Surprisingly, the sixth wave proved far easier than the fifth. Not to say that twenty Rothounds and two alphas were easy, but for them… they kind of were.
Sniping out nearly three-quarters off before the monsters reached them, the remaining six were dismembered the moment they arrived.
[Congratulations!
The sixth wave was successfully completed.
Most kills: Ulian'al
Most valuable participant: Ulian'al]
Yeah, that lightning bolt did a number on them and his second ability is also stupidly powerful.
It was some kind of energy beam that melted the paralyzed hounds' heads right off.
The seventh wave followed in a similar fashion, sending out eight packs and four alphas
"John, use your Sand Wraith to cover our right flank, Hakar'li, turn the dirt on the left into sticky mud." Directed Duraq'er as the hounds began their charge.
John watched the bulky man place his palm on the dark brown dirt and a moment later the ground twenty feet around him turned into a knee-deep sludge.
So if I remember the area correctly, the center should be right… there.
Willing his Wraith to unleash its sandstorm, they created a neat four-foot wide funnel between the environmental hazards and it was right on time because the packs were about to enter into the range.
Aaaaaaand ZAP, he watched another bolt of crimson lightning strike the leading hounds, turning them into loose balls of twitching limbs onto which smashed the ones behind them.
His javelin and minions followed right after, focusing on the uninjured ones and further culling the angry herd.
Eventually, a dozen hounds and one alpha made it through, but half of them were limping or dragging themselves on crippled limbs and spite alone.
"No messing around," Melis'ar commanded. "Put them down and continue to the next wave."
So went the seventh, eighth, and ninth wave. Only an ever-increasing number of Rothounds they had to deal with. On the tenth, though, arrived another champion.
[Echo of Karil, the Master of Kennels {D★}]
It reminded John of a werewolf, but with sickly grey fur filled with patches of rot and nasty growths.
On itself, the creature would be a formidable foe, but the more worrying part was the monster it arrived on—the biggest Rothound John had ever seen.
[Echo of Rothound Denmother {D⋆}]
Following them were a dozen Rothound Alphas who were looking like pups in comparison.
"Holy fuck, what are we supposed to do with that?!" Cursed John, staring at the massive beast. "That thing is bigger than a minibus."
"I have no idea what this minibus is," chuckled Sakhul'la, "but if it's as big as that thing, I really don't want to run into one."
"What? That's not what…" John spluttered, seeing the man's poker face morph into a wide grin.
"Don't worry, we won't be overcome by a mere vehicle."
"Shut it and focus up! They are going to flank us." Admonished the older lady as she sheathed her sword. "Let me stall the Kennel Master while you take care of the alphas."
After that, she summoned a ridiculously-looking axe and slung it over her shoulder. The thing looked like the dumb weapons in RPG games with a decorated axe head so large no human could ever wield it.
No wonder Sakhul'la called her an old battle axe. This brings it a whole new meaning.
Glancing at the scarred Aerilian, John noticed a small grin which only grew broader as he noticed John's eyes on him.
The pack spread out into a half-circle, keeping enough distance between each member to avoid any AoE abilities, and quickly advanced toward them with the champion right in the middle.
"I'll handle the three over there," he yelled out and stepped away from the formation.
John's body was brimming with energy as he summoned the javelin, leaned back, and waited for it to step into range. Meanwhile, his minions were already working on the second target and by the look of it were tearing it apart.
Almost there… and… now! Judging the distance sufficient for a reliable throw, he reached for his Fate and willed the javelin to fly true.
A slight bout of weakness followed, but it wasn't bad enough to make him worry. Instead, he checked out the progress of his minions and smiled. The other alpha was on its side and struggling to stand up while most of its body was being devoured by azure flames.
"What the?!" Whipping his head right, he stared at Friala'el arcing through the air with her large battle-axe lifted above her head. A second later, she flashed green and smashed onto the Denmother like a comet.
The wolfman sitting on a ridge of the Denmother's neck attempted to jump back, but Friala'el's gravity-defying descent allowed her deadly weapon to arrive sooner than expected. John heavily leaned into his Perception and Focus, watching the edge cleave through the air mere inches before its chest. However, the Kennel Master's right leg wasn't quick enough and the axe cut through it right above the knee and slammed into the colossal beast underneath in a shower of meat, bone shards, and blood.
Tearing his eyes off that spectacle John redirected his minions to a fourth alpha while keeping Storm Wisp ready to create an opening against the charging monster before him.
Javelin was already on its way back to his hand and just as the alpha crossed the twentieth feet between them, the ethereal mist flowed over its head and reformed into its throwable form as it arrived.
Strike its left foreleg! He commanded his Wisp and rushed forward.
The beast was unprepared for the sudden seizure of its muscles and the small stumble allowed John to weave right and narrowly evade its snapping jaws. As it passed by, he delivered a quick jab to its flank.
"I got it," he heard Melis'ar yell and saw three swirling feathers begin carving the limping alpha up.
"Sure, it's all yours."
Dilah'ec and Galan'il were easily fending off the remaining two on the left side with illusions while dissolving their flesh with thin beams of green light and swift swipes of the wooden glaive.
