The Hobgoblins, to their credit, reacted immediately.
They were not the mindless, cackling goblins of his first arena bout—these creatures were trained, disciplined, and battle-hardened. Their formation snapped into place in a heartbeat, with clear coordination evident in their guttural, barking communications.
Four brutes surged forward to intercept him, shields raised and weapons drawn while their malicious yellow eyes focused upon him.
A fifth, an archer by the look of their shortbow, fell back at the same time as nocking an arrow, while the spellcaster barked out guttural words of power—his staff glowing with a sickly green light.
Perfect. He said grimly into his own mind. They handed it to me.
Leonidas reached out at the same time—with his left hand, and with his mind.
Psi surged through his veins, the raw force of his Willpower igniting like a forge flame fed by gasoline. Power and Intent burned within him like magma, echoing out from his raging [Cataclysm Core] as he harnessed his Affinity.
Ceruviel had drilled it into him—again and again—that new abilities were born not in training, but in the brutality of war. The System would only acknowledge a new Skill when it was wielded and tested under fire; under true and imminent mortal peril.
There was no better time than now.
Leonidas aborted his charge with a screech of his steel sabatons against the stone, and focused his power with his left arm as a guiding medium. It was a practice that Ceruviel had assured him would not be necessary at higher levels, but which served a critical purpose at lower ones. He had no reason to doubt her, and true to her word, using his hand as the focus point made his effort far more manageable.
Psi coalesced as a writhing tide of black-and-purple energy to his vision, and Leonidas directed it at the true threats ahead of him: the spellcaster and the archer. Pillars of pure force slammed down into both, woven from threads of potent Psi, and the pair froze as they felt their bodies unable to move.
Panicked and guttural barks came from each one, and the four Hobgoblins—their yellow eyes glinting with dark intelligence—looked back toward their kin in assessment. Moments later they turned back to him, and seemed to realize the source of their allies’ distress.
The quartet promptly continued their charge.
Leonidas’ mind shook from the burden that came from weaving his Affinity absent the System’s architecture, but he only gritted his teeth and leaned into his Willpower and Intent. He had been ready for the strain, the pain, and the drain. Even with the four shield-and-sword Hobgoblins charging in, he remained calm, even through the headache even then assailing his mind.
The next step, after all, was crucial.
Ceruviel’s instructions on the matter rippled through his mind while he prepared.
“{When you actualize your power, you must mean it, Achilles,}” Ceruviel had instructed him with firm, unyielding certainty—after a thoroughly painful example of what pure psionic force could do when wielded by a master. “{Psi, more than any other Affinity, is solely based on Willpower and Intent. You have learned this well, through your acquisition of [Psionic Swordforce], but you cannot allow that victory to dull your mind to the difficulty of what you are attempting—that achievement was buoyed by your time in Elatra. Your future ones will not benefit from such familiarity.}”
“{What do you suggest, then?}” he asked instead of arguing, while catching his breath and leaning on his sword.
“{Focus not on what you want to happen, but what will happen,}” she said intently and with emphasis on the word ‘will’. “{You must view it not as a question of whether or not you shall acquire the Skill, but instead, as predetermined fate. The System must feel that very conviction within you, and in turn, it shall respond.}”
“{And what about wielding the Affinity without the System’s framework?}” Leonidas had asked with steady consideration. “{Even with [Psionic Swordforce], I had my [Psikinetic Blade] skill to shape.}”
“{That is why we are training your Willpower, my dear Squire,}” Ceruviel had responded with a sly smile. “{You will need every iota of it to resist the backlash the System enforces. If you can succeed, however, you will not only acquire a new skill—you will begin to build the foundation of your own legend.}”
“Predetermined…” he muttered while shaping his Willpower around the spellcaster and Archer, and turning his left hand palm up and raising it “...and fated.”
Leonidas exhaled and crushed his fingers into a decisive fist.
The System boomed in his mind at the same moment as the two Hobgoblins let out twinned screams of agony, and the charging quartet stumbled to a halt.
