Battle Spire

by Michael R. Miller

  Emperor Aurelius – Battle Priest – Level 50 Boss

  He’d developed an entirely new class, or at least a spec of the priest or warrior class no one else had unlocked yet. Now, this definitely balanced out the scales – having a level 50 boss mob on my side would knock Azrael for six or nothing else would.

  “Zoran,” Aurelius said, his voice now brimming with power. “You have proven yourself beyond any who have come before you. Both the Imperium and I owe you an eternal debt. I dub thee a knight, granting you title and all the benefits that lie therein.”

  He actually tapped me on each shoulder with his sword.

  Notifications began popping up.

  Title Unlocked!

  You may now select the title or ‘Sir’, ‘Ser’ or ‘Knight’ to precede your name for all to see. Denizens of the Imperium will now treat you with the respect you deserve.

  Knightly Valor

  Your exploits have been hard won and your achievements are evident in your bearing.

  +5 Constitution

  +5 Might

  +5 Willpower

  Access to the Knight’s Hall Unlocked!

  Visit the elite staging grounds of Agratha’s most esteemed warriors to discover more.

  “Arise, Ser Zoran!”

  The Imperial Guard cheered, punching fists into the air and clanking weapons off their shields. Unable to prevent myself grinning, I got to my feet and gave a very gratifying bow to the assembled guards. When I looked to Kreeptic, he mimed vomiting, but I ignored that.

  Ser Zoran; I made that my new official character name. Shame they weren’t chanting Ser Jack.

  I felt a fire rise within me; before, I’d just been acting on a sort of madness but now I might actually succeed.

  “Reginald, are you ready to create our secret weapon?”

  “Hand it here, Ser Zoran. It would be my pleasure.”

  33

  I had about fifteen minutes left to save Ellie by the time Grand Crusader Reginald finished the Transmutation. He handed it back to me, a serious portion of his mana depleted.

  I checked the poison's description just to make sure.

  Sanctified Blood of the Old Ones

  Poison

  Quality: legendary

  Millennia ago, ancient horrors were banished deep beneath the world, and for generations, master alchemists have passed down the closest approximation of their festering essence. Once a drop of this poison enters the body of another, it will consume them from the inside out, turning flesh to rot. Death is certain.

  Deals 2000 holy damage every second until the target dies. This cannot be cured or dispelled.

  Applications: 1

  I considered how I might apply the poison to Azrael. If it still functioned like other poisons, then I only needed to get it into his system. So, it could possibly be delivered airborne, as I'd done with the disorientating venom, yet I saw a few problems in doing that.

  For one, I wasn't sure whether vaporizing it would change how the damage would be dealt – what if Azrael simply moved out of the holy cloud before it killed him? As a level capped player, he'd have enough health to survive a couple of hits of the stuff, never mind the healing potions and allies he’d have to top himself up. Besides, what if he just held his breath as I had in the archmage’s chamber and when I recently passed through the airborne venom myself. I only had one application to play with, so I didn't want to risk that.

  Another issue was accidentally killing my new allies. Priests and paladins were resistant to holy damage, but they weren't immune to it. Friendly fire would be hard to avoid completely during a fight but there was no point taking undue risks to my allies lives.

  No, the only way to ensure Azrael bore the full brunt of the holy poison was to hit him squarely with it. Even if he had some healers with him, it couldn't be dispelled. He'd go down.

  That left me with the choice of shooting a crossbow bolt that was coated with the poison or trying to get in close for a point-blank attack. I'd prefer to be shooting at long range for obvious reasons, but I'd have to see how the fight was panning out before deciding.

  Emperor Azrael, Kreeptic, Reginald and the four other guards seemed to be waiting for me to speak.

  "If you're waiting for me to explain an intricate plan, then I'm afraid, I don't have one. All I know is that Azrael and his seven remaining cronies will be in the Hall of the Makers."

  I then realized that I now also had seven companions. The scales were as leveled as they were going to be for this final showdown.

  Reginald hefted his mighty hammer. "I'm eager to take my revenge upon that colossus and avenge our fallen brothers."

  "Our mission is to defend Ser Zoran and allow him a clear chance at striking our foe," Aurelius said. "Our fate will ultimately be down to you."

  "No pressure then." I loaded a bolt into my crossbow. "Let's go end this."

  The ninth floor of the Imperial Spire was comprised of only three things – a short corridor leading to a flight of wide stairs that climbed toward the high arched, open doorway of the Hall of the Makers. Seeing it now in the flesh, so to speak, it was far larger than I'd anticipated; as though a cathedral had been carefully balanced atop the Spire.

  On either side, windows granted an extensive view across the city and far distant mountains. A fall from here would not result in a pleasant landing.

  Players assembled to greet us at the top of the staircase, blocking our entry to the Hall of the Makers. There were seven in total: monk, paladin, priest, rogue, mage, berserker and a ranger. A good variety of classes that could cover a lot of playstyles between them. Every one of them was a mid-level 40 player. Tell-tale signs of buff spells flared over their heads as they prepared for us.

