Sweat ran down my brow. Blood warmed through patches of my suit where blades had shredded the fabric. My muscles ached and even the pulse of adrenaline keeping me in the fight was barely enough to erase the exhaustion constantly weighing me down.
Still, the smile hadn’t left my face.
Eight guards were dead. Seven still remained. Six seconds of silence had passed as five circled me, warily. For their efforts, three were maimed yet held steadfast. Two were at range still, bows tense and ready to fire once they had a clear shot at their target.
That being me. Number one.
They had surprised me, briefly. Back at the other tower, the guards there had been as simple as we had expected of the System-created. Here, they had more intelligence. Not quite enough to make them believably ‘living’, but they actually had some manner of tactics and self-preservation.
I had half expected more to emerge from the tower, or perhaps the spellcaster would stand atop the battlements to do something to me—not cast magic, I hoped—but whoever or whatever was inside was keen to allow the current guards to finish me off. Unfortunately, I wasn’t that easy to steamroll.
One made a move.
After the skirmish so far, I failed to gather the strength to bring the shield up. I had switched my main hand melee weapon about six or so times during the fight. A few of them littered the blood flecked grass surrounding me. I didn’t have the stats for such a prolonged scuffle.
I jumped into the air, landing atop a summoned chair. The spear that had been thrust towards me went between my legs, hitting the backrest of the wooden seat. It shuffled and tipped from the force of the strike, sending me off balance. I hit the ground at an awkward angle, rolling away from the furniture plucked back up into my Inventory. A terrible escape that left me open to two of the group.
As they loomed over me, spears angled downward like I was some fish in a barrel, I gave them that reality. Both weapons jabbed down at me, the first getting stuck in a summoned wooden barrel, while the second struck flesh.
Oh, what I wouldn’t to be able to teleport at this stage. It was like I had my wings clipped.
I rolled across the grass and back up to my feet, narrowly avoiding getting pierced through by an arrow that whizzed past my head. While the first guard that had attacked was trying to pull his weapon from the barrel, the second looked at the large fish he had impaled instead of me with a quizzical look on his face.
The shield went back into my Inventory as I withdrew the last loaded crossbow into my hand.
I summoned a greatsword beside me to deflect the attack from my right. To my left, a cloak swirled through the air, obscuring my side. Some old classics, but they worked. My eyes felt dry and cracked. Doing all of this on a good day was a struggle. In my present state, it was only by how overpowered
While I didn’t have the time or brainpower to really consider what the System considered ‘magic’ when it came down to the spell around this area, it at least allowed me the bare minimum to perform. Potions were fine. I had healed that way, despite disliking the taste still. The stolen skill was okay and effective. There was only so much dodging and blocking I could do, however.
I had tricks to get out of situations, but I wasn’t an extended battle sort of guy, I repeated internally. My magic often cut short any fights, usually right around the neckline. It was my own fault, of course. Knowing that I would have no magical capacity, yet still need to kill my way through a guarded tower. Did I like a challenge?
Part of me was willing to accept that I liked being opposed. Or perhaps opposing a greater evil force. Fighting against the odds just came part and parcel for those sorts of heroics. I didn’t want to struggle. It was just acceptable.
There was an end we were aiming for. Everything had a purpose, despite whatever trappings you could labor it with. Even what the Lady had planned, she had a goal. We were opposed, and whoever was left standing after our long overdue showdown would determine the fate of this world.
That all seemed very highbrow while I currently stood, drenched in sweat, muddied, and soaked through with blood. My goal was to live, and these remaining guards stood opposed to that.
Before they could ready themselves once more, I took the initiative. A renewed burst of energy filled my limbs as my brain gripped tight on the purpose briefly brought to the front of my mind.
Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.
As the closest guard on my left kicked back the barrel he had withdrawn his spear from, I hopped atop it and jumped down on him. Out of my hand I threw a bag of powder, which caught on his spear lifting toward me. It burst, spraying out the contents across his face. Something I had scooped up from hell itself. The System called it [Darkfire’s Agony], but for me it worked well enough to blind my opponent.
I collided with him—his spear now slightly offset piercing through my jacket and missing my side—knocking him over and bruising myself. Not much for wrestling, I turned and rolled from him, leaving behind a few chairs from my Inventory to prevent him from lashing out. Not particularly needed, as he seemed occupied with trying to clear his eyes of the hellish dust.
