by Charles Dean
Ga damnit! Pinned to the ground, Lucas raged as the man lifted the shield and slammed it down into him as hard as he could for a second time. The anger Lucas felt over being rendered helpless so easily lanced through the pain and brought a sense of clarity to his mind. He grabbed on to the metal shield pressed down against him with his free hand and fought back against the warrior, struggling to stop him from pulling it up and driving it down into his midsection yet again. A dangerous idea snapped through his frantic mind, and Lucas acted without giving it any more thought. He pressed his staff into the ground and channeled an Exploding Tear into the dirt directly next to him.
There was a loud thud as the spell connected point blank, and then a shower of wet dirt and debris blasted Lucas and his attacker. The warrior seemed to be initially shocked by the sudden explosion, retracting a small bit and briefly relenting in his struggle to slam his shield down into Lucas for a third time, but a wicked smile crossed his face when he realized that he wasn’t actually injured by the blast.
But Lucas wasn’t done yet. He jammed the casting end of his staff into the freshly-formed puddle and began channeling Static Web. The electricity-infused spell struck the Water and immediately jumped back into Lucas. He had effectively turned his soaked and sodden body into a giant conductor aimed at directing the current back toward the metal shield and into the enemy above him.
Lucas was already in so much pain and filled with so much anger that he wasn’t greatly fazed by the attack. There was nothing that could hurt him or distract him more than the agonizing facial wound had already managed to do, but that wasn’t the case for the would-be hero above him. The second and third Static Webs coursed through their bodies, stripping a few hundred Hit Points off his already diminished health pool, but the enemy finally loosened his grip, jerking back like a child who had touched a hot stove and away from the source of his pain.
Finally, with a little bit of room to maneuver, Lucas swung his staff up between them and began the agonizing process of getting back to his feet. He rolled onto his side so that he was able to push himself up with one arm while keeping his eye on the warrior, but it didn’t quite work as he planned. He had no way of judging exactly how much of the arrow’s shaft was still protruding from his mouth, and he managed to jam it straight into the ground the moment he rolled over onto his side. The already-splintered stick was shoved further into his gums and the roof of his mouth, and Lucas’s vision flooded with black as pain assaulted his senses, causing him to momentarily lose track of the escape plan he had hatched in his head.
Another man dressed in full studded leather and wielding a buckler and scimitar like a makeshift scoundrel from an old CNC game bore down on Lucas with a horizontal attack right toward his chest.
Lucas scrambled back away from the new threat, but there was no way for him to make a complete escape. The sword just missed its mark, and what would have been a killing blow against anyone else with a smaller health pool failed to claim Lucas’s life. The tip of the blade tore across his chest, tracing a long red line from one side to the other. Lucas howled in pain and collapsed onto his back, but before the swashbuckler could land a second attack, Lucas watched on as a Human girl dressed in a coarse, drab, loose-fitting outfit that instantly reminded him of a potato sack rushed forward with a five-pronged pitchfork and pierced the scimitar wielder in the side of his gut. Rather than driving the prongs any deeper, as Lucas had expected, she instead leaned back and pulled upward, hoisting the man into the air. Gravity instantly went to work on the man, driving his body down into the weapon.
Gritting his teeth against the pain, Lucas used the moment of freedom to do what he had failed to do earlier: switch out his weapon. When he selected the “withdraw” option from the Blood Point Reputation store menu, the staff he wanted immediately manifested in his free left hand. Without even checking the stats to confirm that it was an actual upgrade, Lucas turned and hurled his old staff toward the shield warrior, who had remained close by and was maneuvering around the pitchfork peasant to attack Lucas again.
Lucas would have loved for the opportunity to go through the five spells available and learn what they were, but with an angry armored tank rushing at him, it simply wasn’t possible. He shifted his grip on the staff and picked the very first spell that he saw available: Reap the Unworthy. He channeled his mana into it and instantly noticed that his health started to dip just a little and slid from 48% down to 43%. Then he felt something akin to an electric jolt course through his body, but this was entirely different from what he had experienced thus far. Unlike the piercing pain in his jaw and body, this was something deeper, much more primal. His throat was suddenly parched, water formed in the corners of his eyes, and he involuntarily sucked in his stomach. He experienced a strange, agonizing new type of hunger within the depths of his being as if he hadn’t eaten in days.
