Eric didn’t hesitate to join Steve and Emily in scaling up the ruined fort, embracing the advantage of height and terrain visibility while Ron and Richard positioned themselves behind a barricade of partial rubble to foil the minotaur’s charge.
Eric spotted Jack nearby, his raised javelin already vibrating as he waited for the perfect shot while Yuki positioned herself to strike their foes from the flanks, once they engaged the tanks in melee. She then became one with the darkness broken up only by a few flickering flames in ways Eric found impressive as anything. Yuki was definitely one of the deadlier Classers he had come across, able to flow through shadow and strike unseen in the blink of an eye. In some ways, she was very much like an elite goblin assassin, but without the whole homicidal asshole that needs to be slaughtered on sight vibe. Why she had flinched before his gaze earlier he still had no idea, since all he felt for her was gratitude and deepest respect.
Even now he had to blink away tears of fierce gratitude, fighting the bizarre impulse to laugh like a madman, savoring the sweet, exhilarating rush of freedom, for all that he found himself constantly rubbing his neck, as if his hands just to make absolutely sure that no deadly mithril blades were a single wrong move from slicing right through his jugular… but he was fine, now, he promised himself.
Cool as a cucumber, and 110% ready to rock and roll!
His hands just had issues.
He could sympathize.
Poor hands.
Considering what had happened back at Freetown… he shuddered, yanking his mind free of those awful memories he was now desperate to forget. Only knowing that the last thing he wanted to do was draw attention to himself, or what he could do… any more than he already had.
Right now he was desperate to reinvent himself and savor a fresh start. Or just have the cover of another identity so he could choose when and where and how he would strike those slimy assholes who had caused him so much pain. Right now, all his new allies knew for sure was that he was an unorthodox archer who made use of both blood and flame. Just one more eclectic, eccentric adventurer who had managed to cobble together a handful of fortunate encounters into an unorthodox yet effective class. Even if it was obvious from the way his aura flared after too long constrained that he was no weakling.
They still didn’t have any idea of just how strong he was. And for now, until he knew them better, until the tension he now sensed from them had finally passed, he would hold off on revealing any more of himself than he already had. Right now, it was about surviving as an archer and taking advantage of this time to rank up his skills and show them all what an asset he could be while he took their measure, just the same as they were clearly taking his.
“Eric, they’re coming! Are you ready?”
Eric grinned at the nervous excitement he so clearly heard in Steve’s voice, Arcane Perception sensing the dual build up of Obsidian Flame and bitter cold from the two mages flanking him.
In answer, he responded in the only way that mattered, the limbs of his bone bow vibrating with more tension than he had ever dared before as he locked on his target, glarin into massive bovine eye wild with hate. Then, with a flicker of his will, he traded inert bone arrow for one whose tip was flaring with superheated flame.
The air cracked with the release of his string, but Eric knew the sound was far fainter than it should have been, for all that it thrummed so loudly that Emily cursed and glared.
But Eric paid it no mind, all his focus on the farmost minotaur who stumbled and lurched back as his arrow tore through the air, striking exactly where Eric had intended, smiling coldly the creature collapsed, massive bull head now engulfed in furious flames.
True Strike in effect! Void Piercer in effect! You have critically struck your foe with Bone Arrow! Mach 5 momentum pierces Level 60 Greater Beast vitality. Void Piercer mitigates all air resistance penalties. 4000 degree arrow head has pierced brain pan.
Level 60 Minotaur has perished. Experience earned!
Eric’s lips curled in a fierce grin as he embraced his latest skill evolution, not hesitating to embrace both perks to better understand his talent and his weapon. He held off from a follow up shot, but kept his arrow ready, eager to see what his new companions could do without his help.
Available Soul Reserves are currently 83 out of 85.
Not to mention there was something to be said for sparing use of his perks, at least until he felt refreshed enough to use them as a fighter did, instead of tapping into his Soul Reserves directly, for all that he knew it was a major advantage that he could probably only pull off because he had soul linked all his favorite toys.
