Redwing’s Mortar Shell finally collided with a zeppelin’s shield, fire meeting ice. A plume of sublimed frost rose into the sparse clouds. Those shells flew like gliding birds, easy to dodge. A siege skill, nothing more. Just like Gabrielle’s Demonic Trebuchets.
From a small yacht within the spire’s shield, the twins released two enormous arrows of pure dark mana. Leaving behind a double-helix, moth-dust-like trail, the missiles zipped through the air straight at that zeppelin. Inky darkness exploded and rained corruption onto the waves. The zeppelin’s protective red bubble dimmed. It backed away, cutting its fiery blasts.
Rowan didn’t need to examine to know it was low on shield points. He redirected every ranged unit at the fat thing, Redwing included. Everything fired simultaneously. Tainted ice briefly engulfed his vision.
Out of nowhere, a glittering golden dome slathered with white miasma enveloped their entire fleet, cutting deep into the water, likely a complete sphere. Ice dispersed before making contact with the zeppelin. Over a quarter of the Gargoyles’ links vanished from Rowan’s mind.
Exhaling, he bit down annoyance, pulled the melee units back, and examined despite protests from his heavy eyelids.
Orion’s Grand Light Screen
Shield Points: 20,000,000
Dark Resistance: Maximum
Other Resistances (Average): Very High
Armor: Very High
Buffs: Divine Veil (A heavy buffer against all dark projectiles and inflicts recoil to melee attackers , Protection Aura (Increases armor), Elemental Resistance Aura (Increases all elemental resistances)
"What’s this?" he blurted.
Gabrielle answered in chat.
Gabby LeMort (Party Chat): The human king is here—his World Boss ult—which means the queen’s here as well. Paladin and Priest.
Bloody hell. And everything was going so, so well. Rowan cut off the damned blizzard and began remaking Ice Gargoyles. This was going to be a long, long siege.
Gabrielle sang, "Rooowaaan…"
"Yeah?"
"Didn’t ya get a new ultimate which can one-shot em?"
A grimace wrinkled his nose and brow as he waved his wand, mumbling in the Dark language. A handful of Gargoyles burst forth. "I want to save it for a surprise. Once they see it go off even once, they’ll more than likely figure out how the mechanic works, easily. That Lance guy seems very experienced."
"Yup. He’s a famous gamer, and what better time for a surprise than now? Those command ships are super-duper expensive and take forever to make."
She had a point, Rowan allowed. He hastily summoned another batch while thinking it through. "Does the king and queen have Divine Blessings?"
Gabrielle’s lips puckered. "They do."
"Then it’ll be better to siege it out and—"
From within the shield, from the third command ship at the back, a giant, spiked metal ball rushed at Rowan with ridiculous speed. Neither he or Gabrielle or Redwing reacted in time, a split-second too late. Redwing’s icy shield shattered. The spiked ball punched through a wing and pulverized a line of ribs, his health bar less than a quarter.
The world spun. The sun raced from let to right thrice over, Rowan clinging onto a back-spike. Only his partner in crime could fix this. "Hurry!" he barked as they plummeted toward the waves. Salty air filled his mouth. Salt water sprayed his eyes.
And she was fixing this. “Shut up. Shut up. Shut up.” Gabrielle emptied a flask. She madly chanted heals and emptied Draughts two by two, tossing the flasks over her shoulder one-handed. Redwing’s bones gradually regrew in a spongy web of calcium, each Draught repairing a full rib. She was a sight to see with her level of agility, like a crudely animated cartoon character. This whole battle was rather cartoonish with those bulsa wood ships under that sparkling dome. Rowan hadn’t known ships could be built with bulsa.
A last rib reformed. A core of dark-ice mana ignited in a whirlwind of chill beneath the shoulder blades. Then the sun rewarded her efforts by staying put, the world stabilizing. Wings spread wide, and Redwing dipped behind the town’s shield.
Gabrielle released a breathy groan and yanked Rowan close. Her palm and fingers were slippery. "Dummy! Use your ultimate! That thing was the Dwarf king’s."
"Tch. Fine." He pinged the twins to come and ordered Redwing to fly lower. "I need to be closer though. Not going to risk your dragon," he said loud enough for the twins to hear.
"Good thinking." She ruffled his hair.
Smirking, Rowan spanked her softly for good luck, then blinked onto their cozy yacht. It was lavish, decorated with crystals and silver and ivory, and they’d wisely positioned this floating display of wealth just within the shield—at the fog’s edge. Dark Ranger skills had more than enough reach to cover the distance.
Rowan said, "We’re sneaking around for an assassination. Does this boat have stealth or anything?"
"No," Edward said.
"Mmmm." SoSo twirled strands of her hair. "Does submarine-mode count?"
Rowan couldn’t camouflage his surprise. "Yeah. Definitely. I didn’t know this game has subs."
"If it has blimps, then of course, it has subs." Edward sniffed and tapped his index finger nail on a faceted crystal below the steering wheel. Glass-like, colorless mana arched overhead and sealed an air pocket, the yacht descending below the waves with impressive speed.