Both Spellcaster and Archer had been lifted from the arena when he’d raised his palm, levitating upward from the stone, and drifting five feet into the air rapidly. When Leonidas crushed his fingers, the psionic power gripping them had gone from passive constriction to active compression, and every iota of his power had been focused on a single objective: pure psionic force.
The pair’s arms and legs imploded, and detonated with a sickening staccato chorus of pops and cracks that sent blood, marrow, and viscera spraying out from where the psionic pressure crushed their limbs like bloodied mince ‘twixt the fingers of a chef.
The crowd exploded into a roar of approval, and chants of “BLACK KNIGHT ACHILLES!” filled the stadium.
As for the unfortunate Hobgoblins, only their heads and torsos were spared; permitting them to suffer in agony while being unable to actually threaten him in any way. More than that, it served an additional purpose, one which became clear when the four Hobgoblins that had been charging turned back to him.
Fear.
Leonidas smiled wearily under his helmet and glanced first at his HUD’s resource display, and then at his pending notification.
Health: 240 | Mana: (99) 123 | Stamina: 117 | Psi: 11
40 Psi in return for imploding two sets of four limbs? That worked out to 5 psi per limb, in a rough calculus, or perhaps less if the initial manifestation was—
Leonidas grunted and dismissed the thought mid-stream.
The mathematical value of the power would be revealed once he actually used the skill, not by guessing at potentially arbitrary numerical evidence that the System could choose to alter on a whim.
His attention diverted to the System alert instead, and he retrieved a [Psi Potion] from his [Spatial Storage Ring] while he read it.
Psionic Force
Congratulations, you have unlocked a [Affinity Skill]!
[Rarity]: Rare
[Description]: You have successfully managed to unlock the Skill [Psionic Force], and added it to your list of Affinity Skills. [Psionic Force] allows you to actively influence the world around you through the manipulation of pure Force.
[Effect]: Manipulate Force with the power of your mind
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[Cost]: 10 Psi on Activation, with a channel cost of 2 Psi per Second until cancelled
“Nice,” Leonidas said while unstoppering the [Psi Potion], and using Ceruviel’s training to dismiss his helmet, down the potion in three fast swallows, and resummon his helmet all in the span of five seconds, while the Hobgoblins barked at each other uneasily.
They still hadn’t resumed their advance, though it was unlikely their hesitance would last forever.
“WHAT A DISPLAY OF POWER!” the announcer shouted excitedly. “THE BLACK KNIGHT DEMONSTRATES IN ONE FELL SWOOP EXACTLY WHAT IT MEANS TO BE SQUIRED TO THE DUSK-LORD OF DAWNHAVEN! EVEN THE TOOFYSTABBAS APPEAR FLUMMOXED!”
Flummoxed was one word for it, Leonidas reflected wryly, though he knew better.
It was the fear at work, paired with the shrieking cries of their kin—who were even then convulsing in shock and horror on the floor of the Arena, and the increased power of his Charisma Attribute amplifying his passive presence to enhance the fear effect. He was in a relatively solid position as well, now that it would be a brawl rather than a multi-faceted contest.
The instant gain of 15 psi was beneficial, but it was not enough for him to wield [Psionic Force] against the Hobgoblins with their current numbers. Luckily, Ceruviel had taught him a trick—one that would hopefully award a second Skill if he was successful. It would not be pleasant, of course, but he had learned that nothing worth doing within the System’s framework ever was.
Well… with perhaps some exceptions, if Ceruviel was to be believed.
Head in the game, Ace.
Leonidas shook his head and instead flexed his left hand habitually while his eyes darted between the Hobgoblins. Four remaining, all with swords and shields, and a rapidly growing sense of fury overcoming their fear. It had only been maybe fifteen seconds since he’d devastated their kin, and Leonidas was fully aware that his window of peace was rapidly and imminently closing.
“ONE POTION DOWN. WHAT WILL OUR HEADLINER DO NEXT?”
