Chapter 1: Thanatozoology

~ Part 5: I Am Evil! Stop Laughing! ~

“Squeee-hee-hee-heeEEEEEEEEAK!! Hihihihihihihihi!!”

…What did it just say?

How should I know? I don’t speak squirrel. I think it laughed at the end.

Really helpful.

Stepping into the grove, I am greeted with a maniacal squeaky giggle. I feel a little sorry for the creature who just let out that giggle. This was most likely intended as a fear-inducing evil laughter, but… nope. Just nope. It truly isn’t.

But let’s be honest, nothing could make the caped skeleton of a tiny squirrel appear even remotely scary.

I squint above its head and words shimmer into being.

[Mighty Immortal Squirrel Lich “Nutrek Acornazieth IV”]

…

……

………

Yeah. Nope. Not scary.

That name sounds actually somewhat amazing in many ways, but…

It’s a squirrel!

Squirrels are not scary! Squirrels are… fluffy and… cute!!

Okay, so this one isn’t that fluffy. In fact, it doesn’t have any fur, or skin, or muscles… Just bones really. It’s a skeleton. A squirrel skeleton. With a cape.

…It’s still rather cute.

I mean, just look at it! The way it’s striking a pose, its twiggy arms raised towards the canopy as if to proclaim to the World what a grandiose Ruler of Darkness it is. It’s just so adooorable.

I want to hold it up, cuddle it against my cheek and congratulate it for its efforts at being tentatively threatening. I know how much effort one has to put in to perfect a good evil laughter. I remember the hours I spent practicing in front of the mirror. It’s not the poor thing’s fault if it has the voice of a squeaky countertenor who got his nuts crushed.

“Squeeeeeeeeeeeeak!” it screams and gesticulates in my direction.

Aw~. Aren’t you precious?

Can undead be kept as pets? I want to keep this one as my new pe– HOLY SHRUBBERY!!

I cut my mental gushing and hurriedly jump to the side to evade a giant ghastly greenish fireball. It howls past me and I actually feel the heat singeing my skin through the slits of my helm. Undead fire. Drat. It’s not real fire, so my proofing won’t help here. In fact, undead fire isn’t even exactly hot, though it still burns. A [Necroblast] is pure Death disguised as flames. It might look like a basic [Fireball], although green, but in trut, it belongs to the higher tiers of necrotic magic.

The little guy just became a lot less cute. Did it get pissed because my reaction to its “might” didn’t match its expectations? Can’t blame me for not speaking squirrel, now can it?

What a short-tempered rat.

After recovering from the abrupt dodge, all thoughts of cuddling forgotten – with some lingering regrets – I immediately charge at the prideful evil chipmunk while reaching for my sword. No way I’m letting that little nutjob cast a second [Necrobla–

DUCK!!

A duck? Where?

Luckily, my body catches up faster than my brain. It throws myself to the ground, narrowly avoiding another ghastly green orb of flames that sails right above my head. In my roll, I see the spell hitting a tree, which instantaneously dries up. The leaves shrivel and fall, cracks spread through the trunk, and decay sets in so fast my naked eyes can see it. The wooden giant is already collapsing into dust before I even land in the mossy dirt.

I gulp. This isn’t the first lich I’ve faced, but was the [Necroblast] spell always this powerful? I’ve got some resistance against dark magic, but… this might turn out a smidgeon problematic.

Let’s not get hit by that.

Let’s not.

Not pausing on the ground, I roll and jump back up. I unsheathe my sword in the same move and slash at the… air?

Dang. Where did it go?

Up! Left!

A pallid glow in the corner of my vision catches my attention and I quickly sidestep widely out of the way of another killer blast, which then obliterates the moss where I was standing a heartbeat before.

I cast a fast glance at the jagged circle of dead earth, my eyes widening. The heck?! Isn’t there a cool-down time for that thing? How can that shorty just repetitively cast a spell that should be a lich’s finishing blow in my experience?

One has to know, liches are not small fry. Dark Mages who forsook their humanity for something closely resembling immortality, they possess high intelligence, unlike most undead. They usually fight by animating lesser corpses, but that doesn’t meant their more direct attack spells should be underestimated. Thus one of their most powerful weapons, [Necroblast], shouldn’t be possible to launch casually like throwing pebbles!

In the first place, I have no clue how a squirrel could become a lich. Even the beastmen of the squirrel tribe, for short they are, at least reach the height of a child. Nutrek can’t be taller than three feet. Beastmen aren’t much for Death Magic anyway. Too opposed to their nature.

The only explanation I can think of is that a necromancer mistakenly got stuck inside a squirrel skeleton.

