Sovereign Rising (The Gods' Game, Volume III): A LitRPG novel

by Rohan M Vider

  15 Octu 2603 AB

  Temples are specially designated areas formed using essence from the Wells. They are the only regions on Myelad where a god’s power is not leashed by the Game, and where his spirit is fully shielded from the physical plane. Within the confines of his temple, a god may fully release his might. Enter at your peril. —Dagzid, Brotherhood scholar.

  The journey through the inner mountain progressed slowly. The terrain was difficult and fought them at every turn. Even with the climbing cable and the party’s teleportation abilities, they were forced to frequently detour around sheer precipices, unstable slopes of loose rocks, and countless gorges and crevices.

  Yet they advanced steadily, day by day, travelling deeper into the mountains. Every night, and even while travelling, at times, Kyran furthered his civilian training, scrying whatever patch of barren mountainside was in reach. Much to Mirien’s obvious bemusement, Kyran could usually be found staring sightlessly into space.

  After four days in the inner mountain, Kyran’s civilian level had advanced more than he had hoped.

  Kyran has reached civilian level 23.

  Kyran’s base skill in mage lord has increased to 20. Effective skill: 48.

  Kyran’s base skill in governor has increased to 12. Effective skill: 8.6.

  Remaining: 0 Civilian SP, 7 AP.

  But while the journey itself progressed well, matters within the party did not fare so happily. The easy and close-knit camaraderie that the four had experienced during their time in the labyrinth was gone, replaced with a strained silence.

  The source of the newfound tension was no mystery, either. It was, of course, Mirien. Despite both Kyran’s and Gaesin’s efforts to reconcile the differences between Adra and Mirien, the two remained, at best, cordial towards each other.

  And, Kyran admitted, the problem was less Mirien and more Adra. The whiesper had made numerous attempts to appease the wolven, yet all her efforts had been rebuffed. Kyran was not willing to intervene more directly. Adra had earned his trust, and as long as matters between her and the whiesper did not spill into open conflict, he was willing to let it be.

  But on the morning of the fifth day, the party’s internal strife was forgotten when their mountain-crossing took a turn for the worse.

  “Kyran, we have hostiles approaching,” said Adra across the battlegroup. As usual, she and Mirien were scouting ahead. The party was traversing a shallow valley running west to east, and their path for a change had been easy across terrain that was not steeply sloped.

  “Where?” Kyran asked tersely.

  “Coming down from the valley’s southern slope. It looks to be a band of six ogres.” Adra paused. “They bear Xetil’s banner.”

  “Damn, how did they find us?”

  “I don’t know. But they seem to know we are here. The ogres are on a direct course to intercept us.” Adra hesitated. “Mirien thinks we should attack.” She added reluctantly, “I agree.”

  Since Mirien was not a player, Adra was forced to relay all her communications, and given the tension between the two, it was not a pleasant experience for all involved.

  Six ogres, thought Kyran, looking over their small group. Their numbers seemed to be near equal to the squad of ogres, and if the ogres were on their trail, best to defeat them now than be chased all over the mountain.

  That far at least, he could agree with Mirien and Adra’s reasoning. But…he had never faced ogres before and didn’t know what level these were, or how much of a threat they posed.

  “What can you tell me of them? What are their levels and weapons?”

  “They are still too far away for me to make them out clearly. But they are moving fast, in a disciplined line, and seem to be equipped with warhammers.”

  “How much time do we have?”

  “Five minutes, maybe less.”

  Kyran rubbed his chin in thought. There was not much time to prepare; he would have to trust the two women’s judgement. “Alright, we fight. Choose a spot to meet them. We will hurry forward to join you.” He bit his lip, then added, “And keep an eye on Mirien.” If the whiesper was going to betray them, a battle would afford her the perfect opportunity.

  Turning around to Gaesin and Aiken, he said, “Let’s go.”

  ✽✽✽

  A few minutes later, the trio had joined the two women at an outcropping of boulders. Aiken and Gaesin were hidden from the ogres’ view by the large rocks, while Adra, Kyran, and Mirien were stretched out flat on top, watching the oncoming squad.

