Elder Cultivator

Though many cultivator spaceships carried on the traditional aesthetic of their sea counterparts, there were also ways that they were different. The Trigold Cluster- at least for their military operations at the border between upper and lower realms- favored a design that had the majority of the crew encased instead of on an open deck. That meant a simple breach of their barriers wouldn’t lead to suffocation of the weaker cultivators, and it provided a bit more privacy. Isolation, even, though people weren’t ever actually alone.

Physical security on the ship was minimal, as people needed to move about freely especially during a combat situation. More importantly, the outer barrier should have stopped people like Velvet from boarding their ship. Maybe it would have, if it was running at full capacity- but the current position across the border was met with interference from natural energy. The ship was clearly designed to operate to some extent in those conditions, but it was still made mainly for traversing the upper realms.

There were many tempting targets along Velvet’s route, but while she could count on concealing herself, once someone died the crew would have to be pretty incompetent for none of them to notice it immediately. Unless she could get someone in a completely sealed room, but then she couldn’t step out of it easily.

Velvet made her way further, not hurried but certainly not taking her time- this was a combat scenario, after all. The hatch she entered eventually took her through hallways to the bridge- the known layout of the ships guiding her. Though the presence of an Integration cultivator would have been sufficient.

The door took a moment of focus, replicating the feeling of it being shut for those inside even as she slipped through. Though Velvet was unable to say she’d done perfectly, there were no indications of anyone noticing. That let her close the distance with her target.

She had in one hand a stiletto dagger, long and thin. Her aim was just under the armpit, where armor would be lightest. The Integration cultivator had energy defenses as well- it would be foolish to not at any point, but especially in battle. Velvet needed to gather enough energy to pierce through that so her dagger could reach the heart.

If everything went well, the woman wouldn’t even feel it until the blade was drawn out of her body. But either because of some extraordinary senses or a failure on Velvet’s part- perhaps due to the interference of lower energy which she was no longer used to- her opponent twisted at the last instant. Velvet’s blade still pierced energy defenses and flesh, but barely even punctured a lung and certainly didn’t reach all the way through the woman’s heart.

Velvet expected an immediate retaliation with the claw weapons the woman wore on her hands- what she did not expect was for the woman to exhale a cloud of acrid yellowish gas, filling the area around them. The angle of the cloud wasn’t quite perfect, indicating Velvet had still managed to keep herself somewhat concealed. It was targeted more towards her left shoulder than her center of mass, and she pulled away- leaving her dagger behind. She had another, though she preferred to fight with both.

The lungs on the woman seemed endless- or more likely, whatever she was breathing wasn’t actually in her lungs to begin with but was a creation of energy. A poison of some sort, one that the woman herself would be immune to. Velvet moved to one of the walls of the bridge- a corner was too obvious- holding her breath and forming energy over her pores. Some poisonous gasses required inhalation, some seeped in through the skin. At least it didn’t appear to be directly caustic- the materials of the bridge itself were not disintegrating as the cloud spread.

While the woman herself was immune, the crew on the bridge was not. There was no immediate visible effect, except for their reactions- at best a moment of spasming muscles before they collapsed to the ground, unmoving.

Velvet was not on the bridge. That was what her stealth was based on, but she was still not able to perfectly embody that idea. No matter how much she might trick others’ senses, she was still actually present. She didn’t want to determine if she could beat that poison… so she twisted the handle of the door.

Without even stepping from her position, the Integration cultivator slashed at and through the door, the form of a dragon extending the reach of the claws to several meters. It wasn’t just a projection, either, but a physical transformation- if temporary.

If Velvet had been foolish enough to actually touch the door instead of grasping it with a tendril of energy she might have been cut into clean slices. Though if that had actually been her intention, she would have done a better job of hiding the movement of the handle. Even so, she came to realize her current position was even less safe than it seemed- if she was properly revealed, she would likely die. But clearly that wasn’t the case.

Instead of edging closer to the door- or what was left of it- she moved further, even as the toxic fumes continued to spread. The woman had ceased her breath, but the fumes naturally moved to fill the area. They crept ever closer to Velvet… and the availability of the hallway wasn’t sufficient.

There was a glass viewing window at the front of the ship- or perhaps some sort of durable crystal. Either way, Velvet made a slight sound there. Her opponent’s reaction was much the same- except a larger sweeping claw slash covered a wider area. Velvet had to bend towards the floor to avoid the attack, and even then it still glanced off her defensive energy. More than injuries or the loss of that energy, Velvet was worried about her opponent’s potential feedback. She leapt towards the now destroyed window, disappointed that the ship’s formations held up and didn’t suck the gasses out into the vacuum of space.

It seemed that the draconic woman didn’t quite sense where Velvet had been, or simply had other ideas- turning to sweep the room with another sweep behind her, cutting apart pieces of the ship and crew. Velvet was glad she’d dodged towards the area that had just been attacked, though she didn’t think she was as likely to be cut into tiny slices by the wider area attacks. At most she would receive some wounds… but that would be problematic as well.