He pushed through the odd torment of the spell, poured both Arcane Energy and health into it, and then turned and unleash it on the plated predator. His body suddenly turned rigid and stiffened up of its own accord, and he somehow knew that the spell had left him rooted in place. Over a dozen partially visible dark-red ethereal chains shot out from his body. Each appeared to be coated in some type of inky shadows, almost as if a black and gray miasma had been draped over them. Ghostly, skeletal hands with a palm the size of a man’s face were attached to the end of each chain, and they darted toward nearby enemies at a terrifying speed. The warrior had no chance to dodge the hand that passed through his shield and slammed into his chest, going through the steel and wood like a ghost. The frightening appendage continued forward, pushing the man back ten feet. The warrior wasn’t the only victim. Each of the dozen-plus chains targeted one of the nearby enemies, and at least two-thirds of them struck, anchoring each person to Lucas.
Lucas’s foes started tugging on the chains, and for a second or two, he had created a massive means area-of-effect crowd control since none of them were able to free themselves. The chains seemed to slack a little as the pushing stopped, and then the process suddenly reversed. Hard. Everyone who had been snagged by the hands was suddenly pulled forward until they were within a few feet of Lucas. He thought that might be the end of the spell, but then he noticed that the man in front of him wasn’t looking at either the chain holding him or even at Lucas; instead, his gaze was fixed on something above and behind Lucas. Lucas turned and looked up to see what looked like a female Blood Guard made out of shadows. She cackled loudly, sending chills through him, and then raised up a scythe and reaped every enemy within fifteen feet of Lucas in one quick swoop.
So far, scythe attacks from Shadow spells in the game created non-physical blades that only did magic damage, and Lucas had expected this one to do the same. However, as the dark spell sliced through the field, it seemed to be very much a direct physical attack despite its seemingly immaterial nature. As the scythe swept through the seven enemies who had been either too close to him from the start or hadn’t been able to resist the chain’s pull and had been dragged within range, the blade rent their flesh, creating large wounds on six and slicing clean through the weakest. Blood and guts spilled out everywhere, instantly creating a gruesome scene.
Holy freaking hell! Lucas was taken aback, just as stunned as those around him at what had just happened. That one strike had changed the battlefield. The spell might have only done enough damage to kill one of the unlucky saps, but the chains and apparition had been more than enough of a distraction to let others on the field clean up the threats in front of them, including the six enemies who had survived the reaping with severe injuries. The price of the spell was ultimately 5% of his health and over 280 Arcane Energy, but it had been worth it.
Lucas felt a strange pinch on the side of his cheek, and he realized that he was able to breathe easier than before. The wounds on his cheeks felt like they had closed up a bit, and the blood had stopped pouring down his throat. He could still feel the splinters from the broken arrow shaft against wh
at remained of his tongue, and his teeth were still missing, but his mouth was functional again. Despite the spell’s unquestionable usefulness, however, Lucas saw that the reaping, unlike the chains that had shot out of him, hadn’t distinguished friend from foe. One of the women who had joined him was hurt badly from the spell too.
So, I have to be careful where I ca-- Lucas’s thoughts were interrupted when yet another arrow grazed his triceps. The new attack caused him to pause and look up, and he got a good view of the battle for the first time since the warrior had engaged him. At first glance, it looked like over a third of his new followers were missing, likely either dead or moved to triage, and that meant that the tide of battle was dangerously close to tipping against him despite his flashy new spell. If he didn’t do something soon, all of his efforts were going to be wasted. Reap the Unworthy had done its part in turning the melee skirmish to a degree, but he was ultimately outnumbered, and there wasn’t much that could be done to change that.