Way to goad me, lady. Leonidas thought while turning his gaze onto the Hobgoblins. But she’s right. Time to give them another show.
Momentum and intent melded in the next second and Leonidas took off, once again, to the screaming approval of the watching spectators. His armored sabatons thundered as he moved, and the Hobgoblins barked at one another in an attempt at coordination while Leonidas closed distance and began, at the same time, rapidly cycling his mana within his core.
While he did, he simultaneously worked at finding filaments of psi and drawing them into the churning maelstrom of his cataclysm mana; adding them like seasoning to the storm of power he was creating within the confines of his core. Affinity and Core fused slowly while he worked, forced to coexist in the same way as when he had first cycled his mana, and Leonidas smiled under his helmet.
Step one complete.
The Hobgoblins reacted predictably to his approach and attempted to create a four-man box to capture him in, though Leonidas only smiled grimly at their efforts. The tactic was sound, and against a different opponent, it was the right move: isolate, surround, and destroy. Defeat in detail was a fine choice, in almost every normal scenario. Were he them, he would have done the same.
Sadly for the malicious creatures, he was not a normal opponent.
Leonidas deviated his course at the last minute from the middle-left Hobgoblin to the one on the far right in a sudden focus of his Agility attribute, and surged toward the creature at maximum speed. In his left hand, psionic power coalesced with a roar of his [Cataclysm Core] and formed a [Psikinetic Blade] in the form of a dagger, made from effervescent sparks of scarlet lightning and void-purple energy both.
The creature raised its hide-and-reinforced-wood shield in response.
Leonidas smiled savagely and, with his core singing a hymn of annihilation within him, slammed the conjured weapon into the shield. Cataclysm Mana reacted with the matter of the object, and Leonidas released and mentally ‘detonated’ the dagger a second after it made impact.
The resulting explosion claimed the Hobgoblin’s arm up to its bicep in a catastrophic detonation of wood, hide, bone, blood, and flesh—and Leonidas weathered it all beneath the encompassing shell of his [Archon’s Warplate]. Instead of being deterred, he moved into the detonations and—shielded with his bonded armor as his aegis—he pushed his left hand forward to grip the creature’s skull.
Ceruviel’s training kicked in, and Leonidas summoned every iota of his Willpower, harnessing it alongside the raging power of his core and psi melded together. A manifested ‘blade’ of pure psychokinetic power—entirely mental in nature—was built and slammed into the Hobgoblin’s skull, piercing past it metaphysically toward the brain and mind within.
“Siphon.”
The word was thunderous when it left his lips, weighted by both Intent and Willpower, and buoyed by his Charisma to create a command that radiated pure dread. A small whump of power discharged from Leonidas, and his full mental power crashed into the Ego of the Hobgoblin like a battering ram against thin castle gates.
Leonidas’ focus narrowed to a single point, and well aware he only had seconds before he was collapsed on, he willed every iota of his power into a mental image of a consuming black hole: one whose entire purpose was to consume the purple-black psionic energy that lurked untapped in every sapient’s mind, Affinity or no.
The Hobgoblin let out a terrified, gurgling gasp and swung its sword reflexively.
In response, Leonidas severed its sword-arm at the elbow with his [Archon’s Psiblade].
Fear overcame savagery, and he felt—in the form of what he could only call a chime—the instant the creature’s mind collapsed into surrender, and gave him what he demanded.
Psi flooded into his core in a rush of energy.
In the same moment, another System Alert chimed within his soul.
Leonidas pivoted on his left hand when he felt the onrushing surge of energy and leaned into his Strength Attribute; pulling the Hobgoblin to the left and raising his right foot. His hand released the slack jawed, drooling, and catatonic creature in the same instant as he smashed his right sabaton against its chest and sent it flying toward its kin.
“STRIKE!” the announcer screamed with enthusiasm.