She slipped out of the now destroyed viewport, squeezing herself between the formation barriers and the vessel itself. She had to be careful of her route, as the ship itself was still being assaulted by her allies- and with its bridge completely disrupted, it was an easy target. She supposed she could still call her efforts a success, even if she hadn’t killed her target. Though her toes were numb on one foot where she’d barely dipped it into that toxic cloud.

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Having been unable to cut the ship in half, Chikere had to return for another pass. Instead of speeding by, she had the ship approach at a reasonable speed to facilitate a proper confrontation. In short, she jumped onto the enemy ship, where she was immediately met by two swordsmen. One held a pair of middling sized blades, while another held a two handed sword- though it was not like the bulky hunks of metal the Black Hole Blades had carried. It was still an elegant weapon, thin and sharp with a long reach, making it more akin to a glaive in some manners.

As she was no longer trying to cut the ship itself in two, Chikere gathered her swords around herself in a dancing cloud of blades instead of treating them as one larger sword- clearly that technique needed more practice, and perhaps more energy infused into it. Personal combat, however, she could handle.

It only took five blades each to deal with the two Integration cultivators, leaving her the majority to deal with the waves of foolish individuals who thought they could alter the battle by joining in. Perhaps they meant to wear her down, but Chikere didn’t think she would ever get tired from low level sword techniques. Simply swinging a weapon was invigorating in its own way.

Her one arm held no weapon. That was not because she was not capable- and in fact it would still be better to wield her best sword that way, even though she was not left handed. But having a free hand came with advantages… and things being difficult was good for training.

Using her own body like a sword was a nice idea, but Chikere knew she wasn’t a good sword. Oh, she could still cut someone with her fingers or a simple look, but that was no good against anyone even vaguely close to her level. She had to admit the two figures were working together well- the one with two blades moved in close and kept her busy while the other moved into a flanking position. If she was not effectively using ten arms to deal with them, she might not be able to keep up.

The other crew were now hesitating at the door- and finding it rather difficult to get over the pile of bodies- so Chikere felt confident she could have reserved a few more weapons for offense against either or both. That would end the fight quickly. But she had further goals beyond just winning.

The greatsword was first. Though Chikere knew her body was a terrible sword, not sharp at all, for defensive measures it was perfectly serviceable. Even when deflecting with one of her own blades she was never supposed to touch the edge, but use flats against flats.

The greatsword stabbed towards her with great agility, transitioning into a sweep then drawing slash as she avoided it. Moves worthy of a swordmaster. Chikere felt herself dancing on the edge of her capabilities, but that was exactly what she wanted. Her fingers came up, pushing against the flat of the sword and bringing it above her head as she stepped into one of her opponents. Her elbow jabbed into his wrist, spasming the muscles to make one hand let go. Her fingers closed around the hilt of the weapon, angling the blade even against the other hand’s resistance to deflect one of the swords sweeping towards her while her own free roaming blades blocked the other.

Chikere then gathered several of her blades to force the man to make a choice- keep his remaining hand on his greatsword and have his body impaled in multiple places, or retreat. Those weren’t the only options, but they were the clear ones. The man pulled back, even being gutsy enough to grab the hilts of some of Chikere’s floating blades. For a moment, it was as if they had switched weapons.

The overly large hilt spun around in a single hand, the weapon elegant and balanced enough to not hinder Chikere overly much. The sword struggled against her- it seemed the man had a decent brand of ownership. Unfortunately, she needed to kill him with his own sword so she couldn’t let that stand. Three of her own blades moved towards the man and he attempted to deflect with the two he’d captured. Chikere let him think he had control of them until the last moment, and to his credit he avoided getting his hands cut clean off. Instead, he just received slices along the length of both forearms. But that slowed him enough for Chikere to step in, thrusting his own sword through his neck, the weapon moving too quickly for him to react with the other moves already happening. Blood poured down the blade, which should fulfill Sadiq’s requirement. Though perhaps she should store some of it as well.

The other behind her was being constantly menaced by her weapons as well. When she focused on one opponent, he took advantage and slashed towards her in a cross pattern. She intended to deflect them with her right arm before realizing she no longer had that. She had to twist her body unnaturally, catching one blade between her ribs and kicking up one foot to kick at the other. The blade cut through her shoes but was caught in the valley next to her big toe, the limb itself providing only a small amount of the force required to stop the attack and her upper energy doing the majority of the heavy lifting. Her body was tempered as much as was reasonable, but she wondered if she should work towards the unreasonable… or perhaps she should focus on it even less.

With one opponent down, even though she’d received a not insignificant injury at that moment she would not take long to defeat the man. When she dropped the large sword and went back to being bare handed, the man seemed to understand her intent to kill him with his own blades.

The most difficult part was holding both of them in one hand. It felt a bit rude, really, to kill someone of such skill with their own sword- but their blades would be better reforged into something greater. If Chikere was going to go out, she would want her life essence to become part of a powerful sword as well.

Chikere retrieved the blades, some blood, and finished cutting the ship in half from the inside before remembering they intended to capture at least one of the vessels for study. Well, it was basically intact except for one side and the entire middle.