  My companions weren’t doing likewise, despite three of them holding elite status, which already showed the size of my disadvantage. Powerful allies they might be, but Aurelius and his guard were still NPCs; the regular guards were not even elites. Players worth their salt should be able to overcome them. The wild card would be me and, possibly, Aurelius, now that he’d taken on some proper boss form.

  Just as I thought about making a move, a wave of ghouls and skeletal minions joined the players, beefing out their ranks dramatically. Azrael must have specced to be a minion-based death knight, which might make him weaker as an individual. Something worth bearing in mind. But who was I kidding? Probably one hit from a level 50 and I’d be dead.

  “One last chance, Jack,” Azrael called from inside the hall. I couldn’t see him but he sounded indifferent to my arrival. “Just wait a few more minutes and I’ll be gone.”

  “I’ve not climbed this tower just to stand here,” I called back.

  “Throw your life away then,” Azrael said. “Take them down!”

  The scream that followed I’d only heard once before, the sort of shrill cry that must surely signal the end of all life. I remembered this feeling of dread from back when Azrael and his men first attacked the Spire. Like then, my vision darkened and I felt ice cold. A debuff icon started flashing over my health bar.

  Cry of the Damned

  Movement speed reduced by 30%

  Attack power reduced by 10%

  Spell power reduced by 15%

  Only a holy cleansing of equal power can dispel this curse.

  Duration: 40 seconds

  I’d completely forgotten about this move. And I didn’t have a counter. Forty seconds was a very long time as far as combat was concerned. No wonder he’d stormed the Spire so easily at first when he had 50 players at his back.

  Panic took me. All I’d done, everything I’d gone through and fought against, just to have it unraveled in an instant by an overpowered piece of shit move.

  Light then began to dance around me. My veins turned from black lines to healthy conduits of life. The darkness faded and my head cleared. In fact, I felt better than ever, as though a shot of pure caffeine-mixed-adrenaline had hit my heart. Turning wildly, I found the source of my salvation.<
br />
  Emperor Aurelius, the level 50 boss battle priest, was channeling a spell. The last line of Azrael’s debuff description jumped out at me – Only a holy cleansing of equal power can dispel this curse. Aurelius was assuredly as powerful as Azrael, if not more so. He’d been in his weak scholarly mode the first time around, which Azrael had prepared for, but this was a different fight entirely.

  “Undeath shall never prevail,” Aurelius bellowed. He finished his spell, sending a wave of light around our entire group. Kreeptic, Reginald and the guards rose back to their feet from where they’d fallen, looking as invigorated as I felt.

  A cry of anger echoed from the hall beyond.

  That’s when I saw the buff.

  Divine Inspiration

  Righteous belief has summoned every ounce of your courage and spirit. Go now and face all odds.

  +20% to all physical stats

  Duration: 2 minutes

  The Emperor thrust his gleaming sword forth.

  “For the Imperium!”

  Reginald, Kreeptic and the others drew their weapons and yelled the same.

  “Just hold them,” Azrael screamed, the confidence in his voice faltering. More orders rang from inside the Hall of Makers, and the enemy players scrambled to follow. The ghouls and skeletons surged forward first, early cannon fodder to spare the players.

  I jumped ahead of my allies, throwing down every gnomish landmine I had, and then the caltrops, for good measure. I didn’t want us stuck in a brutally narrow corridor, distracted by minions – we had to get into that hall fast.

  My whole world narrowed in on the moment. This was a boss battle of epic proportions; phase one, interrupt the boss’ spell cast – meaning get Azrael the hell away from that console. I’d deal with phase two when we got to it.

  Ghouls and skeletons obediently trundled on, oblivious to my traps. Bang after bang sounded and flames licked at the ceiling. The windows on either side shattered from the blasts as the mines detonated in quick succession.

  I raised an arm against the light and heat, feeling chips of bone rake at me as they flew by, shaving points off my health. Yet despite it all, the traps weren’t of a level to match the level 50 summoned creatures. Plenty of the undead minions were emerging through the blaze, albeit burning and weakened, the heated caltrops lodged in their saggy flesh.

  A ghoul with half a face swung a rotten arm at me. My Reflexes were good enough to dodge it and follow with a stab from my bayonet. It’s health hardly budged, but it plummeted to zero when a glowing warhammer smashed into the remaining half of its face. Reginald offered me a hand and I ran into the fray behind him, keeping close to the Grand Crusader as he made short work of the weakened undead.

  As we neared the bottom of the stairs, I checked on the players. Their plans must have been ruined by the rapid destruction of Azrael’s minions for they were strung outside of a formation, some having made it halfway down the stairs before stopping to assess the situation.

  Worried that the NPCs would attack sporadically while the players focused their damage onto one target at a time, I picked a rogue at the front of the group and pointed to him.

  “Kill this guy first, he’s weaker.” I even shot him to emphasize the point.

  “Nay, Ser Zoran,” Aurelius said, pointing in turn at the armored warrior behind the rogue. “This one draws my eye. We should deal with him first.”

  “What the—” I started. Then realization smacked into me. My allies were being drawn towards the tankiest player of the group – this warrior was drawing all their aggro.

  I couldn’t have that.

  The rogue darted forward, clearly anticipating his tank picking up the mobs. This presented an opportunity.

