Void Legion

by Terry C. Simpson

  “If the lupine throws back its head to Howl, then whoever is last in the rotation has to stun it. We can’t mess that up. Ever. We can survive Hell Breath, but we can’t survive Hell Breath and Howl at the same time.”

  “What about diminishing returns on stuns?” Frost asked.

  “Diminishing returns have been changed on interrupts like stun and silence,” Gilda said. “They start after the first rotation.”

  Frost’s brows bunched. “So, for us four, diminishing returns start after the fourth successful interrupt, but if it was just one of us, they’d start after the first?”

  “Yes,” Gilda said.

  “Is it the same type of diminishing return?” Frost asked. “As in, if we stun again within twenty-five seconds of a stun, the next stun duration is diminished by a second? And if we keep going in the twenty-five second window, then the GUM becomes immune to stuns?”

  Gilda nodded.

  “For each individual head, right?” Frost asked.

  “No. The heads are treated as one monster.”

  “One monster,” Frost repeated, eyes wide. “That can’t be right.”

  “It is,” Gilda said. “The good news is we can damage any of the other heads but the stunned one and we won’t break the stun.”

  Frost grimaced. “That sounds nearly impossible. Typically, a chimera like this will Hell Breath or Howl within every twenty seconds. The importance of interrupting Howl cuts down our time even more. Unless we decide to rely on RNG and hope he doesn’t Howl one of those times, wait the twenty-five seconds, which resets diminishing returns. If we maintain every stun, it means two and a half rotations at best. That’s like two minutes to kill a head. And that’s with counting your Duration shard.”

  “Means we have to do insane damage.” Dante beamed. “My kind o’ work. DPS for the win. Pew! Pew!”

  “Don’t get so crazy about DPS that you forget your real job,” Frost warned. “Whenever that crevid uses Charge, you gotta be ready with Soul Scream to pull aggro back to you.”

  “Yeah, yeah, mess it up and one of you glass cannons is a dead man. Er, woman.” Dante smirked at them. “The reason I love heavy armor and lots of stamina.” He slapped his chainmail chest.

  Gilda continued, “No attacks during Smoke Screen so we don’t mistakenly knock the dragon or lupine out of a stun. Whomever is next up for a stun after Screen, please be quick about it.”

  “First stun is yours, Dante,” Frost said, pushing his doubts to the back of his mind. “Then Gilda, then Saba with Paralysis Shot. I’m last. Gilda, you have the extra stun and effect shards, so you’ll double up or be ready for emergency.

  “We’re gonna risk resetting diminishing returns at the start of the third rotation. We wait it out even if we get Hell Breath. The only way we break that rule is if he tries to Howl during those twenty-five seconds. Go it?”

  “Got it,” they said.

  “Relying on good old RNG.” Smirking, Dante shook his head. “You know I hate relying on luck, right?”

  “Sometimes, it’s better to be lucky than good,” Frost said.

  “I’d argue that point,” Dante said.

  “Says the man who often rushes in headfirst without thinking.”

  Dante grinned. “You got me there.”

  “As soon as you feel any weakness, pop a health potion first then the rejuvenation about twenty seconds later,” Frost continued. “Keep them cycling since we don’t have a mystic. Should keep us at maximum fighting ability for long enough.” It was the best workaround he could think of for the lack of a mystic and visible Hit Points.

  “Don’t forget to use sanctification pots as soon as Hell Breath touches you,” Gilda said. “Four ticks of the DoT it leaves is death. One tick, if you have Flame Wall.”

  “Kill order?” Saba asked.

  “Lupine, dragon, crevid?” Frost looked to Gilda who nodded her approval.

  “Why not the dragon first since he does the most damage?” Saba asked.

  “‘Cause we can survive a Hell Breath by itself,” Frost reminded her. “A missed Howl stun and any combo of Wall, Pillar, Breath, or Charge means someone dies. And that means a wipe.”

  “We’re popping vials, right?” Saba looked on, hope shining in her large round eyes.

  Frost shook his head. “Not on a first try. I’d rather save them for the Sanctum.”

  “So we’re going to risk one of us dying on this?” Saba’s tail swished violently.

  “Preventing that is where Adesh and Ryne comes in,” Frost said.

