Ione said without a hint of sadness, "Very well."
A ring of silver knives materialized around the Dark Humans, one by one. One for each sacrifice. A gruesome slaughter. And of course, the Dark Humans resisted, a flurry of Death Bolts at the silver knives, and some dared to throw death at the goddess’ image to no avail. They all splashed against the knives.
Rowan was far more interested in Gabrielle’s motives to care about their fate. She was such an enigma.
Rowan Black: Are you serious??? I thought they mattered to you.
Gabby LeMort: Shhh. They can be raised and converted again. Remember to do that, and don’t tell em.
Catching Rowan’s eye, in a purple flash, Ambiguous blinked to Derek and restrained him with some kind of time-stopping skill. Symbols of the dark language written in inky script hovered around him. That crackling blast skill fizzled out between his hands. Ambiguous was already onto restraining the other adults. Good work.
Back to Gabby.
Rowan Black: Alright. But why?
Gabby LeMort: Teachin’ a lesson about hate.
He recalled the hidden damage bonuses of various emotional states. A beginner-help thread on the forums mentioned it in passing.
Rowan Black: For the damage bonus?
Gabby LeMort: Yup. That and building character.
Gabrielle smiled slyly at him, and Rowan nodded in understanding.
The last knife appeared with a silvery shimmer. Ione said in a booming though musical voice, "Gabby LeMort. Your will shall be done. Any last words for your precious?"
"Hmmm." Gabrielle tapped her chin thrice. "Ah… Ambiguous, can they hear with your time stops?"
"They can," Ambiguous voiced over the uproar.
"My pretties: I want ya to remember this moment, hate me for it, loathe me more than anything else in this world. Use that hatred and let it empower you! Remember this moment, the moment when ya believed ya had everything ya ever wanted in your grasp only for it to be taken away, because that’s the kind of place my dark continent will be. Those who don’t meet the mark won’t be tolerated, the weak exterminated and the strong rewarded. No slums! No dumb monkeys!"
Rowan couldn’t help but grin like a crazy guy. What a speech!
A woman who hadn’t been time-stopped yelled, "How can we remember when we’re dead?!"
"Hehehehe. Ye can’t."
A boy shrieked in high-pitch over the other incoherent shouts, "I hate you! I hate you, LeMort!"
"Good." A tiny, malevolent smile that didn’t reach her eyes curved those pretty, pink lips Rowan adored, an evil smile which he had grown to love.
Ione’s figure flared with black and white mana, her palms blinding. She said two words in the dark language which Rowan understood: divine exchange.
One by one, the knives impaled their intended targets through their chests, the adults taken first while the children watched, cried, and screamed helplessly. Few stood with tempered resolve, and fewer were resigned to their fates. And when the first child was skewered, Rowan looked away. The gore was too much for even him. Soon enough, the final juvenile body collapsed to the ground in a spray of blood.
Gabrielle’s mad, child-like laugh chimed into the heavens above. "Yeeees. Live, Red, live! Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha ha." Redwing’s teddy body disintegrated in her grasp.
Behind Rowan, the Bone Drake underwent a fearsome metamorphosis, taking on the whelp’s sentience. And his cracked amulet thrummed with dark-ice mana, its single charge restored.
Ione offered a final smile for the dark couple, then parted in a whirlwind of dark-light mana. Her voice reverberated from the divine realm, "It’s been done."
Indeed, it had; or rather, it had just begun.
Rowan looked on and glared in the direction of the fleet, the fog thick as ever. It was time for battle preparations—and a Mass Raise.
Chapter 19
Blitzkrieg
The mist coalesced down onto the clearing, and among the newly-risen rotting dead stood a dozen remaining Dark Humans who had met the nine-tenths mark, spared of the divine exchange: the ex-mayor, Viola and her apparent cousin, and surprisingly, only two other adults. The duo stood not too protectively by two other teens and five children of eight to ten years. These were the cream of the crop, the most promising, discerned by whatever standards Ione had judged them. Expected of the most callous and self-serving, they held themselves with lackadaisical confidence or masked hate. These could be Rowan’s future elite.
