Everything happened so fast.
Immediately, a trio of Raksh jumped to his aid, but two Punishers hit in unison, slashing the air with a hiss. Fountains of blood gushed from the wounds, staining the snow. Chopped crosswise to the waist with a double Razor, with the light gone from his eyes, Jarook slipped off the path and disappeared into the chasm below. A skull emblem covered his reddened icon.
Chapter 64
Automatic raid leader change.
New raid leader: [Wisecracker]
The first loss in the raid, and not a single Reanimator at hand! And his body was gone; he was now on my List of the Dead.
I felt something stir deep within me. Rage unlike any other consumed in my soul; Alan’s Sign became a scorching hot piece of metal, burning flesh to the bone. The same unidentified factor took effect again; driven by the increasing power in my muscles, energy poured from both of my hands. The Punisher, who was unlucky enough to be at the serpentine’s edge, struck with Windspear, and flew off the cliff as if struck by a cannonball. Flamespear made his neighbor flare up like a living torch.
In the next instant, the Raksh charged into the Punisher ranks, and a massacre ensued. The stunning clang of clashing blades and cracking armor, the cacophony of howls and growls, and the affluent splashes of blood and severed limbs flying into the mud echoed throughout the battlefield.
I still had a score to settle.
I stood on Fury’s back and forced her to rise on her hind legs and throw me upward with a powerful jerk. I flew some fifteen feet into the air.
There it is!
The Tormentor spotted me, bulged its eyes in amazement, and opened its toothy mouth. It was just about to finish off another Raksh, but had decided to change its target. We attacked at the same time; I unleashed Soulcatcher and the mage sent forth a sparkling purple ball. But Soulcatcher was faster. The ghostly dagger passed through the flashing magical shield, as if it wasn’t there, piercing the troll’s head.
Javelin and knife throwers, crowded behind the Punishers, also didn’t miss the opportunity to do some target practice, especially since the said target was hovering in the air without any protection. Sharp iron rained above me. I landed back on the serpentine, turned into a pincushion — several throwing knives had penetrated my breastplate and leather jacket and sunk deep into my chest; a javelin had pierced my left shoulder. But I barely felt those blows. The Sign alone hurt more than this, and an instantaneous rush of a huge dose of energy from Soulcatcher could make even a corpse move, so my HP bar barely reacted.
Congratulations!
You have reached level 24!
Current XP value: 45/493,580
Damage to Chaos Faction members increased by 11%.
Choose one of the two awards for achieving Chaos Creature Hunter, Rank 3.
1. +25 stat points
2. +25% of current level XP (123,395)
Damn, not now!
I ruthlessly pulled all of the blades that were hindering me out of my body, allowing accelerated regeneration to do its thing. Soulcatcher’s effect ended abruptly because the mage decided to simply die, unable to withstand even half of the attack’s damage. I needed a tougher adversary who wouldn’t die immediately, allowing the DoT to work and drain energy for a longer period of time, restoring my HP. But there were no such targets here; I could burn them all like moths in a candle flame. Or save the Crystals for the tank above.
Soulcatcher seems to have already outgrown this location, and Lich’s Grasp, with its extremely long cooldown, is of no use here. I should save it for a more appropriate moment.
And so I pondered, repelling a Punisher’s attack and waiting for the abilities to recharge. The Raksh’s powerful onslaught knocked out only half of the greater Demon squad, and with great difficulty. Punishers turned out to be formidable opponents even for the elites. And they weren’t the only tough opponents... Both the Deceivers and the Guides were there, too. The Imps, still unreachable for us, showered our ranks with javelins and knives from a safe distance, thoroughly thinning the raid, which had a tangible effect on our overall combat capability.
I had to take a risk and send Fury at the Imps, to sow panic among their ranks and play some more Patty-Cake with their skulls.
Fewer projectiles were being sent our way now, and we went in for the Punishers. At some point, dodging the blow of a burning two-hander, I slipped on the blood soaked, icy path, but rolled to the side in time; the blade dug into the frozen ground. Lash paralyzed the Demon, allowing me to leap to my feet and slash its neck with Flame, cutting to the spine.
