The battle was far too wide, far too frenzied, for a single leader to micromanage without error. Perfectionism was futile. The chaos unfolding was an awe-inspiring seascape to behold: a painting-worthy display of explosive ice, strobing light effects, projectile corpses, and broken sinking wood. Enough ships had sank for the turrets to now be out of range. Gabrielle and Ambiguous were directing his air force with seemingly practiced skill. A good portion of the Gargoyles remained, still swarming one ship to the next led by impressive micromanagement.
Rowan inhaled lungfuls of refreshing sea air while the glassy mana cover retracted back into peripheral gems. Cold seawater sprayed his face. A particularly strong wave impacted from behind but didn’t destabilize Rowan’s frame thanks to his decent Dexterity stat. He’d sit back and watch the show if he weren’t their lord and World Boss. He had a position to maintain here—at Gabrielle’s side. He flicked her a message, tugged on Redwing’s leash.
Rowan Black (To Gabby LeMort): My mount, please.
Her reply was near-instant.
Gabby LeMort: All yours! I’m on my broom. It’s much faster. Red needs training.
And another.
Gabby LeMort: Good job, btw! Maybe you’re not such a big dummy after all. Just a regular one.
A facial tick knotted a muscle in his forehead. He ignored the jab with a scowl, then wordlessly promised her an extra-long spanking. She had such a nice, little behind. It would be a shame to let a tush like hers go to waste, which he wouldn’t dream of doing during tonight’s sexcipade.
The chatbox sounded again, pulling Rowan out of his lusty fantasy.
Gabby LeMort: Also, I gave control to the Nihils so they have somethin’ to do while hidin’ behind the town’s shield. Redwing too. He’s pretty clever.
Rowan Black: Awesome. Maybe you’re not such a naughty girl after all.
Gabby LeMort: =P
Rowan was typing a lewder message when a shriek trumpeted across the embattled waters. Redwing. After hurling a Mortar Shell, the mount finally bothered to descend along with a guard of Gargoyles and Pigeons. Redwing roared in greeting, a feeling of recognition coming through the mental link. That improved bone body spewing mist was magnificent as before, a divine design.
Rowan blinked onto a shoulder blade as the twins fired another pair of giant arrows—their ultimate—at the weakened zeppelin. The corrupting detonation put out its fiery shield and ate into its fatty, empty hull. Rowan followed up with a series of Tainted Ice Blasts, and that was enough to finish the job. The zeppelin fell to the waves as a block of frozen crumbling black. Ice Drakes and Pigeons moved on to the other zeppelin. Their dark-ice deluge blotted out its measly fire spray.
Then from high above, like a supersonic origami fighter jet, a minuscule figure trailing bluish-black miasma whipped down and curved back up, dropping three spherical payloads at the bottom of the arc. Bubbling and fuming with caustic gasses, the command ship’s ice-caked shield dissolved violently, and whatever that thing was flew with far too much speed for any retaliation to catch. Was that one of the Nihils?
No. Gabrielle.
Rowan recognized her tattered robes as she somersaulted and corkscrewed back toward him in an unreal display of aerial acrobatics. Nothing aimed at her met its mark, including a fiery needle shot from a… bird-like mount of yellow and blue flames near the damaged, sinking command ship. A Mana Shard? It was too far for an Examine.
She was within a hundred yards of him in seconds, smiling brightly with one hand gripping that onyx pole. Beneath that magically-glued Witch Doctor’s hat, her hair was untameable gold in the wind. Why did she have to be so extra good-looking during the worst of times? It was paralyzing, mired him with sickly happiness when a battle was asking for his undivided attention.
“Heya, Row!”
“Hey—”
And she was gone, mad laughter echoing, Redwing hurling another Mortar Shell in her wake. What a quirky girl.
Chuckles rumbled in his chest. He refocused on the battle, summoning new fliers with muttered incantations and flicks of his wand. Little attention was needed to direct swaths of ice and bone out of harm’s way every other second. The ships were rather sparse of enemy combatants, the closest ship a floating wreckage of lacerated, bleeding corpses… except the ship itself wasn’t a wreck. Gabrielle’s curses had left it intact.