On the right, Sakhul'la, Duraq'er, and Hakar'li were holding the other six off and opening them up for devastating abilities from Ulian'al while Loras'ki was healing any of their injuries.
Hmm, they seem to have it under control, John nodded and sprinted toward the Denmother who was working with her crippled master to overwhelm the overbearing madwoman.
Throwing another javelin as he ran, he recalled all his minions and sent them to finish off Karil, the Master of Kennels. The wolfman was on all four—actually three—and trying to sink his black teeth into her vulnerable side.
"Get that filthy bastard off my back and leave the beasty to me," she laughed, her immaculate appearance gone, revealing a dangerous glint in her red eyes.
Wait, weren't her eyes brown?
Cackling, she jumped right into a paw swipe, turning the entire part into a torn-up mess while getting impaled through her chest and tossed back like a ragdoll.
What is she…
She rolled to a stop, crouched, and pounced like a cat on a mouse, resummoning her axe as she flew through the air. Her hair was flailing wildly around her, but her robe and the wounds underneath it were already stitching themselves up.
Well, I guess she has it under control.
Using the distraction to attack Karil, he was able to leverage its missing limb to his benefit and pile all his minions on it. As it tried to shake them off, he struck out and impaled him into the ground.
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In the end, they watched Friala'el tear her arm off from Denmother's maw and finish it off with an empowered blow to its skull, bringing the tenth wave to a close.
A flesh of light sent them back into the middle of the arena, fully healed and ready to go.
"Aaaaahh, that was fun," the madwoman chuckled, stretching her arms above her head revealing her grey hair once again tied down into a neat bun.
[Congratulations!
The tenth wave was successfully completed.
Most kills: John Miles
Most valuable participant: Friala'el]
Heh, I guess she deserved that.
He also stretched and suddenly realized that the creeping weakness from using too much Fate was gone. Closing his eyes, he focused inward and just as he thought, his reserve was entirely replenished.
"Guys," he spoke out to grab their attention, "I just realized that the wave reset also replenished all my Fate pool… or whatever you call it.
"Woah, you are right," exclaimed Dilah'ec, but there was a much stronger reaction from the rest. Especially Ulian'al and his Knight-Protector Friala'el.
"You can guide Fate?!" The princeling shouted, halfway disbelieving and halfway accusatory.
"Well, yes? I have no idea what is the big deal about it?" John answered, confused.
"You don't seem surprised," Friala'el absentmindedly noted, looking between Melis'ar and Dilah'ec. "Interesting. How much Fate do you have?"
He was about to give a noncommittal answer, but felt a spike of danger, making him frown and only shake his head.
"I understand," she bowed her head, her voice filled with a hint of regret. "I apologize for my inconsiderate inquiry."
Huh?
Now he was more confused than before. There was a clear warning of danger, but why? Somehow, he was almost certain that Friala'el was not the source of it, but if not she, then what?
…or who?
"We have another wave on its way," cautioned Melis'ar. "Besides, talking about other people's attributes is not something to be done lightly."
Looking under the throne, John observed two echoes of Deathfiends stomping out of the gate and preparing to trample his group into the blood-soaked ground.
"Triangle formation," commanded Duraq'er and everyone fell into their place.
Hmm, the Rothound corpses are remaining here through the resets, at least the arena is big enough.
Unafraid to overtax himself, John began spending Fate on every blow and trying to experiment with different or entirely new ideas of how to implement it into his fighting style.
The eleventh wave came and went, followed by the twelfth where he actually got himself killed trying to divert a charging fiend by his sheer willpower alone.
"Well, that didn't work out as I hoped," he mumbled after reappearing in the middle of the arena.
At least I know that the eliminated participants can't observe the round, he noted for himself, feeling no time pass between his death and reappearance despite the missing minutes it had to take to clean up the rest of the monsters.
Instead of their skeletal variants, the thirteenth wave brought in a trio of Rotfiends.
"Let me handle the one on the left and do a triangle with the remaining two?" John offered and after a nod from Duraq'er sprinted toward his target.
After all the successful kills, facing a single Rotfiend was barely a challenge, and bringing a full Fate to the mix made the fight nearly trivial. However, that couldn't be said about the rest of the party, as for the first time he realized they were starting to struggle.
John's greatest advantage was his ability to kite the enemies around while slowly whitling them down and over the days since the beginning of the apocalypse, he got pretty damn good at it.
Especially his new minion, which was pulling its worth tenfold. The Purifying Flameling was bombarding the Rotfiend with clumps of azure flames that stuck to its skin like napalm.
The remaining Aerilians needed someone to remain close, acting as the proverbial tank, while the rest used their abilities to tear it apart. Unfortunately for them, they were against an elite D-grade creature and some mistakes were inevitable.
Ouch, he winced, noticing Hakar'li get blown apart by the ten-foot femur the monster was using as a club.
He wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but by the shape of Hakar'li's body, he wasn't getting up until the end of the wave.
Right Now, Melis'ar's golden feathers acted barely as a distraction, a bad fit against the larger monsters, and their healer was also nearly useless. The overwhelming power of the clubs had to be either evaded, fully blocked by ability, or it would mess its target way beyond help.