The Punisher recoiled; Rawrk and a nearby Raksh, who had just dealt with his own opponent, immediately attacked him. But even mortally wounded, the greater Demon remained extremely dangerous. His sword flared up and Rawrk’s partner, who had slowed down due to numerous wounds, didn’t manage to dodge — both left arms, cut off by Razor at the very torso, fell into the mud. The Raksh roared in pain and rage; one of the surviving arms threw Banner to the ground, his last contribution to the raid, and he jumped on the Punisher, knocked it down with his body like a ram, and they both disappeared over the cliff’s edge. The stylized skull covered the fighter’s icon.
There was no time to grieve; I already clashed with the next opponent. For some reason, Flamespear didn’t have the expected effect, and it just bounced off the Demon. The damn mysterious factor disappeared again. The enemy’s sword whistled dangerously close to my head. I ducked and, using inertia, slashed at its feet. It dodged, and with a single, wave-like movement, repelled Rawrk’s four hit combo that came from the side, and rushed at me again, continuing our dance of death.
“Wise,” Mashta’s alarmed voice sounded in the chat. “Another squad of Punishers is coming your way. About twenty creatures and three mages.”
I didn’t answer, completely absorbed in the fray. Flame clashed with the Punisher’s two-hander; the blades slid along each other, raining sparks. The strength of a level 26 creature made me back down to avoid falling again.
“We’ll be able to catch our breath soon enough,” Mashta continued. “But the Demons seem to have figured out who you are. Stinger suggests that you better retreat while you have the opportunity. And I agree with him.”
“Understood,” my parched throat croaked in response. “I’ll think of something…”
Soulcatcher’s cooldown ended and then immediately began again, as I used it on the Punisher. It flinched and slumped dead on the trail of blood.
Damn, damn, damn it all! What irony! Soulcatcher’s strength turned into its weakness and let me down for the umpteenth time! I just couldn’t turn into a tanking berserker, because there wasn’t a single creature with HP above 2,000 nearby, and the rest were being annihilated by the ability, giving the DoT no time kick in. Our raid was slowly disappearing under a hail of javelins, throwing knives and blows of two-handed swords.
Nine wounded fighters — that’s all that was left of us when the last Punisher perished. We definitely couldn’t reach the Citadel in this state.
“Retreat!” I reluctantly ordered, once the battlefield was cleared and we had space to maneuver. “Cover each other. Fury... Fury, damn you!”
As if I didn’t have enough problems!
The Direcat showed up thirty steps ahead, stuck in a crowd of Demons that were pressing her from all sides. Dozens of clawed paws tried to cling to her fur, like a pack of hounds against a hunted bear. But the Creepoars were smarter than hounds, and therefore more dangerous. They either ran out of projectiles, or realized that they couldn’t finish her off with weapons. Whatever the reason was, the Demons seemed to have decided to crush her and throw her off the cliff. And by the looks of things, they weren’t far from doing just that — more and more Guides and Deceivers wedged themselves between Fury and the steep wall of the mound, creating a cork with their bodies and gradually squeezing the Direcat toward the edge.
Fury was too tired and I saw that neither the Raksh nor I could come to her rescue in
time. The only thing that could save her was Burst Attack, or maybe... Yes. She still had to run back under the hail of javelins.
A mental order activated Metamorph and the situation changed for the better. Pushed out of her body by the metamorphosis, she shook off the javelins like drops of water; her wounds healed, and fur turned into armor and sprouted combs of sharp spikes, making her look trice her actual size.
Fury roared triumphantly, feeling a wild surge of strength. Spiritual Link conveyed the feeling of her power to me, as if I myself had turned into a raging beast. She then swiftly turned on the spot, her spikes shredding ten Imps into bloody bits by pushing them against the wall with one mighty move. The creatures of Chaos flew like bowling pins, clearing the path. She started up the road, meeting almost no resistance. Thirty feet. Seventy. A hundred. The Raksh, wounded and dead tired, roared in approval.
