main ****. Adantia should have caught any stragglers, but we're not taking chances."

"At once."

"Right away, Master!"

"By your leave, Master."

Lerianna was left alone in short order. The tension in her shoulders spoke of a confidence now beginning to dip as John's grew. "Should I... scout the other direction?" Lerianna suggested. She jerked her thumb toward the opposite direction, away from where Shishun had followed after Adantia. "Or, uh, I could make myself useful some other way?"

John didn’t miss the second question buried beneath the first. "You're my bodyguard. Adantia is right, I can't be reckless while I'm acting as a major support for so many people. Plus, you're fast. If anyone gets into trouble, I'm going to need you. We'll use Twin-Soul Resonance and get to them way faster than I can alone. I can fly with my own magic now. I don't need Sophia's wings, or Vallya's levitation. I need you."

The hesitation in Levanna's stance evaporated. Even the slight uncertainty over the technique Lerianna had witnessed — but never been a party of — was veiled beneath the fire his words had lit in her.

"Alright, that's more like it!" Lerianna announced proudly. She bent her legs and began to stretch out, as though she might be called to action at any moment. "Let me run wild. If it comes to it, I know we can handle it!"

John let his eyes wander away as Lerianna kept herself limbered up in the momentary peace. His eyes scanned over the tired, the wounded, those who had gone without rest for so long that they collapsed into the dirt the moment they felt safe. He knew Adantia could handle it. He could say, with a reasonable level of confidence, that he could handle it.

But not everyone could. And he had no way of knowing who could or who couldn't, in the long haul. No way of knowing which of their allies would be lost along the way.