The Long Road to Karn (Realm of Arkon, Book 5)

by Akella, G.

  "All ready, dar!" James reported in the command channel.

  "Go ahead, then, if you're ready," I replied to the tifling, then winked to Vaessa while wondering to myself where I could possibly draw confidence for the coming storm—real confidence, and not just for show. This was to be the final hurdle before the finish line of a major phase of my journey. And, as always, everything was at stake... The pool looks so small from the top of a thirty-foot diving board... Hart, but I am tired...

  "Behind those walls are four thousand walking corpses!" Elnar bellowed, the tip of his blade pointed at the citadel. "Their cursed kin killed my mother and father. They killed and tortured your friends and loved ones at the beck of the bastard who had sold out to the Twice Cursed God! Even as a child I'd dreamed of coming to this damned castle at the head of a giant army! And here I am, with all of you! Thank you, Dark One, for fulfilling this impossible dream," James nodded to me in earnest gratitude, and swung his naked blade once more toward the citadel. "Hordes of undead still walk this land, ravaging our homes. But if we capture this castle, they will all hustle to its walls, and we'll be able to cleanse the princedom of this blight in one fell swoop!"

  The tifling's hard words crackled in the silence hanging over the valley, and I suddenly felt a sense of déjà vu. Strange images flickered through my mind: a short demon in a vinous mantle watching his friend escape into the darkness of a corridor; a dead dwarf clutching a broken flagstaff; an orc in shattered armor, the last of his legion, fighting back against four death knights bearing down on him as his warg drew his last breath nearby...

  "So let's knock those bastards out of our home!" The tifling looked over the getare with a wicked grin, then spun around and started toward Craedia at an even gait. A blood-curdling wolf's howl rang out from the ranks as the first row of soldiers moved out, followed by the second. Within seconds the entire half-legion had picked up the battle song as they followed their commander to storm the citadel captured by the undead.

  The walls looming over the valley didn't seem so tall anymore. Two hundred yards... One fifty...

  "Raise shields! Get set! Go!"

  One hundred yards... The skeletons on the walls threw up their bows in one fluid motion. Seventy yards...

  "Jump!" transformed by his demonic form, Reece's voice was like that of a giant snake hissing commands to his crew of mages.

  I Jumped together with everyone, dodging death that whizzed harmlessly by overhead. Hearing the dull drumming of arrows blocked by shields of getare running toward the breach, I popped Sprint and within seconds the mages and I were at the wall, safe from enemy fire. With time hastening its flow—something I was beginning to get used to—I side-stepped to cover a wounded mage, threw a shield up over my head, and hurled three Stone Discs in the apertures between jags of the battlement overhanging us. Bulls-eye! Missing wasn't even an option at this distance. The archers' aggro was now on me, as arrows began peppering my shield from a height of thirty five feet. Another moment and the sun grew dark, eclipsed by torrents of fire mixed with plummeting boulders. I had brought only fire and earth mages with me, while Reece led frost mages to the other breach—water- and fire-based AoEs weren't complimentary for rather obvious reasons. A pair of arrows struck me in the shoulder and the hip, each taking off five percent HP as they bounced off the mithril armor. Pain didn't even register as a healing spell—cast by Reena who had followed us to the wall—immediately topped me off. With heals like that, I could stand here all day! The mages, in the meantime, were raising sheer hell all around us. Even the grass underfoot was burning, the smoky fumes obstructing view and making it hard to breathe—yet it was all quite bearable thanks in large part to alchemy! There was a loud clanging at our backs as the getare clashed with the armored skeletal warriors. Several of the archers in the battlements threw down their bows and rushed their comrades, whipping out their daggers—Lady Vaessa had joined the festivities.

  "How are you doing, dar?" I heard her yelling somewhere in the back, drowning out all the din.

  "Pray for me," I grinned.

  "The phrases I spoke in the past ten seconds could hardly be considered prayers," she shot back at once. "By regular folks, at least. You, however, might find them quite divine!"

