>>5732238You braved the flames, shutting the nictitating membranes of your eyes against the sweltering heat. You were otherwise unharmed, of course, but you couldn’t say the same for your allies, Halel and Albacete. They both fell back, even as the misguided ‘enemy’ Infiltrators around them recoiled or fled. You needed to end this swiftly, decisively. As before, you decided to elan upon your divine authority to do so.
>9“STOP!”
Your voice was a roar… But not more of a roar than that of your progenitor’s fire. None of the preternatural, prophetic boom of your patron vibrated in your voice—no <Metatron> to speak of, just the faint sound of desperation as you tried again:
“CLOSE YOUR MOUTH!” you tried. “DROP THE JAR!”
>5Still the flames continue, such that you press forwards, simply to close distance in in vain hope that proximity will make up for volume. Were you not in your Long Wang form, cloaked in human flesh, perhaps your <Fearsome Presence> would be enough… But no. You feel his determination, even from here.
“SUBMIT, DAMN YOU! <SUBMIT>!”
Almost to your surprise at this point, it seems to work. The magic still doesn’t rise up as it should, to properly strengthen your command, and you can feel as much… But Roth lets up. Has the Dragonblooded One seen sense?
>1>4/5 HPThe sudden lash of pain across your chest tells you otherwise. Far from submitting, the Dragonblooded Infiltrator has drawn his blade—a sturdy, simple sword, likely crafted by his own hand and with that same harsh, draconic fire—and has struck you. You reach for your own, automatic in your motion, but before you can he slashes you again—your hand—and with a hiss your assassin’s dagger clatters to the ground. You reach for another—you are never short on swords—but the older and more experienced male shoulder-tackles you into the wall, knocking you over with a surprising brust of strength and speed.
“Negligible senescence…” you reflect in irritation.
“Precisely, mongrel,” your father hisses as he steps back quickly, looking down at you as you camber back to your feet and catch your breath. “I am not weakened by the monkey-blood which has TAINTED you… I am strong with the old blood, and the old way! The TRUE ways!”
“Whatever the Serpent Priests have said,” you begin, “it is not—”