“Everyone! RETREAT INTO MY LAIR! Let these fools find out my true power by challenging me in my own domain!” Lucas shouted as loudly as he could. Then, shifting his focus to a cluster of casters, he added, “And get some walls and obstacles up! Don’t worry about dealing damage; get our people out of here!”
Lucas rushed forward and grabbed the wounded woman, hoisted her into a princess carry, and sprinted back toward the hotel.
“Brother, I shall ensure your people do not die in their most brave and honorable retreat!” Linnaeus declared as he streaked past.
Lucas glanced over his shoulder long enough to see the flying primate slam down into the ground where the original no-man’s land had been and then start spinning around at an alarming rate. Dirt began flying out in all directions, creating a massive cloud and making it nearly impossible to see anything.
“Thanks!” Lucas said as he reached the hotel, still carrying the woman in his arms. He looked around, hoping to see that most of his people were getting out just fine with Linnaeus’s help, but all he saw was a crazy, barbaric-looking man with a double-bladed axe bearing down on him. Before he could react, Lilith appeared behind the man and tackled him to the ground by spearing his legs. The axe the guy was holding flattened out and smashed into his face as he fell, and Lilith was on top of his back before he could turn over. She grabbed a fist full of his hair in her left hand, ripped his head back, and then reached around and slit his throat with a knife in her right. Blood began pouring out of the open wound, and he made a strange choking sound that cut off a moment later when she stabbed through the base of his skull where it connected with his spine. She withdrew the blade and stood up casually, as if she weren’t in a hurry at all.
“Thanks,” Lucas said again, and this time the word was a soft sigh of relief.
“Don’t mention it,” Lilith said, extending her arms.
Huh? Lucas looked at the gesture, trying to puzzle out what she wanted, then remembered the girl he was holding. He immediately shifted his weight and handed the bleeding girl over to her.
“Thanks,” Lucas repeated for the third time, adjusting his grip on his new staff.
“I said don’t mention it,” Lilith laughed, disappearing into the building as she headed for what Lucas hoped was the triage center Bonnie had established.
Well, let’s see what I can do to save the rest of them. Lucas turned his attention once more to the battle. This time, he actually had a moment to look through the list of spells, and he saw one that stood out especially well. It cost 300 Arcane Energy to cast and 7.5% of his total health, but the effect looked amazing. Cruel Mien of the Black Death would send out a slow-moving, heat-seeking specter that would latch on to the closest person to the targeted area. That person would then start vacating blood from their body at both ends, causing damage as their body continuously attempted to resist the plague’s effects, which Lucas took to mean that the game would generate some random number based on the person’s constitution and current condition to see if they recovered each turn. This alone made it a deadly spell, but not necessarily a game-changer. What really stood out was that the disease would spread to “non-Vampiric or living characters” if they interacted with the vacated fluids via an open wound or ingestion. Since nearly everyone on the battlefield had open wounds, Lucas could only imagine how fast it would spread if the person he infected evacuated blood with enough projectile force. The spell was, true to its name, a very viscous and fast-acting facsimile of the bacteria yersinia pestis, the Black Death.
Lucas started channeling the spell, and the intense hungering pain returned. It was even stronger than before, twisting his stomach and gnawing at his insides, making Lucas hate the three seconds needed to channel the spell. Casting it dropped him to 35.5% of his total health, but when it finished, a large ghostlike figure emerged out of Lucas’s chest. The apparition was identical to him in shape, armor, and size. It sped through the air toward a leather-armored Were-Bear with a large flail standing in a pool of blood, which was partially his and partially that of one or two people whom he had killed. By the time he saw the spell, it was too late. The ghost opened its mouth and howled with a sadistic cackle as it ran into him and disappeared.
The Were-Bear’s body began glowing green, and he looked over at Lucas with a confused expression on his face. His cheeks ballooned outward until he looked like a gerbil that had packed too much food into its mouth, and then, in the most inglorious fashion ever, he vomited out a fountain of blood. Green vapor fumed out of his open mouth along with the puke and formed a cloud around him, and as he threw up more and more, the miasma began spreading to the people around him, which included people from both sides of the fight. Those already wounded began glowing the same sickly green color as the Were-Bear, and they soon began vomiting out the same green-fuming blood. Within mere moments, a host of enemies and a few allies were standing in a pool of the foul liquid.