  I closed my left fist.

  Rock Armor or Rock Wall?

  I pumped 200 mana into a rock wall and raised it between the rogue and the warrior, cutting the rogue off from the rest of his group. The rogue carried on unaware. I wondered if he even realized what had happened when six mobs and a boss suddenly turned all their attention onto him.

  Aurelius and Reginald’s attacks sent him reeling, and his back hit the wall before Kreeptic delved two daggers through his chest. A chink of metal rang off hard rock.

  Slyeye – level 44 rogue dies – 265 EXP

  If only the rock walls would last longer. Even when I’d dumped all my mana into one, it had only lasted for 10 seconds. It would have been insane if they lasted much longer and sadly it looked like my one shot at that tactic was up.

  As the rock wall crumbled away, the players behind it were revealed. They’d pulled back to form a two-man shield wall in the doorway to the Hall of Makers – their paladin and warrior holding great shields abreast with their healers close beside them. Being so compact, the game would count their packed bodies as an obstruction, making it impossible for me to place another dividing wall. The group’s monk backflipped over the shield wall to safety.

  Lacking that acrobatic capability, I didn’t see an easy way in.

  My allies surged up the staircase, oblivious to the idea of proper tactics. If I could direct them, they were dangerous, but this was going to be like herding cats.

  I rammed a grenade into the launcher and aimed, thinking of adding to the torrent of damage that was now hitting their tanks, but I lowered a second later. A few journeyman grenades wouldn’t help. The damage would be quickly healed and I’d have wasted a precious resource.

  But I had to do something. And fast.

  Now the players had rallied themselves, they were better suited to a drawn-out fight. Their healers diligently spam healed their tanks who, in turn, appeared to be blowing defensive cooldowns, and their mage and ranger were throwing plenty of focused damage onto one of the weaker guard mobs. Unlike the players, my allies didn’t heal as fastidiously and a warrior guard on my side toppled over dead.

  “Just a little longer,” Azrael called. “I am almost done.”

  “Goddammit,” I hissed. Something had to be done to break that formation.

  Sucking in a deep breath, I grabbed a mana potion in my right hand and closed my left fist again.

  Rock Armor or Rock Wall?

  I’d regenerated over 100 mana since using the last rock wall, allowing me to pour a clean 1100 into Rock Armor; not a full mana dump, but close to it.

  Rock Armor

  Incoming damage reduced by 73%

  +8.8% from gear effects (+6.4% damage reduction)

  Duration: 7 seconds

  I’d already started running when the helmet of stone morphed into place, reducing my vision to a narrow slit. Good thing I only had to look straight ahead. An bullet glanced off me, barely scratching my health. A fireball from the mage hurt me more, knocking me down to half health despite the damage reduction. I downed the mana potion I’d proactively kept outside of my armor, regaining full mana before I threw my shoulder at the join of the two shields.

  The tanks gave way just enough to allow momentum to carry me through. Confused, the players backed off, giving me a precious few seconds in which to act.

  Time to try out a dual cast.

  I faced both my palms out, aiming for the floor.

  Frost Bolt or Cone of Cold?

  Gale Blast or Whirlwind?

  I went for both AOE options and threw all 1200 of my mana into the spells before releasing. It turned out that dual casting spread the mana input across both spells, but the bonus for the full mana dump was applied to both as well.

  Cone of Cold

  Movement speed decreased by 15%

  Empowered: movement speed decreased by 5%

  +8.8% from gear effects (+1.8% decrease to movement speed)

  Radius: 8 feet

  Duration 5 Seconds

  Whirlwind

  Knockback 10 feet

  Empowered: +5 feet to knockback

  +8.8% from gear effects (+1.3 feet to knockback)

  Radius: 8 feet

  Azrael’s squad were blown clean off their feet, thrown in al
l directions over 16 feet and left with a lovely 20% slow debuff.

  I had no mana. Potions were on cooldown for one minute. My Rock Armor was already fading.

  But we were in.

  “Valiant work, Ser Zoran,” Reginald boomed as he thundered by. My other allies quickly followed, all of them homing straight in on the tanking warrior who held their aggro.

  Breathing hard, dumbstruck by the flexibility and power afforded to me by my crafted gloves, I only then looked ahead to the player at the center of the hall.

  Azrael – Death Knight – level 50

  He was standing behind the crystal orb that served as a Game Master’s console, his face gray, and most certainly dead. His mana was already at 50%, presumably from casting that powerful debuff and summoning the ghouls. An expression of furious disbelief broke out across that inhuman face, stretching the sickly skin tight across his skull. Stepping away from the console, he unsheathed his serrated two-handed sword.

  Well, mission accomplished, I guess. I’d interrupted him badly enough to stop his work.

  Now for phase two.

  34

  Inside the Hall of the Makers, things had begun well. The warrior on Azrael’s crew had fallen under the wrath of my allies. Flat on his back, he lacked the cooldowns or heals from his comrades to survive such an onslaught.

  Ironclad – level 46 dies – 275 EXP

  Five of Azrael’s cronies remained.

  I grappled away, whizzing to the nearest ledge before reassessing the fight.