by James Hunter
In a matter of minutes, any sign of Ravenkirk or human civilization vanished, obscured from view by the looming trees surrounding us.
The Spider Queen moved with an unnatural grace and made crazy-good time despite the dense undergrowth, tangling vines, and snagging roots. Even though her lair was in the Storme Marshes, she seemed to instinctively know the location of every buried rock or hidden dip in the Avilynn and was somehow able to effortlessly avoid every potential snag as though she’d walked this same path a thousand times before. Cutter and I struggled to maintain the demanding pace, tripping more often than not, while our Stamina trickled away like water from a leaky faucet.
After a handful of minutes, I started to grow a little anxious.
It felt like we were being watched, or maybe hunted.
I’d been in the Avilynn a few times before, but this time everything felt different. The edge of the Avilynn was a relatively safe place, perfect for newbs to grind out some EXP against random, low-level mobs. The fringe of the woods was a beginner zone, mostly. But there was something wrong here. Aside from the crunch of our boots in the undergrowth and the occasional snap of a breaking twig, the forest seemed dead. Lifeless. No birds chirped or sang. No deer or elk crept by. Even the wild hogs, which traveled in small sounders, were nowhere to be seen. It was night, true, but there should’ve been some sign of life.
“This place is sick, Jack,” Cutter whispered conspiratorially, waving at a nearby oak illuminated by a stray silver moonbeam. “I mean, I’m no Hunter or Ranger, but even I can tell this isn’t a healthy forest.”
I paused, taking a few deep breaths as I scanned the tree he’d pointed out. Sure enough, the green leaves were withered and covered with small yellow spots. And the trunk itself was riddled with thin black veins, which crept upward from its roots. I surveyed a few of the other trees. Not all of them were affected—at least not yet—but nearly one in five were. “What’s going on here?” I asked Lowyth, who’d paused up ahead to wait for us.
The deadly Spider Queen reached out and traced her claws over the corrupted bark of a sugar maple. “A great mystery, which you are here to help me solve. Now come, our destination isn’t far—and neither are our enemies.” She snarled, her nails digging into the wood, leaving vicious slashes behind as she padded on. “Be on guard,” she whispered, her voice carried to us on a gentle breeze.
We resumed our trek, zigzagging through the undergrowth, fording a lazily winding, knee-deep creek, then scuttling up a hill peppered with downed logs and jutting, moss-covered stones. Though the canopy was thick overhead, shafts of starlight guided us through the dark tangle of woods. By the time we crested the rise, the sound of a pitched battle floated to my ears: the clang of steel on steel, the growl of something monstrous, the snap of tree branches. “What is that?” I asked, genuinely confused.
“Sounds like trouble to me,” Cutter replied, wiping the sweat from his face with the back of one hand.
“Indeed it is,” Lowyth replied. “Hurry now, a friend needs our assistance.” She took off like a rocket. I pulled a Stamina Regen potion from my belt, downed it in one gulp, then tossed the bottle away as I pulled my warhammer from my belt. Time to get busy. The Spider Queen had a huge lead on me, but I decided to rectify that. While Cutter broke into an awkward sprint to catch up, fighting his way through bushes and past snagging roots, I triggered Shadow Stride, stepping into the Shadowverse at my leisure. The forest, already dark and creepy, grew somehow more ominous in the Shadowverse.
If anything, the corruption seemed to be a bit more prevalent here.
I shuddered, unsure what that meant, and headed on. I edged past Cutter, who was frozen mid-stride, slipped around a few more trees, then crept by Lowyth, feeling a smidge of smug satisfaction. She might’ve been badass, but I still had some pretty cool tricks up my sleeve. Finally, the trees thinned and opened up on a broad clearing bathed in weak silver moonlight, with a building jutting up from the leaf-strewn ground.
The building was octagonal, roughly twenty feet in diameter, and made of graying marble blocks engraved with pictograms of grim-faced skeletons. Romanesque columns marched around the structure in evenly spaced intervals, each of them studded with black wrought iron wall sconces that held torches that burned with unnatural green fire. A golden dome capped the odd structure like a half-buried gold ball, glimmering with beautiful glowing runes. At a glance, it could only be a mausoleum.