Another arrow whipped past me as I wobbled back up to my feet, the long shaft embedding into the ground just behind where I stood. There was still a good distance between the melee and the one remaining bowman, and I briefly cursed—for probably the dozenth time—the fact I couldn’t use my magic here.
What was actually surprising, however, was the expression on those who remained.
For the most part, the System-created we had met in our travels had been rather impassive and simplistic. As if they had been made with the sole instruction to stand around and just fight whoever gets close enough until either they or their attacker were dead.
But the guards here now looked worried. As if their morale was wavering and the possibility that they could flee was just waiting in the wings. Despite being allied with or corrupted by the Crimson Shadow, they did not bear the mark of the Lady. If I could just twist the screws, there was a chance I could scare the rest of them off.
A renewed smile crossed my face. I had been stupidly hesitant to try it out, just in case it failed and I had a further identity crisis. But now was as good a time as any.
“Feast your eyes on your imminent demise,” I said, cringing internally at the unintentional rhyme of my threat.
Two large wings broke from the back of my suit and cracked outward, snapping a gust of air toward my opponents. Horns grew from my skull, knocking my top hat off. My grin grew wider as my canines extended into fangs.
Part of me expected the guards to just shrug off my transformation. Few non-Players had shown fear in all my time here, aside from those paying fealty down in hell.
But this broke them.
“Tactical retreat,” the one with the bow called.
The few System-created who had the capacity to backed up into a small squad, their spears held out toward as if to ward off any potential attack. As a group, they started to head toward the opening in the wall.
That was pretty handy, as I was growing tired of fighting them. However, I couldn’t risk them regrouping and causing an issue later—especially if they decided to find back up. No doubt the Lady had other plans or assets in the area, and wouldn’t want to give up the spellcaster too easily.
That’s if he was even here. More fool me if this was a wild goose chase, and I was getting beaten up for no real gain. It would be a decent trap, actually. Lure me somewhere where I was at a disadvantage and then… perhaps fill the tower with some powerful melee fighter after I get worn out with the guards.
Almost felt too good an opportunity. I would almost be disappointed if that wasn’t the case.
I leaped from my position, my wings taking me into the air and extending the distance so that I would come down on the retreating guards. It would be a mistake to let them leave. I made my entrance to the second act with a heavy swing of the sledgehammer. My target crumpled into a mess of bent metal and shattered bones as my wings knocked another back.
With their morale broken, they were less of a threat. It wasn’t that my demonic form made me that much stronger—although it did improve my physical capabilities—the pendulum just swung extra hard in my favor.
I withdrew the obsidian sword from the last of them, each cut down in a matter of seconds. Wiped the blood from my mouth after having bitten the throat out of another. Looted them for all that was worth. I turned my head to the side to regard the tower once more.
It stood, static and unyielding. No hint as to what might lie inside. A glance upward revealed that the two guards posted up on the roof were no longer there. Perhaps a good thing, as it meant less chance of me taking a crossbow bolt through the skull. I was half tempted to try to get up to the roof with my wings, but they weren’t the best for flying and putting myself high enough into the air to break my legs without any of my usual bullshit to save myself sounded pretty dire.
For now, I let my demonic form fade away. The wings shriveled up as the horns fell from my head. I covered my messy hair with my hat, retrieved from my Inventory. All the wounds received during the fight were slowly healing—not quite at my usual regeneration speed—and I was keen to press on before either my adrenaline wore off, or I took some hits that I couldn’t so easily recover from.
I stepped up to the front door of the tower. Reinforced wood, and sturdy as they came. Usually they appeared without the large hand print painted red across the dark wood, but the Crimson Shadow seemed to leave their mark wherever they went in some manner. Even without trying the handle, I could tell it would be locked.
Just a hunch, based on experience.
Usually not a big deal, as I had a hundred and one ways in which to circumvent a locked door. Without my magic, I had fewer options, but as always - preparedness was the key.
Well, so was the [Skeleton Key] I had in my Inventory. Another useful tool looted from hell, I had a handful of the single use items. Not much need of them, until now. That was, of course, how most of the items in my storage lived.
I spun one of the keys out on my index finger before grasping it. To my eyes, it looked just like any other iron key, although I wasn’t really an expert. As long as the door knew what game we were playing, everything would be fine.
Readying myself for the inevitable ambush as soon as I entered the door, I placed the key in the lock and turned. A satisfying click came from the mechanism, notifying me the plan had been successful. Everything was going my way.
Oh, and I had also picked up a curse from the interaction.