Even better, had he chosen to manifest his Crimson Orb, he could have cut the Soul Point cost from 2 to 1. But he didn’t want to chance hid fellow adventurers seeing and understanding the manifestation, even if it should be invisible to most. His new allies were both savvy and uncertain of him, and it was up to him to assuage their concerns, put them at ease, and decide exactly how much of himself he wanted to reveal, especially considering their city of origin.
A city he now had every intention of claiming.
After wiping out every last gnoll holdout, fort, and agent that he could.
He focused past the sweet surge of victory and even sweeter rush of experience flooding him io order to carefully study his companions, all of them readying themselves for the lone minotaur now charging them.
“Obsian Flamma!”
A ball of eldritch flame streaked out from Steve’s fingertip, wobbling through the air as the young wizard visibly struggled to keep the violent globe of fiery obsidian on target, falling to his knees as it hooked downward, nearly clipping Richard before it veered back on course, slamming into the chest of the roaring minotaur now stumbling over the shattered rubble serving as a crude bulwark between charging beast and broken keep.
“Steve! Be fucking careful!” Emily snapped, before looking his way, catching sight of his deathly pallor as he slumped over, panting for breath. Her eyes widened with sudden concern as she raced to his side. “Shit, Steve, are you alright?”
The young wizard chuckled softly, pointing to the stumbling minotaur, cut off from his attack mid-swing as he clutched the bloody hole in his chest, a heartbeat before a roaring Jack’s javelin pinned the minotaur’s arm to the spurting wound, before summoning forth a second then third javelin, all three blasting into the minotaur like artillery shells.
The minotaurs roars had turned to desperate bleats as it stumbled back, wanting only to retreat, but Ron and Richard clearly weren’t going to let that happen, launching attacks of their own as Yuki simultaneously hamstrung the cloven-hoofed beast with lightning-fast slashes of her naginata before slipping into the darkness once more.
Steve peered down at his friends slaughtering their prey with an exhausted smile. “Damn, our friends can fight, can’t they?” He slumped over, clearly exhausted. “Don’t worry, Em. I’ll be fine...”
“Bullshit, you’re the farthest thing from fine,” she snapped, her glare equal parts frustration and heartfelt concern.
He chuckled ruefully. “Yeah, that obsidian fire almost skewed into our team leader. I haven’t had that happen since, well...”
“Since you first got ahold of that book,” Emily hissed. “Steve, you know what happens if you push yourself too hard!”
His tired smile turned to a hard glare. “I don’t see as we have much choice. This is the third wave we’ve faced, when normally we don’t dare more than two a day!” He closed his eyes and sighed. “Fuck, I could really do with some water right...”
His words cut off when he saw a smiling Eric presenting him with a tall cold mug of foamy ale. “What the hell?”
“Drink up,” Eric said. “If you like German brews, you’ll love this. I literally got it fresh from the tap.”
Emily stared at Eric. “Seriously? Alcohol to a dehydrated companion in the middle of a fight?”
Eric smirked. “Low alcohol brew. With a certain special something that makes all the difference. And considering that we don’t just fully recover in an hour but regenerate in minutes or seconds with our Vitality… I can think of worse things than giving my companion a beer.”
“It’s fine,” Steven quickly said, not hesitating to take a sip, smacking his lips as his eyes widened with pleasure. “This is delightful!”
“Isn’t it the best? And if you check a certain something, you might find a certain depleted stat rapidly refilling.”
Steve froze, quickly inspecting a certain stat, his eyes going wide with wonder while the adventurers below cheered the collapse of the second minotaur, before the Jack started cursing under his breath.
The young wizard looked up at Eric with awe. “My Mana Pool’s fucking refilling. This beer.. it’s an honest to goodness mana potion?”
Emily’s eyes widened. “Gimme!” She darted forth, taking a swig, mouth scrunching prettily before she gave it back to Steve who glared, holding it tight.
“My beer. Get your own.”
“Shit, you weren’t kidding! My mana’s ticking back up to full!” She furrowed her brow, graceful features peering curiously up at Eric. “This is no simple beverage, Eric. I mean I’m grateful as anything that you’re sharing this with us… hell, it might just end up saving our lives! But where did you get this?”
