Kredevel marched quickly. Their destination was almost upon them. His whole body twinged, his horns feeling as though they would emerge from his body of their own free will. The tension was so palpable, he felt as though he could drink it like water.
He had to keep his head about himself. He needed to maintain his calm. The battle would demand every ounce of his attention and concentration.
Maybe he wasn’t the actual leader of their army. Most of the Sylvans didn’t take any direct commands from him. Only good old Serian heeded his words, and that too only when he wasn’t taking any orders from their superiors.
Still. Kredevel knew that he was their figurehead.
He was their link.
He was the one who would need to be in front, leading them to victory.
His connections to Ray and Gritty had allowed him to marshal the ascending Denizens to come in and assist them in their endeavour against the Everstead. In a similar fashion, he had been able to convince the Infected to work alongside the Sylvans so that both groups could assist each other. He was the one who had brought this little coalition together.
“Enemy sighted,” someone shouted from up ahead. Sounded like one of the Infected.
“Prepare for battle,” Kredevel said, raising his voice.
His war cry was repeated along the lines. Around him, the few other Sylvans and the hordes of Infected all prepared their weapons.
It was a bit of a shame the Infected didn’t have access to their abilities. Otherwise, the upcoming battle would have posed no problems at all. With their current limitations, they would need to be a lot more tactical.
“It’s now or never,” Kredevel said, almost shouting. “The enemy is just up ahead. We must give it our all. We must win!”
They rushed ahead to attack the main host. Kredevel was at the lead. As such, he was the first to see that the Floor Lord was seemingly not that well-guarded. Just the initial impression they had planned for.
With rousing cries, they all rushed at their foes. Kredevel called forth his Growth Mana, creating weapons of made of spiralling protrusions. The constant battles and kills had allowed him to rise meteorically through the levels. His stats were higher than they had ever been, as were the Tier of his skills. This battle was his for the taking.
The main thing to hold onto during fights such as these was the fact that he wasn’t here to fight. He and his comrades were here to win.
That was why he didn’t take any umbrage at the way they secured their initial victory.
The Infected fired their arrows from a distance. It began before the charge, before they had begun yelling out their throaty cries of battle and screaming at their opponents. Oh, the Everstead had to be aware that their enemies were almost upon them. But what they couldn’t have foreseen was the rain of arrows spreading in from all directions.
Most of the Everstead soldiers were forced to hunker down behind their shields. Several had defensive abilities that warded off the plain arrows.
But this made them sitting ducks. The Denizens and Sylvans began firing their abilities from range, concentrating their powers to attack from up front. Unlike the arrows that were falling from up on high.
Seeing that the arrows were nothing more than plain wood-and-metal construction, the Everstead soldiers reduced their golden defensive auras over themselves. They instead directed the glimmering shielding ability in front of them. This shielded them far better against the volley of Mana-based abilities.
Except, that was what they were lulled into doing. It spelled their undoing.
“Now!” Kredevel shouted.
Several of his fellow Sylvans, along with Kredevel himself, fired off their longer-range abilities. Protrusions of Growth Mana went flying up like javelins, joining with the arrows sailing overhead.
Where the Everstead shields could withstand simple arrow fire without trouble, the heavy, Growth-Mana-fuelled javelins from the Sylvans were a different thing entirely.
Kredevel drew in a grimly satisfied breath as the Everstead screamed in unison. The javelins of Growth Mana tore through the soldiers’ shields. Several fell, impaled or otherwise devastatingly injured.
They rallied quickly, forcing their shielding aura back to their original shape. One of them was sounding a strange alarm. A loud, blaring noise.
“A trumpet,” one of the Denizens shouted. “They’re calling in their reinforcements.”
Kredevel nodded. This, too, was expected. It was now time for him to step in personally.
He swung in with all his might, his fellow Sylvans and the other Denizens joining the fray. Their goal wasn’t to individually fight the Everstead soldiers. That wouldn’t be the most effective. Instead, Kredevel and the rest of them focused on smashing into the enemy lines and destroying their formation,.
That was why Kredevel yelled and charged in with his abilities blazing. His twin swords were wrapped with Growth Mana that enlarged them as he slashed and sliced in a whirlwind. Spikes of Growth Mana emerged out of his body to stab at the soldiers at complete random.
It wasn’t easy by any means, of course. The Everstead soldiers had enough abilities of their own to try and counter.
