Chapter 95: We Didn’t Start The Fire

Granted, the damage wasn’t nearly as bad as in the slums, though the jury was out on whether that was due to there being fewer saboteurs placing bombs or superior building standards leading to more resilient housing. Even so, it was hard to find a row of buildings without at least one fire, and the air was still thick with smoke, albeit not as stifling as where we’d just been. One area that proved undeniably better was the civilian response to the flames; because rather than the hodgepodge, ‘every man for himself’ approach that ruled in the slums, organised firefighting protocols were taking the lead in the defence of the merchant’s district.

[Anne Ominous - Level 1 Civilian

Catherine Fond - Level 2 Chef

Peter Out - Level 1 Merchant

Syre Lawless - Level 3 Soldier]

The group closest to me was a pretty good example of that. None of them were specialists in firefighting, instead carrying the typical Classes that were omnipresent in everyday life, but they were working together seamlessly with an ease borne of proper training. Catherine stood in the back, either generating water or releasing it from storage, pouring it into a series of empty buckets. Anne and Peter then ran those buckets to Syre, who was the most durable of the bunch and therefore closest to the blaze. He poured the water wherever he deemed most useful, before handing the empty buckets back to the runners who took them for a refill before coming right back around for another go.

It was a simple system, far from perfect and with obvious inefficiencies where I cared to look, but that hardly mattered because it was working. They were fighting only a single fire on the side of a single building, but they were making genuine progress at beating back the flames, progress that was replicated across the street, as ordinary men and women stepped up to the challenge and protected their homes. This, in turn, allowed for the more combat-oriented among them to focus on the monsters, safe in the knowledge that they’d return to something worth protecting.

[Bone Vulture - Level 5]

That was easier said than done however, as the local skeletons were airborne, diving down from the sky instead of emerging from fixed spawning pools. This suggested a limit to their numbers, even though the swarm looked almost endless from where we were standing, but more importantly limited who could engage them effectively. Ranged combatants had to take the lead here, while those stuck in melee had to play a purely reactive role, waiting for the enemy to dive before counterattacking. Naturally, Kyle was having a grand time of it, picking off targets one after the other with blunt arrowheads. The switch from crossbow to a recurve bow caught my eye, though I didn’t know enough on the subject to speculate on his reasons, which could have been anything from better targeting to having more arrows on hand than bolts.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

Maybe it was just a matter of preference, as bows were the overwhelming favourite of the defenders I saw; though there were also crossbows, slings and throwing knives in evidence. Sadly, I didn’t have any of those on hand, nor any convenient rocks to throw, so I let Kyle take the lead for this stretch of the journey, following after him while watching his back.

[Knife stored.]

The few times a Vulture dove for him, I made sure to get in the way, relying on some good old fashioned fisticuffs to smash them up. My knuckles hurt, and I certainly would never have done this back on Earth, but my new body was hard enough to get the job done. Kyle was doing far more by keeping the skies around us relatively clear, so it was the least I could do to punch a few stragglers in the beak. Even as we killed, we made sure not to lose sight of the goal, continuing to push our way towards The Dead Horse while keeping up enough of a tally that nobody would accuse us of shirking our duties, real or imagined. We were making good time despite the constant harassment from above, and I even began to recognise a few familiar landmarks amidst the destruction as we neared the inn; such that I started to hope we’d get there without further issue.

[Lesser Dragon - Level 45]

Kyle stiffened at the same time as I saw a very unpleasant name tag at the edge of my vision, followed by a roar that put most jet turbines to shame. Both of us broke into a sprint, any thoughts of contributing to the defence set aside in favour of survival.

[Sarosh - Level 53 Archmage]

This was laughably out of our strike range, so we could only leave it to the proper guardians of Heaven’s Reach, ones seemingly capable of flight under their own, and of creating a shimmering purple barrier that stretched into the distance. I kept running, because while it was great to have that kind of shield between me and a hungry dragon, it was still incredibly worrying that such a shield was needed in the first place. I kept running, my lungs beginning to burn as even my youthful stamina succumbed to fatigue, and at last our destination was in sight. I never thought I’d be so happy to see a cartoonish metal sign featuring an old, dead horse, but I was truly euphoric at that moment.

Then, because nobody was allowed to have anything nice, a second sun claimed its spot in the sky.. I wasn’t looking directly at it, which let me keep my eyes, but there was no mistaking the sudden heat and light, turning night into day. Even this was likely blunted by the Archmage’s shield, but it could stop everything, meaning we still had to endure a fraction of the light, the heat, and the shockwave. That last one slammed me straight through a wall, and then there was only pain.