Rowan remembered to ask, "Do you have Detection Wards?"
SoSo said, "Yes. The water dampens it though—by a lot."
"Which is a good thing." Rowan whistled a high note and simply indulged in the underwater scenery. A shark with glowing marks on its tail and back swam by a coral bed, and a school of pink fish with visible mana auras divided into three to make way, nearly swimming into the human king’s Light Screen. This world truly was something special, far better than the real world in many ways.
Chapter 20
Pity in Andante
Moments earlier…
A chatbox shook.
Dorian Ambersworn: Yes, for the countless time, they are World Bosses, and I’m talking to the human nobles for you right now.
Slumping, a man on the brink of total defeat broke down onto the polished granite floor. Dull pain throbbed in his compressed kneecaps, his level one body as frail as those poor beggars in the northern district. How would the vulnerable many possibly survive in a world infested with not one but two darkies as World Bosses? Two! It was inconceivable that such evil was allowed. How sadistic the gods were to the soul known as Jonathan Bladestrider.
It can’t be! he thought. How can Black and LeMort already be World Bosses? Tier six already!
“Two!”
Oh, the humanity! Oh, where did it all go wrong? Jonathan gulped deeply and did all he was able to maintain a calm head in this suffocatingly-tiny, magically-reinforced holding cell. Fists full of hair, he keeled over and fought off a relentless urge to scream at the top of his breaking voice. Oh, such a disaster this all was.
A beep trilled, another shake, beckoning for Jonathan’s attention.
Dorian Ambersworn: Alright, I’ve convinced them to give you a chance to plea your case. We’re coming with your Dragon Stone instead of giving it ‘back’ to the Red Dragons. They want to see your quest.
Yes! There is still hope!
“But two…”
But thank Dorian the experienced diplomat to negotiate a solution during these distressing times. The light of the world was not put out yet! He, Jonathan Bladestrider, the chosen of the gods, one of the first World Bosses on the side of good, was the light at the end of this tunnel. A tunnel that seemed to grow darker and more treacherous by the step. And with one little quest dialog shared, they would all see he was destined to bring true justice to Aeon.
Jonathan straightened and inhaled oddly stench-free air, held a long breath before letting out steam. Tepid relief washed through him and dimmed the flickering flame inside his heart, which tied his mind to his bonded whelp’s. From afar, its existence was l
ess than a grain of light held at an arm’s length. But alive. Alive! Evil was not going to win.
Rapid footsteps thumped and clicked from down the corridor. The guard just beyond Jonathan’s view unlocked the cell with a wave of a silver staff, the bars crumbling into fine dust. The guard stepped aside, and an old noble in pricey red robes strode in with a similarly-dressed younger noble at his left. Dorian lingered further behind, the Dragon Stone cradled in his arms.
The old noble was quick to a hasty introduction: "Lord Adrian Silver." He waved away Jonathan’s handshake offer. "Time is of the essence. Please, present your evidence."
"Your Path of Tribulation," Dorian said, though the clarification wasn’t needed.
"Yes, sir," Jonathan said mechanically and pulled opened his quest list. An assortment of lowly fetch to mighty boss-slaying quests filled the interface, the most prominent being those calling to raid the pirate and bandit lairs. Above all, in a frame of gold and fire, a Path of Tribulation was in progress. He expanded the title, then shared the description, success conditions, and reward, as though the world’s fate depended on the action—because it did. He left out the failure conditions; they didn’t need to know the Dragon Stone could be destroyed.
Path of Tribulation: Dragon’s Path
Care for your Dragon Stone, bathe it in fire and warmth, and let it hatch in time, then finalize your bond with the whelp within. It is a simple task.
Success conditions: Your Dragon Stone hatches and you bond with your whelp.
Reward: World Boss ascension.
Great shock broadened Adrian’s wrinkled face. A raspy breath blew from his parted, cracked lips. "My gods, it’s true. The Times of Tribulation are truly upon us.” He gulped, his prominent Adam’s apple nudging up and down.
After handing Jonathan his invaluable charge, Dorian lifted his chin in Adrian’s direction. "You didn’t receive the world-wide alert regarding Rowan and Gabby’s ascension?"
The sleeping whelp’s consciousness stirred as Jonathan’s head shook. “I did not.”
Adrian said, "Indeed, I did, but for my own peace of mind, I had to see a Path of Tribulation. I thought it might’ve been a ruse played by their wicked dark gods. How wrong I was."
"I see," Dorian said, all business, "and what of Jonathan’s fate? Has his innocence been proven?"
“You have our most sincere apology, adventurer and future World Boss,” the younger Nobel said.
Adrian’s head jerked a nod. "Likewise."
Jonathan mirrored the nod. “Accepted, but it was my fault as much as it was yours. I should’ve been more discrete with my Dragon Stone.”
Adrian lambasted Jonathan with a critical eye for a moment. “You should have. The last adventurer who stole a stone brought the wrath of the Black Dragons unto the Dwarves.”
“That’s what triggered the event?” Dorian asked.