  Adra and Mirien were right. Even though the entire party was concealed from view—the three on top with stealth and blend—the ogres seemed to be making directly for the boulders hiding the party, which was indistinguishable from every other outcropping in the valley, but for the party’s presence.

  “What do you know of ogres?” Kyran whispered to Mirien. Xetil’s soldiers were still too distant for him to probe with insight.

  Mirien glanced sideways at Kyran. “They’re large, slow, and quick to anger. Their skins are naturally armoured and nearly impossible to penetrate with most weapons.”

  “You’ve fought them before?” he asked.

  “No, but my master...” Mirien’s words stumbled to a halt. She looked away, seeming to battle some strong emotion. “Former master,” she corrected turning back and continuing with some difficulty. “Deegan battled them no few times.”

  What happened to her master? he wondered, but he didn’t probe. “What’s our best strategy against them?”

  The whiesper regained her composure. “Physical attacks will be mostly ineffective. We should stay out of melee range. You don’t want to get struck by one of them. Even your fire shield will not survive many blows from their hammers.”

  Kyran nodded and turned his gaze forward again. The ogres had closed sufficiently for him to probe with insight. He reached out with his will and inspected the leading ogre.

  Name: Dilauk. Race: Ogre (goblinoid).

  Level: 41. Health: 880 / 880.

  Stamina: 1600 / 1600. Will: 480 / 480. Essence: 200 / 200.

  Attack: 150 (blunt).

  Defences: 90 (physical), 48 (psi), 41 (spell).

  Class: Mountain guerrilla.

  Traits and abilities:

  Toughened hide: +80% resistance to physical damage.

  Ogre’s rage: Doubles the ogre’s strength for a short duration.

  Bash: Physical attack that inflicts wounds and crushing damage.

  Stomp: A stunning attack that dazes those within melee range of the caster.

  Description:

  Ogres are akin to half-giants in size and strength, yet that is where the similarities between the two species end. Where half-giants descend from human stock, ogres are part of the goblinoid family and possess the same tenacity, ferocity, and reputation for brutality as other goblinoid species.

  “They’re level forty-one,” he said glumly. Given the ogres’ levels, the battle would not be easy, he feared. Mirien was correct, too, he realised. Going toe-to-toe with the behemoths would be suicide. He studied the ogres intently again.

  Each was double his own height and twice as broad. They wore little in the way of armour, only hide vests that covered their torsos but left limbs and head unprotected. But given their toughened skin, they didn’t really need much armour, thought Kyran. Their feet were shod in leather boots, and across their backs, each carried a double-headed stone warhammer.

  Their teeth were filed to sharp points, their noses squashed flat, and their large oval eyes stared unblinkingly in the party’s direction. The trailing warrior held aloft a large pole bearing a tattered animal skin onto which Xetil’s clawed talon had been scrawled.

  The banner left no room for doubt. The ogres were the enemy, and the party had to strike pre-emptively. What would be the best strategy to defeat them? he wondered. Mire them and whittle them down from afar with magic and psi.

  “Gaesin, I will snare the ogres. After I initiate, cast your own disabl
es across their line of approach in case any escape my casting. Adra, we are not going to do much physical damage. Use your magical and stunning attacks only.” He glanced at Mirien again. “What ranged attacks do you have?”

  Her mouth turned down in an unhappy grimace. “None,” she replied. “I’m a close combatant.”

  “Damn.” He had forgotten. “Alright, then you and Aiken will serve as our reserve.” He paused. “Just in case things don’t go as planned,” he added grimly.

  He met the eyes of each of the party members. “Ready?” At their nods of affirmation, he turned back to the ogres. They were less than a hundred metres away now. He didn’t have much time.

  Reaching within himself, he summoned essence and began casting grasping roots. Of all his spells, it had the largest area of effect and would trap the ogres for the longest possible duration. Deftly weaving the threads of essence, he transformed the ground beneath the approaching ogres into a field of crackling brown roots.

  Kyran has cast grasping roots (radius: 51m, chance to resist: 27%, duration: 8 minutes), 6 ogres entangled.

  The roots sprang up from the ground and curled around the feet of the six ogres, jerking them to a stop. The ogres looked down in confusion and appeared momentarily at a loss.

