Kredevel couldn’t stop fidgeting. Not before the battle. Not when the enemy Everstead soldiers poured out of their fortress. Not even when the fray began with far too much ferocity.
Real ferocity. The defenders rushed in. It wasn’t a frantic sortie to peg the invaders back. This was an actual charge, one determined to burn a line through the invaders’ formation and take out their heart. Take out Kredevel and the centre of the enemy forces in one, massive strike.
For a second, Kredevel’s eyes were drawn inexorably to the edifice that was their target. The huge fortress of a royal palace standing over the entire battlefield.
Ray had actually succeeded in infiltrating it already. Kredevel hadn’t thought his estimation of his friend could rise any higher, but watching what they were facing just to get onto its doorstep, he felt he was still underestimating Ray’s true potential.
As evidenced by the fact that he was battling that huge Viledrake far above them while controlling the Eternal Gurdian. Insane.
Shouts and cries called his attention back to the battle rapidly approaching. He tensed. Then prepared for the fight.
Gritty: We got a real fight on our hands.
Kredevel: That is what it looks like.
Gritty: You think we were betrayed?
Kredevel: That is what it looks like.
Kredevel had never truly been certain about the Everstead commander’s switch in allegiance, but all evidence pointed that the man and his fellows shouldn’t be betraying them. After all, what did he have to gain? Just a faster path straight to becoming one of the Infected.
Yet, the enemy Everstead were cutting through the lines of their allied Everstead with total ease. In fact, when Kredevel took a moment to observe the battle, he found that his supposed allies were giving way. They were diving away to either side of the mounted charge by their former comrades, refusing to even engage in combat.
“I knew this would not last,” Ferron said, coming to stand beside Kredevel and hefting his glaive. “Are you prepared?”
Kredevel kept his mouth pressed in a grim line for a second. No, he was not going to look back and see the smug expression on the Floor Lord’s face. “Do not let them reach the captive.”
For a second, Ferro looked as though he would demand who was Kredevel to give anyone orders, but the battle reached them too quickly for anything of the sort.
Kredevel joined his fellow Sylvans and the Denizens in trying to stop the rush of the enemy Everstead. It was furious, chaotic, wilder than any battle Kredevel had ever been in. Just too many combatants with too many powers all in squeezed in too little of a space.
All Kredevel could focus on was keeping his Armoured Growth steady to protect himself against any stray abilities flying towards him. His Blade Dance skill combined with the Growth Mana wrapped around his sword let him cleave through the raptors that the Everstead rode in on.
The monsters had less protection than their rider—though they weren’t unprotected entirely—which meant he had a lot more success at actually hitting his targets.
It also meant that it was easier to unhorse the soldiers and then attack them, instead of targeting them first directly. The disoriented men and women writhing on the ground were easier prey to Projected Growth or Blade Projection.
“Aim for the monsters!” Kredevel shouted into the fray, hoping his words were recognized and picked up by his cohort. “Kill their mounts.”
And then Kredevel found himself flying. He thumped down, rolling on the ground, his head woozy and spinning even as he did his best to regain his footing.
Where had that blow come from? That powerful blow. Half his Armoured Growth was cracked, his chest feeling as though it had tried to stop a battering ram. A small percentage of his Recovery returned him to peak condition, but that was scant comfort when he didn’t know who had struck him so viciously.
But the Everstead soldier wasn’t hiding among his fellows. He stepped into the little clearing from the massive battle. A clearing where the Floor Lord was waiting with her chains.
“Are you the leader of this band?” Kredevel asked.
The man took off his golden helmet with the large, black tassel, letting it stop to the ground. Sun-bright hair streamed down his back, his face young but resolute. “I am a soldier of the great kingdom of Everstead. And I am the man who shall take this nation to the Third Floor.”
Kredevel’s heart-clusters sped up. He smiled. “It is good to meet you, then.”
“Prepare yourself—”
“I am—
The man went on, heedless of Kredevel’s interruption. “To die.”
“Ah, well then.”
He slammed in fast. Kredevel just barely managed to cross his Growth Mana enveloped sword and reconstruct his Armoured Growth before he was smashed back again. It took just that interaction to realize that he was outmatched. This man was more than any soldier.
Kredevel righted himself quickly. Projected Growth and Blade Projection both flew at the soldier. The former sent spirals of Growth Mana bursting out of the ground, while the latter unleashed arcs of energy shooting at Kredevel’s target.
None of them got past the soldier’s defence. A golden shield appeared before the man in an aura of compressed, sunlight-like energy. It let nothing through.
Cursing, Kredevel attacked directly. Attacks from a distance couldn’t overcome the shield, but maybe he didn’t need to. He flashed in, hammering away at the shield with his sword. It took a little time to bait the man’s counter. But when it came in the form of the soldier slamming his shield forward, Kredevel dodged to a side, then swung his sword in a vicious blow.
The man had his own blade out in the blink of an eye. He deflected the heavy slice with no trouble at all, before slashing in return.
Kredevel was forced to evade again. His opponent’s aggression was relentless. The blade swung in this way and that, never from any one direction, moving so fast that it was a golden blur in the man’s hands.
With every blow, it was growing brighter and brighter too. Had to be some skill that activated after a certain time.
Kredevel was pretty sure he wouldn’t want to see what happened when the skill reached its threshold.
With a nimble leap, Kredevel jumped back. A storm of Projected Growth burst around the man. They didn’t impede him, not with his defensive capabilities, but they did hide Kredevel for just a second. When the spiralling growths crashed down as the soldier destroyed them, Kredevel had already leaped to strike from above.
