It took a lot of power to break a spell that was so close to the caster and was so strong.
The confusion on the cultist’s mummified face was clear as Dave spun, burying his right axe into the cultist’s shoulder and into its chest; he flipped the left axe over and slammed its pointed back end into its head.
Runes on the axes flared to life; the cultist went down in screaming agony as it tried to remove the enchanted axes.
Dave didn’t slow. A bow appeared in his hands, gray smoke surrounding it.
Deia was having a magical duel with the last cultist not chanting.
Dave conjured an arrow, a rough arrow of steel, ebony, and silver. Even made of metal, it flew as if it were made of Elven wood. He had to keep circulating Mana through his body in order to keep the headaches away. Dave grunted in pain as the air cracked with the release of the first arrow.
It slammed into the chanter’s shield and exploded. The chanter continued to talk; they couldn’t reinforce their shield and keep up their other spell.
Dave continued to advance, firing another arrow, and then another. As he fired, his mind searched for a weakness. He had opened a dam of power that had been stored up for six months. It no longer had a prison to power but enough soul gems that it could retain it all. He knew that he would pay a price for using this much Mana but if he didn’t, then everyone might die.
“This is gonna fucking hurt.” He conjured raw Mana into where the shield looked weakest. “Ahhh, come on, you fucker, come on!”
The shield darkened and then flexed before it disappeared.
Dave drew and released the arrow he was holding, making the cultist stumble. He continued to walk, firing again and again, the air shattering in the passing of his arrows. The cultist continued to stumble until it was stuck on the ground.
The other cultists took up their part of the chant.
Dave released the bow, destroying it. Gray smoke rushed to his hand as a Dagger of Demon’s Ruin formed there. He planted it in the cultist’s chest; they were still at seventy percent Health.
They cried out as their very soul was being consumed by the blade. Their Health dropped quickly as they thrashed and tried to remove the blade.
Level 179 Boran-al Cultist soul pierced
Dave didn’t have time to finish them off yet. He needed to get more of the cultists to take out as many of them as possible.
Dave conjured Cassie’s sword. Power poured from him as he ran at the next cultist. The blade formed, shining even in darkness as Plasma Shot slammed into his next target.
“Fucking cultists!” Deia yelled. She held her hands out, feeding fire into her fire cannon; the air pressures served to compact and then fire the flames she was feeding them. The attack would have taken most of her Mana just to make—it was a five-person spell—but the power from the prison and the armor gave her enough to make it last for ten seconds.
The shield gave way.
Dave suddenly felt fear grip him. He rolled to the side as lightning arced from the chanters’ fingers.
Level 193 Boran-al Cultist
This mother fucker isn’t playing around.
The same sense Dave had felt before made him lurch to his feet as the rocks where he’d been exploded from another Dark bolt of energy.
-891 Damage
He felt the shards of stone that had pierced his dragon scale and hit his leg. He gritted his teeth instead of crying out, trying to close with the cultists, his left leg not holding his weight well. He felt sluggish after losing nearly half of his Health in a single glancing hit. He’d forgotten just how little Health he had, relying on his armor to keep the damage away from him.
The black dragon’s talons pierced the darkness; crashing into a cultist’s shield, its clawed feet dug into the cultist. It breathed Darkness at the cultist Dave was rushing toward. The cultist raised their hands, fighting the power of the dragon. The fact that they could even fight the dragon was a testament to their power.
The chant changed in scale as the Dark dome was collapsed.
They’re draining the power of the mind fuckery dome to use it for their other spell.
New frantic energy filled Dave as he crossed the distance to the cultist in seconds, driving the sword of light through the cultist’s back and up through its chest.
Holy light burned through the cultist as Dave kicked them off the blade and brought it across with all the force he could muster, taking the cultist’s head off.
Level 193 Boran-al Cultist dies
Right tool for the right job.
If Dave had hacked away at the thing, it might have lasted a good while. With the weapon in his hand, it was really damn effective against creatures of the Dark. Putting a holy relic through something as twisted as the cultist had done incredible damage, actually piercing the bound soul of the creature.
By taking off its head, Dave had broken the soul binding of the creature.
Attacks were nice and all to take down Health, if you were an Action Player. Evolvers didn’t just hammer away at an opponent; they hit the soft spots on their targets.
It was how a level 3 could take out someone a hundred and ninety levels above them. That and their insane buffs through their armor and their stats that put them on equal footing with someone at level 50.
Don’t underestimate a man with a plan.
Dave turned to his next victim as the dome of darkness collapsed. People started to move, most of them sobbing. Few, if any, were actually getting up. Players who had logged out now started to log back in and looked around at the battlefield.
Dave felt the spell as it worked before he saw it. Tendrils born of metal, rock, and Dark magic erupted from the ground, piercing many who were still recovering from the first spell.
It worked in an area about thirty feet wide, but the majority of the fighters were in that range. Cries of wounded and the dying mixed with those who had been torn apart by their own fears.
Dave felt a tentacle smash into his side. It was unable to break his armor but the force sent him flying thirty feet and took him down to twenty percent Health.
It would only take one more hit like that.
Players who had come back and the most resilient People of Emerilia were charging the cultists. Tentacles from the ground attacked them. They crushed shields and shattered armor as if they were tinfoil.
With enough damage, they could be destroyed but they were no weak creations.
It was the cultists’ final play.
Dave poured out every last vestige of power; using his full conjurations, he poured everything he had left into the attack.
He barely held onto consciousness; with his Mana gone, there was nothing to stop the headaches or heal his body with.
He looked at the cultists arrayed around their portal, fighting the dragon that was using its talons to tear apart a cultist at its feet, a magical shield keeping the others’ attacks at bay.
“I’m going to call this one Orbital Strike.” Dave laughed and coughed blood up. The tentacle had broken his ribs and something inside, it seemed. He lay down, the pain hurting and his vision cloudy. “Or maybe Hail Mary.”
Dave looked over to Deia, who was unconscious, on the ground. Her Plasma Cannon had left her drained.
He saw his attacks hit: fifty golden swords, identical to the one he had used to cut off the cultist’s head, slammed into the cultists’ shields. If they’d moved then they might have missed but the cultists had stayed completely still.
The swords penetrated the shields. The darkness of the shield and the light of the sword fought each other; white light and gray smoke poured off the competing Light and Dark creations.
Thirty slammed into the ground, right into the magical formation that had been created around the tentacles, breaking the circles and the magical spell.
Power flooded into Dave’s armor, the self-healing magical runes getting the power they needed to start healing Dave. His body started putting itself back together. Dave cried out f
rom the pain as darkness overtook him.
***
Josh looked around; as the dome of Darkness had fallen, he’d had the presence of mind to log out instead of stay around for the twisted images that filled his mind.
Dozens of people were just watching the fight, so Josh had waited in his lobby, watching them. As soon as the dome cleared, he logged back on.
He saw black tentacles shrouded in metal cutting through those who had beaten him in logging in or the People of Emerilia who were recovering from their miniature hell.
Tentacles didn’t care whether people were crying on the ground or trying to attack the cultists; they ripped through people.
A dragon ripped a cultist apart, howling as an attack made it through its shield.
Golden swords slammed into the ground and the cultists’ shields.
The tentacles evaporated; the metals and stone that had made them collapsed to the ground.
Josh heard a screech behind him. He looked to see a red dragon streak in, its breath catching a cultist’s shield. It held up for a few moments before it disintegrated.
The people who had been taken off to the camp to recover were now charging up the stairs.
Josh turned, his anger breaking through as the cultists started to raise the dead. He let out a yell, casting his buffs and rushing toward the cultists, swept up in the charge toward the remaining five cultists.
No one needed to communicate or say anything as the dawn broke: tanks moved forward, mages slammed spells into cultists, archers added to their ranged attacks, with DPS people moving to attack the cultists’ rear.
It didn’t matter whether you were Player or a person of Emerilia: as that light rose, those few who remained fought with everything they had.
Players defended their backs against those who had come back from the dead, not wanting to make the remaining People of the land have to shoulder the regret of killing their comrades.
The black dragon wheeled away, clearly badly hurt from its fight with the Demon Lord and the cultists. The red dragon continued to circle from above. The dragon’s spells were laser accurate.
A cultist with an axe buried into its chest rose, getting blasted with spells from four different directions.
“Slash!” Cassie called out, her body acting through the attack. The cultist moved so she only took off its arm instead of its head that was lolling to the side.
Cassie accessed skills, one after the other. It took time as four more melee fighters joined in the fray, hitting the cultist from every direction, not giving them time to come back to their senses and even think about casting a spell.
Mages buffed them as they took it down to zero Health. It expired, falling to the ground. Its carcass turned to ashes and was carried away in the breeze.
Cassie and the fighters turned to find their next opponents.
The cultists were fighting with everything they had. Their shield formations had been broken and the fighters weren’t giving them any time to try to rebuild them.
“With me!” Cassie yelled. The others followed her.
“Deflect!” Cassie called out. Her blade slapped away an animated spear that had risen from the ground on her intended victim’s orders.
It was tossed to the side as she roared with those around her.
Rogues used their speed to close with the cultist faster, digging their weapons into the creature, taking its focus off the oncoming tanks.
They joined battle with the cultists as wind billowed down. The black dragon took to the sky, its wings moving in a way that made Cassie think they were badly damaged.
We’ve got this now, she thought toward the dragon, looking at her Action bar and activating her skills as she rained hits down on her target.
“Stamina!” she yelled. Her green bar drained from the heavy-handed attacks.
A support mage started to boost her Stamina regen and stats, bringing her back up slowly even as she attacked.