One of them chopped in with an axe edged with lightning. Another had created a glowing orb of deep purple energy that forced Kredevel to change his trajectory a little. Yet another man had summoned a revolving salvo of gleaming green swords to strike him.
A solid armour of the Growth Mana kept Kredevel safe. Mostly. He still took some wounds. A slash that tore up his arm. A knock that destroyed several of the horns around his head.
But Kredevel persevered. He had to ensure victory. And to do that, he had to destroy the Everstead formation even further.
It helped that he was targeting the little pockets of space created earlier. He and the rest of his onrushing comrades all aimed for the areas where the Growth Mana javelins had successfully speared through the Everstead.
They succeeded. The Everstead lines broke as men and women either dodged away from their enemies’ charge or rushed in to attack. They were thrown into disarray.
Leaving them perfectly vulnerable for the smothering army of the Infected to ram into them in an avalanche of fury.
What the Infected lacked in Mana-based abilities, they more than made up for it with their ferocity and willingness to throw everything down to seize victory. They fought like wild beasts, unpredictable and unorganized, swarming over their opponents in a tidal wave of savagery and pent-up rage.
Of course, it didn’t go fully smoothly. The Infected were far weaker than their enemies, all the more emphasized by their lack of abilities.
Where the Everstead managed to rally, they were able to cull the Infected by the dozens. Men and women with corrupted flesh fell, their dying screams giving vent to the anger they couldn’t continue expressing via brutality.
But it wasn’t enough. The Everstead military were falling.
Kredevel had the smallest of windows to appreciate that their enemies were on the verge of defeat. It wasn’t just the sheer numbers and ferocity of the Infected that played a part. Their very nature was putting a deadly fear straight into the hearts of every Everstead soldier. Nobody, no matter how brave, wanted to contract the Flesh Plague that the Everstead bore.
It was that fear that was driving the Everstead away. Kredevel smashed through and killed a few more of the soldiers before the rest left him to try and get away before the Infected reached their position.
He grinned. This was turning out to be just like their biggest victories on Cliff Three.
But battles were a fickle thing. The trumpet from earlier had blared in the call for Everstead reinforcements. Now, they came rushing in, ready to bolster their almost-beaten allies.
“Do not fear!” their commander shouted. His voice was loud, carrying over the battlefield, over the sounds of fighting and dying. “Do not fear the plague! We have the Floor Lord in our grasp. We will be healed. Forget your fears, and kill, kill, kill!”
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
Things would take a turn here. Kredevel knew it. The reinforcements, along with the words of the Everstead commander, really did bolster the Everstead. They were killing the Infected rapidly. Kredevel caught several of his fellow Sylvans and some of the Denizens already resuming their battles.
Kredevel’s whole body shivered. He was drawn into a fight too, even if it was the last thing he wanted just then. They had to hold out. They had to survive just a little longer.
Around him, the Infected kept falling like weeds,. They tried to give back as well as they got, but the Everstead were too powerful. The reinforcements were well-drilled and in a tight, brutally efficient formation, unlike the lines that Kredevel and his allied charge had broken. The Everstead were beating them down.
Kredevel cursed. One of his fellow Sylvans met his match. An Everstead soldier on a raptor armed for war gored his spear through the Sylvan.
“Rest well, Rodran,” Kredevel muttered, pushing back a different soldier that tried to stab him with a longsword. A spiral of Growth Mana emerged around Kredevel’s location, impaling and killing the soldier where he stood.
Things were certainly not looking good. A Denizen rushing to his location was summarily cut down by several Everstead. Some of the other Sylvans had gathered together to form a tight, defensive line but they were being pushed back. Masses of the Infected lay dead all around them, the remaining looking as though they were about to finally break and retreat.
Was this it? Had they botched the times? Was their plan a failure?
Kredevel: Ray, I—
Another trumpet blared against the backdrop of the battle’s cacophony. A strange, panicked blast that cut through the din of battle. And then the shout came in alongside it.
“The palace has been attacked!” someone yelled out from far behind. “The royal palace is under attack! The palace walls have been breached!”
Kredevel grinned hard. The compressive tension writhing through his chest now gave way to a surge of euphoria.
Ray had come through.
The shout went on, making it clear to every single person there that the royal palace of the kingdom of Everstead was in grave danger. It was enough for the morale to shift again. The Everstead were hit with sudden shock, dread and fear staying their ferocious power.