Looking at this triumph of pure physical power, I thought how I could’ve invoked Metamorph before... And then I stopped myself. It would’ve been of no real help; the force we were facing was too tough for the Raksh, let alone Fury. Metamorph lasted only a minute, and after it, the Direcat would be weakened and more vulnerable than before. We couldn’t clear the whole serpentine in a minute even with our best efforts.
“This was a sight to behold!” Mashta joyfully shouted in the chat. “And a timely one, too! Have you seen what’s happening up here? How?!”
“What are you talking about, Mashta?”
“Well, we ran out of ammo, our mage saved us, applying his shield time and time again...”
“Drahub has just perished,” Stinger interrupted our friend’s confused speech in a voice broken from exhaustion. “If you hadn’t distracted the Creepoars, we wouldn’t have been able to use a vsr to resurrect him. We’ll manage for now, you try to survive. Retreat to the elevator, they won’t get you there.”
“Let me guess,” I smiled wryly. “Another crowd of Punishers is out to get us?”
“Yeah. Maybe we’ll manage to get rid of their tank while they’re running after you. Hang in there...”
By throwing several dozen creatures off the mound, Fury’s charge made life easier for the defenders at the top, and cleared the way for our retreat. We shouldn’t get carried away; another Creepoar raid like this one could crush us.
Fury was already rushing back, leaving behind some hundred and fifty feet of cleared road. A few Imps who jumped out after her, probably utterly stunned by the fact that they were still alive, didn’t have time to aim their javelins properly. I knew that the others would soon come to their senses and that the first wave of Punishers, as small as it was at first, would turn into a tsunami.
Speaking of the devil(s).
Pushing away the “underlings,” the first seven feet high, black figure with a blazing blade in clawed paws appeared from around the turn of the serpentine. I turned my head to my Raksh, who answered me with no less sullen looks. Only then did I notice that Rawrk’s lower left arm was chopped off almost to the elbow; the edge of the stump was already covered with new skin. He had probably used Bloodlust, but getting rid of a serious injury was a long process. I knew it myself. His face was twisted with pain. Damn it. He won’t be able to run on five legs as fast as the others will on six.
I looked blankly at his right hand. The armguard had disappeared somewhere, and the sleeve of his jacket, which was cut almost to the shoulder, was soaked with blood. I didn’t notice how it had happened in the heat of battle, and which of the blows tore off the armor.
We couldn’t risk staying here any longer. Not like we had a reason to do so anyway. We had to move. I, as the Keymaster, needed to survive.
I looked at the pitiful handful of elite warriors and ordered a retreat.
Chapter 65
As soon as we ran off, we heard a strange noise. Cries seemed to sound from somewhere above — from the Citadel. And for some reason they seemed to me joyful. Has everyone gone crazy there or what?! A second later, the trail under our feet trembled, and the tremor continued to grow. Oh no... Is it really an earthquake?! There was no use wasting time guessing.
“Mashta, what’s going on there?!”
‘What? The Creepoars are as good as dead! We’re on top, in every sense of it! Four, no, five dozen, no less! You there, take care, don’t fall under their feet! Let them pass!”
“What are you talking about?!”
“The Dions! They couldn’t bear to stand and watch and are now rushing up the serpentine! If I’m not mistaken, they brought all the tanks they could find from their Fortress! I’ve never seen so many!”
“Hip, hip, hooray,” Stinger grumbled hoarsely without much enthusiasm. He had to be in the front lines, constantly fending off the enemies, so he was not as merry as the Lowling who was on the wall. “I’d like to live to see this... Happy moment... Have it, you horned bitch! We risk being left in the dust… While they’re rising...”
“Here!” Rawrk suddenly grabbed my shoulder, sharply pushed me to the wall, and jumped up himself.
The rest of the Raksh followed his example and pressed their backs to the rocky surface. I had to order Fury to do the same. She had already lost her fighting form and as soon as she merged with the stone, gray on gray, the first Dion appeared.