The more John observed their battle, the more he realized a chilling truth.
The Aerilians are far better at fighting other sapiens than a small group of dangerous monsters.
The squads were another part of it, a small group built specifically to counter a disorganized opposition.
I hope Melis'ar proves to be worthy of my trust, otherwise…
The half-melted Rotfiend collapsed to the ground a couple of dozen feet away, pulling him out of his thoughts.
I should help them clean it up.
His help sped up the kills and in the next minute, they were once again transported into the middle of the arena.
[Congratulations!
The thirteenth wave was successfully completed.
Most kills: John Miles
Most valuable participant: John Miles]
The fourteenth wave was three Rotfiends and two Deathfiends, and for the first time, they were at risk of being wiped out.
Expecting trouble, John immediately picked off one of the Rotfiends but sent his stiletto to lodge into the misshapen skull of the closest Deathfiend, letting it slowly spread the golden lines and eventually kill it off.
The Aerilians had to handle both remaining pairs and were paying the price for it, doing their best to buy as much time as possible for John, Ulian'al, and Dilah'ec who proved to be the heavy hitters of the group.
Noticing Duraq'er in trouble, John reached out with his Fate and threw his javelin over the longest distance yet—well over three hundred feet.
There was this new feeling of something just outside his grasp and ever since the eleventh wave, John was trying to reach it. So far, the closest he got was when he got trampled by the Deathfiend, but a close second was when trying to save Sakhul'la's life during the thirteenth.
Keeping the javelin in his sight, he explored the rhythmic pulse deep inside his chest.
Damn it! What am I supposed to do?
His javelin struck the side of the monster's knee and pierced through the joint, jamming it and making the large monster stumble.
Duraq'er only had time to offer a small nod of appreciation before being forced to dodge an overhead slam but that was enough. John did his part and brought his focus back on his foe.
It was desperately trying to reach him, but with the burns, heated sand, and occasional lightning bolt, it simply lacked the mobility to do so.
His javelin returned and he tossed it right into a vulnerable patch of scorched skin under its trunk-like neck, seeing it finally stumble and fall on its side.
That one is done for, he nodded and ran to relieve the pressure off Friala'el's group. The lady was crawling forward with both her legs turned into mush, yet somehow still living and refusing to…
A Deathfiend finished her off with a wet squelch as it stomped on her head.
The second Rotfiend died to the combined might of Ulian'al's melting and Dilah'ec's dissolving beams, leaving one and a pair of Deathfinds.
Loras'ki was healing Galan'il, whose right arm was bent in all the wrong places and Sakhul'la was trying to kite one of the Deathfinds around the outer edge of the arena.
"John, you got this," Melis'ar shouted and rushed the other Deathfiend, luring it away from Ulian'al and Dilah'ec. Sadly, to get its attention, he had to remain close, and after a couple of good evades, his left leg got clipped.
He got some balls, John grinned. Even knowing it's not real, feeling your leg explode under you is no joke.
"I can finish the Rotfiend faster," John yelled at Duraq'er. "Let me handle it."
Nodding, the Knight-Protector rushed off to his liege… well to what remained of him.
"We got this."
The monster was sporting a couple of moderate wounds and one deep hole in its flank which John's Flameling set ablaze.
The battle dragged on, but slowly the balance tipped to their favor. First, the Rotfiend fell with the help of Ulian'al's lightning bolt and a well-placed beam, then the Sakhul'la's Deathfiend crumbled apart into golden dust, and finally, the last monster got chipped apart under their combined strength.
"Fuck."
"Fuck indeed," Melis'ar laughed out and then winced, likely reliving the last moments of his unpleasant demise.
"I don't know how much further we can go."
[Congratulations!
The fourteenth wave was successfully completed.
Most kills: John Miles
Most valuable participant: John Miles]
It's a pity they aren't dropping the ash, John lamented for like the fifth time and then thought about what would come next.
"What do you think comes next?" He asked the younger prince standing next to him, but before he got any answer, a deep voice echoed across the arena.
"A valiant show of might," the bored-looking man was standing up and pointing both his hands toward the sky, "but it is time to end this."
A pulse of sickly-green light exploded from the sky, covering the colosseum and all the chopped up and burnt remains which all got pulled into a spot thirty feet away from the gate.
"Ehhh… this doesn't look good."
"No shit…" Sakhul'la snorted and sighed. "I am surprised we made it this far."
The dozens of corpses mixed together and formed a vaguely humanoid abomination the size of a small house.
Using Feral Intuition, he got its name and an inkling that it was most vulnerable to fire and blessed affinities.
[Echo of Rotting Behemoth {C⋆}]
"That thing is an elite C-grade." He cried out and a deafening bellow reverberated through the whole place right after.
The monstrosity crouched down and triggered one of the most powerful warnings he had ever experienced.
The pulsing feeling was back and this time, as if he always knew how, he yanked more than half of his enormous Fate pool out and everything stopped, painting the whole world black with only golden silhouettes of the people and monsters around him.