Strange.
But even more peculiar than stumbling over an abandoned tomb in the middle of the forest were the ferocious creatures littering the clearing.
TEN_
Battle Royale
The scene before me was absolutely baffling.
Hulking skeletons, [Risen Dead], built from yellowing bone, gleaming red muscle, ropy gristle, and old moss poured from the crypt’s heavy wrought iron doors. More skeletons littered the clearing, along with what could only be zombies in various stages of decomposition. Some of the undead were little more than shambling piles of sinew, clad in tattered armor, while others were a bit fresher. Livelier. A handful of zombies with molting skin, which revealed patches of pink muscle beneath, wore dark, heavy armor, bore enormous tower shields, and carried a wide array of deadly weaponry, marking them as elite troops.
The title [Revenant Knight] floated above them.
Toward the rear of the formation, flanking either side of the mausoleum entrance were a pair of strange spectral creatures burning with eerie green light, clad in fraying robes heavily embroidered with gold, and carrying thick staffs, naming them as undead spellcasters.
But the humanoid undead were also joined by other even more bizarre creatures. A pair of terrifying mantis-like creatures—each the size of a large child—built from bone and black chitin scuttled around on spindly legs. There was a lone wolf as big as a lion, with burning red eyes, its hide stitched together from decaying animal pelts. A [Corpse Hound]. I even spotted a handful of bloated rats, which looked freshly dead and positively rife with disease.
I’d fought my fair share of the undead while trudging through the Plague Tunnels beneath Rowanheath, and I had no desire to battle more. Not only were the undead tough to kill, but zombies also had the unfortunate ability to retain whatever skill-set they’d had in life, so it wasn’t at all uncommon to contend against brutal tanks, sneaky, backstabbing thieves, potent undead shamans, or deadly wizards who could hurl lightning or cast AoE fireballs. And to top it off, every zombie I’d ever seen could deal either plague or poison damage with every hit, which could tear through Health and Stamina like a hungry bear.
Strangest of all—and the thing that really left me scratching my head—was the fact that these creatures hadn’t rallied to fight us, they were already engaged in a ferocious battle. And not against another group of intrepid adventurers, but against some new type of monster I’d never seen before.
A tag floated above one of the invaders: [???]
That was another first in a day full of firsts. What kind of enemy was so rare, the game wouldn’t even identify them?
The invaders were vaguely humanoid, giant—each one standing at least seven feet tall—and whip-thin, covered in dull gray skin. Any exposed flesh was heavily tattooed with sharp, angular black script that hurt to look at. They had pinched, gaunt faces that lacked noses, and lipless, fishlike mouths bursting with jagged black teeth like bits of broken glass. Matte-black horns protruded above pointed ears, curling up toward the sky. Unlike the undead horde, these things were heavily armed with wicked, black-bladed weapons, and garbed in dusty-gray armor trimmed with black fur and studded with spikes, rivets, and gleaming chains.
This was crazy. Bizarre beyond belief.
I’d heard reports that active, territorial dungeons would attack roaming mobs, but I’d never heard of an organized group of monsters invading an entirely different dungeon. The question now was simple: what the hell was I supposed to do here? Were all the creatures in the clearing enemies, or was there a good
guy in this battle? And if so, who? I didn’t want to creep into the fight and accidentally sandblast a friendly in the face. So instead, I crept behind a gnarled ash tree on the edge of the clearing and stepped from the Shadowverse.
In a flash, the action exploded back into furious life as time resumed.
Skeletons bum-rushed the horned monsters, lashing out with crude maces built from bone and stone, and the invaders responded in kind. One of the zombie mages, a blond-haired Wode with green-tinged skin, thrust one hand forward and unleashed a bolt of crackling blue lightning, which arced through the air and smashed into an invading warrior carrying a lengthy spear tipped with a black-edged blade. The creature toppled to the ground, convulsing madly, its HP plunging, as a wispy plume of rancid smoke drifted up from the body.