  One of the ogres, stronger than his fellows, wrenched his foot free, only for it to be ensnared a second later by another root. In frustration, he slammed his hammer into the offending root and it, too, became entangled.

  Hard on the heels of Kyran’s spell, a jagged wall of ice coalesced into being, across the close end of the root field, barring the way of any ogres that managed to escape the grasping roots.

  Gaesin has cast ice wall (length: 36.6m, wall HP: 366).

  Good, thought Kyran in satisfaction. The first part of the plan had gone off without a hitch. Now to finish the ogres. Channelling orange flows of fire, he began casting fire darts.

  ✽✽✽

  With her own protection spells in place, Mirien watched with keen interest as the free agent set to work. Other than their brief clash at the south gate, this was her first opportunity to see him in combat. Until now, he had been quite careful to disguise his abilities from her.

  Given Kyran’s sword and armour, she had initially assumed him to be a melee combatant—and a poor one at that—who dabbled in magic. But witnessing his spellcasting now, she realised he was primarily a mage.

  And a powerful one. Studying the root field he had summoned, she bit her lip to keep herself from gaping foolishly at the free agent’s handiwork. Its size and strength were beyond anything she had ever witnessed from a novice-ranked spell.

  How does a mere apprentice manage to cast a spell that can hold journeyman opponents, and using a novice spell no less? she wondered in astonishment. It was not something that should be possible.

  Watching the ogres fumble unsuccessfully to get free of the grasping roots, she realised that the battle could already be over. All that was left was for Kyran to target the behemoths with fire darts and mind shocks and the ogres might well never escape his trap before the party’s magical barrages cut them down. She smiled ruefully. There might be little for her to do in this battle after all.

  But then things went wrong.

  At a shouted command from the squad leader, the ogres who had been yanking furiously at their feet stilled, and as one, their skins began to pulse a deep-red. Uh-oh, thought Mirien. Whatever they’re doing, it can’t be good.

  She whipped her head towards Kyran, her mouth opening to shout a warning, but from his widening eyes, she realised he had seen the danger already.

  For a split-second, he appeared to be stricken with fright, and her heart sank. If he gives way to terror now, we may be doomed. But a moment later, Kyran’s expression cleared, and he turned towards her.

  ✽✽✽

  Dilauk has cast ogre’s rage (strength: doubled, duration: 41 seconds).

  Warning: the strength threshold for entangling your target has failed. Dilauk has broken free of your grasping roots.

  Kyran’s eyes widened in shock as, one by one, the ogres broke free of his grasping roots. Cursing, he dropped the weaves of his fire dart spell. There was little point in casting it now.

  Thoughts racing, he took stock of the battle. The ogre squad had resumed their charge. The grasping roots were not even slowing the behemoths down, he saw. If their strength is great enough to overcome the roots, there is no way Gaesin’s ice wall is going to hold them either, he thought.

  Dammit. He needed to buy some time. There was no help for it. He would have to send Aiken and Mirien into harm’s way. He turned to Mirien. She was staring at him expectantly. She knew what they had to do already, he realised. His face hardened with determination. “Aiken, Mirien, go! Slow them down,” he said. “Gaesin, keep them alive! Adra, snare those ogres if you can!”

  Mirien rose to her feet and drew her swords. “I’m on it,” she said grimly, then blinked forward. Aiken followed her a second later, diving into the earth while Adra, down on one knee, began loosing arrows.

  Kyran turned back to the ogres. They had reached Gaesin’s ice wall and, as he had expected, burst through without faltering in their step.

  Gaesin’s ice wall has been destroyed.

  Adra’s arrows fared little better, causing barely a hitch in the behemoths’ steps.

  Adra’s ensnaring arrow has hit 2 ogres. Partially resisted (duration of effect reduced), 2 ogres ensnared (1 second).

  It’s up to Mirien and Aiken to buy us some time, he thought. The irony did not escape him. Only moments ago, he had been congratulating himself on how well they were doing. He shook his head miserably. And now he was left hoping Mirien and Aiken could slow down the ogres long enough for him to entrap them again.