But that’s just stupid.

Who would be dumb enough to get trapped inside such a weak body?

Well—

Not. Another. Word.

…I smell foreshadowing.

I said shut up.

While my mind is spinning through possibilities and arguing with itself as usual, my eyes are busy searching for the rodent overlord. Finally I find it, standing on a nearby branch. Its jaws are clattering fast in voiceless cackle and its bony paws are lifted upwards. Above its claws, yet another pair of flaming orbs are hovering, their colour matching the green fire animating the orbits of the evil squirrel.

“Squeeeeeeeak!”

Both the [Necroblasts] are launched at me. I sigh.

This might take a while.

“I wear on me my Lord Sun’s blaze. Let His warmth protect me always. [Sunlight Armour]” I mumble a spell while nimbly snaking between the two incoming blasts. Yellow flames engulf me and coalesce around my armoured limbs like a second layer of metal plates. This time I don’t even feel the burning graze of Death and continue running in direction of… *sigh* …Nutrek.

It’s difficult to stay focused and serious when your opponent is a squirrel named Nutrek Acornazieth. I feel like I’m fighting against a cereal mascot. I really hope Count Chocula isn’t waiting in ambush somewhere nearby.

But I can’t even take two steps towards where that annoying tamia is hiding before another four [Necroblasts] come howling in my direction. Unable to evade this time, I take a gamble. I raise my sword and slash at the fireball directly in front of me.

Thankfully, my half-baked plan works and the spell dissipates upon contact with my blade. I sigh in relief. This Zweihänder truly can’t be compared to the puny holy runes covering the rest of my gear. This one’s a genuine Holy Sword, blessed by the Sun God in person… well, in godhood. It’s not the sharpest or sturdiest weapon out there, but it possesses powers unrivalled against dark magic, and it has the nice bonus of repairing itself when exposed to sunlight.

However, in the brief instant my vision was impaired by the attack, Nutrek has disappeared again. A scream of frustration wells up in my mind, but outwardly I let out a crazed chuckle.

“Hm-hm-hm-hm-hm. Sure, Nutcracker. Let’s dance.”

* * *

I’m not a good dancer.

Nutrek Acornazieth IV – stupid name notwithstanding – turned out to be an unexpectedly fierce opponent. The tiny necromancer relied on its superior speed and small bony frame to constantly evade my holy Zweihänder. Most of the time, I felt like an armoured King Kong wielding a giant glow-stick and trying to catch a racing bike. Slow and clumsy. This was most mortifying.

And I was – still am – mentally tired from my earlier slaughter.

And the little bastard is shooting necrotic spells faster than a machine-gun spat bullets.

Soon I am reduced to defending my life, waiting for the skeletal nitwit to empty its mana pool.

“That, kids, is why you don’t battle against spawns of Evil without a minimum of preparation.”

“““Oooooh…”””

If you’re not going to be helpful, at least stop being distracting!

Sure. Zombie moose. Behind. Left.

Dammit!

I spin around and behead another quadruped undead.

One down. Only five hundred and sixty-nine to go.

Again, not helping.

A little humour to bring levity to our desperate situation.

Just let me strangle you.

Tsk, tsk, tsk. Didn’t we discuss those suicidal urges of yours before?

Urgh!

The problem with my waiting strategy is that, every time the deadly barrage of [Necroblasts] seems to weaken, this little cunning son of a… female squirrel – What do you call a female squirrel anyway? – just retreats and raises countless rotten minions to obstruct the path of its mighty and mightily pissed foe, aka. ME!!!

MOREOVER! As if to further mock my great self, the grinning osshole then proceeds to chill out, sitting on top of a nearby tree and looking down at the melee, while waiting for its magical power to replenish. If popcorn existed in this world, I would surely be hearing the not-so-discreet sound of background crunching over the wails of the encircling filthy horde.

…

……

………

Note to self: invent popcorn.

Noted.

“Silent blades, unseen threats, slice and cut, rip to shreds. [Blades Cyclone]!”

With faint shimmers in the dark air as sole warnings, dozens of deep gashes suddenly appear in the nearest undead. Reddish tar spews from the mangled corpses. Some are decapitated, other bisected and dismembered, but very few, not even the headless ones, stop crawling in my direction. Wind magic may be fast and sharp, and excellent to mow down large numbers of weaklings, but sadly against undead its effectiveness is much reduced.

I slash widely and down four more putrid animals before casting another spell.

“Watch your steps, unworthy fools. This land is blessed. Here the Day rules! [Land of the Sun]!”

