"And there are the remaining members of our group," nodded Hakar'li with his sharp chin.
He was the bulkiest Aerilian John had ever seen and was one of those who came with the reinforcements.
Most of them had lithe athletic figures and even most of the crafters who came through the gate kept to that body shape.
This one, apparently, belonged to a different caste, the low-borns, but his prowess as a gladiator caught the interest of Melis'ar who freed him and offered him a position in his retinue.
Tearing his eyes off the interesting man, John looked toward the door and spotted a familiar figure followed by an older woman and the other prince.
Right… It makes sense that they would be the ones joining us. Melis'ar did mention that Ulian'al was more combat-oriented.
"I was wondering if you'd be a part of the group," the scarred Aerilian scout spoke to John right after making his way to the far table.
"Sakhul'la! How are you doing, you old bastard," Hakar'li grinned.
"Bah, good enough to kick your ass," the mercenary laughed out. "Scoot over so I can take a seat between you two."
Pushing the bulky man to the open seat on his left, Sakhul'la sat down and lifted his left hand above his head.
What is he…
"How may I serve you, Sir?" Asked one of the serving girls who somehow appeared right behind their backs.
"One mug of Amberlime," Sakhul'la replied without pause, pulling his arm down.
"What is Amberlime?" Asked John, but instead of an answer, he saw the scout once again lift his hand.
"Yes?"
"Make it two, darling."
"Don't trust him. That thing is vile," protested Hakar'li. "He talked me into trying it out once after kicking my ass in an exhibition match and then laughed as I had to force myself from spitting it right out.
The princes, Dilah'ec, their three Knight-Protectors, and Loras'ki, the Aerilian healer, were planning their excursion, leaving John and his new drinking buddies to their own business.
"Argh," John shook himself, looking as if he had bitten into a lemon. "That thing…"
"Vile! I told you so."
"It's…" taking another sip, he smacked his lips and shivered. "It's not that bad."
The liquid was somehow both extremely bitter and sickly sweet and each sip was sending electrical shivers through his body all the way down to his feet.
It's like super-lemons mixed with the sweetest honey ever collected.
Taking another gulp, he tried to smile through his twisted lips, much to the chagrin of Hakar'li and a massive grin of Sakhul'la.
Alas, their fun soon came to an end. Prince Melis'ar stood from the table and everyone else followed after him.
"Let's head out immediately," the prince decided. "I'll explain the strategy on our way."
The group of ten, unsurprisingly, had no need for any additional guards and was moving through the winding streets with unstoppable momentum.
"Heh, we might be one of the strongest parties in the entire territory," John pondered after seeing their front line mow through a pack of Rothounds. "Hell, what is above the territory, do you know? Because we might be the strongest there as well."
"That'd be a Dominion, but don't grow overconfident," warned Sakhul'la. "There could be a bunch of hidden monsters close to this territory."
"Luckily, we are far away from the worst of it," nodded Hakar'li.
"Who is the worst?"
"Blighted Colony."
"Withered Empire."
The pair shouted at the same time, but Sakhul'la continued speaking.
"Luckily, neither of them is the strongest. That honor would go to the Radiant Crusade."
"I don't even know which I should ask about first," John shook his head.
They spent the rest of the way to the western outskirts talking about the various factions, giving John a lot to think about.
The short of it was, that the Blighted Colony was a fungal hive mind that spread out from their main Shelter, killing and overtaking all living—or unliving—beings in its way and the Withered Empire was a typical, run-of-a-mill, fantasy empire of mindless undead, ruled by a minority of sentient undead nobles.
Standing before the undead outside of the city, John deliberated on using his new challenge card but held off, leaving it for later.
"Let's carve our way through them," Duraq'er pulled out his shield and swished his blade in the air.
Following him, the group divided into their assigned roles and dived into the fight.
Duraq'er, Sakhul'la, and Hakar'li held the front, acting as the proverbial spearhead, punching a hole into the endless army of zombies before them.
Following closely behind were the two princes, Dilah'ec, and Loras'ki. They were taking the safe position in the core of the formation and using their ranged abilities to bolster the front line or divert an incoming attack on their flanks.
Lastly, Galan'il and the older lady named Friala'el held the sides, leaving the safety of their backs to John himself.
Unsurprisingly, their combined power cleaved through the wandering zombies like a hot knife through butter, and the whole group remained jogging deeper in, uncaring about the already-closing path behind them.
