Nicholas's eyes snapped open, expecting another session of hallucinations. But everything here felt real. Despite his view being blocked by dirt, the man knew reality when he saw it. And this was it. The smell of limestone, dust and earth gently stroked the insides of his nose. Grains of clay, stone and wood flakes bit into his exposed flesh like a pack of wolves. Even moving a single muscle sent jolts of pain shooting up his spine. His bones creaked in protest. His eyes watered. Urged forward by the rapid screeching and flapping of birds disturbed from their roost, the guild master slowly dragged his hands and feet into a fetal position. Pushing his raw, red-stained palms into the brown ground, the man drew his back taunt and rose into a kneeling position. His breath came out in pants mixed with stiff gasps and groans.
[You are under the effects of [Mana Poisoning] -25% All stats +50% All Spellcasting effects]
His breath caught in his throat. He found himself inside a massive crater stretching dozens of metres in every direction. Dirt and debris littered the floor like a rebellious carpet. Massive blocks of stone, carved with glowing blue runes lay half buried in the dirt. Similar to the antics of his own artificial audience, the rubble had formed a small perimeter around each impact site. It left a small circular circumference free of destruction, revealing a greyish soil beneath that resembled the face of a silversmith on their deathbed.
The crumbling outer wall, jagged, fractured blocks of stone and mangled steel frames were all that remained to remind people of its once important duty. Every last vestige of wood, tables and chairs, signs of its residents, had been wiped off the map as a final insult to their memory.
Nicholas hooked his arms over a tilted wall section and pulled himself to his feet, exerting as little force on the stone as possible. After managing to prop his body against the block as support, the guild master directed his hands towards his ravaged belt, still tied against his hip. The man saw his hands disappear beneath the stone ledge from the corner of his eye. He grabbed blindly at the pouch hanging beside his hip. His teeth ground against each other. His eyes watered. His shoulders jumped with every touch. Glass shards and tools mangled beyond repair dug into his flesh with every miscalculated manoeuvre. Every contact gave the man nothing but grief as his hands slowly transformed into a pin cushion. But he knew it was there! The familiar weight of the pouch still dragged his hips downward.
After a few minutes of searching, his hands gingerly danced across a leather surface. "Yes," he muttered, wincing as he spat a few drops of blood out of his mouth with the announcement. His fingers traced across the edges, searching for a cold, smooth coin-like object. His forefinger rebounded off such an object a moment later.
Nicholas's hands slipped inside like snakes entering through a gap between the walls. He imagined a red bottle. His hands clamped down, feeling a smooth, cold surface. He quickly pulled it out. His hands shot up to his face, banging against the underside in their haste. The guild master popped the cork off and dumped its red content down his throat.
[You are under the effects of [Master][Health Potion] +578HP +75% HP Regen + 50& Stam Regen] [Duration: 19:59]
No longer limited by his wounds, the man stood up, no longer needing the aid of his makeshift crutch. He pumped his fists into the air silently while rotating his body like a radar. The guild master strained his ears.
A low thump echoed through the ruins rhythmically. Soft groans and bones clacking filled the air. Nicholas's lips returned to their downward parabola.
Upon receiving the vibrations, the guild master immediately ripped his bag open, pulling out a set of white armour and a pair of white axes inlaid with gold. Nicholas's clothing switched roles. The rags and scraps of armour appeared in his hand while the new, fresh white metal plating hugged his body.
Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
The guild master quickly inspected his armour and weapons before dashing off towards the outer wall. Nearing the remaining intact infrastructure, a pair of pounding feet joined his own. Nicholas slowed his sprint into a jog while simultaneously grabbing the axes out of their holsters. The footsteps grew louder. The din of clanking metal drifted into his ears.
Approaching open space, Nicholas switched into a mad dash, covering the last few feet in the span of a few seconds. He swerved around the corner, missing the spiky metal edges by an inch before coming face to face with his two bodyguards.
White plate armour and white weapons covered their bodies. A few red bruises dotted their faces. Aside from that, they were relatively unscathed. The two soldiers immediately rose from their defensive stances, their shields returning to their sides. "Sir!"
Nicholas nodded at the greeting. "Gentlemen, let's go face some undead shall we?" He beamed an exaggerated smile of happiness while his eyes blazed with explosive anger. Returning his smile in full, the trio rushed to the base of the wall and easily scaled up the fractured, marred surface.
Reaching the top of the battlements, the three men gazed into a sea of dead humans and skeletons bashing their limbs against the wall. Many had scraps of leather armour hanging off their rotting frames, others in rags. Some were stripped of everything down to their bones.
Nicholas turned to look at the two, "We can take them easily. But what is the trap?"
The two men shrugged, their minds calculating the possible ways the enemy could overcome them. Nicholas scratched his nonexistent beard, now just a shiny bald chin. His eyes bulged as he stared at his hand. He delicately traced a finger down the side of his head. No sideburns. No beard. The guild master trembled. His hands clenched into fists. "New plan. Let's carve a path through and walk away." He muttered, barely holding back the uncontrollable rage battering at his mental defences. Anger tempted him, clouding his consciousness with luscious thoughts of murder and massacre. Amidst his mental debate, he heard one of his subordinates mutter.
"Ni-Nicholas. I d-don't t-t-think the p-plan will w-work if what I s-see is t-true."
He turned around in the direction of the man's shaking finger. At the very back of the monster horde were five blue vortexes. From within the portals appeared white plate armour. A cheer rose to his throat only for him to choke on it. As more of the knights was revealed, the white armour gave way to black twisted and cracked metal that spitted out black fumes sporadically. The raised Sailet visors divulged their non-human roots, exposing red pupils and black irises.
A shaky, quivering voice drifted out from behind him, "W-we killed the last of them five decades ago in the Catacomb of Kings! HOW ARE THERE MORE OF THEM?!"
Nicholas and his fellow guard shivered at the terrifying insight, recalling the terrible day of first contact. The plate armour jittered at their owners' thoughts.
The trio's memories were drenched in blood and piled high with armoured corpses. The warm, orange glow of torches snuffed out as looming figures with red eyes descended upon them from the shadows. Severed heads and limbs rolled about in the dark hallways, still wearing the expression of surprise and horror they died with, wide mouths and gaping eyes.
Sweat glistened on their faces as their trip down memory lane came to a close. Sucking in a deep breath, Nicholas opened his mouth to give a speech but was interrupted.
"Sir...you need to see this."
The guild master looked up from his brooding thoughts. His jaw fell towards the floor. His eyes watered. "That can't be..."
Being half-dragged, half-shoved to the front by two "knights" was an adventurer. His arms and legs were bound in metal cuffs linked together by steel chains. Ragged, scorched plate armour covered his body. The inscriptions blinked and spluttered, recolouring the surroundings in quick flashes of blue. A fractured, beak-shaped mask covered his face.
The leading one stepped aside while grabbing the mask and ripping it off in one fell swoop. A feminine face appeared. Dull eyes stared straight ahead, unblinking.
"Surrender, drop your weapons and armour and slowly walk to us or..."
The knight unsheathed a pitch-black sword with a hilt of skulls and pressed it against her neck. A soft gasp escaped her mouth. A small trickle of blood dripped down her throat.
"Or she dies..."