Soulcatcher

by Sergey Zaytsev

  Warming up for the fight, I twisted the sword in my hand. Peeking from behind my shoulder, Grant poked something with his staff. Absentmindedly, I tracked the party log - "Life-giving Trap": an AoE[5] damage spell that lasts five seconds and damages everyone in its affected area. However, its range was small. He had just said that he had nothing decent! The floromancer was a combat healer, not some kind of a wimpy sidekick!!

  The first "Fangore" that rushed up the stairs screamed as if it had been cut into pieces. Shoots of poisonous vine sprung from the bottom of the staircase, enveloping the creature from head to toe, instantly stopping it. Three of its kin tried to dodge but the life-sucking sprouts caught them too, pinning three more bodies to the ground.

  This, however, did not stop the attack. Another "Fangore" jumped high, leaping over the danger zone, and landed onto the stairs right in front of me. Letting out a low, guttural growl, the fanged maw parted into a creepy grin. Red eyes burned with anger. A strange thought flashed through my mind when the "Fangore" rushed down the stairs.

  My God, what was I doing here? Not specifically on this staircase, but HERE…

  I had no time to think.

  With a fiery flash, the sword pierced through the creature's head, crushing the skull into pieces with unexpected ease. Smoking scraps of brains and splashes of boiled blood poured over the wall of the well. Then came the smell of burnt flesh and scorched hair. Crashing down the stairs, the creature left behind an expanding bloody streak.

  The place was vacant for a split second; the next minion jumped onto the stairs only to immediately run into a quick swing. A clean blow, multiplied by crit and luck, followed by the crunch of bones, and another headless body, writhing in convulsions, rolled down the steps. Good thing I invested all of those free stat points into strength. The "Blessing" worked wonders with my powers!

  A new "Fangore" was already rushing over the dead bodies of his friends, foam dripping from its grinning muzzle. This one was faster than the others. The "Uniq's" blade swished over its head, slashing off its pointed ears and loudly crashed into the well's wall. Pebbles and rocks noisily fell onto the ground. The minion closed the distance in one swift jump only to roll down with a piercing howl, entangled by green snakes of grassy vines sprouting from God knows where. Enraged by another failure, the other packs howled in response, forming a deafening, polyphonic choir.

  "Grant!" I tried to out-shout the choir. "I forgot to ask, do we lose experience upon death?"

  "What? Oh, no!" the mentor shouted back.

  Standing two steps behind me, trying not to interfere, he refused to remain idle. His single-target spells rushed past me with a sinister whistle and hit the frenzied maelstrom of black bodies at the bottom. Here and there, a figure would get entangled by the dark green shoots of "Ravenous Ivy". Its thorns clung to the flesh, puncturing the guts and forcing the creatures to rage in pain. In such a mess it was impossible to see how much damage the "ticking" spell caused. Shame that it wasn't powerful enough to insta-kill the target.

  "However, your memory could suffer!" Grant clarified. "Perhaps we won't recall this battle, if it doesn't end in our favor!"

  "Maybe that's for the best! Remembering my own death can't be pleasant!"

  There was no time to see how close the leaders were. I struggled to fend off the dogs in all possible ways. Because of how narrow the stairs were, the "Fangores" were unable to rush at us all at once. As all of them tried to get to us first, squeezed together in the tight passage, they showed and hit each other. This allowed us to deal with them one by one. But how long would our luck last?

  "Grant, if we manage to down twenty minions... Will it suit as a consolation prize when we find ourselves in the 'Replicator'?"

  I wondered if the quest's secondary condition would be valid even if the main quest fails.

  "Oh, that's what you were talking about! Haven't tested it yet, but it just might work!" Although I couldn't see him, I was sure that he was grinning enthusiastically. "I like your attitude, Wise bro!"

  A heavy kick broke the jaw of my next victim with a distinct crunch. An angled hit of the sword and the creature flew down; its twitching clawed paw joined its ears on the staircase. A couple of seconds later, it was joined by more severed paws. The steps were completely red and blood was flowing in streams. Adrenaline boiling in my veins, my body craved for the "feast" to go on.