Conversely, everyone on Kredevel’s side received a much-needed boost to their ability to fight. They understood the significance of the event. With a huge roar, they all attacked again, Kredevel joining in.
But unlike everyone else directing their attention to the now distraught Everstead, he turned and rushed straight for his goal.
The Floor Lord.
He wasn’t alone. The other surviving Sylvans and the Denizens all remembered their roles. They disengaged from their battles where they could and hurtled towards where the Floor Lord was being held captive. Not all of them made it. But most did. The guards around their missing leader had long since been depleted in their ranks.
It took only a little amount of forceful fighting before the last of the guards had fallen, leaving the Floor Lord alone with her fellow Sylvans. And a handful of actual Denizens too, of course.
She looked up. There was neither fear nor surprise in her expression. Just a blank calculation. This Sylvan. This leader of theirs…
There was nothing keeping her held in one location save some Mana-diverting shackles. Though, they were expertly wound around her to keep her locked. She couldn’t even try to use her higher stats to break free with pure innate power. The Everstead had been thorough.
“We’ve finally found her,” the Sylvan nearest Kredevel, Hoersted, said. “Quickly, now.”
It became apparent to the Floor Lord that her Sylvans weren’t here to free her. The careful neutral expression gave way to a degree of curiosity.
Kredevel stared down at her for a moment. He had so many thoughts and emotions trying to surface just then. All the feelings that had made him rebel against Olgolair tried to rise up once more.
But Hoersted was right. They had to move rapidly.
Kredevel used Projected Growth to call up a burst of Growth Mana. The Floor Lord gasped as several pillars of spiralling Growth Mana emerged from the ground at her feet, raising her high into the air. She was caught. No less trapped than the Mana-diverting shackles holding her in place.
“Enough!” Kredevel raised his voice, louder than anything he had ever said, louder than the man who had been screaming about the royal palace being invaded. It was so loud that several Sylvans and humans nearby all flinched. “Stop the fighting. Before I kill the Floor Lord.”
The signal was out. Of course, the fighting didn’t immediately stop. But the Infected heard his voice, recalled the plan, and immediately began falling back to gather close to where Kredevel stood, disengaging as best as they could.
Since Kredevel continued shouting his threat, most of the Everstead army didn’t follow. The few that tried to chase and continue attacking were quickly stopped by their fellows.
“Stop the fight,” Kredevel continued yelling. “Or I shall kill the Floor Lord.”
The cry continued, echoing through his allies and enemies alike.
“Stop the fight!”
“The Floor Lord has been captured!”
“They’ll kill her.”
“So, stop fighting.”
They couldn’t have the Floor Lord dying. Not after they had been so desperately embroiled against the Infected at such close-quarters. The only reason that they had fought so determinedly to kill the Sylvans and their Infected allies was because they had been assured that they could use the Floor Lord to reverse the effects of the Flesh Plague.
But that would all fall apart if their prisoner was killed by the very people who they had assumed had come to liberate her.
That was what their plan had relied on all this while. Ray, Kredevel, Gritty, and the rest of them had brainstormed until they had found the Everstead’s true weakness. Their inability to heal themselves from the plague.
Kredevel looked up to where the Floor Lord was caught up in the shackles and the Growth Mana spirals. She was serene once again, having recovered from her initial surprise. Even now, when she was completely encased with Growth Mana, where a single push of will from Kredevel would crush her entirely, she remained unflappably calm.
He couldn’t wait until they could finally converse.
Eventually, after the fighting completely died down, one of the Everstead soldiers approached on raptor-back. He appeared to be their leader. His armour was more golden than black, his long glaive edged with an unfamiliar blue metal.
“Was this your objective all along?” he asked, coming to a halt before Kredevel. “To capture the Floor Lord and threaten to kill her unless we surrendered?”
“Yes.” Kredevel allowed himself a small smile, as much to display his confidence as at the relief he felt within. “And now, we can begin negotiations.”
“What do you want?”
“We want the same thing you do, if I am to be honest. We wish to stop the plague.”
----------------------------------------
Ray grinned. Nervous excitement and burgeoning apprehension warred against each other. He was about to start invading the royal palace.
The description from Holden had been accurate. It was an impressive and imposing structure. A massive central edifice that reminded him of an Ancient Greek acropolis, surrounded by the same kind of walls he had seen around the central city on Cliff Two. Needless to say, the whole thing was carefully encased by a powerful, defensive army.
