This Ascent to Divinity is Lewder Than Expected

To Rosalie's complete disbelief, the hourglass worked. Lucinda was on her feet, spear in hand and armor donned—materialized instantly from her inventory—and halfway toward the man before the corrupted hourglass finished its rotation. But she froze there, enormous obsidian-black spear outstretched for the man's face, halted in her progress.

The man would've died instantly if he'd been even a fraction of a second slower. Lucinda didn't play games.

Rosalie was so shocked that a seventh-advancement wayfarer had just been disabled that she herself froze for an invaluable, infinitely stretching second. It shouldn't be possible for an item to disable someone so powerful, regardless of its rarity. At least, not an item wielded by a man who Rosalie assumed was fifth advancement at most, likely lower.

It had to be because the item had been corrupted, broken in some way by those shard-eaters. Had its corruption actually not been a detriment, but a boon? Made it more powerful rather than weaker, removing its limitations in some way?

Lucinda had probably never seen anything like it, hence her slow reactions. Possibly even her arrogance in how little regard she'd shown the developing situation. Rosalie didn't blame her. She herself had felt the same lack of concern. Her mentor wasn't the type of person to disregard a potentially dangerous situation, but this shouldn't have been a dangerous situation. Who could fault Lucinda for not recognizing an impossibility?

And just how reckless was these cultists' use of the hourglass? It was a broken item. Fundamentally corrupted. She, Zoey, and Delta hadn't dared experiment with their own, because who knew what would happen? It seemed these people were less cautious. Was the item even stable, broken only in that it bypassed its natural limits in some way? Were complications possible? Was Lucinda in genuine danger from it? It was certainly within the realm of possibility, since they were already discussing—and experiencing—the impossible.

All of that flashed through Rosalie's mind in the shocking one-second that followed the outbreak of the fight. Then, her instincts kicked in. Her mentor—her failsafe—had been disabled, and the how behind the matter wasn't relevant. Now, they were engaged in combat with three unknowns. Goat-Mask had been frozen solid upon activation of the relic, so they only had to worry about the rest of his party. Three-on-three.

There was, quite literally, nothing in the world Rosalie had been so thoroughly trained for as how to analyze, break down, then act upon any given combat scenario.

The Church had sent four wayfarers after them. Presumably, they'd planned for the hourglass to disable one of them, turning it into a three-versus-two. Instead, it was a three-on-three, thanks to Lucinda. So Lucinda's presence did help them, if not as massively as it should've.

Rosalie could only assume each of their combatants was, at a minimum, third advancement. Likely fourth, since they had come here expecting to intimidate and bully them, not to kill, which would be difficult if they were peers. So Rosalie and her team were at a stark disadvantage. That was especially true considering Zoey's inexperience. Yes, she had powerful skills, but many weren't directly combat-focused, and Rosalie didn't have high hopes for Zoey's performance in a sudden, unexpected duel.

Especially one against sapient, thinking opponents. People. That was the bigger factor. They'd mostly fought shard monsters, which, while vicious and clever in an animal way, were a different encounter entirely than what awaited them now. Plus, there was the reality of fighting other people. In hurting them. That also seemed something Zoey would hesitate at. Rosalie didn't know how reliable Delta would be, either. The foxgirl sparred plenty inside the training arena, often with Rosalie herself, but would she hesitate in a life-or-death situation? In real combat against another party?

Rosalie wouldn't. That sort of timidity had been burned out of her long before she had even grown comfortable with the spear. They were the aggressors in this situation, not her. She had no moral quandaries in striking to maim, or even to kill, should it be necessary.

Of the six remaining combatants, Rosalie reacted first. As much thanks to her training and instincts, as because necessity—and her class—demanded she act first.

Rune of Trailblazing (Superior)

[3]: Lead the Charge. Engaging with the first strike of combat deals massive additional damage.

Rune of the Spearmaster (Rare)

[2]: Impale: Lunge with an empowered strike. Armor-piercing.

Where Lucinda's lunge attack had been unceremoniously halted, Rosalie's was not. In the small Guild accommodations, there was very little space to cover. She dipped underneath her mentor's frozen-in-time spear, rocketing out underneath it and toward the woman in the back-right of the cramped formation of opponents. Rosalie had been watching each of them, and, though it was a guess, Rosalie suspected her to be the mage or support of the group: the most valuable, and easiest, target to immediately remove from consideration. Seeing how Rosalie and her team were at an enormous disadvantage thanks to differences in advancement, they needed a powerful opening.

Their opponents weren't so disgraceful as to fail to react entirely, not with such an obvious announcement of the fight in the form of the hourglass and Lucinda's subsequent lunge. Three sets of gear appeared on their bodies only slightly after Rosalie's own. But still, not as fast as Rosalie: she was on trajectory by the time they acted.

To Rosalie's surprise, an enormous surge of strength crashed into her before her spear met her opponent—a sensation that had grown familiar. One of Zoey's primary contributions to any given fight: her absurdly potent skill, Bolster. Not only that, but amplified by Burst, which expended more of her resource pool for an even greater effect. She was impressed Zoey had reacted so quickly. She really was improving.

Bolster. Burst. Lead the Charge. Impale. Four potent skills stacked on top of each other. Potentially an advancement beyond them or not, Rosalie knew the result before it happened. Even better, Rosalie had been correct in her analysis. Only simple mage's robes appeared on her target's body. The woman didn't even have armor to defend against Rosalie's strike with.

So, Rosalie's weapon punched through the woman's stomach, its long wooden shaft sliding in, then through, soft flesh.