  "Left wall is clear!" a voice reported in the command chat. It was Hyld, who had been left back in the camp to oversee the battle.

  "Cease AoE fire!" I yelled to my group, then waited five heartbeats and Jumped up on the wall. "Holy shit!" I couldn't help but exclaim at the sight of charred and smoking heaps of bones. Thankfully, a pair of arrows plunging right in my chest quickly brought me back. Trying not to breathe while hiding behind the shield, I gave a wave to my troops, standing perfectly still two hundred yards away from the castle wall.

  Nine phantom vortexes materialized in the air just ahead, and in another moment enormous bonehounds emerged from them. Obeying Vaessa's will, they rushed to the passageway leading into the battlement, mowing down skeletons that poured out of there.

  "So much material wasted," the necromancer's daughter sighed with sorrow. "Enough for a couple of mature dragons..."

  "I'll make sure to ask the cleanup crew not to sweep up the bones, but leave them for you," I smiled at her before indicating the passageway where the bonehounds had disappeared ten seconds prior to one of my captains. The first and most critical phase of the battle was finished! Presently half a century of melee fighters, accompanied by a crew of healers, were clearing the walls, leaving the mages and archers to set off a kind of local Armageddon in the castle courtyard.

  "The walls are ours!" Gorm reported dryly in the command channel. "I've sent some of mine your way—there's just not enough space up here."

  "Roger that," Elnar replied. "We'll pick them up."

  The satrap had been initially skeptical that my plan could actually work. Given his contemplative tone and the reserve troops deployed our way, however, the old soldier was probably busy navigating brand new horizons of military tactics.

  Down in the courtyard, even brainless skeletons must have been thinking it was the end of the world. Blocked off by our tanks at the two breaches, the skeletons swarmed like crazed fans at a soccer match, the skies above literally opening and pouring death down onto them. The din of boulders crashing, lightning rumbling, steel clanging, bones breaking and soldiers cussing excitedly all blended together into a kind of concert from the deepest circles of hell. Shuffling its feet at the center of the swarm was a gigantic gray arachnid—evidently, the main boss' behavioral algorithm prevented it from trampling its own allies, leaving the twenty-five-foot monstrosity, its health bar currently hovering at around the ninety percent mark, to simply hurl bundles of sticky cobwebs at the tanks whenever the ability came off cooldown. Some of the skeletons kept trying to climb up on the walls, but would invariably get stuck midway, mired in the suddenly boggy stone up to their knees, and subsequently decimated by the mages and archers from a safe distance. Summoned by the air mages, the tempestuous wind blew greasy, sticky smoke and the repugnant stench of burning bones into the fortress as the battle—if you could call this massacre a battle—was drawing to a close. Shit! How are the knights doing?! Scolding myself mentally for forgetfulness, I glanced up at the staircase leading up to the donjon, and drew a sigh of relief. They were doing just fine! The stairs were literally buried in piles of bones and corpses stuck in the most unnaturally varied poses. Kan Shyom was the easiest to spot—standing perfectly still with his arms folded, watching his troops annihilating hapless skeletons with a kind of silent approval. Standing next to him was Raena, hurling the occasional ice wave at the undead scrambling to get to the top. Noticing me looking, the sorceress pondered for barely a second before favoring me with a smile and a friendly wave. I returned her smile, though she probably couldn't recognize it as such given my equipped helm and demonic form. Which was probably for the best—I suspected that a scowling elder demon was hardly a pretty sight.

  It was then that my eyes fell
on a couple of ten-foot-tall brownish figures approaching from the direction of the second breach. Gorm and Elias, my heavy artillery and ambush regiment in one, which meant the second breach was already cleared. Having shifted into combat form, the satrap and his general were cutting a swathe through the sea of bones to the citadel's main boss.