“Payday!” A girl near Lucas shouted as she began to loose arrows as fast as possible, trying to kill the stunned targets. Two more archers and a caster had turned around to take advantage of the scenario, but Lucas could tell it wouldn’t last forever. The first person to be struck by the bloody vomit had already managed to recover and was trying to wipe the blood off his face and compose himself.
“No, don’t!” Lucas shouted as he ran ahead. “Get back in the dungeon. I need you all alive, not out here.” Lucas knew he probably shouldn’t, but he rushed over to one of the girls that had been infected and was spewing blood for the fifth time. Lucas was sure at this point that each explosion of sanguine, green-glowing, Christmas-themed fluid was draining her in a way that was sure to either kill her or leave her near death if she ever made it out of the fray.
“Linnaeus!” Lucas shouted, trying to get the attention of the large monster in his employ. Linnaeus’s sandstorm trick had indeed managed to distract most of the players, creating an obfuscating storm for stealth, but Lucas could see that it had come at a price. The enemies had shot into the middle of the storm, and their arrows and spells had hit the mark, riddling Linnaeus with damage and leaving him looking like a rather brutalized pincushion. Linnaeus had bought time, however, and he had done what he had promised: he had ensured many of Lucas’s people wouldn’t die--which made it harder for Lucas to ask this next favor of his brother. “Linnaeus, I need you to pick up that guy and throw him at the enemies!” Lucas pointed to one of the puking men as he continued to rush forward toward the puking woman.
What happened next was disgusting, horrific, and exactly what Lucas had hoped for when he first sent Linnaeus toward the task. With all of the injuries that the large monster had accrued, the moment he picked up the vomiting and diseased man, he was immediately infected by the spell as well. The large monster roiled in pain for a moment, taking to the sky, and then became a flying bomber of dysentery doom, spewing crimson vital fluids out from each end, showering the crowd below as he turned into a biological weapon. Linnaeus seemed to recover within seconds, likely due
to the fact that a monster’s constitution was much greater than the average person’s, but the damage was already done. Over half the people, whether with Lucas or not, were covered in the disgusting disease, and within less than a minute, every person was either infected or recovering from the infection. No one on the battlefield had remained unwounded, and thus no one on the battlefield was able to escape the foul spell’s effects.
“Linnaeus, my noble brother, throw that trashy fool you’re holding away and help me bring these women back!” Lucas shouted as he picked up the now-recovering girl and threw her over his shoulder. He then quickly rushed forward and grabbed another. The weight of the women wasn’t a great burden--the game had given him a great body with excellent muscles--but the awkwardness of trying to carry two women without letting go of his new staff proved a challenge. The long implement jabbed into him with every awkward step he took, making it impossible to rush.
“I managed to take some of them out, brother,” Linnaeus cried out as he ran past Lucas, beating him to the door. He was carrying eleven injured women who were covered in their own blood and filth in his six arms and laid out across his shoulders.
“Thank you,” Lucas said. “But you need to recover. I’ll try to send someone to the top floor to heal you so you can go out and have more fun, but get out of here for the moment. I don’t think I could bear to lose my only brother to these fiendish riff-raff.”
He didn’t need to add that explanation, but given how helpful Linnaeus was, he wanted his sentiments to sound less like an order and more like a plea, appealing to Linnaeus’s own desires and sentiments.
“Thank you, brother. Take care of yourself as well. If you fall before we meet again, I shall mourn your death by eating a hundred eyes in your name!” Linnaeus said, flapping his wings and soaring up into the air. Normally, he wouldn’t be noticeable at all once he took to the sky thanks to his usual light-blue color helping him blend in, but he now stood out plain as day since his whole figure covered in a hundred varied shades of red.