The chaos continued to unfold as Lowyth blurred past me, her arms and legs pumping as she ran. On the edge of the clearing, she crouched down, her fingers digging into the loamy dirt, then shot into the air, leaping twenty feet before plummeting down into the middle of the battle. She landed like an asteroid, the dirt cratering around her as a shock wave exploded outward, rattling the earth and knocking several of the horned invaders from their feet. But before the ground could even stop quivering, she was already moving.
With an ear-splitting shriek, she shot forward like a bolt fired from a crossbow, one hand stretching out. The unlucky target of the attack was an invader wielding a heavy ebony shield and carrying a battle-axe that even Forge would’ve struggled to lift. Her fist smashed into the warrior’s armored chest, but instead of launching the creature into the air, Lowyth’s fist ruptured the leather and exploded out of its back in a spray of black blood. Critical Hit. The invader’s dark eyes were already glassy with death as its life bar sprinted from bright red to black in an instant.
Her entire attack had happened in a fraction of a second, and it was a firm reminder that the Spider Queen was one tough lady. A tough lady I wanted to keep happy and on our side.
Lowyth shrieked again, this time in victory, and ripped her hand free—everything up to her bicep was coated in nauseating gore. Before the corpse could even topple, the Spider Queen grabbed it by the throat and wheeled around, launching the body at a nearby pair of invaders. The corpse smashed into them with bone-breaking force, and down they went in a tangle of limbs, alive but injured. She leaped toward them, lips pulled back in a snarl, ready to make sure they didn’t live for long.
“Don’t just stand there, fly,” she shouted at me with a glower, before smashing in the side of an invader’s skull. “Kill these creatures, and do it without hesitation. Leave the others be.” Then she turned away, dropping down and sinking her teeth into the throat of the second creature, which promptly let out a gurgled cry as its arms flapped madly in the air.
I pulled my eyes away from the unsettling scene and darted into the midst of the fray.
My first instinct was to unleash Umbra Bog, but I decided against it. Lowyth and her spiderkin might’ve been immune to the attack since they were part of an active faction alliance, but the zombies and skeletons wouldn’t have the same protection. Unfortunately, that meant my Plague Burst and brand-new Night Cyclone abilities were also out. So instead, I thrust out a hand and launched a burning Umbra Bolt at the nearest gray-skinned invader, who was getting ready to split the Corpse Hound down the middle with an oversized two-handed sword.
The Umbra Bolt slapped against the invader’s cheek, bursting in a shower of purple shadow power which disrupted the attack, saved the grotesque hound, and knocked off over half of the creature’s HP in a single hit. Even better, the invader’s eyes grew strangely hazy and confused, its brain addled. It turned, tossed its sword into the dirt, then launched its body at a female invader wearing a skull helmet. At level 4, not only did Umbra Bolt dish out 210% Spell Strength—for a whopping 332 points of Shadow Damage—but additionally, it had a 20% chance of confusing enemies, causing them to randomly attack other hostile forces.
The bewildered invader hit his companion around the waist, digging a shoulder into her gut and driving her to the ground like a linebacker sacking a very unlucky QB. His sword lay off to one side, but he quickly fished a deadly curved dagger from a sheath at his belt and jabbed down with a maddened roar. There was no time to celebrate my victory, though, since more of the leather-clad invaders had taken note of my presence and were closing in. A wicked scythe blade sliced at my head—I ducked the blow by inches, letting the weapon sail past me, then shot in, slamming my hammer into exposed ribs as I triggered Savage Blow.
Ribs cracked like rifle shots, and the creature doubled over, grabbing his gut as he struggled for air, no doubt crippled by one debuff or another. I slipped right and thrust the wicked spike on my hammer directly into the warrior’s exposed temple. Critical Hit! The creature, already injured, let out a raspy groan as its body sagged and folded like a bad hand of cards, dead before he hit the ground. I jerked the spike free and twirled right, hurling another Umbra Bolt with my left hand. It exploded against the chest plate of a female warrior with a horrendous underbite.
“On your left!” Cutter called from behind me, his voice hard-edged.