"A pack of Rothounds on the left!"
Already rerouting his minions into the rushing undead's path, John calmly observed the trio push through a small cluster of zombies, tossing them out of their way like ragdolls, and then run headlong into a blinding flash of red light.
"Gah," he yelped as his eyes were briefly overwhelmed by a crimson arc of lightning. Luckily, his Vitality and self-healing cards helped clear his eyes and he observed the lingering aftereffects of red sparks on all three Rothounds. "A little more warning next time!"
The teen princeling only sniffed and turned his head back forward.
What a brat, John shook his head yet remained in the formation.
He was warned that Ulian'al possessed a very powerful sealed legendary card capable of producing red bolts of lightning, but to use it recklessly and momentarily blind his allies was plain stupid.
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At least she agrees with me, he snorted, hearing the muffled tongue-lashing the brat was getting from his Knight-Protector.
Seeing Ulian'al's cocky attitude crumble away and morph into a humbled slouch, John smiled and threw her an appreciative nod.
The trio of Rothounds died a couple of seconds later to John's minions and a mixture of other abilities, but by then the group was already jogging away.
"Judging by our position, we are halfway there," shouted Duraq'er from the front. "I believe going over the left hill will be the fastest route. Agreed?"
With a couple of 'mhms', 'yesses', and other noises of agreement, they shifted their direction, avoiding the roaming packs and looser clumps of zombies. As expected though, the path over the hill led them into a confrontation with a lone Rotfiend.
"What tactic do you suggest?" Asked Melis'ar his trusted Knight-Protector.
"Overwhelm it and move on. Among all of us, we have the necessary strength to dispatch it quickly."
Fanning out for the first time since they ventured outside, they formed a quarter-circle around their target and Duraq'er began the countdown.
"...two, one, attack!"
The mix of the abilities exploded like fireworks, turning the hulking monstrosity into a light show, and just as their vision cleared, Duraq'er and Hakar'li barreled into its sides.
The thing was covered in wounds, missing the bottom half of its front leg, and still paralyzed from the combination of John's Storm Wisp and the red lightning bolt which was when the second round of attacks landed all across its defenseless chest.
"Watch out," cautioned Duraq'er. "The paralysis is about to wear off."
"I got it," shouted Hakar'li, and his two-handed hammer flashed and delivered a blow that sent ripples through the fiend's entire body. The unfortunate side effect was a literal shower of black blood hitting everyone around it.
That blow would have torn me apart, John whistled, staring at the dinner plate-sized crater in its side. Not to be outdone, he summoned his javelin and leaned back. The throw was done with all of his newly acquired D-grade attributes and even a bit of Fate to make its aim true.
The weapon, which previously felt heavy and a little unwieldy, now zipped through the air like an arrow and hit right above the left breast. The projectile sunk a third of the way in, but then must have struck an edge of its massive rib, because the shaft jerked upward and the entire length slipped into its chest at a downward angle.
Woah, he admired the ease with which he could throw, but his thoughts were interrupted a second after the impact when the Rotfiend began uncontrollably twitching and then fell to the ground, dead. Must have hit something vital.
A dull ball of yellow ash flying into his chest announced the end of the fight, but the curious glances of the Aerilians continued even after they got back to their jog.
"That was an impressive throw," noted Dilah'ec who fell out of the formation and moved next to him. "I felt the threads of Fate briefly bend under your will and guide the javelin to a perfect spot. How much did that take from you?"
Using the clear slope of the hill to run down, John followed after the group deep thought.
"Hmm, a bit over ten percent," he softly mumbled, more for himself than her.
It was already missing a large chunk of its chest when the javelin struck, but to be a killing blow… damn.
Continuing their discussion about the more intricate ways to nudge Fate, John followed the group far deeper into the outskirts than he ever had been, and after two more Rotfiends and over a dozen packs of Rothounds, they finally reached the destination.
"Is this really it?" He asked, looking at the nondescript stone peeking out of the dirt with a waist-high protrusion in its middle.
"Yes, it is. Now please, everyone take a position on the highlighted spots so I can activate the trial." Melis'ar answered and walked to the middle of the circular platform.
"Ehh, what spots…" John asked but stopped as nine small dots began shining roughly six feet from the center in a circular pattern.
Seems simple enough.
The moment the ninth person took their position, a blue bubble encompassed the whole platform and filled it with a blue light.
"What is…" summoning his javelin and quickly looking around, John and the rest of the group found themselves in the middle of a Roman-styled coliseum with thousands upon thousands of zombies motionlessly standing where normal populace would be.
As they were standing there, all the zombies began clapping, filling the silent arena with thunderous applause.
Gods, that feels off-putting.
A man with black short-cropped hair sitting on a throne situated directly above the arena entrance before them lifted his right hand and all of the zombies froze up.
[Attention!
You have entered the Sector's Trial.
The rules are simple, use everything you have, because if at least one of you survives the entire wave, your whole group will be brought back and returned into the exact state you are currently in.
Do your best and overcome as many waves as you can because the prosperity of your Sector rests on your shoulders.
Note: After your whole group perishes, you will be returned and prevented from ever challenging this trial again]
Ok, that fits the description Melis'ar gave us, John nodded. He summoned his javelin and prepared for a fight because the gate was opening up and through it was pressing a mass of zombies.
"Don't worry, the first few waves should be simple enough," Duraq'er reassured them and charged forward to meet them at the gate.
"Who gets the least kills is paying for dinner?"
"Ohh, I am gonna whoop your ass, Sakhul'la," Hakar'li laughed and followed after Duraq'er.
"Well, I guess we shouldn't let them have all the fun, eh?" John chuckled and together with Galan'il also rushed the—already diminishing—mass of undead.
[Echo of Zombie {F}]
It took them under two minutes to dispatch the remaining echoes and right before the last one exploded into a shower of guts, John used his Feral Intuition on the bored-looking man above the door.
[Echo of Territory Hierarch {C⋆⋆}]
Wait a minu…
His body felt a moment of weightlessness and he found himself once again standing in the middle of the arena with everyone else around him.
As if the last two minutes have never happened.
[Congratulations!
The first wave was successfully completed.
Most kills: Duraq'er
Most valuable participant: Duraq'er]
Once again, the crowd of zombies clapped, the Hierarch lifted his hand, and the gate under him opened up. The only difference was the couple dozen skeletons mixed among the new horde of zombies pouring out.
Seeing Duraq'er's brief smile made John grin.
The race is on.
Not letting anyone ahead, he pumped his legs and rushed headlong into the undead before him.
The joint effort of him and all his minions brought a decisive victory of the second, third, and fourth wave but on the fifth, their competition was brought to an unexpected end.
The gate opened as usual and the echoes of skeletons, skeletal knights, and a few skeletal commanders marched out. The key difference was the skeleton who was more than two feet taller than the rest, wielding a massive bow made out of ivory bone and sinew.
"Watch out!" Galan'il was the first to realize the danger.
"Hm, what is…" That was when John noticed the General lifting his bow horizontally above the ranks arrayed before it and releasing an ivory arrow empowered by some kind of pale-green light.
The bulky Aerilian who was trying to smash as many skeletons as he could with his war hammer realized too late the danger he was in.
"Haka…" Sakhul'la tried to shout another warning, but by the time he turned his head, an arrow smacked into Hakar'li's side and punched through.
Unexpectedly, their healer was over five hundred feet away, waiting with the royals and the two women for the 'brutes' to clear up, and was unable to offer any sort of help.
Throwing a Feral Intuition on the large skeleton, John obtained an intriguing name.
Could it be at least partly sentient?
[Echo of Gadris, the Skeleton General {D⋆}]
"Let's group up and retreat to the rest of our group."
Agreeing with him, the remaining three Aerilians fell back, and together, they began their tactical retreat. Sadly, there was nothing to do about Hakar'li whose body was already covered in welts and was falling apart in horrific fashion.
Even though he is not actually dead, I am sure he would gladly forget that experience after coming back, John shuddered, remembering his own decaying body during the Fourfold Crucible.
Working together, the skeletons fell apart, and even the Gadris wasn't able to overcome their teamwork and was carefully torn up piece by piece until the magic keeping him alive fizzled out.
"Bloody hell, that sucked," Hakar'li shuddered, reappearing among them.
[Congratulations!
The fifth wave was successfully completed.
Most kills: John Miles
Most valuable participant: Duraq'er]
"You've had your fun, but now it is time to focus," Melis'ar admonished their carelessness. "How about instead of blindly rushing forward, we use the strategy we have prepared beforehand?"
Agreeing, John watched as six packs of Rothounds, followed by two alphas walked through the gate and began their charge.