The Hobgoblin’s rictus expression of terrified impotence, meanwhile, was only slightly shifted into one of pain when it was kicked, and Leonidas felt bone give way under his boot when he sent the creature flying. Hesitation was death in both Elatra and new Earth, and in neither location had such been his nature. Instead of retreating on the back of the Hobgoblin-cum-projectile conversion, he instead advanced.
With another 15 Psi added to his pool, Leonidas didn’t hesitate.
[Psionic Swordforce] coated his Psiblade in the same moment as his [Cataclysm Core] seared and chilled his veins, and added its power to his Skill at his behest.
Scarlet lightning crackled and blazed along the edges of Leonidas’ weapon and he took the fight to the Hobgoblins with single-minded fury, and while throwing caution to the wind. His enemies were clumped together, disorganized, and most importantly: they were afraid.
They were right to be.
“ACHILLES IS GOING FOR THE KILL…”
His blade sang as it hewed through the air, and Leonidas took the first Hobgoblin within two seconds of his engagement. The creature, having largely dodged its mutilated companion, raised its sword to deflect his own—and Leonidas sheared through the sharpened, basic steel like a knife through butter. The creature barely had time to widen its malevolent, fearful eyes in surprise before his [Archon’s Psiblade] cleaved through its skull and its flesh detonated from contact with his cataclysm mana.
Brain matter, bone shards, blood, and flesh exploded across Leonidas and the remaining three Hobgoblins in a shower of gore and viscera, and the [Psiarch] grinned under his helmet with bloodthirsty approval, fully in-sync with the raging need to destroy emanating from his core.
“...AND HE TAKES ONE DOWN! THREE CRIPPLED, TWO STANDING, FIVE TO GO IN TOTAL!”
The remaining two Hobgoblins scrambled to prepare themselves, ignoring the announcer and the raw-throated screams of approval from the crowd while backpedalling away from the headless corpse of their former kinsman.
Leonidas, however, was in no mood to offer them any such recourse.
His left hand rose and he channelled [Psionic Force] into a momentary activation, clenching his fist with visible theatrical flair.
“Freeze,” he commanded in a carrying voice.
They froze as he bade, restricted by pure Force, and the crowd screamed in approval.
An instant later, Leonidas pushed his Agility Attribute to its limits and surged in close, blitzing from his starting position feet away to near-instantly close distance in a blur of obsidian warplate through the use of his [Chivalric Charge], all while simultaneously bringing his empowered blade to bear. The pair of Hobgoblins’ eyes frantically darted toward his sword, but it was already too late.
Leonidas carved through them like a reaping scythe through wheat, and doubled down on the flow of his cataclysm mana while his coated bastard sword passed through their torsos.
The last pair of standing Hobgoblins exploded in a storm of blood, bone, and viscera and a small, theatrical use of [Psionic Force] sent the gratuitous remains flying away from Leonidas—all signalled by a contemptuous wave of his left hand. His swordforce vanished in the same moment, and Leonidas glanced at his HUD once more.
Health: 240 | Mana: (99) 87 | Stamina: 83 | Psi: 7
Leonidas exhaled a breath and looked from his resources to the insensate Hobgoblin swordsman and the two mewling, pathetic remnants of the spellcaster and archer that still breathed.
His sword lifted to rest on his right pauldron, and he dismissed his helmet with a focussed burst of Willpower.
“Honored Announcer!” he called toward the booth, and earned the quick dimming of the crowd’s roars.
“YES, MIGHTY ACHILLES?” the announcer boomed back from her enchanted microphone.
“I have a question for the people of Dawnhaven!”
A roar from the crowd followed and died, and the announcer was visibly grinning. She definitely appreciated the theatre.
“ASK YOUR QUESTION, CONTENDER!”
Leonidas dipped his head to the Haelfar woman, and turned his eyes to the crowd.
His arms spread wide.
His lips split into his most charming grin.
“PEOPLE OF DAWNHAVEN!” he bellowed at them with every iota of his Charisma Attribute in overdrive.
A moment of silence followed, and he let it hang for just long enough before asking his question.
“ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?”
The responsive roar of approval was like an apocalyptic detonation.