If his estimations weren’t off, the entire compound could have easily housed two of the enormous arena he had fought the Viledrake in. How long had it taken these Everstead to build something like this?
The sight, more than anything, was what had instilled the nervousness. Breaching that kind of defence wasn’t going to be easy.
But he could do this. He would.
Ray took a deep breath, then began. He sent out his Imitator constructs first. It would have been greatly convenient if he could have assigned them some of his abilities, but their powers were already pretty great.
They had assumed the shapes of several of the Infected who had accompanied Ray, complete with weapons they bore. One construct had a greataxe, another a long spear, and the last was armed with a shield and a sword. As one, the trio rushed in and fell upon the gaggle of Everstead soldiers guarding the gate.
Shouts and fighting broke out. Ray didn’t wait to see how well his constructs did. They would survive. One good thing about the Imitator constructs was that their consistency ensured they could survive direct physical damage quite well.
Ray focused on his goal. While his constructs had dragged the soldiers’ attention, he created a couple of draconic maws on his arms as he began flying away. He fired their laser breaths, aiming for the gate. The detonation caused by the blast made huge chunks of the gate collapse on the rear of the Everstead guarding them.
That led to more shouts and alarms, of course. The perfect distraction.
Just one attack like that wasn’t enough to destroy the gate, of course. It was too strong, too big to be irreparably damaged by two laser breaths. But it had still caused enough panic.
It took Ray no time to fly to the actual location he was supposed to act at. The Infected positioned there had already begun their charged, attacking the soldiers positioned in front of that gate.
A part of Ray wanted to dive into the fray and assist the Infected directly. They wouldn’t last long against the Everstead. But that was why he had to be fast with his actual task.
Ray swooped through the top of the wall and into the gatehouse. It helped that he was cloaked in Mimic Mana from using Origin Resonance and Abstract Conversion after constructing the Imitators. The soldiers positioned there hardly saw him coming. By the time they sensed him, it was too late.
Ranged pot shots with the draconic maws were enough to kill a couple of the men. Another soldier emerged from the gatehouse to investigate the disturbance. Ray landed on him from atop, his draconic maws crunching into the man’s head just as his shielding aura came into play. Too slow. A burst of chaotic flames ended the man’s life and screams in short order.
Holden had described what Ray would need to find within a gatehouse if he wanted to activate the gate itself. It took him no time at all to locate the lever.
A quick tug sent a groan shivering through the entire gatehouse. The gates began pulling inward, opening up the path forward.
Ray wasted no time joining the fighting. He had summoned his Mottling Spiritguard orbs. They protected him against the soldiers’ various abilities.
Lightning and fire flashed at him, weapons slicing in from various angles. Ray paid them no mind. His surprised appearance had not only taken the heat off the Infected, but it had also destroyed the Everstead soldiers’ formation and allowed him to take them out quickly.
“We’re not done,” he shouted as the last soldier fell. “We need to keep pushing. We won’t stop till we’ve got the whole palace under our control!”
The Infected yelled with rousing cries. Ray’s heart shivered with building excitement. He realized he was too caught up in the moment to actualize that he had killed so many of the Everstead with such little effort, but it was a distant thought.
There were more alarms blaring. Word must have gotten out that the royal palace was under attack. So many soldiers were amassing everywhere. They had their work cut out for them.
But Ray had a plan.
As the Infected advanced into the palace’s interior, Ray took to the air. He had to cast Lifeblood Soulform thrice to call up more of his constructs. Since there were no more twinges, it likely meant his Imitator constructs had finally fallen.
Next came Soulstrike with Origin Resonance turning their ends into giant spectral draconic maws.
Lastly, Primal Spiritcraft had him crafting draconic maws around his hands.
Seven Greater Windbane Maws opened their jaws wide, bristling with chaotic fire, and shot out lasering breaths. The seven beams of compressed fire crashed into the distant second gate. Unlike the one at the first gate, this detonation was massive.
Forget the Everstead soldiers and personnel, the Infected themselves shouted and screamed as they sought cover. Ray’s blast had made the whole gate and everything around it explode, sending out debris flying to rain down all over the area. The gathering Everstead soldiers were hammered by the flaming chunks of stone and metal as well.
As the dust cleared, as smoke wreathed the sky, Ray grinned at all that was revealed. The final gate was gone.
Giving them a surefire way to reach the interior of the palace.