I spun, eyes wide, as an enemy warhammer crashed toward me. I dove right, but I wasn’t quite quick enough. Although I’d saved myself from a potentially fatal blow, the blunt face of the incoming hammer smashed into my calf, and pain ripped through my leg, radiating down into my foot and up into my thigh. Instead of rolling smoothly away, I face-planted, and the sharp edge of a piece of skull gouged my cheek as a debuff notification flashed in the corner of my vision.
<<<>>>
Debuff Added
Fractured Leg: You cannot use your left leg; your movement rate is reduced by 80%; duration, 1 minute.
<<<>>>
Perfect, that’s just what I needed. I gritted my teeth and flipped onto my back as my new assailant stalked forward, his warhammer raised and ready to finish me off. I lifted one hand, preparing to unleash a gout of Umbra Flame, but the invader staggered to a halt, his eyes flaring wide in shock as an ebony-bladed dagger ripped through the front of his neck. Cutter flipped over his head a beat later, his legs spinning through the air like a professional gymnast before he landed on light feet and shot forward, driving a knee into the creature’s groin.
The warrior stumbled back, but before he could get away completely, Cutter hurled a trio of conjured blades, which punctured the leather armor with ease. Another one down. Cutter hustled over and helped me to my feet, slinging one arm around my shoulders so he was supporting most of my weight. In his other hand, he held one of his signature black daggers, the blade liberally covered in blood.
“Who’s next, you bastards?” he snarled, gaze flashing around the clearing. Except there weren’t any invaders left to fight. Their corpses lay all over the meadow, along with the bodies of more than a few zombies and skeletons, all butchered. The last living invader was pinned beneath Lowyth, her arms and legs splayed out as the Spider Queen gnawed on her exposed throat. Plenty of the undead horde remained, however. Cutter stared down a skeletal warrior missing one arm, but the monster didn’t seem even remotely interested in picking a fight with us.
Instead, the horde turned as one—as though listening to the instructions of some unheard voice—and began to file back through the mausoleum’s hulking steel door, disappearing into the dark. Cutter and I watched on passively as the skeletons, zombies, and other undead things vanished back from where they came. This whole situation only got more confusing by the second. First, a dungeon boss offered us a secret quest, then we discovered two different groups of monsters duking it out, before finally having a group of potentially hostile opponents just turn around and walk away without a fight.
“Umm, do we attack?” I asked, shooting a look at the Spider Queen as she stood from her kill, wiping away blood from her ruby lips.
“Don’t be silly, troublesome fly,” she replied, holding one hand up to inspect her claws. “We follow. Af
ter all, we’re here to make a new friend as well as solve a troubling puzzle.” She carved her way through the battlefield, stepping over downed bodies as though they were nothing more than rocks to avoid. She paused at the iron gate barring the way to the crypt interior. “Well, shall we go?” She waved toward the crypt entrance.
“Not until we collect the bloody loot,” Cutter shot back, waving an arm at the field ripe and ready for plunder. I grinned. If there was one thing Cutter kept his eye on, it was loot.
Lowyth sighed and leaned against one of the marble pillars surrounding the tomb. “Children,” she muttered before shaking her head. “Very well,” she said a tad louder. “The Dungeon Hearted can wait a little while longer. Go collect your spoils.” She flicked out one hand in a shooing gesture.
She could say whatever she wanted, but I was with Cutter on this one: passing up good quality loot—and from brand-new mobs, no less—was an affront to the gamer in me. I headed over to the nearest invader, who lay facedown in the dirt, one arm twisted beneath his torso, the other flopped out at an awkward angle. Carefully, I rolled the creature over, searching its face for any sign of what it might be. It wasn’t human, obviously, but these things looked less like monsters and more like a new race—part Murk Elf, part Risi, part demon.
What they were was a complete mystery.
I pulled up my interface and looted the corpse. The invader carried a handful of golden coins, but they weren’t the Imperial marks I was familiar with. These coins were thick, and square, with sharp, angular script running along the edge and the stern face of a demon in profile stamped into the metal on each side. And their gear was just as weird, though it at least provided a few clues about what these creatures were. I pulled up the item description for a wicked black dagger with runes etched into the blade: