Master Sergeant Timothy Charles hated seeing soldiers he trained get injured. The System even offered him the [shield guard] class instead of regular [guard] when he first joined because he wanted to be the one to jump in front of people to keep them safe. Unfortunately, the best measure of competence was levels in an appropriate class or classes, and it was incredibly difficult to gain levels in combat classes without some level of risk. He climbed out of the pit, his burning muscles easing as he saw the injured form of James reach safety, lashed to his tower shield as a makeshift stretcher. Carrying him as he climbed had been a struggle despite his prodigious strength and weight reduction skill. He wondered if he had underestimated the risk this time.
Trafin took one look down the pit and immediately told the boy not to move. Once Sarge spotted a bone fragment protruding from the leg, he immediately understood the [ranger]'s strong reaction. Too much movement and he could lose it or bleed out entirely. With that bad a landing, if it hadn’t been for the stats from the 5 levels of [rogue] the 16-year-old didn’t think Sarge knew about, the runner he’d sent to bring a healer to the dungeon entrance wouldn’t have been enough.
He sent the remaining recruits apart from Gerrard, who was already at the other side, to carry James out. At least most of the group would probably get a level from this. The joys of a lower total level and why recruits were generally encouraged to reset any previous levels in non-combat classes. The meagre stat boost they provided generally wasn’t worth slower growth. Timberhollow's guard wouldn’t be rebuilt in a day, but today had certainly helped, even if some recovery time was required for a few of them. Now he just had to finish the job without any more serious injuries.
Even with the added weight of his armour, it was trivial for him and Trafin to make it across, he was level 27 after all. A quick examination of the skeleton revealed that the final arrow must have shattered the core. It was quite the shot, even if Sarge suspected it was likely as much luck as skill in this instance. While no doubt the bureaucrats would be disappointed at the lack of the valuable mana stone, tiny as it had been, Sarge would happily trade it for one less injury.
“Right, next room has more skeletons throwing things at the top of a large ramp. Trafin, I know we’d said you’d be an extra set of eyes only…”
“Don’t worry about it, I’ll go first, shout any changes and try to rush one, if you two can keep the others distracted?”
“No problem, I’ll follow then Gerrard you bring up the rear. If you can close and deal with one, do it. But focus on keeping your shield up, not getting hit and getting the torch in so I can see.”
“Yes Sarge.”
“Oh, and the bricks they throw are about twice the size of these.” The ranger added gesturing to the small pile of fist sized stones by the skeleton’s remains.
“Wonderful,” Sarge added sarcastically, while Gerrard just grunted.
Sarge hefted the round shield he’d taken from one of the recruits, missing the reassuring weight of his usual tower shield, and the group proceeded through the short corridor to the next room. Sarge could see part of the ramp he’d been warned about from the moment he entered the corridor, and sticking close behind his old friend, he could feel his muscles tense as Trafin neared the end in front of him. There had been changes every room so far, this time he’d be ready to leap on them. As Trafin took the last step out of the corridor and looked up, there was a dull thud and an approaching rumble like thunder.
“Gods! BOULDER!”
As Trafin dived out to one side of the passage and rolled Sarge saw the boulder, almost as wide as the corridor, come rumbling into view down the ramp and jumped forwards. He might be able to get out of the way, but Gerrard definitely couldn’t. Planting his feet, he activated [bulwark] and pored mana into [shield reinforcement], wishing it was his usual steel tower shield instead of the standard issue, wooden guard shield. He crouched low, angled it left as he supported it with both his shoulder and other hand. Better to deflect it than try to stop it outright. He lost track of his surroundings as the boulder hit.
Wood cracked and shattered around his right palm as the angle of the shield tried to shift the course of the boulder, his [reinforcement] failing against such forces. Even the metal boss crumpled inward to grind against the steel of his left gauntlet. He felt the force traveling through his whole body as it reached his shoulders. His [bulwark] skill meaning in these crucial seconds, that felt like a lifetime, and would decide the life of the man behind him, he could not be moved. Regardless of the impact, his feet would not slide back an inch across the stone floor. His thighs burned as he pushed against it until suddenly the force was gone, and half shattered and crumpled shield in hand he stood, as the boulder struck the wall beside him.
The fight wasn’t over though. Trafin had managed to make it to the skeleton on the right. The central one seemed to have veered left after starting the boulder rolling and both it and the leftmost had bricks raised. He charged them with Gerrard following, both his shield and torch held high.
“They’re level 2 now, also the holes are new.” Sarge heard the swift report from his right as Trafin finished that skeleton with his daggers.
Sarge hadn’t seen any holes. Making a snap decision he ordered, “You two look for the holes and what may have come out of them, I’ll finish these two.”
He shifted what remained of his shield to block the first brick but as he tried to pull it back for the second, he felt resistance at his shoulder. Realising his plate must have dented when dealing with the boulder, he took the blow on his elbow. Once again plate crumpled slightly, and he’d have a bruise tomorrow, but his high resilience paid off and now he was leaping over the barricade as he drew his axe. Unarmed and low level as the skeletons were, Sarge’s blows turned bone to powder as they passed through them. He took care not to strike the mana stones but turned before retrieving them to check on the rest of the fight.
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Gerrard stood over the remains of what seemed to be a skeletal mouse or rat that he’d dispatched. Trafin was nearby, seemingly also looking for any other enemies as his eyes darted around small holes at either side of the bottom and top of the ramp, seemingly just large enough for a rat to pass through.
“Think that’s all of them?” Sarge asked the Ranger.