  “Be careful, Aiken. And be ready to retreat when I call,” he cautioned the great bear, who was swimming through the rock towards the ogres. The behemoths were less than thirty metres away now, the ground shuddering underfoot in time to their pounding feet.

  He couldn’t afford to wait until Mirien and Aiken engaged the ogres. Drawing deeply on his essence, he began casting again. Of his disabling spells, he could only think of three that stood a chance of working, but all three would equally hamper Aiken and Mirien if they were trapped within the area of effect. Yet the risk would have to be borne.

  Blurred motion out of the corner of his eye pulled at his attention. A lithe form appeared amongst the ogres, dancing between their lumbering shapes. Mirien. Her swords flickered out nearly too quickly for Kyran to follow.

  An ogre faltered, then another, both grasping their heads in agony. What? wondered Kyran, nearly dropping the weaves of his spell in surprise. Mirien’s blades were striking limbs—and drawing very little blood in the process. But why were her blows causing the behemoths mental anguish?

  She had to be doing psi damage as well, he thought. Flicking his gaze inwards to the Game messages scrolling unheeded through his mind, he saw...yes, each time one of Mirien’s blows landed, a twin strike was launched against the ogre’s mind.

  Mirien has activated esper’s fury.

  Mirien’s flurry of blows has hit an ogre for 13 piercing damage (85 resisted).

  Mirien’s psionic blades have hit an ogre for 112 psi damage.

  It was her whiesper ability, esper’s fury, Kyran realised. He stared wide-eyed as the elf maiden whirled and leapt from one ogre to the other, deftly ducking their blows while her own twin blades struck out. She wasn’t picking her targets at random either.

  Flowing from ogre to ogre, Mirien made sure to strike each in turn as she singlehandedly brought their charge to a grinding halt not twenty metres from the party.

  Kyran shuddered. Mirien was deadly. And crucially, she had bought Kyran the time he needed. His spell was nearly complete. He spun out the woven tendrils of brown essence and sent them diving into the earth.

  Realising their charge had failed, the ogre squad leader turned to address the swirling menace in the
ir midst. A second later, Aiken burst out of the earth, knocking back the closest ogres and adding to the chaos.

  Aiken has triggered stone tremor (chance to resist: 81%, total damage dealt: 34 damage to 6 ogres), 2 ogres knocked down.

  The bear roared and charged into the nearest downed ogre. The behemoth wrapped his arms around the bear and squeezed, and Aiken yelped in sudden pain. Kyran’s heart jumped in his throat at the sight, but he didn’t allow the bear’s predicament to distract him from his spell.

  His searching coils of essence delved into the earth and found the pools of oil that lay deep within. Wrenching on the viscous liquid, he channelled the oil upwards through fissures in the earth, causing it to explode in a geyser of blackness that pooled around the combatants.

  Kyran has cast oil slick (radius: 5.1m, chance to resist: 7%, duration: 1 minute), 6 ogres slicked, Mirien slicked, Aiken slicked.

  “Aiken, Mirien,” Kyran shouted to the two besmirched in thick oil, “teleport out now!” Not waiting for their response, he channelled again, spinning threads of orange into weaves of fire darts. Out of the corner of his eye, he observed the pair disengage—Mirien shadow stepping away, and Aiken stone diving.

  The ogres, without similar abilities, were left to flounder, slipping and flailing as they tried to escape the pooling oil around them. With the party clear, Kyran sent a stream of fire into the pool and ignited the oil into a raging inferno.

  Kyran has set an oil pool aflame (damage: 4.3 HP per second), 6 ogres trapped in the flames.

  The ogres’ roars of frustration transformed into shrieks of pain as the blaze bit hungrily at them. Even their toughened hides were no protection. Scorched and blackened by the flames that licked eagerly at them, the ogres’ skin began sloughing off their bodies. Kyran’s stomach lurched as he beheld the true horror of what he had done. But even worse, the battle was not over.

  Studying the scrolling Game messages, Kyran realised it would take another three minutes before the fire consumed the ogres entirely. An eternity. He squeezed his eyes shut. And he would have to keep the ogres trapped in the inferno until then. Biting down hard against his instinctive denial of what he must do, he forced his eyes open and stared at his handiwork.