Except Derek. He balled a fist the instant Ambiguous’ spell wore off. “You forsaken monsters! How could you—”
A ping from Rowan, Ambiguous re-applied the faux time-stop. He blinked to the stocky man and pulled out the keystone-amulet from under his robe top. Blackish mist spewed from the crack, an indicator that its charge was set, ready to bring these hundred back to life. Such a loophole shouldn’t be legal play; nevertheless, Rowan welcomed any advantage with open arms. “Relax. In case you haven’t figured it out, it was I who so generously granted you new life, and I can just as easily grant it again or take it.”
Derek’s pupils shrank to dots. The others gave away no emotion, passing Rowan’s unspoken test. They also likely had sufficient brainpower to decipher the obvious in an instant: he was saving this new charge for a far larger conversion. He was growing increasingly impressed each passing second at the top-right of the game interface. Ione’s judgment was flawless.
“Hey!” Gabrielle yelped from behind in the mist, in the air on her broom, while attending to Redwing, doing something or rather with that bone body. “Did I say ya could tell em?”
“It’s my amulet. I can do what I want with it.”
“Didn’t ya give me half your stuff?”
“You’re misinterpreting our deal.”
"Hmph." She clicked her tongue, Rowan somehow heard, and Redwing roared a trumpet-like guffaw.
"I know what you’re up to. Don’t be naughty." She wanted more control over him. That was all. She, a girl smarter than him, knew he was testing the dozen, without doubt.
"Meanie." Playful tone.
That back and forth earned Rowan a gentle titter from the single female adult, a young sepia-haired woman around Ambiguous’ age. Early twenties. "What a bickering pair you make."
"I think it’s cute," Viola said.
Rowan was about to flick out an Examine and retort when the chatbox vibrated.
Edward Farmer (Party Chat): The shield just hit 20%. We have to move. Now.
SoSo Lovely: There’s time for small talk and introductions later.
Yikes. They were right. "We have to move," Rowan said to the dozen, "so stay safe. Keep Derek occupied. Make sure he doesn’t do anything stupid." He added them to the raid party for much-needed experience points. “Stay close enough to leech XP, but not too close.” The maximum range was around three miles, the XP shared linearly decreasing over the distance.
They were going to protest; however, they smartly gave a series of nods and quiet affirmations, then strode off without another remark. The two adults dragged Derek’s unmoving body by the armpits.
Back to the chatbox, a question already thought out.
Rowan Black: Do you all have flying mounts?
Ambiguous Pain: I do.
She’d already mentioned that before.
Edward Farmer: No.
SoSo Lovely: But we have a shrinkable, cozy boat.
Rowan nodded, first directing the Dark Human zombies. They sauntered off to stay put in the spire—where they were safe in case the shield falters.
He then dished out orders to the fliers above to get into formation and position for a surprise frontal assault, a wide arc, Ice Drakes at the back. It was the smartest move, assuming the enemy hadn’t scouted the full extent of his forces. The fliers obeyed without thought, and although he could not see the bone horde through the fog, he felt them pile toward the east as a rabid swarm. Like locusts. They’d be impossible for him to micromanage alone… but he wasn’t a
lone. He was one of six. Well, five at the moment.
Rowan Black: I gave you three command over my units. Micromanage them. It’s time to move out. Go!
Ambiguous Pain: Yes, my lord. Nothing else for me to do here anyway.
Gabby LeMort: Yup! My last tower just finished buildin’ too.
Excellent.
No comments, the twins departed with their movement skills, buzzes in the fog, and Ambiguous fetched a crystalline squarish object from her pouch. It ignited into a Mana Shard, crisp and indigo unlike the dribbling water variant. She flew off toward the turret line.
Nerves acting up, Rowan swept through his minion list with a brisk glance, checked a final time if everything was in order. It was; Gabrielle had taken good care of his minions. His mind grazed against the hundreds of links to the fliers, and he consciously did not miss the three weaker threads to the Nihils, seeking them. Cecelia and Oron were unmoving, next to and inside the jail, while Seth lingered at the shield’s boundary ready to engage if needed. Good on him for growing a spine.
As for Redwing… Gabrielle had sneaked a joyride, soaring a wide arc along the shore. They were already on the other side of the island. He squinted sheepishly, thinking a quick message.
Rowan Black (To Gabby LeMort): Lmao, get back here with my mount.
Gabby LeMort: Kay. One sec. ^_^
Good girl. Redwing’s thread swerved back.
Rowan sniffed a lungful and immediately regretted it. Again, he beat back a hurling reflex coaxed by the fuming blood around him. Mass Raise hadn’t fully cleaned up the gore, unfortunately, because it could be used in many dark crafting recipes—according to Ambiguous. Too bad no one needed any. Blood was a plentiful, common resource.
A freezing gale stormed across the clearing, blowing Rowan’s hair into an untamable mop. Redwing emerged from the fog, landed gracefully, and released a rush of dark-ice mana that resonated in Rowan’s flesh, in every nerve ending. Pure ecstasy.
That bone body was now much more than a poorly-put-together jigsaw; the goddess had fused the pieces together and molded Redwing a fearsome, spiked body which even Rowan’s imagination couldn’t have conjured. It was the epitome of an undead dragon of ice and darkness.
An arm around a bone spike, Gabrielle sat on a flat hollow between sharp shoulder blades at the base of the neck. She beckoned. "Come on. Blink up. It’s a two-seater!" She patted the empty spot next to her. "Ya still have your mount riding skill, right?"
Two-seater flying mounts were extraordinarily rare and expensive in online games, this game included. Ione was a generous goddess. "Yeah, but it’s still low tier. It’ll slow you down."
"Good enough! We’re limited to his flight skill anyway. Now come!"
He materialized next to her with a Rime Blink and checked Redwing’s elite minion entry.
Elite Minions
-
[1 elite slot] Redwing (Undead Dark Dragon): Level 100
Health: 500,000
Mana: 500,000
Stamina: 500,000
Active Skill: Winged Flight (T5)
Active Skill: Mana Shield (T5)
Passive Skill: Hardened Bone (T5)
Active Skill: Tainted Ice Mortar (T5)
Active Skill: Bone Hail (T5)
Ione sure liked the number five, Rowan noted, and he also noted that Redwing was similar to his Liches, starting out at level 100 with a set of skills and capable of choosing another preset every thirty instead of fifteen. Maybe all Undead elite minions were like that, but Rowan didn’t care right now—it was time for a blitzkrieg.
Rowan squeezed her hand. “What are you waiting for?”
“Nothing.” Gabrielle stood and looped her arm around his, suddenly affectionate after that evil display. She whistled. "Giddy-up, Red!"
Redwing’s body rumbled with dark-ice magic, then took off with no acceleration effects pulling Rowan down, similar to the eagle before its neutering. Massive wings flapped at the sides of his vision, Pigeons and Gargoyles already in view. A smaller dragon of ice and mana passed below. Icy winds painted his cheeks with frost, but he felt no discomfort, for he was one with his swarm with his dark angel at his side.
Drawing Anton’s bone wand, he pre-charged a blizzard as the line of turrets splashed the closest ships with muddy water in unison. "Keep Redwing topped up," he said just in case. "And are your auras up?"
Gabrielle lightly whacked his arm. "Obviously, and yup."
Then it was time.
Rowan pinged the raid party and pulled on every flier’s leash, his heart skipping a beat.