An obvious idea springing, Rowan cut off his summoning efforts and ordered Redwing to descend from the swarm’s protection. Why not have some fun? This was a game after all.
The chatbox trilled the moment Redwing obeyed.
Ambiguous Pain (Raid Chat): Rowan, what are you doing?
Rowan Black: Captain Rowan now. Stay focused on taking out the command ships.
The battle raging on around him, Rowan tossed a low-power Water Bolt at the ship to test its shield. Water splashed onto the mast. Safe. He blinked downward onto the crimson deck, sending Redwing away and calling for a contingency of Pigeons and Gargoyles as support. Flicks of his wand, the dead crew rose to their feet one by one: Archers, Mages, Priests, and Paladins. Over a dozen of them. Hopefully, one retained the ability to capture the vessel in the image of darkness.
Gabby LeMort: Amb! Can ya help him before he gets himself killed?
Ambiguous Pain: On it.
Or that. An indigo dot among the raging ice and bone at the edge of Rowan’s eye, Ambiguous swerved a wide arc and approached. Twice she had to maneuver, dodging arrows and elemental blasts. Her Arcane Mana Shard wasn’t nearly as mobile as Gabrielle’s broom.
And when the final Undead Paladin stood with a rumbling groan, a waterfall of pings calling for an onslaught piled into the other edge. A message in a larger font exploded into the chatbox.
Gabby LeMort: Seth, my pretty! Use your ultimate right now! ^_^ Royal group portal incomin’
Rowan felt the Nihil’s mental leash yanked with such force that he flinched back a step, nearly slipping on a blood puddle. A raging tumult came through the thread, but Seth nevertheless obeyed.
Seth: Brace yourselves.
Not a beat later, in a purple flash, Ambiguous appeared by the ship’s single mast at the other end of the deck. She glanced at Rowan, a wide smile given. “You’re in luck. The control gem isn’t damaged. I can capture it in a bit with my profession.”
“Do it, then set sail.”
“Aye aye, captain.” She weakly laughed a few pants, then started chanting with her palm outstretched.
Rowan was more interested in Seth’s ultimate. If Gabrielle was relying on it to take out the remaining two double-decker command ships, then it had to be something incredible. His gaze swiveled left and right: Redwing’s Mortar Shell engulfed the second zeppelin, their returning fire of spells and arrows and cannon blasts were dwindling, and—
On that fire bird with zero backup, Dorian Dubois was coming at Rowan from a wide angle, an angry lion-like expression carved onto his face. Their eyes met. Dorian roared, “ROWAN BLACK!”
Ah, Piggy-bro was definitely here, and his obsession with that name was still as seismic as yesterday. Rowan smirked. “And you are?!”
Dorian’s glare morphed into his trademark piggy face. “Are you that special?! I am your end, Dorian Ambersworn!” His staff glimmered with blackish-maroon flames. He pointed its flaring ruby at Rowan’s head.
A Rime Blink to the left, Rowan was already throwing blasts. Ice met fire midway. Sublimation clouded the floating arena while Pigeons supported with their bolts, while Undead Archers and Mages did their myriad of useful things. Though the Gargoyles held back at Rowan’s command. He kept blinking in between chucking blasts.
A sudden blinding flare vaporized every Gargoyle on his tail and cooked Rowan’s forehead and cheeks even at the distance, Dorian’s brand of fire magic as hot as the sun. But his magical endurance was rapidly waning, his mana bar nearing the one-tenth mark. That flare had eaten over a third. The Three-peak Spire supplied endless watery mana for Rowan’s icy blasts—not for Dorian’s fire. The
elemental conversion rates were punishing, fire and water as polar opposites.
“One on one!” Dorian barked, momentarily cutting his fire and dashing away, then looping back around with a blue flask in hand and more fire in the other. “Fight like a man! You’re pathetic!”