  The game's developers had introduced an interesting combat dynamic by ensuring that bosses, with their immense strength and intellect, had their damage output from their main stat scaled only when attacking others of their kind, meaning bosses or NPCs. If it weren't for this, Gorm with his 2500ish strength would obliterate even the best-equipped player tank with a single unblocked blow. But that wasn't how it worked with other players. My point? Only that if I hung out on the wall like a proper general, letting my high-level allies mow down the opposition, the whole battle would end without my involvement. And that wouldn't do!

  As if reading my mind, James issued a command in the general channel:

  "Mages, archers—cease AoE! Focus on individual targets! Getare, smash their main force!"

  A few seconds after the heavy impact of steel against rusted iron, the whole citadel seemed to shake as the first four rows of skeletons swarming the tanks were swept away by the getare, restless from inaction.

  It was time! I Jumped down, finished off a skeleton scrambling up from the pavement, blocked another one's attack, and rushed the spider. Six warriors that blocked my way were scattered like bowling pins due to my far superior strength. Catching the cobweb hurled my way on my shield, I popped Infernal Rage and dealt the first blow to the ghastly chitinous mug. Crit! Suffering eighty thousand damage, the spider staggered, but quickly recovered and countered with a double blow of its pincerlike limbs. Blocking the beast's attack with my shield, I landed another blow and began moving sideways, aiming to turn the boss' rear to the raid. Every step was accompanied by a sickening crunch of charred bones, and the stench in the air was unbearable despite the air mages' best efforts. I blocked two more strikes, countered once and stopped, having turned the boss to the gray wall of the donjon. Glimpsing about a dozen stray skeletons rushing this way, I threw Earth Shackles on them, then let Salta's crew decimate them at near point-blank range as they climbed down off the wall, turning animated bones into bone meal—Explosive Shots were no joke. At fifty percent HP Nauvelon, whose life was diminishing at frightening speed, reared and tried to pin me me with its forelegs while releasing a cloud of toxic gas. At the same time, numerous black spheres materialized randomly within a fairly large radius, then exploded after a second, gushing a brownish goo that looked and smelled as bad as one might imagine. Screw it! We had plenty of healers, and I trusted them to handle much more than this. The twenty percent or so HP that I'd lost were swiftly restored by Reena's heal; holding my breath, I Jumped to a donjon wall. Paying no mind to the melee fighters hacking away at him, the spider scuttled after me on his six remaining legs, loosing yet another webbed projectile that broke against my shield. The boss never did manage to reengage, as Gorm and Elias appeared at its sides and put a big fat period to the battle with a coordinated combination of blows.

  Hart! Could this really be it? I lowered my sword, taking in the courtyard littered with bones, lifeless gorhies and scraps of rusted armor. Yes, we did it! We came, we saw, we conquered!

  Silence. Everybody was still, waiting for me to speak. My eyes fell on Iam; clutching the flagstaff of the banner fluttering in the wind with his left hand, the warrior unsheathed his blade and saluted me—just like he had done after the battle on the river... Another phase of our journey is completed, my friend.

  Suddenly the citadel trembled as a gray demon's figur began to materialize between me and my troops to a deafening screeching sound, as if the very fabric of this realm was bursting at the seams. A shock wave hurled me back against the donjon, knocking the breath out of me. Welcome to Craedia, demon, a voice rustled in my head. Or should I be calling you Roman? I could almost hear the speaker grinning, though I couldn't see his face. Your old friend sends his regards! I didn't think breaking a rule would be so big a deal to this world. Erisjat, or rather what remains of him, isn't very pleased that you've come to his home without an invitation. Good day to you, Roman!

  As the Twice Cursed God was speaking, a translucent dome-like film fell on us from above, slicing off a huge chunk of the stone wall behind me with the ease of a laser beam.