A deluge of bone and ice burst through the spire’s shield, the fog tagging along as a blossoming avalanche. The tide of Gargoyles speared into their naval formation while Pigeons and Drakes focused on the two zeppelins. Rowan’s blizzard rained tainted shards onto the waters, onto those bobbing bubbles of light. Tainted ice blotted out the sun, and within seconds, the mast of the closest ship snapped in two. Its shield shattered into a million pinpricks of light, less than ten Gargoyles falling.
Rowan couldn’t see any bloody casualties. The sudden battle was too dense for his low-Dexterity eyes, and he thanked the gods once more for that smart noise cancellation. He would’ve been rendered deaf by now, especially when Redwing so loved to test out his new shrieking roars. The bone frame beneath Rowan’s boots vibrated and glowed with a bluish-white tint. A skill?
Snatching Rowan’s eyes, the turrets’ gems flashed dark-blue. Pressurized gunky water jetted forth, many ships still in range. And more than a handful of Pigeons were splashed.
"Do they do splash damage?" Rowan nudged Gabrielle’s side.
She was humming a merry tune while tossing a heal here and there mainly for the Ice Drakes. "Only to non-dark. It’s just a caustic concentrate."
"How convenient," he quipped, keeping up the blizzard. The shards disintegrated on touch against the command ships’ denser shields, and the zeppelins’ were denser. All these shields in the game were grating Rowan’s nerves more by the battle.
Redwing’s charge-up completed with a ripple in the air around his maw. He hurled a foaming, slow-moving mortar blast at a mast-less ship. Rowan couldn’t help but watch the icy bomb soar through the air, for it was something he had seen in Draesear’s vision. Simply beautiful. The thunderous impact ate whatever was left of the ship’s health bar. Gargoyles that hadn’t moved quickly enough perished in the ice along with the ship’s crew, wood chunks splintering high above. A piece of the hull floated among waves inside a mini iceberg.
"Wooo! Nice one, Red!" Gabrielle cheered. "Keep em coming!"
Redwing offered a throaty grizzle. A feeling of vigor came through his mental leash. Didn’t seem like dragons could talk in this game. Oh well.
The turrets spewed corrupting water once more. A second mast cracked and toppled, then a third. Their crews jumped overboard, a stony Earth Mana Shard jetting to the ship behind. Its passenger was a chocolate-haired elf, Rowan barely saw. Her gear was revealing to the limit of indecency: a skimpy battle-bra, sandals, and a thong hugging a slender behind so luscious that he could—
Gabrielle pinched his ear and hauled him close. "Watcha lookin’ at, Row-row?"
"Nothing!"
“Cus it kinda looked like you were looking at another girl again.”
“You’re imagining things.”
"Do ya want me to race change to Sun Elf?" She was serious.
He purposefully shook his head, because the offer was enticing. Too enticing. His imagination lost control of itself; an image of a sexier Gabrielle dressed in an equally skimpy outfit winked lusciously at him. "Nah. Their racial passives don’t mesh well with caster classes."
"Hmmmm. If ya say so."
"I do." Rowan chuckled, and second nature by now, his blizzard’s channel hadn’t ceased during their quick exchange despite its clear uselessness. The spire endowed him plenty of mana to waste.
Rowan’s boots rumbled. Again, Redwing hurled his slow-moving mortar into the sky at
a high angle, avoiding ally units to reach a target further away. The skill’s cooldown was quite long, longer than its channel duration.
Another round of caustic water drenched their front lines. Three glassy light shields bubbled and melted. Gargoyles rushed in, but a wave of a thousand arrows, an ultimate Archer skill, shredded many into pieces. And from a ship further away, another wave tore into Rowan’s melee fodder. Then another. And another. Decent coordination, taking out a sizable chunk of Gargoyles. But almost a handful of ships had already sunk, a fair trade.
A second onslaught of arrows blackened the sun, but the forces of darkness were ready this time. Rowan felt leashes being tugged—from Ambiguous and the twins. Gargoyles and Pigeons belly-rolled in a synchronized dance, missing the arrows. Good micromanagement. Few took hits and fewer splashed onto the waves below.
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