  Saba rolled her eyes. “Fine.” She muttered something unintelligible under her breath.

  “We got everything covered now?” Dante hefted his axe. “Like, can we start?”

  “Whenever you’re ready.” Frost gripped Deadeye tight, his pulse quickening. He could already imagine the fight.

  Dante’s skin bled from crimson into bright scarlet as he once more engaged Frenzy. His eyes shone with intensity. Rage. With his power and speed increased, he dashed forward into a dead sprint, arms and legs pumping, crescent axe swinging up and down in rhythm. His body blurred as he employed Raging Rush, covering the remainder of the distance in a flash. He leaped high into the air, axe cocked back in the iconic form of Death From Above.

  Time slowed. Dante hurtled down, eight-foot frame a pittance against the backdrop of the GUM’s scaled body. He buried the axe into the dragon head. Blood fountained. Azonoth let out a cry between a roar and a screech.

  The lupine head tried to snatch at Dante, but the marauder had already yanked the axe out and dropped to the ground. Dante went into his next ability, Cyclonic Strike, his body spinning, axe held out before him, the blue glow of aether flowing from its edge. Chop. Chop. Chop. Chop. Each revolution was an impact on Azonoth’s chest. Blood flowed.

  The dragon roared. Its mouth glowed red.

  “Hell Breath incoming,” Frost shouted.

  Dante’s body stopped spinning. He struck with Staggering Blow and stunned the dragon head. He Soul Screamed, the sound tearing the very air, forcing the other two heads to attack him.

  “Turn it,” Frost said to himself.

  Dante complied as if he could hear Frost, stepping a bit to the side to turn the heads away from them. The lupine and crevid snapped at him. The tail whipped out. Dante shifted just in time to dodge the tail but absorbed the damage from the heads.

  “He should have good aggro now,” Frost said.

  “Yeah.” Gilda nodded. “All the heads look pretty pissed at him.”

  “Our turn.” Frost opened with Aether Shot then followed with as many Korbitanium Projectiles as he could pump out in the two-second recharge window before he could fire another Aether Shot.

  Beside him, Saba nocked and fired arrows. The twang of her bowstring played a tune. A rhythm. A marksman’s symphony of deadly accuracy and effortless speed.

  Gilda’s Ice and Fire Globes lit the air, arcane trails blue and red. Her Infernal Spear followed close behind, dissecting those trails with its length of billowing flames in hellish hues. Even as the attacks exploded into the beast, the dragon’s maw glowed. A Stalactite impaled the dragon head.

  Azonoth threw back its lupine head to the sky. “I got lupine,” Frost yelled. He hit it with Staggering Shot.

  Azonoth pawed at the ground. The crevid head shifted to stare at Gilda. Frost swallowed, knowing the deadly Charge was incoming.

  Dante Soul Screamed. The crevid snapped its attention back to Dante. But even as he retained aggro with the taunt, Dante bellowed, his body swelling to match his use of Sentinel Shout, which increased his health and defense. A second yell was for Enfeebling Bellow, decreasing Azonoth’s power.

  A shadowy doppelgänger of a crevid the size of Azonoth charged at Dante. It slammed into the marauder. Dante staggered for
but a second, the combination of fortification from Sentinel Shout and weakness from the Enfeebling Bellow serving their purpose.

  “My Paralysis Shot was resisted,” Saba cried.

  Gilda’s Stalagmite burst from the ground, signaling the start of the second stun rotation. The dragon head froze.

  A tendril of smoke drifted from the crevid’s nostrils. Dante Staggered the crevid before it could cast Smoke Screen.

  “Damn it,” Frost said, “you weren’t supposed to do that.”

  Moments later, the ground beneath Gilda glowed like molten rock. She leaped away. A Flame Pillar shot up from the vacated spot, heat waves spilling from it. It lasted three seconds before dissipating, leaving behind a blackened, smoking spot.

  And so, the battle went, all of them working in unison as if they’d done so for years. By the start of the third rotation, Dante’s armor was torn in several places. Blood leaked from a gash on his leg and one on his shoulder. Undaunted, the marauder continued to chop at Azonoth.