“Seems like it, but there’s always more than you think so let’s keep our guard up.”
“Indeed, keep an eye out while I collect the mana stones. Gerrard, good job. Trafin, well spotted on the holes, I’d missed them.”
“Well, you were otherwise occupied.” Trafin said lightly.
“Are you OK Sarge?” Gerrard asked. His unexpected verbosity touching.
“I’m grand, just need to get the plate fixed when I get back.” He was not looking forward to that conversation with the quartermaster but no need for Gerrard to worry about that.
Receiving the expected grunt of affirmation in response, Sarge gathered up the mana crystals including a truly miniscule one from the skeletal rat that looked more like a sliver of a broken crystal than a full one in its own right. What use the elves could possibly have for a crystal that small Sarge had no idea, but he supposed, that was their business. If it turned out to be as useless as it seemed he'd be informed. After a quick breather the group stood in front of the skull embossed slab of stone that seemed to block further passage.
“I’ll lift, Trafin on my left, Gerrard you’ve got right.” Sarge ordered looping the remains of his shield on his belt, “Keep your shield and torch up and we’ll see what else this place has in store.”
Hearing affirmatives as his comrades took up positions either side, Sarge reached down to the handholds at the bottom of the stone ignoring a twinge in his left shoulder that promised pain tomorrow.
“On 3,” Sarge whispered as he tensed.
“1,”
“2,”
“3!” Sarge shouted as he heaved the stone above his head.
The attack was immediate. A spear with a shaft of bones was driven straight towards his left armpit. Sparks flew as Trafin’s knife tried to divert the stone tip but there was too much force behind it. The weight on his left arm doubled as he tried to shift in that split second, but he felt the pain as the tip found its way under the dented plate and carved into the flesh underneath. Then Sarge’s right hand clamped down on the bone shaft and stopped its momentum.
He struggled to follow what was happening to his companions as the skeleton pushed with its whole body trying to shove the blade in deeper. Warm blood started to pool down over his right hand as vibrations shot along the shaft, a sharp blow from Trafin trying to break it. His left arm burned as the slab was slowly descending. He wasn’t sure how long he could hold it as his shoulder weakened. Peripherally he was aware of another skeleton trying to get past Gerrard’s shield. The recruit managed the initial strike well, though the frantically moving light and splintering sounds suggested it may not be a fight he could win.
Suddenly Trafin was on his right, a firm blow from his dagger sending the spear that was going to try for Sarge’s other armpit wide before he got in close. Gerrard’s shocked look as he realised the shield he raised to protect his face also blocked his view, would be something to address later. For now, Sarge had to endure. More blood flowed down the spear as the skeleton pushed through his resistance. Trafin said something but he couldn’t take it in, as he tried to stop the slow downward push of the stone above them while his muscles screamed at him. He just had to endure to buy the others the time they needed. He was Timberwood’s [Bastion]. He would not fail his allies.
His vision blurred as he focused on his singular purpose, but then there was a glorious clattering beside him that could mean only one thing. As his heart soared it swiftly panicked as something flew past him. He couldn’t process what it meant as the spear jerked back before a body impacted his chest. He wasn’t ready and the stone fell with a boom just after his back hit the ground. His vision cleared as he saw Trafin above him talking rapidly as he shoved fabric towards his wound.
“…Come on. Come on Tim. Talk to me! This wound shouldn’t do this to you, was it poisoned?...”
“Trafin I’m fine,” as he placed his hand on the man’s shoulder, realising immediately afterwards that the blood covered appendage might not be reassuring.
“You weren’t answering.”
“Sorry, couldn’t focus. That stone is fecking heavy by the way.”
The two stared at each other for a moment before bursting into laughter.
As Trafin continued bandaging in a steadier fashion Sarge asked, “Gerard, you good?”
“Yeah Sarge, nothin’ serious.”
Looking back to Trafin he asked, “I felt something fly past me before you tackled me out of there, was there some kind of trap?”
“You could say that, it was one of my knives.” Trafin looked chagrined, “One of the skeles from this room got back up again. Saw it when it was about to throw a brick. Only way to take it down fast enough.”
“Gerrard has it been absorbed?”
“Yeah Sarge,” he glumly responded walking back towards them, “was just checking.”
“Good man. Well, there was nothing else for it.” Sarge hated the guilt he saw on Trafin’s face, “We knew it would get steel eventually and this has been tougher than we had any reason to expect. At least it’s a good source of mana stones.”
Trafin’s eyes suddenly had a gleam in them as he said “About that, I took it out by hitting the mana stone.”
“But I’d collected… Wait you mean it came back?!”
Sarge started to consider the implications as he saw Trafin nod with a grin, a similar look swiftly following on his own face.
“Then this might just be a better result than expected. We need to get this intel back and we aren’t in any condition to continue forward without knowing what's ahead.” Sarge said as he started to get to his feet. “Let’s pull back and report.”
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As Sarge stepped through the magical veil to exit the dungeon his senses were overloaded. The fresh smell of the forest. The blinding light and warmth of the noonday sun. The excited clamour of his recruits talking about their level ups and the remainder of the expedition's return, as well as the more subdued muttering of a priest tending to the injured. The blue and white robes indicated a system priest rather than a follower of The Three, which was surprising but as long as he treated his men, Sarge could live with it. As much as his heart soared as he soaked in all these things, it was the unexpected text that appeared in his vision that broke his calm façade.
[Bulwark] skill has upgraded to [Indomitable Bulwark]