Delghar roared. His battle axe chased Altair through the sky. Her rapier flashed golden light against Delghar's brown, muddy tentacles. A jab of her rapier struck a patch of his muddy brown suit. It felt as if she were cutting through hard rubber. Sheena scoffed from a distance when she saw how Altair kept her distance after a few strikes.
"Stop running around like mosquitoes!"
"Are you sure you're an eagle? Your skin feels like clay or mud. Sticky and disgusting. Why don't people call you Delghar the Faeces?" Altair taunted as another flash stabbed at him.
"Fuck you!" Delghar chased her. But his effort was futile. Delghar couldn't even catch up with Sheena—and Altair was faster than Sheena, playing him like a fool.
A symbiote's battle style was more precious than gold in times of war. Such information was kept secret even from symbiote users of the same nation. Even Sheena didn't know the full extent of Delghar's abilities. As she analyzed the battle, she realized Altair was a bad match for him. Another flashing strike went through Delghar's skin, but it barely left a light cut. Sheena noticed how the flash paused for a moment on Delghar's bodysuit before Altair pulled her sword and tentacle back.
Sheena surmised Delghar was trying to catch Altair's sword with his sticky skin. Against her, that tactic would be troublesome. Her strikes were precise and powerful, but that very precision would trap her blade unless she used her sword aura skill. However, that wasn't the case with Altair. With how fast and light her strikes were, Delghar couldn't catch them.
Brown tentacles lashed upward toward Altair, but she easily dodged. Delghar's tentacles were like slime compared to Altair, who was like a cheetah.
"Tired already, sludge? Seems you're all bark and no bite. Even the pigeon standing there was tougher than you." Altair smirked.
"Shitty coward! Come here!" Delghar shouted, chasing her again, trying to force Altair to the ground. Smirking at the obvious bait, Altair lured him toward her soldiers, who were entrenched in the ruined gate of Sicily. Delghar foolishly followed after her.
"Wait! Delghar!" Sheena reached out, chasing after him. Delghar fell into the trap like the foolish beast he was. Gunshots rang from the gate — a squad of Mutual soldiers leveled their muzzles at the flying brown target.
A hail of bullets assaulted Delghar. To him it was nothing more than a pinprick, but Altair, faster than he was, kept her distance and dove. She had executed this formation only twice before, but her soldiers performed better than Sheena's.
Her figure blurred. Like Sheena, Altair had a finishing move as well. She could push her speed to that of sound for just a fraction of a second. She hadn't been able to use it against Sheena, but against Delghar—who was slower—she hit him squarely in the chest.
Altair got greedy. Instead of simply buying time for the others to escape, she tried to defeat Delghar outright when he showed an opening. A smile of victory crossed her face as her rapier embedded itself in Delghar's chest.
"Caught you." Delghar grinned.
Altair's eyes widened, her smile turning into horror as Delghar grabbed her wrist. His tentacle crept over her like mud. How did he survive? Her rapier had sunk into his chest up to the hilt—his heart should have been pierced.
This was Delghar's trump card. It sounded plain compared to Sheena's sword aura, Seraphine's flames, or Jonathan's invisibility, but Delghar could use his symbiote to move his organs. He had shifted his heart twenty centimeters down into his stomach, saving himself from Altair's deathblow.
His symbiote could do even more, but to prevent himself from turning into a horrific chimera—eyes sprouting from his hands, or worse—he kept it suppressed with a high dosage of drugs, forcing the symbiote to bow to his will.
Symbiotes were dangerous entities. Those incompatible with them would eventually be consumed. Delghar secretly feared his own symbiote; that was why he had never skipped his pills.
"Shit!" Altair cursed. Her wings undulated behind her, but Delghar's grip was like a vise. Death loomed as he brought down his axe—only to be stopped inches from her head. Lizzy, her symbiote, had entwined its tentacles around Delghar and seized his arm.
With her free hand, Altair reached for the dagger at her waist. It was a memento from her sister — a worthless silver blade compared to her orichalcum rapier. She had never thought she would need it. She hesitated, wondering whether the dagger would shatter if used against a symbiote user, then thrust the blade into his eye.
"Argh!" The silver dagger tore into his eye and embedded itself in the socket. Delghar cried out as pain surged through his mind. The symbiote pulsed, sensing its host in danger. It ripped free of his body, releasing its hold on Altair's sword and lashing toward her. Lizzy reacted instantly, throwing her tentacles around the brown appendage that came for her master. As the two symbiotes fought, both Delghar and Lizzy lost their balance and plummeted toward the ground.