Eric grinned happily. “Oh, that’s easy. I might play the idealistic fool tilting at windmills on SelfTube, but that didn’t mean I’m going to pass up on the chance to snag the Sylvan Alliance’s celebratory spread.”
Emily laughed. “You’re joking! But seriously, where...” She blinked, furrowing her brow. “You’re not joking.”
Her eyes widened, earning a glare from Steve when she snatched his stein away from him again.
“Hey, get your own! That’s my--”
“Shut up, Steve. This is important!” She sniffed the brew, took another sip… and squeezed her eyes shut with a sigh. “Oh we are so fucked.”
Steve scowled, slowly getting back to his feet. Eric winced, not needing his interface to tell him that his magic was taking a tole. “Emily, what’s wrong?”
His worried scowl was interrupted when Eric handed Steve a perfectly prepared Reuben sandwich.
“Oh fuck, are you serious?” Steve didn’t hesitate, grabbing the sandwich, taking a big bite of corned beef and sauerkraut goodness, shuddering with pleasure. “Oh this is fucking awesome! You, good sir, are a prince among men.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Eric said with a warm smile, relieved to see the youth’s pallor flushing with health and vitality. “This I picked up from my friend’s house on the way here.” He smiled in fond memory of Morlekai and Grim’s parting advice, and counsel.
“They were kind enough to give me a whole cooler of meaty deliciousness that’s great for restoring the blood.” Eric patted the youth’s shoulders. “Or rejuvenating the blood, when one draws a bit too heavily on reserves that perhaps one shouldn’t.”
Steve froze, stepping back with a soft curse. “Fuck. You know.” Accusing eyes pinned his own, though Eric was glad to see the youth didn’t stop eating his sandwich.”
Eric flashed a sympathetic smile. “It’s cool. Takes one to know one.”
Steven took an aggressive bite. “You don’t just play with blood… it’s not just some weird defensive power for you.”
Eric smirked. “Nope. Not limited to defense at all. Pretty damned useful, actually, if you know what you’re doing.”
“You use Blood magic… Soul magic.”
Eric nodded. “I do.”
The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.
Steve shook his head with a bemused smile. “I don’t know why we’re even dancing around your skill set. You were rocking a bone bow that I now don’t even see. A bone bow that makes Yuki uncomfortable as shit, so I’m guessing you’re a straight up necromancer of some sort? One that makes use of life force and body parts, even if you don’t actually raise the dead?”
Eric shrugged. “What’s in a label? Anyway, that Obsidian Flame spell of yours… it’s not just a boosted fireball, is it?”
Steve smirked, shaking his head. “Hardly. It’s the essence of entropy and destruction. That’s why it can sear right through that fucking absurdly tough hide the minotaurs have that turns almost any adventurer’s sword or spell.” His eyes twinkled with darkest mirth. “Even the cocky gnoll champions who thought they could take on the minotaur that broke free, last week. Turns out most Classers can’t do shit against a sixtieth level, unless they’re using actual Classer artillery, or they’re rocking hard core artifacts, perks, and levels, like we are.”
Eric nodded. “So you got a kick ass spell that can chew right into them, like the fireball that sent that minotaur reeling right before Jack capitalized with his double-node Javelin throwing and the rest of the gang finished the latest one off.”
Steve puffed up with pride. “Damn right, I did! If you got a tough nut to crack, that’s when I pull out the big guns. The minute I make the breach, everyone else knows exactly how to jump in for maximum destruction.”
“But there’s a price for that magic, I’m guessing.”
Steve paled, then sighed. “Is it that obvious?”
“Pretty much.”
Steve groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah… I know. The price is pretty fucking steep, actually. But as long as I can pace myself and place points into Vitality every level… I should be okay.” The look on his face, however, made Eric almost certain that he wasn’t. Not completely.
“And hey, at least all this practice is giving me lots of experience toward the next skill rank. As soon as I get my Obsidian Flame powers up to Adept Rank, I’ll be set, I know it.”