A wave of red-orange flames surge from under my boots, covering the ground in a radius of ten feet. Every fallen undead, as well as a few of the smaller ones, are reduced to ashes. At the same time, many others suddenly lose their hooves, paws, or tails and collapse, in turn quickly devoured by the creeping solar fire. The cycle continues for several seconds before the spell ends.

However this is but a drop in the ocean. The horde is seemingly endless and quickly new monsters take the place of the ones I just ashed.

For each barrage of necrotic flames I survive, the next wave of stumbling dead feels even more overwhelming. Nutrek’s strategy is simple, yet annoyingly efficient against a solo player such as myself. Especially so when taking into account the endless stamina of undead creatures. The squirrel lich could repeat this little dance all week if needed, as long as it has the mana, which seems to be the case. I can’t claim as much.

My position was starting to smell bad.

Blame the festering corpses next door.

The real problem comes from the environment. Nutrek’s lair spans a wide area teeming with undead, and offers innumerable hiding places. I can’t keep my eyes on the tiny mini-boss jumping through branches and shrubbery while simultaneously fighting his minions. I also think that silly cape has stealth abilities.

What I need to do is pin down the pesky critter and limit its movements. Like most mage characters, a lich’s weakness lies in its defence. If Nutrek’s level doesn’t outrageously surpass mine, I doubt it can withstand more than a couple blows from me.

And if its level outrageously surpasses mine…

Well…

I’ve never been killed by a squirrel necromancer before.

We take what we can…

No gain is worthless, even the smallest.

Yes, yes. Rule 24 I know. Less philosophy and more butchery, bitte schön.

Deutsch jetzt?

Warum nietzsche?

In the middle of mangling another handful of decayed atrocities, I focus briefly on the green bar in the corner of my vision. My health has already pummelled down to eight percent of its maximum, enough for the situation to be called “slightly” critical. The silver lining is Nutrek can’t be unhurt either. This hasn’t been a one-sided beating, I did manage to get some spells in.

Unfortunately, I have no way of knowing at what stage my opponent is because – reminder – UT doesn’t show monsters’ health bars! Or anyone’s really, except your own. A step towards realism, the creators claim. True maybe, and rather exciting I’d say, but often lethal to players. Not everyone can accurately interpret how much a foe is limping or stumbling to deduce its level of weakness.

So… HP down to eight perce– seven percent. Well, that doesn’t sound too bad.

But if this situation continues any longer, I fear the balance of this fight might irreversibly shift in favour of the dead mouse. Challenger Elric Walker loses and meets a gruesome demise. Minnie Boss wins.

The End.

.

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

.

.

.

.

Yeah. Nope. Not happening.

What did I put in that list of spells “to use when you’re screwed anyway”?

…[Eclipse King Arena]?

Oh yeaaah. [Eclipse King Arena] it is.

With a mad grin, I raise my sword to the sky with one hand, the other crushing the skull of a skeletal lynx. Then I start the incantation: “I pledge my life–”

WAIT!! Wait! Not enough mana!

GOD FUCKING DAMMIT!!!

Wow. Since when do you swear?

SHUT UP!! I’M PISSED!! I AM NOT DYING AGAINST A CHIMPUNK!!

Mood swings much? Are you pregnant?

Not. Now. Brain.

Three wolves missing their lower jaw jump at my throat. My eyebrows twitch. I skewer the trio in a single move, bend my muscles and give a wide swing. The three corpses slide off my blade and shoot through the herd of abominations, breaking bones and necks in their paths.

I glare at the hideous throng swarming me. I need a mana potion, but those skanky rejects won’t leave a dang second to breathe! And even if I breathe, it stinks.

“Get. The. Hell. AWAY. FROM. ME!!!”

I punch through a ribcage, stomp a skull and behead a pair of giant ducks. Or was it a single bicephalous palmiped? Whatever.

Distractedly I cancel [Lantern of the Selfish One] to save up some magical power. I can barely see a thing anymore, but the monsters are so numerous that whenever I strike I’m sure to hit something. And each hit that connects creates explosions of holy fire. Flashes tear through the darkness, punctuated by demented screams. My swords leaves glowing afterimages as I wield it like a madman, slowly but steadily clearing the mob around me.

My HP is down to five percent. I don’t care.

“Bunch of weaklings. You think you can handle me? Hahahaha! Even I can’t handle myself!”

Is that something to be proud of?

A stab my sword in the ground, through the stomach of a shark-teethed eyeless monkey. The creature shrieks and claws at the blade even as it catches fire and its blood starts boiling. I ignore the re-dying beast. What matters is that it was the last undead in my direct vicinity. I crouch and slam both my palms against the ground.