  A couple of minions simultaneously appeared on the stairs and miraculously managed not to push each other out of the way. Whirling in the air, one of the monsters leapt towards my face, its drooling maw wide open.

  Leaning to the side, I hit it under the jaw with the sword's hilt, discharging the earned attack points. I heard the shockingly loud crunch of bones and cervical vertebrae. With its neck broken sideways, the "Fangore" slammed against the wall and tumbled down the stairs.

  The other one got to me by slipping right under the first. Teeth shone and pain pierced my thigh to the bone. I swore like a sailor. A powerful pull of the creature's long jaws almost made me collapse and fall directly into the raging mass. I barely had time to grab onto the battlement. Clinging onto it with both hands, I dropped my sword. Clattering loudly, it dangerously glided across the granite slab. A little more and it would fall over the edge. I tried to step on it, but the thing hanging off me refused to let go. Although it weighed no less than me, it threatened to pull me into the pack, which was eager to tear me to pieces.

  Grant intervened just in time. The sounds of the battle were blocked by a multi-voiced squeal. As soon as the spell rolled back, the mage once more cast "Life-giving Trap" onto the soil at the foot of the staircase, blocking the flow of enemies with a violent thicket of magical ivy for a few seconds. The tip of his staff pierced the forehead of the "Fangore" hanging onto me with such force that its carcass flew back a few meters, its skull broken. I pushed myself away from the wall, grabbed my sword, and fell to my knees. The wounded leg refused to listen. My tattered pants were getting heavier from blood that gushed from my wounds.

  "Hold on!" Grant's shout reached me, followed by a healing spell. My thigh got enveloped in a warm glow and the pain melted away. I had no time to think about how the spell worked, but I could feel the scars healing at a magical speed. However, it was not instantaneous and my mentor understood that very well. He jerked me up, unceremoniously pushing me back, and took my place. I was once more convinced that level seven buffed with the "Blessing" was a sight to behold. Another short wave of the staff and another black body flew away, writhing, its spine broken.

  I caught myself thinking: ''What if we could really solo this?''

  "Time for a break! Mana's running low!" shouted the mage, not forgetting to swing his heavy staff, striking the "Fangores" that were persistently climbing up.

  A break?! What was he talking about? I had killed no more than six enemies! The rest of them were not planning to halt the onslaught. The first leader was making its way towards the stairs, kicking away minions, and lashing their backs. After such a petting, the dogs only raged stronger, gaining a magical boost. I noticed that the crystals have almost recharged. A delightful sight. Someone was gonna get really hurt soon!

  "Get them!" Grant suddenly shouted in excitement.

  Like a speeding battle cruiser, the "Turtangle" stormed across the battlefield. Jumping out from behind the well, it rushed along the wall. The thousand pounded beast, clad in armored shell, trampled the pack of minions like a bulldozer. Razor-sharp plates were instantly stained with someone's blood; the dogs got strewn about like bowling pins.

  Without losing speed, the "tank" of a pet knocked down the leader blocking its path, rushing over it like a steamroller and made its way back behind the well, leaving behind a cleared corridor and a weakly stirring body in battered armor. A handful of surviving "Fangores" roared furiously and, forgetting about the well, focused on the new enemy. A few crippled dogs still crawled in the dust. Some of them managed to get up, but they too went after the "Turtangle", losing inter
est in Grant and me, for now.

  "Neat trick, eh?" the mentor grinned into his beard.

  Smiling nervously, I resolutely pushed him back.

  Three leaders stomped up the stairs at once, their armor gritting, shooting evil stares in our direction. "Turtangle's" "aggro" did not affect them. The fourth fell behind to help the victims of the shell-clad steamroller.

  Looking at them, I remembered the mini-boss.

  The giant still stood in the middle of the field, sword raised high, forked reddish lightning running through his body. What the hell was he doing?! The protective crystals were blazing with blue light; vibrating and rumbling, they were getting stronger every second. A volley was approaching and the scythe of death would slash through the enemy ranks once more.

  But the "Master of the Ritual" beat us to it.