Eric nodded. “Cool. And hey, if you ever want to stop by my friend’s place in Freetown when this shit is all said and done… he might be able to set you up with something that can help. Or at least… better understand your path and maybe give you some insights to help light your way.”
Steve swallowed gazing up at Eric with hope-filled eyes only now hinting at desperation kept at bay only by quips and dark humor. “Are you serious?”
Eric grinned. “Damned serious.”
That’s when they both turned to Emily’s surprised gasp, all three of them ignoring the cheering of their party members below when the second minotaur went still.
“Level up time, baby!” Someone below happily shouted.
Yet Emily’s eyes were locked on the beer stein and Steve’s now nearly completely devoured snack.
“That sandwich fills soul reserves,” she whispered. “And this beer…” She lifted her eyes to meet Eric’s gaze. “You weren’t joking. You actually swiped this from the Sylvan faction?”
Steve snorted. “Emily, come on. Eric here’s clearly fucking with us. Right, Eric?”
Eric’s grin widened. “Who can say?” He gazed down at the others below, stacking hands with a celebratory cheer before turning to look up their way.
“Everything okay, Emily?” Richard called out.
Emily grinned down at her obvious boyfriend. “Actually it is! And guess who has access to a casket of Sylvan mead?”
Steve frowned down at his stein. “This is mead? Not beer?”
Eric shrugged. “Not sure, to be honest. I just swiped the whole spread, and every cask I could get my hands on.”
Steve blinked. “Seriously?”
“As the grave.”
In short order, All of Eric’s party members were absolutely devouring the repast Eric set out on one of the table cloths he had swiped, that was presently set on one of Elonia’s many tables, including the chairs.
“This is absolutely fucking divine!” Yuki declared, devouring the pheasant dumplings, buttermilk biscuits, and ripe fresh fruit she had stacked upon her silver plate. She gazed up from her meal with a stein full of far more mundane red wine but didn’t begrudge it a bit as she chugged it down before glaring at Alex until he topped her off. “And you managed to, what, swipe the entire feasting hall of some Sylvan bigwig?”
Eric chuckled. “Awesome spread, isn’t it? I’m glad you understand why I’m saving the mead.”
Richard gave Eric an approving smile, saluting him with his own glass while Jack kept watch from the top of the damaged fortress, giving the party a chance to recharge and unwind after what Eric suspected had been a long day for them… even if not nearly so long as his own.
“Actually that’s smart thinking, Eric. It makes no more sense for the rest of us to drink up that mead than it would be for us to chug mana potions when our spell casters are the ones who will really need it. And I, for one, applaud your team spirit in thinking of the welfare of the group beyond personal comfort.”
Ron snorted. “He’s no saint. It’s in his own best interest if Steve and Emily are topped up. Their spells, and the rest of us being in top fighting form, is key to his own survival. Key to us all getting out of here alive.”
Eric smirked. “Sure, let’s go with that if it makes you happy, Ron. How’s your steak?”
Emily paused in her eating, gazing at Eric thoughtfully. “Yuki raises a good question, Eric. Did you really manage to swipe an entire banquet hall from some Elven noble, Eric? And they’re not coming after your head?”
“Too late.” Eric flashed a bitter smile, revealing perhaps more than he intended to, before shaking it away. “But yeah. Tactically ‘efficient’ or no, internal storage spaces are absolutely awesome for culinary capers! Did you know you can actually skill it up, just like other abilities? And the space I have available... let’s just say it utterly kicks ass.”
He closed his eyes, feeling a warm wave of contentment to see how accessible all the goods he had pilfered truly were. And how damn much he had taken while still assuring a clause that no matter what happened to him, he and he alone would have full rights to whatever property wasn’t deemed of military significance.
Which meant that even if he had good cause to fear his enemies stripping him of all his military assets… he could still rob his mother’s banquet hall blind. And by the very accords they his mother had agreed upon as much as everything else… everything he had pilfered into his ES space was his, no strings attached.
Because even then, he hadn’t intended on coming back.
Only hoping that he could count on at least one of the girls to return his mithril armaments to him after fleeing the bullshit ‘peace summit’ never having thought he’d be ending the day helpless and crippled with a kill-collar around his neck.