  Frost counted down the twenty-five seconds to reset diminishing returns. He wondered how they’d know if they were close to success. Despite the scorched fur and numerous wounds on the lupine head, Frost couldn’t tell exactly how effective their attacks had been. Not without Hit Points. Panic stirred in his chest.

  He reached fifteen seconds. Spurred on by the chance of success, he fired again and again at the lupine head.

  A thrill rose in him at the prospect of the reset.

  And then the lupine threw back its head. Gilda’s Stalactite stopped the Howl.

  “Shit.” Frost deflated.

  In that moment, Frost noticed the changes. Discoloration in the lupine’s flesh, its sluggish attacks, the lack of roars, snarls. Aggression. When the next blow landed, the lupine head flopped to the side.

  The dragon head roared.

  A sudden heat emanated from Frost’s body and beneath his feet. A quick glance down revealed a ruddy glow. Its twin was around Gilda. Frost’s heart sped up. “Flame Wall, Gilda! Left!”

  They sprinted off to the left. They’d gone perhaps five steps when the Flame Wall ignited between them. Fire raced across the ground, a literal wall of it. They timed the flames and leaped away at the very last moment. Crackling, the wall of fire stayed in place. The debuff rose from Gilda and Frost like a heat haze. They drank rejuvenation and sanctification potions.

  They rejoined Saba. The marksman’s hands were a blur as she worked her bow, firing arrow after arrow, sweat pouring down her face, brow furrowed in concentration. Grinning at Gilda, Frost added his firepower to Saba’s fusillade.

  Azonoth’s maw glowed red.

  “Hell Breath incoming!” Frost shouted the warning, knowing the GUM was now immune to stun.

  Dante Soul Screamed the crevid then used a combination of Enfeebling Bellow and Sentinel Shout. He threw his arms up in an X across his chest, the crescent axe jutting above his head. A skill Frost knew to be Crossguard, which boosted the marauder’s defense yet again.

  And as if Crossguard wasn’t enough, a blue glow flashed across Dante’s skin. From the empty air stepped a spectral golden-armored warrior. A copy of Deluth’s protectors. A Warden. The level ten marauder Overload skill. The Warden mimicked Dante.

  “Burn this bastard!” Dante shouted. “I ain’t got much left.”

  Even as Dante yelled the words, Azonoth unleashed Hell Breath. Flames engulfed Dante. The ground underneath Frost’s feet grew hot. Steam rose. As did liquid fire. Thousands of tiny red and orange globes of it, popping as they elevated, casting a heat haze upon the air itself.

  When the first tick of Hell Breath hit Frost’s arm, he almost screamed. It was as if someone had splashed that small area with boiling water.

  Teeth gritted, Frost reached down to his belt loop, took out a sanctification pot, flipped the cork with his thumb, and emptied the contents into his mouth. The burning subsided. Frost steadied Deadeye and discharged every skill he had in rapid succession.

  The thrum of Saba’s bowstring was a distant thing in Frost’s mind. Gilda’s chakrams were alive with radiance. Spells zipped from them.

  Explosions rocked Azonoth. Both heads. Its body. In the midst of the conflagration stood Dante and his Warden, arms crossed in defiance. Azonoth’s body shuddered. And then the GUM collapsed.

  The group stopped firing. The Warden dispersed. A cheer echoed from the dvergar at the bottom of the slope.

  “Hell, yeah!” Dante shouted. He keeled over onto his back.

  Frost bolted toward Dante, ignoring any information of exp or quest completion. But Gilda and Saba were there first, Gilda having Flickered, and Saba by way of Streak. They stood over Dante but made no other move. Frost swallowed, praying it wasn’t an outcome he feared.

  When Frost reached them, Dante was still on his back, blank eyes staring up at the sky. His armor was dented, gashed, and blackened. His skin was scorched, raw, and red. Blood leaked from too many wounds to count along his arms. Bruises and soot marred his face.

  “Thought I was dead, didn’t you?” Dante grinned. His eyes focused. “You did. Look at your faces. Haaaaa! Got you.”

  “Not funny,” Saba said.

  “From down here it sure as hell is.”

  “You’re a damned fool.” Frost shook his head but smiled. “You alright?”