At the same instant, a heavy kick rocketed toward Rosalie's flank. She twisted, narrowly dodging, having expected retaliation from the nearest opponent. She yanked her spear back, blood spattering her armor and face, and the woman stumbled forward with the intense force behind the pull. Rosalie, never one to waste an opening, smashed her forehead into the woman's own skull, a parting gift.

Again, the woman's likely higher advancement didn't matter. Rosalie was a physical class, and empowered by Zoey—both through Bolster, and their stat sharing—and so, the impact barely made Rosalie's vision swim. Her opponent, however, collapsed on the spot, immediately rendered unconscious. A hole in her stomach, and likely a fractured skull. Her teammates had failed catastrophically in defending her.

Then again, they were clearly in over their heads. They'd come here assuming they had the upper hand, thanks to numbers and assumed strength. How could they know they'd chosen to fight a disciple of a goddess, and the heiress of a highguild? Their day was going as disastrously as Rosalie's own.

A small part of her spared a flash of concern for the woman she'd skewered, but she would almost certainly live. High-advancement wayfarers were absurdly durable.

There was a reason Rosalie hadn't aimed for the heart, which would have killed her. These people had claimed they hadn't come here planning on killing them, but rather to rob and intimidate them, so Rosalie spared them the smallest courtesy in return: to not immediately go for lethality. Her father would disapprove of her gentleness, Rosalie knew. From his perspective, they'd forfeited their lives the moment they raised weapons against a d'Celestin.

With a health potion and medical attention, though—easily available in the Guild—the woman would have a scar to remember this by, and a few weeks of recovery, but she would live.

Only the smallest part of her attention was focused on that. The fight had only just begun, enormously advantageous as her opening strike was or not. The bulkier golem man—now wearing a set of mismatching plate armor—bore down on her.

Perhaps initially, their plan had been to bully their team. Now, though, seeing Rosalie contemptuously skewer their teammate, the golem didn't hold back: his sword cleaved through the air for Rosalie's neck, hoping to use her over-extension—and the lunge for the backline mage had put Rosalie in a poor position—to claim his own devastating, and far more lethal, tempo-turning attack. He hadn't returned her the same courtesy: he was going straight for the kill.

Rosalie ducked beneath it, and the blade whistled above her head, barely missing. The strike had been awfully predictable, with Rosalie moving almost before it came, but was nonetheless a narrow dodge. Her suspicions were thusly confirmed: these were fourth-advancement wayfarers, minimum. He moved too fast to be anything but.

Her spear wasn't the ideal weapon to be fighting in such close quarters, with walls nearby on every side, but unfortunately, Rosalie didn't have much choice.

[1]: Spear Mastery: Deal bonus damage and better intuit enemy movements when wielding a spear.

Skills often came with detriments. Rosalie couldn't drop her spear and pull a weapon from her inventory better suited to the task of close-quarters combat, not without sacrificing enormous class benefits.

Rosalie spared a crucial glance sideways to confirm that Delta had engaged the last of the three opponents and was defending Zoey. Indeed, Rosalie saw with relief, she was. Zoey and Delta had chosen wisely to focus their combined effort two-on-one against the last woman, trusting that Rosalie could handle her own target. She approved; it was the only reasonable course of action. 

Rosalie disengaged, giving herself space to work with. The golem didn't intend to simply cede it to her: he pressed forward, and they exchanged blows. Rosalie snuck in a brutal kick to the stomach, but his plate armor and significantly higher stats meant it didn't do much. Her first attack of the fight had only been so potent thanks to the stacking of four skills aimed at a non-durable mage.

As the vicious brawl progressed, it became quickly apparent that while Rosalie might be the more skilled between them, skill stopped mattering when so thoroughly outmatched by raw stats and advancement. Their enemies had, indeed, come here with excessive firepower; she didn't have a fair opponent on her hands. It took everything Rosalie had to simply match him. He was no weak, untrained wayfarer either. At fourth advancement, those stopped existing. It took significant wayfaring experience—and thus bloodshed—to reach that point. So the difference in skill wasn't enormous, either.

Rosalie earned a slash on her forearm. She punctured his shoulder armor in return. A long exchange of parries and dodges followed, culminating in a harsh spearbutt to his kneecap—and a ringing blow to the side of Rosalie's own head. Eyes watering, she wasn't quite stunned, but she was put briefly on the backfoot, which he pressed his advantage on. Rosalie refused to succumb; she fought back fervently.

The fight was so intense that Rosalie couldn't even spare a moment to see how Zoey and Delta's engagement was going. She had to focus entirely on her own.

A part of her was exhilarated at the intensity: it had been weeks since she had been so thoroughly challenged. Nothing the shards she had delved since entering the Fractures came close. And Rosalie did, truly, find thrill in the rush of adrenaline. Fighting was, and had been for most of her life, one of her highest purposes.

The frantic tempo of combat was interrupted, suddenly, by a piercing shout.

"Stop!" a woman screamed. "STOP! Stand down!"

After a few more rapid exchanges, Rosalie disengaged, and, as much to her relief as her disappointment, her opponent did too. He staggered backward, bleeding in several places—as Rosalie herself was. Nothing critical, unfortunately. She kept her eyes locked to him, and the woman he retreated next to, ready for some form of trickery.

But it didn't seem to be that. Panting and bleeding, the two groups considered each other, their weapons raised, but not moving to reengage. The call for a ceasefire had been genuine.

A long, tense moment followed.

"Look," the woman in the dog mask said. "This isn't how this was supposed to go."

Rosalie watched them intensely, not replying.

"Let us take them," Dog-Mask said, gesturing curtly with her daggers at Goat-Mask, who was still frozen in time, and Bird-Mask, who was bleeding out on the floor, "and leave. We'll call it a draw. Sound fair?"