Not being a complete idiot, he had been prepared for steel.
Only to be collared a mithril variant that had been utterly immune to so many of his gifts.
“Eric? You okay there, buddy?”
Richard’s warm voice immediately pulled Eric out of his brooding thoughts.
“Yup, right as rain!” His strained grimace quickly turned to a genuine smile. “And happy as hell that I have a chance to eat a damn fine meal and enjoy the company of fellow Classers… human Classers… free of that which could so easily have killed me.”
He dipped his head in profound respect, smiling a flustered Yuki’s way. “Thanks again, Yuki. I owe you. Big time.”
Her eyes widened, lip quirking in a smile at those words. “You know that’s just binding your karmic debt all the more, right?” She flashed pearly-white teeth under the warm glow lights Emily had set up. “If my favor’s halfway reasonable, you don’t dare refuse.”
Eric laughed. “Sure. If you want to look at it that way...”
The group grew silent as solemn looks were exchanged. And somehow Jack knew to jump down and saunter toward them as Yuki caught his gaze.
“What do you think?” She asked.
Jack peered thoughtfully at Eric, measuring him with his bright green eyes before flashing a cheeky grin and grabbing one of the many creme puff pastries Eric had casually placed on a silver platter.
“What I think is that we should either make friends with whoever hosts Sylvan public relations… or raid the fuck out of their larder. This shit tastes absolutely divine!”
Yuki’s gaze firmed. “Jack...”
“No, it’s a bad idea,” Ron cut her off with a hard shake of his head before turning to glare at Eric. “We’re right now eating on a table that belongs in a fucking museum, with over twenty pounds of actual silver silverware, and food fit for fucking royalty. Sylvan royalty. And we still haven’t gotten a straight answer from him about much of anything, save an oath he damn well better honor.”
Ron raised his hand before Yuki could interrupt. “Look, all I’m saying is that there’s no way this cat is just some simple Classer some scouts were trying to entice. He’s gotten his fingers in at least a few political pies and ruffled enough feathers to get someone to snap a collar around his neck.”
He then took a beefy bite of his sandwich. “But I’m not going to turn down a full belly. Or the best damned wine I’ve had in months. Because it’s just what we need, here and now. And we can work together… here and now. Because right here, hip deep in goddamned 15 foot tall minotaurs that almost killed us twice over, most of us in need of a goodnight’s rest, yeah. Sure as shit we can use a sharpshooter with a fucking larder in his back pocket.”
Eric smirked. “My larder is certainly at your disposal,” he said, saluting the party with his stein before taking a sip of mead.
“And that’s the only reason why we’re even having this conversation,” Ron said. “Because down here, nothing matters but how well a man fights, and takes care of his fellows. And as much as I hate to admit it… you haven’t disappointed so far. But once we’re top side, then all the ugly political ramifications of being friendly with someone that both the goblins and the gnolls clearly want dead… that might be a bit more heat than is good for us. Any of us.”
He gazed at Eric for long moments. Eric crossed his now empty hands behind his head and leaned back, meeting the man’s cynical gaze with a half-smile of his own, earning a snort.
“So yeah, we agreed to work together tackling this rift, and part ways peacefully. Let’s not compound the countless risks we’re already taking with this guy.”
Richard rubbed his chin thoughtfully, also leaning back in his chair which gave an alarming creek. “But if our boon companion’s intel is accurate, and Sylvis really is gunning for our heads, then the oaths we swore mean absolutely nothing, and we’re free to do exactly what we planned. In that case, having friends with diverse backgrounds might be just what we need.”
“So the solution’s simple,” Emily said, giving Eric a considering look with her baby blues as she held his gaze. “We work together to survive this rift as best we can. Once we get out, and we will get out, we do a little digging and see what the score really is in New York. If our supposed allies really do think we’re worth more dead than alive...” Her lips curled in a bleak smile. “Then we do exactly as we planned, no legal loopholes needed. And in that case, Eric might be a perfect fit.”