“I want a fort, from dirt risen, to protect me, its denizen. [Earth Fort].”

A circular wall of stone erupts from under the moss and leaves, blocking the path of more charging zombies. The smooth rock defence closes itself up above me, encaging me inside a conical cave. This impromptu defence won’t last long. I didn’t have enough mana to cast anything more substantial, and besides I only wanted a few seconds to myself, alone.

“Iiierk!”

Almost alone. But let’s ignore the smouldering baboon in the room.

“Command. Inventory. Slot four.” I use the shortened command to save time.

*tutu*

Slot 004 of the inventory is empty. 

What? …Did I made a mistake? Well, never mind.

I try again: “Command. Inventory. Slot five.”

*tutu*

Slot 005 of the inventory is empty. 

A vein in my forehead pulses.

I really ought to restock more often.

Again: “Command. Inventory. Slot six!”

*tutu*

Slot 006 of the inventory is empty.

Okay, this time: “Command. Inventory. Slot seven!”

*tutu*

Slot 007 of the inventory is empty.

…GNAFGRJZDBHAZJFBZEHKBFEZJFXX!!!

I throw my hands up.

“Command. Inventory! GIVE ME A GODDAMN MANA POTION!!”

…

……

………

*ding*

Release [High Mana Potion]. It was slot 003, you dunce.

A small blue vial pops into existence in my hand, but I only stare at the floating window before me. There’s a nervous twitch at the corner of my right eye.

What… the… actual… fu–

*cruuuuuik-prok*

…I think I heard something important breaking in my mind right now.

Wait. I’m on it! …Oh, Sweet Mother of– I mean. No. It’s okay. Nothing important.

…

……

………

Well, never mind.

Exactly. Keep going. Nothing to see… Jesus. How am I going to patch up that thing?

I raise the visor of my helm… and immediately gag. Ooooooow! Sweet Applejack. That stench! My nose just had a stroke. Good to see those air filtering runes are working properly at least.

Quickly I down the potion and slam the visor shut. AAAAAAAAAAIR!! Sweet, sweet air. You never know how much the undead stink until you stop smelling them for a while then get hit again by the full force of their… perfume.

I glance at the blue bar displayed under the green one. It is filling appropriately fast. Good. Good. As expected of a [High] mana potion.

I wonder…

“Command. Inventory. Slot three.”

*tutu*

Slot 003 of the inventory is empty.

Figures.

I really need to restock at the next city… wherever it might be. I’m so lost, aren’t I?

Don’t worry about the small details for now. First, we have a bone to prick.

Oh. Nice one.

I think so.

*crack*

…It wasn’t us this time.

I know that.

Of course you know that, since I know that.

Cracks have already spread all over my rocky protection. I won’t last much longer. I prepare myself for the ineluctable and grasp my sword. I could cast the spell already, my mana pool has refilled enough, but I need to make sure the rodent is inside the range or it would all be pointless.

The [Earth Fort] is on the verge of collapse when a sudden bout of insight strikes me. My eyes widen in realisation and I hurriedly throw myself into an incantation: “Pure clarity and source of life, protect this child from the harm of strife. [Cleansing Waters Shield]!”

Just as the last word leaves my mouth, the stone wall implodes and a deluge of [Necroblasts] crashes against my hastily formed liquid shield. Normal water wouldn’t stop undead fire, but this spell is a hybrid between water and light magic. It’s still not enough to stop all of Nutrek’s assault however. Almost instantaneously the [Cleansing Waters Shield] evaporates and I have to dodge the remaining blasts. A few also get dissipated by my sword.

“NUTREK!!” I scream ragingly.

A squeaky giggle answers my scream and my eyes zero in on a pair of greenish will-o-the-wisps staring back at me from atop a nearby branch. A very nearby branch. The beginning of a smile twist my lips. I cast a quick glance at my mana gauge and my hint of a smile transforms into a demonic grin.

Stealth Mago 101: Don’t let your opponent find you.

That’s why stealth and arrogance don’t go well together. I knew he couldn’t resist showing off if I called him out. Whoever insinuated I was bad at planning stuff?

Hehehehe…

Other dumb move by Squeaky: the rain of overpowered Death Fire also annihilated all the undead in my immediate surroundings. There won’t be a better occasion than this. My HP is only four percent now anyway – I must have gotten poisoned again somehow – so there won’t be another occasion, period. What did I mention about small sustained damages and how they come back to bite you in the rear at the worst possible moments?

I hold my sword vertically before my chest, its tip towards the stormy skies, which are now visible since most of the canopy is gone… or on fire. Numerous trees of the [Sacred Oak Grove] also got pulverised at some point.