Adrian grunted. “You missed the meeting. It was kept as top-secret. Tensions between adventurers and the general populace were already heightened at the time.”
“Then you have my word,” Jonathan said, “that the dragons’ nameless god personally handed this Dragon Stone to me.”
Dorian blurted, “In the Red Dragons’ lair?”
Reluctance held truth from streaming down Jonathan’s tongue. What would the millions of natives do if they knew what would be in store for them if they sinned against their gods? That Hell existed and the punishments within were personally-tailored. The possible future was clear: there’d be riots and terror; it’d be a societal breakdown. Knowledge of the world’s hell was too troubling to bear for most. Jonathan did not wish that upon this great world, so he had to lie—for the greater good. “Indeed. The Matriarch summoned her to grant me the reward.” Jonathan laid a meaningful look on Dorian, flicking him a private message.
Jonathan Bladestrider (To Dorian Ambersworn): I’ll tell you about it later, but in short, I was sent to Hell.
Dorian’s brows slowly raised. “I see.”
Unfortunately, their exchange wasn’t missed by the nobles. “Is there something that had been hidden which needs to be shared?” Adrian asked.
It was Dorian who lied this time, "A private conversation regarding the status of Jonathan’s new class. Dragon Initiate." His deceptive talent was astounding, his acting flawless. No wonder he’d been able to hide his dark-side affinity for so long.
And Jonathan caught on after a brief moment. "Why isn’t anyone able to see it when they examine me?"
"It is because…" Adrian grasped Jonathan’s shoulder. "One day, you will have to choose between dark and light. The dragons are said to be neutral for a reason, for in each dwells a potential for either great evil or good, some breeds worse than others."
"You’ve seen my class before?"
"Merely read of it."
"In the great library?" Dorian asked.
Adrian nodded, grunting. Such a gruff, old guy he was, and how convenient that he was here to shine light on these mysteries. Perhaps a trickle of sweet, sweet luck was dribbling on Jonathan tongue at last.
The younger noble stepped forward, abruptly urgent. "I must interject, adventurers," he said more toward Dorian’s corner of the cell. "King and Queen Everbright are in dire need of assistance. Please be on your way." His teal eyes glowed silver. A pop-up expanded above his head.
New Quest (Administration Grant): Call to Arms
Journey to King Everbright’s command ship.
Reward: 50 Silver Pieces. Medium Health Potion.
Half a gold piece—pretty decent. That admin-related profession, which natives could only learn, was too handy. Jonathan was thankful that the noble spent one of his daily quest charges on him, for he was having a dire gold shortage right now. Unfortunately, Jonathan was but a level one. “There’s nothing I can do in assistance. I’m just a—”
“You’re coming,” Dorian said. “Our only World Boss needs new levels as quickly as possible. We’re not having a debate about this.”
“I concur. You must go,” Adrian said.
Although Jonathan had been intending to earn his new power by his own accord and prove his worth to the many by leveling without a cheap powerlevel, they were undoubtedly right. There was no denying the stark truth: excess pride would be a man’s folly when the fate of the world was on the line.
Jonathan thumped his chest with a fist. “Then let us go, a group portal please, Dorian.” And at the younger noble, “Have my Dragon Stone taken care of.”
Adrian nodded in the youngster’s place and gestured for the stone, face tense. “You have my word. I shall personally watch over and protect your charge at any cost, bathe it in fire and warmth as the Path asks.”
“You’re not coming?” Jonathan asked.
“Nay.”
The younger noble nervously shook his head.
Jonathan covered up a scowl behind neutral curiosity. Why are they being so cowardly?
A beep.
Dorian Ambersowrn: Did you examine them? They don’t have Divine Blessings.
Ah, that explained it. The natives approached death more fearfully than those in Jonathan’s home world. It was understandable; it was natural and expected of mortals, of humans, and it was certainly not in his place to judge them when death was near-meaningless to him. Jonathan smiled in reassurance and offered his Dragon Stone to Adrian, the whelp curling tighter as it was passed from the hands of the young to the old. Adrian held it as though it were a newborn baby, a newborn prince.
Jonathan straightened his leather garb. “Then us be off, Adrian Silver. I’d like to see my whelp hatched by the time I return. Dorian, please, a group portal.”
Few parting words given, Adrian and the youngster left hastily.
Dorian flashed a wry smile, unclasped his golden staff from his back. “Of course, my future lord.” A spherical helix of blue and white mana whirled around the larger-than-usual ruby at his staff’s end. He spoke two words in the primordial language which greatly startled Jonathan: Swift
Cast. The scroll was rarer than flying mounts! Only a handful of casters had the honor of consuming one, LeMort of all people included.
“When did you get that?”
Dorian smirked again, cockier, and waved his shining staff. A fiery group portal burst into existence, its painfully-long channel of fifteen minutes or more cut. “Snagged it off the credit market this morning.”
“Must’ve cost thousands.”
“Over twenty.” He jerked his chin to the portal. “You first.” The caster had to be the last in.
Devil's Waltz Page 22