It wasn’t a fight; it was a bloody melee. The cultists would have accessed their legendary skills as they reached seventy-five, fifty, and twenty-five percent Health, but the attacks came so fast and their words were cut off so that they couldn’t.
If Emerilia had been a real game, then they would have all lost. Few even noticed as they continued their attacks.
Chapter 38: Aftermath
Lox stumbled back from the last cultist. It had taken hours to just whittle down its truly massive Health pool.
Players and people had switched out, not giving the cultists a second to try to recover. If they did, then there was a possibility that they could cast something more than simple Mana bolts.
He pulled off his helmet and sat down on an ebony rock that made up the surface of the citadel. The battle had started twelve hours ago and now it had finally come to its bloody conclusion.
Lox looked over the dead that lay scattered over the citadel’s grounds. Slowly, emotions broke through his fatigue-drained mind, the lack of sleep and raw emotions empowering his feelings of regret and loss.
He dropped his shield and blade, shuddering as he pulled off his gauntlets, holding his face as he cried openly. Someone came over and dropped to their armored knees. Lox looked up, tears in his beard.
He grabbed Gurren, pulling the man into a desperate hug. They clung to each other, shaking and crying tears for the others who hadn’t made it.
“They’re gone, all gone,” Gurren said between sobs.
“I know, I know.” Lox patted the man and tried to clear his throat and nose from the crying.
Gurren let out a fresh cry and Lox was unable to stop it from bringing fresh tears to his eyes. They embraced each other: two men together in the loss of their friends, their fellow shield bearer brothers and sisters.
***
Deia felt energy move through her body, working to deal with the damage of channeling so much Mana and her own injuries. She looked up toward where Dave had been. Panic filled her as she tried to move.
“You’re badly injured. Stay still—we’ve got to get this armor off of you,” a healer said.
Deia didn’t listen. Her body had been pushed well beyond its limits and she didn’t have the energy to move properly, just falling down, or being pushed down by the healer.
“Get out of my way!” she said desperately.
“I need some help here please! Calm down!” the healer said.
Deia poured power into her hands and threw herself toward Dave. She crashed into bodies and slid over materials that the cultists had used for their powers. She crawled over to Dave, who lay against a broken rock, facing away from her with metals covering his body.
She pushed the metals away and pulled him over onto his back, pulling his hood back. She pulled hers off, too, putting her ear to his mouth.
Air came out of his mouth in ragged gasps.
Dried blood was on the side of his mouth as he lay there. A light emanated from his body as his armor worked to heal him.
Deia only noticed she was crying as her tears fell on his face. She slumped down in relief, too tired to deal with anything else.
***
Cassie was standing through the use of potions and alert-raising provisions. She looked over the scene that was the citadel.
The pillars on the four corners had been destroyed by the fighters. The portal in the center had fared better but it still showed lines going through them, and one was missing a good chunk from it.
The black stone that made up the square had craters in it from multiple magical impacts. In other areas, it had been turned into walls.
The whole place was a testament to the battle that had been fought on it.
There were bodies across the square. Three quarters of the Players had died in the event; three thousand Dwarves and seven hundred Elves had also lost their lives.
Cassie looked to the Dwarves and Elves as they grieved. It pulled at her very soul as she saw the grief and sadness in their every movement. Some had simply collapsed where they wer
e at the end of the battle, crying openly or looking around, stunned at the damage that had been brought down upon them and their fellows.
“Makes it hard to just think of them as NPCs.” Josh walked up to her.
Naylor nodded to Josh and walked away a bit, giving the two guild masters the opportunity to talk in private.
“Yeah,” Cassie said. Her people were just playing a game but in that moment, even if they were just lines of code, they were more real than some of the people she knew in her everyday life.
They’d known that going into this battle that they could be destroyed; that kind of action, even if it was by a computer, it made it hard for her to see them as just NPCs. They were People of Emerilia.
They might just be lines of code, but damn if I care.
In the middle of battle, she had saved them and they had saved her. She thought on her actions before the battle—how she had used the People of Emerilia, treated them as nothing but servants who were in her way of a quest or a way to get goods and training.
The beginnings of guilt pulled at her.
“I’m going to rebuild the Golden Sabres,” Cassie said.
“Oh?” Josh looked to her. It was well known that the Golden Sabres were happy to take on all comers and for a fee were willing to level people up. His curiosity was clear.
“To have so many agents of the Dark Lord within our ranks…” She shook her head in anger. “I’m going to rebuild the guild with two rules: clan first, People of Emerilia second.”
“Those are lofty goals, Cass.” Josh looked over the citadel.
“You and the Stone Raiders have already taken them up. You might not have the most numbers but your guild is one of the most powerful in Emerilia. You’ve made this your world; you even have NPCs in your damned guild. No other guilds have that. If there’s one thing this battle taught me, it’s that the People of Emerilia are not to be taken lightly.” Cassie watched as a sly smile passed over Josh’s face.
The Trapped Mind Project (Emerilia Book 1) Page 50