  The crystals unexpectedly began to explode one after another. Sweeping hail of shards knocked me down. For a moment it seemed that I had lost consciousness. Once I came to, I found myself near the edge of the wall, face between the fortified battlements. My ears were ringing, dampening all other sounds, and crimson dots filled my vision. I felt like a pincushion, pierced by hundreds of needles. I couldn't see the numbers, but it was clear to me that my HP bar was in the red and decreasing. I managed to see the "Turtangle", pursued by a pack of minions, purposefully rush directly into the "Master of the Ritual", shrouded in a reddish cocoon made of lightning.

  "We need to interrupt the boss' trance!" Grant exhaled hoarsely, leaning over me. His bloodied face was covered in deep cuts, a few sharp pieces ghastly sticking from his cheek. He either didn't notice, or simply didn't care. "Otherwise we'll lose the 'Source'! The pet will have to fend for itself, there is no other way!"

  Consciousness slowly slipping away, I noticed that five new icons were added to our party's interface: Alice, Sarge, Owl, Foxy and Pops. Help came, but the question was whether we'd live until they got into combat?

  Forcing myself to get on all fours, I blindly searched for the "Uniq" with both hands. Shaking like a drunk, I couldn't think straight. Peering through the crimson veil, ears still ringing, I observed as a tall figure clad in smoky gray armor appeared at the top step. Grant rushed forward; parrying the blow with his staff, and took a blow to the abdomen. Bending over the iron-clad fist gripping the handle of the lash, he got tossed to the side. Grinning with promise, the "Lasher" again raised his sword. He didn't seem to like me very much…

  The sound of metal being torn echoed through the place.

  Breaking the chainmail from behind and piercing the "Lasher's" neck, two bloodied arrowheads emerged from his throat. The warrior grunted and arched backwards. I saw Grant again; the staggering mage was stubbornly trying to get closer and managed to push the enemy away with a clumsy hit of his staff.

  Iron clattered down the stairs…

  Chapter 9

  "Travelling to the temple"

  As soon as the help arrived, the outcome of the battle was predetermined and everything ended in a few minutes. Alas, when you are on the verge of life and death, retaining even a fragmented memory can be considered a success.

  I could remember the sound of swords clashing, the hum of magic, and the dying screams of the minions. I remembered Alice and Foxy emptying their quivers at the incoming enemies from the "Source's" wall. From the red-haired rogue's bowstring flew ordinary arrows, and Alice, a tiny, slim blonde with a short, boyish haircut and a hard squint, released what seemed more like glowing bolts of energy than arrows. A level nine archer…

  I also remembered Owl; staff raised above his head with both hands, as he recklessly danced between the battlements, shouting loudly and brashly throwing bolts of lightning. The fighting spirit of this skinny boy in ridiculous robes caused involuntary respect. The weathermage had issues with inter-player communication, but he was fearless in a fight. My first impression of him had changed.

  I couldn't see what Pops was doing. But I could hear it. Swings of his heavy hammer produced wild howls which were followed by screams of excruciating pain and near-death agony. It all sounded as if the cleric had staged a portable torture chamber and was not afraid to use it on our enemies.

  And then – silence.

  I felt Grant and Owl drag me to the battlement and lean me against it. Owl immediately disappeared but Grant remained, leaning over me with a worried expression on his bloodied face. As if he were plucking a carrot from the garden, he pulled something out of me. Crimson veil not subsiding, I lowered my gaze; in a pool of blood next to me, floated a cluster of sharp crystalline shards. I realized that the blood was mine and the shards had been pulled out of my body - from my head, to be precise.

  Once more, everything went black.

