Chapter 1364 (1/2)

After she heard the extremely dismissive words that Howard Boltmer had chosen to say directly to her face, Vye changed her strategy. Tatiana had been right; this man didn’t understand the differences in their perspective yet. And the way he dismissed his earlier attack as a mere test that she should willingly endure…

“Mr. Boltmer-” Vye began slowly, but the aging man’s eyes sharpened at her.

“I would really prefer if you would call me by my Class, the Blighted Paragon,” Howard Boltmer said with deceptive mildness. “I find it that such courtesies prevent misunderstandings.”

At this point, Vye was starting to feel like she had encountered a middle schooler that had wildly inaccurate views of his own importance rather than a man who appeared to have been nearing fifty even before the System had arrived. She even wanted to ask him where his adult was, considering his loose grasp on reality.

In fact, Howard’s confidence seemed so baseless that she was slightly worried that she was missing something. But the air in the tent was practically inert; after spending so much time around the influential group from the Order Ducis, how could Vye miss the fact that Howard Boltmer had no image to dominate the surrounding area?

There wasn’t a hint of his influence even at the seat of his power.

As her emotions started to run high, she could already feel her relatively modest image spreading to fill the surrounding space. And Harold Boltmer didn’t notice at all. He really was a child when it came to the System.

Vye felt her face easing into a smile that she had often seen on Tatiana’s features. “Mr. Boltmer, I think you are sorely mistaken about what this is. The Order Ducis isn’t currying favor to seek a partnership with you; the Order Ducis is deciding whether to crush your little movement or allow it to proceed. And I’m the woman who you need to have on your side when my superiors ask for a report.”

For several seconds, Howard Boltmer’s face was invaded by a genuine wave of confusion. Slowly, that confusion solidified to a tightly controlled fury. He clicked his tongue. “...is that the case. Well, it appears that further discussion will get us nowhere. Please remove yourself from my camp. And do be careful, it would be a shame to be blamed for your death if monsters rip your arrogant expression off of your face-”

The Ritual she had seared into her flesh throbbed with pain as her image readied itself. Vye’s eyes were gleaming stars in the dim light of the tent as Vye raised her hands and pressed her palms together. She could have walked away, but now Vye was thoroughly enraged. Someone needed to teach these people a lesson and Vye wanted it to be her. Howard Boltmer’s eyes narrowed at her movements and his skin seemed to ripple until he was covered dense black scales, but Vye ignored him.

This was a demonstration, not a true attack.

Vye currently possessed six Rituals: Ignite, Reject, Mirror, Donate, Consume, and Cleanse. She began with the easiest and most destructive of her original four Rituals, Ignite. But as she did so, her image manifested in the surrounding space.

It was a map, but a map of something grander and more ethereal than any physical location. It was a byzantine series of interlocking yellow dots and lines that guided the flow of energy from the spiritual plane. They floated in the air above Vye, following the billowing peaks of the tent roof. The image was based on Vye’s fuzzy memories of her grandmother’s ritual altars, carefully improved with exhausting practice sessions with the other members of the Order Ducis.

It was a floating, interlocking, rotating, shifting series of symbols. Vye’s image didn’t possess the same sort of definitive correspondence that Engraving did, but that wasn’t the point. It was, and always would be, a plea. Her image was the shape of Vye’s grand prayer. It was a humble request. It was a lock, slowly being undone. It was a map.

The surrounding air shuddered with its power.

That finally got Harold’s full attention; perhaps his danger sense finally triggered. He scrambled to his feet and threw out his hand, producing a blast of maroon gas. Under the weight of Vye’s image, that gas almost instantly dissipated. But the Blighted Paragon wasn’t done. He raised his voice and shouted. “Guards!”

Vye sensed the movement outside but ignored it. The Ignite she created between her two hands flared up until it encountered one of her palms… which she had covered with a Mirror. So the Ignite ricocheted sideways into the other palm, which was likewise covered in a Mirror. Faster and faster, it shot back and forth, quickly rebounding almost fifty times, gaining a little bit of power with each Mirror.

Howard Boltmer lowered his stance, watching her carefully as he considered his next move. Gritting her teeth, Vye forced herself to endure through another dozen Mirrors. Even with the support of her image behind her, it would be difficult to hold on for much longer. So Vye didn’t bother. She opened her palms.

WHOOOOOOOSSSSSSSHHHHHHH!

A roaring pillar of flame exploded upward, blasting Howard Boltmer’s tent directly up into the air, stakes, tent poles, and all. A split second later, the heat of that flaming pillar was enough to ignite the various materials and reduce them to ash. Even though the heat and pressure was given an outlet upward, Vye still winced from the experience of holding the pillar. She even earned a couple of Levels in Pain Resistance for her troubles.

Rather than being buffeted by any sort of explosion, the shock of what he was seeing seemed to send Howard Boltmer reeling several steps back. His face was twisted into a grimace. As the noise of the flames began to die down, Vye glanced over her shoulder to see several guards armed with poleaxes standing transfixed right outside the entrance to the tent. It was clear from their deathly pale faces that they were quite thankful they were a half step too slow on their rush to assist their leader.

“Capture the bitch,” Howard Boltmer growled. His skin rippled again and he seemed to physically shift into a reptilian creature. “Alive.”