  You bitch! I rolled to the side, glancing worriedly in the direction of my fighters, not all of whom had managed to evade the falling rock. No gray icons in the raid list—the unlucky ones were already rising back to their feet, groaning and cussing. I looked back at my new foe... I'd seen him before, only his skin was the color of crimson in my vision. Close to fifteen feet in height, his torso mostly covered in plate, with sinewy arms and claws almost two feet in length, goat legs like a satyr, a massive scorpion stinger, and perfectly black eyes without any sclerae. Kicking away the massive arachnid body with the ease of a broom sweeping a match, the monster let loose a bone-chilling yelp, and started my way unhurriedly.

  Playtime was over... I recalled Vill's words, spoken with the lips of the slain disavowed in Suonu's main square. Not even with all the tricks up my sleeve did I have a chance in hell against a level 480 raid boss boasting one and a half billion HP. I wondered for a moment how Vill had even managed to bring back this freakshow from wherever he'd been banished to by the sword in my hand three centuries ago... Oh, like that even mattered! Craedia had already been captured, thus completing the continental event, so I didn't mind dying anymore... This world wasn't so big, after all, what with Cheney being on friendly terms with the Twice Cursed bastard! I felt a cold rage surge up to my throat... and something else besides, a kind of... emptiness? The sword in my hand suddenly flared up with a dark crimson color... Right, the soul of this creature was confined to the weapon. "Go on, try to get it back now!" I roared, unleashing every bit of the storm raging inside me as I raised my shield, stuck out my sword, and stepped toward the beast from the Gray Frontier.

  Suddenly, gray shadows began to form and thicken along the perimeter of the dome that had cut us off from the world. Many demons—men, women and children—watching the former master of the castle with listless eyes. The world beyond the translucent film was shrouded with gray smoke, with only the figure of the head priestess visible—her arms spread wide open, palms turned skyward, her eyes glowing blue. And the sword in my hand... It wasn't just glowing anymore—it was aflame. "Don't expect an easy victory, shithead!" I spat at Erisjat, his eyes mesmerizing as pools of black quicksand as the boss lunged at me. I blocked the attack with a shield, and countered at once by striking his side. Hart! Who knew demon blood was just as red as human? The thought flashed in my mind as the monster's tail struck my hip, taking off a quarter of my HP. The system log mentioned something about poison. Downing a health potion, I Jumped to the opposite side of the dome, then raised a shield to block a wave of dark flame hurled after me. A searing pain gripped me as the shield only blocked eighty percent magic damage, and the poison in my bloodstream nullified the effects of the health potion. What's this? My blow had taken off ten percent of the boss' HP! But how?! Dumbfounded, I nearly missed the bastard's next attack. Blocking the blow at the last moment, I side-stepped and lunged—a crit! I felt like a dump truck had smashed into my ribcage as my health bar plunged into the yellow. A sand-like substance was trickling out of the gray demon's avulsed wound. As the poison debuff wore off, I kept backing away with my shield raised, buying time before I could pop another healing potion. The boss lunged again, his claws swiping air as I leaped back and behind the arachnid corpse that marked the very edge of our makeshift rink. Enraged, Erisjat grabbed the eight-ton carcass, his claws breaking against the brown chitin, raised it overhead and hurled it at me. What a cretin! Jumping behind him, I slashed at the scorpion stinger, trembling with exertion, with all the rage I could muster. Crit! The severed stinger remained convulsing on the ground, but the mons
ter—sporting no more than ten percent HP after sustaining two critical hits—knocked me back against the donjon wall with a mighty bash. I saw nothing but a haze of red, the pain tearing at my body with steel hooks, my heart aiming to burst from my chest cavity. Could this really be it? An emptiness filled my fading consciousness as a gray shadow loomed over me, displacing the redness with a white mist. Hanging on the last shreds of willpower and rage, I rolled to the side and struck out randomly at the gray blob...

  You have gained a level! Current level: 211.

  You have 1 talent point to allocate.

  Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

  You have 3 stat points to allocate.

  You have gained a level!

  …

  You have gained a level!

  …

  You have gained a level! Current level: 219.