  I felt better, although not much. I heard a soft hum, as if there was a hive full of anxious bees somewhere nearby, and felt a weak vibration run through my body. I struggled to lift my lead-heavy eyelids, but once I did, my dull gaze immediately fell onto the wide pillar of ghostly bluish light. I still sat with my back against the wall, my boots lying flat on the well's grating. I felt like I had no legs. It was all so funny…

  After another lapse I woke up to the following scene: the five "Children of the Steppes" and Grant, standing near the top of the staircase, arguing about something in a low voice. The conversation was probably not meant for my ears. Sarge, a level eight warrior, seemed most dissatisfied. Alice stood there, adding sharp comments. Judging by the tone of her voice and look on her face, she was not on his side. Foxy and Pops listened carefully, but didn't interfere. I noticed that both of them were already level three; the battle with the remnants of "the Destroyer's" forces clearly did them good. Interestingly, all five were members of the same clan; there was not a single "Cat" around. The dispute ended a minute later, however, not in the warrior's favor. All of the "Children" disappeared, and I felt Grant squat beside me.

  "Do not be surprised that there are representatives of only one clan," the mentor put his hands on my shoulders, the greenish glow of the element of Life flowed from him, and I felt a revitalizing tremor spread through my muscles. "According to the old agreement between the clans, 'Children of the Steppes' are obliged to watch over the 'Western Outpost'. The 'Cats' control the 'Northern' one. They had their own battle there today, and it wasn't any easier."

  Grant's hands rose higher, slipping over my neck, and gently grasped my temples. Both the light and the jitters came again. He was imbuing me with healing spells. Along the way, the mage explained the cause of my condition. When six of the nine crystals exploded, I received the short end of the stick. My back, right shoulder, the entire right side up to the hip, and the back of my head were pierced by the shards. I was lucky not to be killed right away. The reason behind my injuries was a simple one. The mini-bosses sent by "the Destroyer" had a vile feature that matched their master's - they could, in their dying moment, put a curse on one of the defenders of the well, a debuff called the "Mark of the Damned." That was the shit I got. I was down on my luck.

  Recalling the shards that Grant had pulled out of my skull, I felt nauseous. There was a possibility that i had suffered a concussion, and I didn't dare think about how damaged my brain was. The mentor continued his mumbling, assuring me that the avatars' bodies were unique and that even things like these could be healed. Not immediately, of course. Flesh took less time to heal, than bones did and nerves were a pretty delicate thing. But still, it could be healed; especially when one was imbued with heals and under the aura of the "Blessing", which accelerated regeneration. However, the "Blessing" was neutralized by the debuff's similar effect. Were it not for the "Source", there would be no chance of survival. That's why they left me here to recover.

  "Could you stand up for a bit?" Grant asked with concern.

  I wanted to ask 'why?', but instead of articulate speech, a hoarse croak burst out of my throat. The sound of my own voice felt strange. However, Grant understood.

  "We need to replace the crystals on the wall before
the 'Children' change their minds. I barely defended your right to do it. You seem to have hit your articulation center. Don't bother with the questions just yet."

  I grunted in agreement.

  "You're like a parrot," the mentor joked awkwardly and helped me up. Stretching out his right hand he presented me with six crystals. "From my personal stocks, you can compensate me later. Crystals need to be placed into the slots on the battlements so that they could grow. Sarge wanted to let their newbies do it – Gramps and Red."

  I let out an involuntarily "hmm", commenting the change of my "classmates" nicknames.

  "The 'Children' won the battle. They passed, and we failed. Sarge, sharp as a razor, never hesitates when it comes to expressing himself. But Alice surprised me. She was on our side, saying that there would have not been anything to be won, if we hadn't held the wave off till the clan's arrival. She had a point. Let's not waste time, the sooner we repair the defense, the faster the crystals will grow to the desired size. You never know when a new wave will arrive.…"

  Still talking, he dragged me, knees wobbling, towards each of the six battlements. As if in a trance, I put the crystals in the metal sockets. For some reason I felt a wave of wild anger and a desire to hit something. I found it hard not to take it out on Grant. Could this be the effects of the concussion? The system dispassionately reported that I got six hundred XP for repairing the defenses. Upon receiving the XP I realized why the hell Grant forced me to get up and I calmed down.

  "Okay, regain your strength." Grant helped me sit down onto the granite and carefully placed a piece of meat and a flask of water into my hands. "Energy alone won't do, Wise. The body needs nutrients, so eat up. I need to talk to the others about something. As soon as you can move, we'll have to take a short trip."

  Travelling? Was he kidding? I couldn't take two steps on my own.