Eric couldn’t help winking back, saluting Emily with his stein, feeling a warm fuzzy tingle in his mind, knowing certain perks were suddenly in play. “If you’re looking for someone who’s not afraid of getting his hands a little dirty for a sweet payoff… then I’m your guy.”
His smile widened when the table grew absolutely still. As if he couldn’t piece together what they were really saying. “So long as the cut’s fair, and no one’s playing me for a patsy, pawn, or fool... you might find that I’m just what the fixer ordered.”
Jack’s eyes widened. “Shit… okay, Eric, level with us. How much do you know?”
Eric smirked. “Not a damned thing. So don’t worry. No one has a clue as to who your even are, let alone what you’re up to, in my neck of the woods. But it’s obvious you guys are planning a heist of one sort or another, and I got no problem with that. And if you all want to pretend we never had this conversation when we go our separate ways topside, I got no problem with that either. But if you’re looking for a standup safe-cracker...”
Jack whistled. “Seriously? You’re in the game? What are the fucking odds!?”
Eric smirked. “I might have dipped my toes in the deep end a time or two. But as far as any other party’s concerned, I’m clean as a whistle.”
Yuki snorted. “And I’ll bet that’s the real reason why you were wearing the collar.”
Eric winked, sipping his mead.
Yuki gave him a curious look. “Did they squeeze you dry, first?”
Eric laughed long and loud, not giving a shit for the looks this earned him. “All those assholes got was a major headache for some cast-iron. And when the bill finally comes due for those fuckers, it won’t be pretty.”
Richard forced a chuckle. “Let’s save this conversation for another time, and focus on our immediate future. No offense, Eric.”
Eric shrugged. “None taken.” He chewed his own corned beef sandwich thoughtfully. “Though as long as we’re working together, I wouldn’t mind whatever info you have on just how things work down here.” He glanced back at the fresh pair of minotaur corpses, one whose head was blazing furiously away still, the other a crumpled heap. “Like, how often and in what numbers do these minotaur patrols swing by this central area? How much time do we have to fix your fort, and what’s our end game for this dungeon? Do any of you actually know how far it extends, or in what direction we can find the boss?”
Eric couldn’t help noting the increasingly solemn glances his questions earned him, until Ron, glaring his way, slammed the thick-planked table Eric had manifested with his hand.
“We don’t know how often patrols hit this area, or how much time we have, or if we have any hope of doing a full week’s worth of work with no access to the forest, since our fort was ripped right from the entrance where we had complete control of the area to here, in the middle of minotaur fucking central, all thanks to you, asshole!”
“Yeah, be cause I asked a certain asshole gnoll to put a fucking collar around my neck and threaten me with rift jumping and decapitation,” Eric shot back. “And I definitely conspired with the goblin hit squad on the virtues of getting rid of annoying human factions and clans while using cutouts and patsies. And if you kiddos are actually foolish enough to go back to New York and expect anything but even more elaborate schemes to isolate you and take you all out, one way or another…” Eric shrugged. “At least be nice enough to replace the table you’re about to break before you do anything that stupid. Preferably one lovingly constructed by naked elven maidens.”
Ron crossed his arms, giving no response save for his accusing glare.
Eric sighed, taking another bite of his sandwich.
At least the man was no longer pounding his table.
Jack gazed thoughtfully at the table. “Was this table actually constructed by naked elven maidens?”
Eric laughed. “Wouldn’t that be wild if it was? No fucking idea, actually. But if it was good enough for Mother Dearest, then it’s good enough for Ron not to break in a fit of pique.”
Yuki snorted. “Alright, I’ll bite. Who the fuck is ‘Mommy Dearest?’”
Eric sighed and shook his head. “You know, I thought I knew. I really did. Now, though?” He went for a nonchalant smile, as if to show that he was too damned cool for the morning’s shenanigans to affect him at all. Instead he found himself shuddering, squeezing his fists as bitter hot tears streamed down his cheek.
He took a shuddering breath and got up, quickly enough not to catch the gazes he now felt boring into his back. “Alright, I’m going to take a look at the fort, see what we can do to spiff this bad-boy up.”