He swept past us in a blink of an eye, iron rattling deafeningly.
Alan the Dark save me, I’ve never seen such a hulk before!
And behind him rode another one, and another, and another...
The hooves clattered like window shutters during a storm, shaking the serpentine. Pebbles and chunks of stone fell from the walls, hitting our shoulders and heads; I had to rise my still armored hand to protect myself. Steel armored bodies rushed in front of my face one after another, like an endless train, except that there was no smoke or whistling. Seeing the levels of these heavyweights filled me with joy — 30, 29, 28, 30; numbers flashed above the closed helmets with narrow eye-slits, decorated with animal horns, feather crests or sharp steel spires. Each Dion must’ve weighted more than half a ton on its own, and over a ton with the steel and fur that protected their body. The segmented plates covered not only the mighty horse chest, but also the muscular front legs, turning into flexible grieves up to the hoofs clad in steel. In their gauntlet-covered hands, they held ten foot long spears adorned with colored pennants. At their belts, hitting against their bodies as they ran, were five feet long swords. For me, such a sword was a two-hander, but for their build, it was most likely fit for one-handed wielding.
I finally saw the elite Dion fighters with my own two eyes. Frankly, they left me staring in awe. They were the embodiment of raw strength and power!
I wonder for how long the Punishers can hold against them.
As soon as the last Dion rushed past and the roaring began to subside, I tore myself away from the wall and ran after them at full speed. But they were too fast; I had to jump on Fury in order to keep up. Be patient, girl. The surviving nine Raksh, sheathing their daggers, rushed after us. Poor Rawrk immediately fell behind and soon disappeared from our sight. It’s fine, let him rest, he had enough fighting for one day. Also, I didn’t notice the Dions slow down even though there had been a decent squad of enemies here just a couple of minutes ago.
“Mashta, what happened to the Punishers? Did they run away or what?”
“Are you’re kidding? They can’t run so fast.”
“So where are they?”
“Take a guess,” Stinger laughed nervously. “They’re learning how to fly, Wise. Truth be told, they’re not good at it. You see, if anyone ever meant them to fly...”
“Did the Dions trample them on the move?!”
“You bet they did! Come on, get to us! The road is clear, and we still need to finish off the Protector. The damn thing’s still raging! Maybe you’ll get to participate!”
But our joy was not without tears, the Dions did suffer losses.
Closer to the upper platform, where the Citadel was located and the serpentine was twice as
wide, the Dions faced the most violent resistance. This didn’t stop them, just barely slowed them down. It is with such perseverance and strength that an icebreaker hacks the mighty layers of northern glaciers, not noticing the damage to its armor. But, rushing past the piles of corpses of both greater and lesser Demons, I noticed dead Dions. Those who were at the head of the line cared not for their lives and pushed themselves to the limit of their strength, until they fell dead, hit with dozens of javelins, daggers, and plasma balls. When one fell, the next fighter immediately took over the lead and soon shared the fate of his predecessor. I counted four trampled, armored bodies along the way — the price paid for the destruction of the enemy battle formations. Speed and fearlessness would decide the outcome. One didn’t have to be a genius to figure that out — we had witnessed a suicide attack. The Dions performed it consciously, to save the rest of the Lunar Rainbow.
When I finally arrived to the upper platform riding Fury, the battle was almost over.
The Dions had lost at least a dozen of their fighters there, trampling everything that could move, driving the corpses deeper into the dirt. Having encircled the Creepoar tank, they rode around it, trapping it like a slab of meat in a grinder, and preventing it from escaping, working tirelessly with their slings and spears. The tank looked pretty beaten; its helmet was dented, armor hacked and the massive oval shield that was half its height had been turned into a sieve. Despite this, the Protector was still extremely alive and dangerous, and its HP was still high: 10,456/16,666. Despite the horsemen’s mighty blows, the Demon’s monstrous defense made their spears get stuck in its skin, leaving only deep, ragged scratches, oozing with dark, thick blood.
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