Such tripe taunts filtered right through Rowan’s damaged brain. He gave a little shrug and pulled more fliers to join in on the fun.
“Take this!” Dorian bellowed, the gums of his teeth exposed. “Feel the wrath of my flames!” And his flames grew menacing in appearance, more chaotic. His muttered chants morphed into verses which Rowan didn’t understand.
Whatever new blast skill Dorian was putting into action was far more powerful, extremely so, and he could spam it almost as often as Rowan’s. Something about it wasn’t right—as though it were seeping a vaguely reminiscent feeling into the air. Rowan couldn’t quite discern the magic through the fallout of everything else on top of Ambiguous’ churning magic. But it was still weak light-based magic, easily countered by his dark ice. A Fire Lord special, nothing more.
Though in case of shenanigans, Rowan called forth some of his few precious Demons with quick tugs on their threads. He pulled two Ice Drakes as well for extra measure. There was no chance Dorian could best—
“Rowan! Look out!” Ambiguous shouted.
Too late. His chest was in agony.
From behind, a spike of pure light mana with bluish hues at the edges had bypassed his reinforced Mana Shield and impaled his heart. The pain was excruciating without a numbing passive, worse than anything he’d ever felt in this game, in his short teenage life. Fortunately, the burn went as swiftly as it came. His health pool blipped to zero. A scream didn’t even have a chance to embarrass him.
His eyelids drooped as a titanic black and white explosion in the distance moved the ocean. The world faded out and a familiar dialogue faded in, mocking.
You have died! A World Boss should consider a Detection Ward Scroll.
Respawning in 24 hours and 29 minutes. Would you like to watch your death?
Damn. If only said scroll wasn’t highly rare and in constant demand.
Gabrielle surely wasn’t going to be pleased by his carelessness. Oh well. His character and person weren’t without flaws; neither was she.
Chapter 22
DNA
The fallout of Seth’s nuke cleared in a haze of dark and light mana. Two command ships were nowhere to be seen while the other was clinging on to the last tiny bits of its shield. Good job.
Seth (raid chat): It is done.
His wings flexed. He hurried right back toward the town. What a scared little bat boy. But he was smart; his racial passives gimped his armor and resistances. Assassins could be lurking anywhere on flying mounts, stealthed. It was an unsolvable wonder why none had tried taking him out. Gabrielle had seen a Rogue with a Mana Shard. How strange. They must’ve all died along with the rest.
Nevertheless, Gabrielle gave ample appreciation in chat.
Gabby LeMort: Thank you! ^_^
She licked her lips and dipped back to the windy battle, then yanked on all those invisible strings and reached into her pouch. Soulless minions obeyed without question. Her broom zoomed forward in such a pleasurable way.
Ten curses here, three corrosive bombs there, one loop-de-loop to doge a pesky serrated arrow ultimate, and the last command ship was no more, those peskier incoming group portals gone forever. Hurray! And with little doubt, Gabby did most of the work by her estimates—not Rowan’s countless birdies and several icy dragons or Red’s Mortar Shells. Hehehe.
“Victory!” she sang, wiggling a dance on her broom.
Only when she noticed that a particular phoenix boy was missing did she sense something was out of the ordinary. Something like… Row’s health bar in the party list. The rectangle was empty. Ugh. He died. Again. That’s where their assassins had gone. Row had cleared a path for Seth out of sheer dumb luck.
But who was at fault for the death? The dummy or Ambiguous?
A twist in her tummy urged that it was much more the latter than the former, because Gabrielle had in fact put his safety in her clumsy hands. Yup, that was correct. Definitely. It made complete logical sense. It should’ve been obvious that Ambiguous would choke. Gabrielle should’ve known better. Double ugh.
Whistling a chirpy tune, Gabrielle heaved on her broom’s shaft and flipped back toward that ship he’d claimed, careful to dodge any projectiles her Detection Ward warned of. Rowan definitely needed one of those—another reason why it wasn’t entirely his fault. Perhaps he could be allowed a tinsy sliver of a leeway, more than everyone else if he doesn’t disappoint too much. Boys were going to be boys sometimes, no matter which boy, and that wasn’t going change if their DNA doesn’t ever change; her not-a-meanie mum had repeated that scientific fact too many times.