Altair regained her footing while Delghar crashed to earth, screaming. Her mind was stunned at the monstrous screech, but her body moved on instinct. Delghar's wound should be superficial, but he had clearly lost his reason — this was the chance of a lifetime. Her rapier aimed for his neck, but Lizzy flung herself aside and a flash of white cut past Altair. Sheena had interrupted the duel.
"Tch! He lost control. How many years has he had that symbiote and he still loses control? What an amateur," Sheena spat as Delghar flailed. His brown tentacles whipped wildly, striking and missing anything nearby. She then turned toward Altair. "Do I have to fight you now, or will you let us go?"
Altair sheathed her rapier. Although several of her soldiers were hidden in the ruined gate, she wasn't confident she could beat Sheena alone. Delghar might have lost it, but even unmoored he was more dangerous than ordinary soldiers. She remembered her purpose. To stall for time.
"Sheena!" he cried. Sheena responded by flinging a wooden box toward him, spilling several symbiote pills. Delghar shoved two into his mouth; the symbiote calmed. Before he could take any more, Sheena seized his hand.
"Don't take too much. If your symbiote goes feral, you'll become nothing more than a mindless monster," she said.
The raging tentacle quieted, but it was still unstable. The appendages pulsed around his body, refusing to settle. Delghar, his remaining eye wild, snarled: "Fuck you! Sheena! Let's kill that bitch!"
"Delghar, you lost the duel and were injured. Let's return to camp and get you rested before we besiege them again. They are not going anywhere."
"Fuck you! Are you rebelling against the king?"
"You lost the duel, and worse, you lost control of your symbiote. If you keep fighting, it might consume you. I saved your life. Oh? Are you saying you're fine dying here against that firefly? I didn't know you were so loyal to His Majesty." Sheena smirked.
Delghar clenched his teeth. He might be brash and stupid, but he wasn't suicidal. He knew she was right—he would die if he continued the battle.
"Fuck!" Delghar spat, stepping back. Every stride dripped with defeat.
Altair frowned as she watched them withdraw. Regret tugged at her. She should have pressed the assault. If she could take down Delghar here, that would have been one less headache to deal with. But with only a squad of soldiers at her side—and Elysia relying solely on skeletons (she didn't yet know Hiro had gained a new skill)—she wasn't confident she could take on Sheena alone.
"Congratulations on your victory, Divine Host Altair! We have prepared a horse for you!" Hanuth, her aide, greeted her with a bright smile.
His words brought her no joy. "I shouldn't have let them go. I should have pressed the attack," Altair muttered.
"There's no way that's true, Divine Host Altair. You have repelled the enemy—that alone is enough. You will be honored in the council of Divine Hosts!"
She knew it was futile to discuss the matter with her knights. They worshipped symbiotes, so everything she said was gospel to them. If she said the cloud was black, not white, they would agree. She sighed as her horse trotted away from Sicily toward Daneswald Castle, where the army had retreated. Only now did it strike her how much she missed the general and Cecile, who never treated her as a god. She missed the arguments and the conversations.
Back at the castle, the soldiers cheered her like a hero returning in triumph.
"You don't look like a soldier who succeeded in her mission, Lady Altair." The general smiled as he offered her tea and snacks.
"I had a chance to kill Delghar, but I hesitated," Altair confessed.
"There is always a first time for everything. Mistakes happen. What matters most is your safe return. It won't do us any good if you kill Delghar but lose your life in the process. We wouldn't be able to fight Sheena then."
"I dueled Delghar and managed to wound him, but I couldn't finish him off. Sheena intervened. Delghar is injured, but he'll certainly come here with Sheena in several days. Next time, he won't underestimate me, and the two of them will come at us with full force. What are we going to do? I doubt he'll accept another duel with me."
"We simply need to retreat. Mutual will arrange for another combat symbiote. If we can also send Lord Seraphine, everything will be resolved." The general's tone was calm. The campaign was important, but it wasn't something he had to win at any cost. To him, pride and prestige meant little compared to the lives of his soldiers.
Litmus was a defensive nation to begin with. He felt nothing in conquering this new land. No pride nor honor. He was ready to abandon everything and return to Quantora Village, where he would defend it alongside Lord Seraphine.
All he needed was a good excuse—and he had just found one. He was now faced with two combat-specialized symbiotes. That was more than enough reason to retreat, especially since he had only one combat symbiote user under his command. The fact that all the symbiotes entrusted to him were still alive was, in his eyes, an achievement in itself.
Altair was not nearly as calm. At the very least, she would write a letter to her homeland, demanding greater support against Latvin.
This war had shifted from skirmishes into all-out war.