  Dante nodded and climbed wearily to his feet. “I doubted the doctors and techs about pain in Total Immersion. Hadn’t noticed anything worth thinking about ‘til now. Damn, some of that hurt. If I wasn’t desperate for credits I might not be doing this.” He paused then shook his head. “Who am I kidding? This shit is epic. I’d do it for free.”

  Frost strode over to Azonoth’s carcass. The massive creature stunk of fire and blood. “I think you just did. No loot.”

  “Now, that,” Dante said, “is some bullshit.”

  “Got exp, though.” Frost analyzed his IM. “Loads of it. I leveled off the kill and completing two quests. Saving the Korbitoises. And Making the Dvergar Hunting Ground Safe Again. Anyone else had those two.”

  The others had cleared the quests. Thankfully, none of them had leveled up.

  “Kinda ironic,” Gilda said. “We were here wiping out the korbitoises but get a quest completion for saving them.”

  “I would’ve still preferred some loot after the beating I took.” Dante sighed. “I’ll need either a mystic to heal me before I do anything else, or to drink a ton of pots and get some rest.”

  “Well, Frost,” Saba said, “I hope that fight changed your mind about the Sanctum. Facing two of those things and Emperor KiGyaba is a bit out of our league.”

  “I think we’ll be fine if we take a mystic,” Frost said.

  Before anyone else voiced an opinion, Adesh Hamada, Ryne, and the dvergar joined them. Frost got a dvergr mystic to work on Dante. The dvergar gathered around Azonoth’s corpse, talking amongst themselves.

  “We’re indebted to you,” Gunarr said. “Azonoth and his brothers have terrorized us for a long time. It’s good to see one of them fall for all the dvergar they have taken.”

  “The chimera’s scales are special.” Dagrun ran her hand lightly down one of Azonoth’s legs. “Our smiths can craft rare armor out of it for you. It will take some time, but it will be done. It’s the least we can do.”

  “Thank you.” Frost dipped his head. “But it was a team effort. I just played my part. As for the chimera plate armor, give it to him.” He nodded to Dante. “He more than earned it.”

  Frost was about to deliver the good news when a distant pall of smoke caught his eye. Billowing black smoke mixed with blue. He frowned.

  “What’s that?” He pointed.

  Both Gunarr and Dagrun hissed. Their reactions gave Frost and ill feeling in the pit of his gut.

  “It means the Coalition
has attacked our village.” Dagrun had eyes only for the smoke.

  “Then we should head back,” Frost said.

  “No.” Gunarr pointed. “Listen. Look.”

  Distant shrieks and screams mingled with the rumble of thunder. High above the smoke, but beneath the gray quilt that radiated with thunderbolts, were over a dozen tiny forms of drakes and zephyrs.

  “It is already too late,” Gunarr said. “Those who could have escaped would have done so already. We knew this could happen. Come, we make for the Sanctum now before they head this way. And hopefully before the might of the next storm.”

  CHAPTER 30

  Nomarch Setnana Botros strode around the stone slab that was sticky with fresh blood. The naked dvergr chieftain was spread-eagled upon it. Restraints kept his head, arms, legs, and waist in place, yet he tried to buck against them.

  Setnana grimaced at the creature. The reasons the gods would create such abominations as the dvergar were beyond her. They were ugly little things. Smelly too. Undeserving of life. No wonder these particular dvergar were relegated to such a godforsaken place, a place formed from the voidstorm responsible for Perihy’s sickness, the place keeping her away from her son.

  I shouldn’t have been the one sent here.

  Scowling, she had to remind herself that Maelpith Island possibly held the cure to the Gray Death. That she would salvage much from this trip. Perihy would be beautiful once again. She would slay Adesh Hamada, Drelan Frost, and go on to crush Blue Sky. Here, she would begin the next step in her rise to Kalarch.

  Perhaps, it was meant for me to be here after all. She smiled grimly.

  “Where are they?” Nomarch Setnana put her index finger beneath the dvergr chieftain’s chin and tilted his head up. Defiance lived in his eyes. And fear. She could understand that last. “Tell me and I will set you free. Or you can have their fates.” She did not look directly at the people to whom she referred. But she saw them all the same, smelled the fetor of their bodily fluids.