Sorry nature.

”The Sun can be hidden but always He rises.

His light shines the brightest in the darkest places.

Even Twin Moons cannot hope make His day Their own.

They may shadow His might but not obscure His Crown.”

As I chant, my voice gains depth and reverberation with every word that leaves my mouth. Soon the air itself appears to shiver. Crackles of fiery light tear the darkness around my raised blade. They spiral, coil and lash at the paralysed horde around, like an enraged beast demanding to be unleashed.

I cast a dark hungry smile at the necrotic rodent, who like his minion is stunned frozen atop its branch.

The name of the spell drop like a giant boulder in the dead silence.

“[Eclipse King Arena].”

MUSIC!! 

A pillar of flames abruptly shoots up from the Holy Sword, piercing the clouds above at the speed of light. A heartbeat later, as fast and with the noise of a hundred roaring dragons, a burning ring descends through the nebulous mass, leaving a glowing trail in its wake. It scorches its way through what was left of the canopy and brutally crashes into the ground, shaking the land as if a mountain had suddenly toppled over.

A pulse of ethereal fire surge inwards from the ring, passing harmlessly over the undead but sucking all the colours out of the world. It is if the battlefield had suddenly turned into the negative of a photography. When the wave reaches me, it creeps up my body and encircles my forehead in flames.

Now, in half-a-mile of radius, everything has shifted to abnormal shades of black and white, except the distant impenetrable wall of flowing light and the burning crown atop my helm. Power fills me while several undead tumble to the ground. Not many though. And I’m still outnumbered at least a hundred to one, with more creepers raising from the dirt every passing second.

I can’t stop grinning.

[Eclipse King Arena]. An inescapable battlefield. Within, the power of everything Dark is halved while my own is doubled. The catch is I can’t invoke it unless my health drops under ten percent. Moreover, I can only cast it once a week. And the spell is impossible to cancel. Nobody, not even myself, goes in or out until either I or all my enemies are dead – dead and not raising back up.

Really a last resort option.

Gods, I love that spell.

That said… I cast a sour look at the cracks spreading across my blade. I must have overtaxed the Holy Sword with that last stunt. It will regenerate in time, but without sunlight, this might be a while before I can use it again.

Oh, well.

With my bony bane finally pinned down, but no more escape path for myself either, I calmly sheath my sword in the scabbard fastened to my back. The motion is actually pretty hard to pull off. Back-sheaths are a man’s romance and the paramount of awesomeness, but in reality – even a virtual one – they are simply impractical. I had to spend hours practicing to get this right, but now I can act like the epitome of nonchalant arrogance without breaking a sweat.

Now if I could get rid of that smug grin that invades my lips every time I try to act cool and adequately succeed, things would be perfect.

Sadly, my efforts at impressing are in vain. Nutrek seems still stuck in trying to understand what just happened and isn’t paying any attention to ore-sama. My only audience are the remaining minions, but they lack the intellectual abilities to comprehend my amazingness.

We still have to work on our timing.

Well, never mind. You’ll see what happens to those who ignore Elric Walker, the Reckless Imbe– I mean, Elric Walker, the Great Wanderer!! MwahahahaHAHAHA…

“…HAHAHAHA!! Evade that you damn rodent!”

Completely ignoring the small fries assaulting me, I then proceed to empty what little mana I had left by throwing every single Area of Effect spell I could think off into the enclosed space. The amplified effects of my pseudo-holy magic uproot the trees, scald the earth, vaporized weakened undead by the dozens, and engulf the battlefield in fire.

“Die shrubberyyyyy– I mean, DIE NUTREK!!!”

*cataclysmic onomatopoeias*

“MwahahahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!”

Laughing hysterically, taking blows after blows from the dying dead monsters, on my last leg, I hunt the vertically-challenged pile of bones that has given me so much trouble, thoroughly ravaging the area and effectively turning everything into a bloody mess.

Eventually all the minions are reduced to ashes and I reach the rodent lich. It is sprawled on the scorched ground, both its legs shattered. Hate burns in its empty sockets. I like to think some fear is also mixed inside that glare.

Raising both my fist above my head, I cast a last toothy smile at the fallen monster.

“Rest in pieces, squeaky.”

Classic.

Shut up.

Then I smash down. The earth shakes and a small crater replaces the spot where Nutrek Acornazieth IV once laid.

Silence falls upon the [Lost Woods] and the barrier of sunlight dissolves, unleashing the colour back into the world and revealing an inferno of reddish orange flames devouring the area where the [Sacred Oak Grove] once stood.

“Well tha–”

The ground rushes up to my face and everything goes dark.

* * * * *