Gabrielle scribbled a note in her Social interface while total devastation blurred by below: maybe getting into genetics could be a good prospect. With her superior brain, she’d definitely be able to do what no other scientist had ever done: remake boys—and girls too to an extent—in the image of her vision. No boy of the past would ever compare. Now that’d for sure net her a whole amphitheater of praise from the Order. Uncle Vincent would be so proud!
Or on the other hand… she could tweak Rowan’s genetics, body, and most importantly his brain, so he’d be perfect. And her own too! It’d save a boat-load of work of seducing someone new, and she was growing rather attached no matter how much it shouldn’t be true. Yup, that project would make for a grand, grand long term goal and surprise present for Rowan. He better appreciate it…
Gabrielle snickered evilly, on purpose, and sprayed a chain of Laceration Curses at a group of survivors in the water, letting the birdies and slashers do the rest, which was quite a lot to do. Seven balsa ships lingering with varying sized crews did all they could do to hang on. But it was futile when they had no spawnpoint for reinforcements. How sad.
Six balsa ships to be correct. Just then, one exploded in the impact of Redwing’s Mortar Shells. Good dragon.
Six ships of balsa wood on the wall, Gabrielle hummed to herself, Six balsa ships. Bomb one down and curse it around…
Five balsa ships on the wall!
Hehehe.
Eventually, after what felt like too many balsa ships on the wall, Gabrielle neared the balsa ship Ambiguous had captured; it had drifted far along the shore, southward. Its shield was now pure dark mana, a transparent ebony ball among the waves. On the deck dueled Ambiguous and yet another skimpily-geared Sun Elf. A dark-arcane scimitar clashed with light daggers strapped to perfectly-shaped wrists—under Ambiguous’ area debuffs. Great-gravity zone and projectile slower. Or whatever they were called.
Gabrielle examined the almost-naked one.
[Player] Sienna Flow (Radiant Duelist): Level 203
Health: 17,330
Mana: 8,905
Stamina: 45,200
Buffs: Elven Grace, Fleetfoot, Sun’s Elegance
A new class. Not bad. That had to be one of Rogue’s evolutions.
Ambiguous blinked behind the slut and slashed a diagonal uppercut, quite graceful, then followed with a point-blank flashy purple zap.
Sienna sidestepped both with impossible agility. Her perfect breasts shook a bit in that way-too-tiny battle-bikini, and her thong wasn’t even fully covering her naughty bits. Arrhh, come on! There were plenty of less-slutty glamours for Sun Elf. Too thirsty and drunk on attention, some girls just couldn’t comprehend the value of modesty in public.
Ambiguous pointed, index finger straight. Her time stopper skill collapsed on touch. Dark symbols bounced down the deck.
Sienna spun around with outstretched arms, and her blades sparked against Ambiguous’ shield one after the other. In the the movement, Gabrielle’s eyes snagged onto Rowan’s corpse, bloody and seared with a gaping hole in his chest, his face chalky and lifeless. Not alive as he should be.
The gory sce
ne wasn’t something Gabrielle wished to see—so she simply adverted her eyes and tied up any foolish emotions. She activated Stealth and slipped through the shield, fetching an extremely valuable Resurrection Draught she’d stewed up earlier just for a hiccup like this. Ambiguous could fight that fight on her own as punishment for letting Gabrielle’s boy friend die, one of her more valuable possessions. Thank the Order that this wasn’t real life.
And as for Dorian, he was still nowhere to be seen or detected. Huh. He must’ve flown off or died. The lower-rung families were such nincompoops.
Pouring the gooey, chocolate-scented, bubbling liquid on the corpse without looking, she flicked him a well-thought-out message to remind him of some important things.
Gabby LeMort (To Rowan Black): Wakey wakey! ^_^ Your very loyal girl friend and fucktoy has a res just for ya!
Devil's Waltz Page 24