Chapter 159

Boom.

The windows rattled as violet fire flowed out from the impact point, a wave of purple plasma that crisped the wallpaper to ash revealing and blackening the plaster beneath.

“Hmm. Not bad.”

Myra waved her hands and the flame shifted, forming shapes, huge exotic bird wings, layered wings made from violet fire. The many wings curled in on themselves, surrounding her in a shell of shimmering flame, blade-like feathers enclosing her, heat haze wafting outwards.

After a moment the fire shimmered and wisped away, purple flame flickering bright before dying to nothing.

She was left standing in the hall. The furniture around her turned to crisp, fabric ash, wood blackened, black scorch marks scattered across the marble floor.

“That was my furniture you just turned to scrap Myra.”

“Oops. Did you like my new Skill anyway? With this I can’t even be touched, and a certain highly flammable wolf won’t even be able to come near me!”

Brax nodded his head, “I can see that being useful. Was that from your seventh leveling potion?”

“Eighth. But I’m starting to have the same problem of diminishing returns as you. It’s the monsters that the little slimes collected right? They only seem to gather the weaker kind.”

Brax nodded. “Yes, unfortunately, it’s very rare they manage to survive deeper in the dungeon so they can take from a rarer powerful monster’s last dying moments. The potions are nearly all gone anyway so it’s probably for the best you’re reaching the limits of what they can offer.”

He turned. “And you Eliza, how are your levels?”

Eliza quickly flicked her eyes over to Brax from what she was concentrating on, her hands moving carefully as she shaped the water in front of her, a block of liquid water six foot tall. The water shifted as she moved her hands, changing, a wolf-like head appearing, then a crudely sculpted bipedal body.

“It’s ... fine. I was gaining four levels per potion at first, but after the eighth I didn’t even get one level.”

She added a tail and shaped the legs as she spoke.

“Is this what you remember from the dungeon? This is Rain?”

Eliza nodded. “I barely escaped, which is kinda obvious considering my hair.” Her hand lifted to her head, hesitantly touching her hair which had been styled shorter on one side to hide that a huge chunk of it had been ripped out and was only just growing back.

Myra danced around the watery statue of Rain, looking him over,

“Humm. He seems pretty feral, like an out of control animal. And kinda small. Like, I’m nearly the same size.”

“He isn’t like this now Myra, he’s far far larger.” Brax scowled, “This problem needs to be nipped in the bud sooner rather than later. The longer Rain is left alone the more time we give him to grow beyond the advantage we’ve gained with the potions. This may be our only opportunity to kill him.”

“So I’ve got to get it right, or I’ll die, I need to guarantee his death,” said Eliza. She lifted her hands, making clutching motions at the air, and then with a jerk, she twisted her hands around. The head of the water statue twisted around with them until the neck snapped, droplets flying from the rippling liquid surface to patter over the elf standing behind.

Myra lifted a hand and wiped a few droplets from her cheek.

“You know this is cute Eliza but this really isn’t going to do anything against him, what was it you said? He just drank your water before? How is throwing more water at him going to help? Really Brax is she going to be of any use at all?”

Myra flicked out a hand and the water statue began to boil, huge bubbles rolling up from within and causing its surface to ripple and sway.

Eliza struggled to manage the thing, her hands darting around as she kept it together, steam boiling off the water surface as the temperature rose.

She finally lost control and the shape disintegrated, water sloshing down onto the marble floor below. She raised her arms with a cry of fear as droplets of boiling water splashed over her leaving streaks of red inflamed skin.

The water spread out as it fell, covering the floor of the room and wetting the bottom of her shoes.

The elf giggled.

“You think this is funny you psycho bitch!” Eliza screamed at the elf, thrusting her arms up to show her burns. “Look what you’ve done to me!”

“Aww, does it hurt?”

With an absolutely livid expression Eliza raised her hands into the air, palms outspread.

The building began to shake.

“Hey, uh, Eliza what are you doing?” said Brax.

“Did you think there was only one river running through this city? Let’s see what this elf bitch thinks her flames can do when actually underwater!”

The walls began to quake so violently that the glass panes shattered.

Myra and Brax looked around in alarm.

“Uh, Eliza how big is this river...?”

“Normal sized!”

The ground abruptly erupted as water domed upwards, a full on underground river redirected vertically.

The roof blew off the mansion.

“Hey is this rain?”

“Our Rain?” said Opal by Lyra’s side.

“No, as in rain rain, you know rain that falls from the sky.”

Lyra held up a hand and a few specks of water dampened her palm.

She squinted up at the big, blue, and completely cloudless sky in puzzlement.

“Weird.”

She turned and entered the shop they had been heading toward, the original goal of their outing, the essential and extremely important objective ... Which was to buy something for Lyra to wear at Brax’s welcoming party, something that would look the part of a filthy rich and influential noble attending a social event.

Inside wool space Rain peered through Lyra’s wool to see various elaborate dresses hanging from racks, and behind the counter a thin man wearing severe clothing, a slender grey moustache on his lip. He approached, hands clasped together.

Before he could speak however Lyra snapped her fingers at him.

“Clothing.”

“Uh ... y-yes that is what we supply here ma’am.”

“Barely. If you call these disgusting rags clothing then I can hardly imagine what you consider actual rags. No, this won’t do, I require ... something more.” She held up a fist to emphasise her words. “Something to break all vogue, something to bend fashion itself to my will.”

The tailor blinked behind his spectacles.

“We do custom-”

“Yes, that, give me that.”

She flapped her hands at the tailor until he was chased into the backroom. Opal followed in his wake, occasionally poking at the jewel covered dresses as she passed.

The backroom wasn’t quite as presentable as the display room, with bolts of cloth and huge spindles of thread stacked in every direction. In the middle of the room was a chair and Lyra stalked over to before perching her rear on the edge.