He thought he had been fast enough, but somehow, the man was able to get his shield up in time. Kredevel’s sword came down with furious power, enough to make his target bow down under the force.
But he was forced to kick back against the shield and leap off. The soldier’s blade now gleamed so bright that it was almost impossible to look at directly. A direct hit from that would be terrible. That was why Kredevel had jumped off just in the nick of time.
Sadly, the man had flung his sword at him anyway. Even as Kredevel had leaped back, the shining blade came flying in.
In mid-air, Kredevel had no room to dodge. Even when he instinctively called up Projected Growth to give him a spiralling spike to kick himself off of, it was too slow. The blade flashed in with incredible speed and power. At the point it contacted Kredevel’s own sword, it exploded in a destructive golden burst.
Kredevel was pretty certain he lost conscious at the moment of impact. All he recalled was slashing at the flying sword of his enemy, and now he was lying on the flat of his back, dust covering the area.
The battle was still ongoing. Even near him. The man hadn’t killed Kredevel yet because someone else had engaged the fellow.
Coughing, he tried to rise. The pain was pushed back, the injuries healing quickly thanks to his Recovery. So much Recovery. There was less than a quarter left after he had fixed the way his chest and caved in and his guts were spilling their contents.
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The Floor Lord. What had happened to her? Was she still in chains? That was the important part.
Groaning, Kredevel tried to push his way towards her. He spotted Gritty battling the man with the golden shield and the sword. Her arm had transformed into a spiky protrusion of bloody bone, which he really hoped wasn’t a terrible injury. But she fought with it like a demon.
Silently wishing her good fortune, Kredevel rushed to the Floor Lord. Still in chains, thank the Burgeoner. She hadn’t even looked up at the battle and commotion around her.
That was when Gritty went flying past just behind Kredevel. She crashed down somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t look. Couldn’t determine if she was even alive.
Not when that blasted man was stalking straight for Kredevel with his sword daubed in blood.
But if Kredevel thought he would get the opportunity to stand his ground, he was unfortunately mistaken. A shadow fell on him. He didn’t look up, not until the loud half-roar, half-screech dragged his attention skyward.
For a second, he thought one of the giant monsters fighting far above was finally coming down to the battlefield. Ray and the monsters had definitely flirted with that intention during their huge battle across the sky. But it wasn’t the Viledrake or the Eternal Guardian slamming down. This was a different monster entirely. Reminiscent of the mounts, but with giant wings.
Kredevel was about to use Projected Growth to spear the monster through, but then, the ground around him erupted with golden fire. A yelp burst free as he danced away, just a second before the soldier’s shield slammed in, sending him flying.
He tried to rise, but hopelessness sank in. This man… he was incredibly strong. Far worse than anything or anyone Kredevel had fought so far. Worse even than Olgolair had been.
At least Gritty to his right seemed to be alive.
Kredevel: I need assistance! They are freeing the Floor Lord!
Kredevel might have been overpowered and essentially beaten, but he wasn’t foolish. He might not be able to take the man down on his own, but there were others of his kind. Surely they were… he looked beyond the soldier, where the flames were now eating away at the chains restraining the Floor Lord.
But no one came. They were busy in their own battle, all desperately trying to survive the onslaught. The only reason the sheer numbers of the Everstead hadn’t killed them yet was because the Infected were still fighting on, trying to support them with their meagre prowess.
The winged monster’s landing sent up a cloud of dirt and dust everywhere. Kredevel watched, his stomach sinking in horror, as the Floor Lord stood to her full height.
He took one step forward, but the ground went aflame once more. A second later, the man and the Floor Lord had both ascended to the monster’s back, which promptly flew off with its quarry.
Kredevel didn’t think he had ever cursed as loudly as he did just then.
----------------------------------------
Ray grunted as he flew forward, glad to be able to raise his speed with Soullife Cloak. But even that wasn’t fast enough. The battle in the centre was furious, powers flashing and thudding impacts ringing out to echo over the entire area.
And then Ray froze. The Floor Lord was rising to stand tall. Free from all the chains that kept her trapped.
He was too late.
“Fuck,” he muttered. He couldn’t even begin to decipher what had happened. How had the plan failed this badly? “Stop!”
His shout caught the Floor Lord’s attention. But she ignored him and climbed up on the pterodactyl as a forest of spiralling growths emerged from the ground around her. They spread so far and so fast, rising so high that even Ray, still distant, was forced to stop his rush.
“Fuck,” he cursed again as the pterodactyl rose into the air.
There was someone else on the gigantic dinosaur. A member of the Everstead military, more gaudily dressed than most Ray had encountered so far. Some kind of commander, no doubt. A familiar one. That profile… where had Ray seen the man before?
Ray aimed one of his draconic maws high, unleashing the laser breath a second later. It missed.
All he could do was watch as the Floor Lord ended up at the top of the palace in no time at all. Around him, the battle was still going on. What was wrong with them? Hadn’t the Everstead commander—
Ray froze. Shit. They had been lied to. Tricked, deceived. The commander had pretended to draw them in, to agree to their plan, all the while laying the trap for their defeat by freeing the Floor Lord.
But the Floor Lord wasn’t done. She hadn’t gone into the palace’s interior. Instead, she remained standing on the balcony, looking down on them like an emperor at gladiators.
A second later, two Tower Nodes flashed into being beside her.
“It is time!” she shouted, her voice somehow carrying over and echoing across the battlefield.
The words were so loud, even the fighting started slowing down. The Everstead were disengaging from their battle.
How was it even possible to hear the Floor Lord from that far up? Ray’s breaths turned shallow. One of the Tower Nodes. It had to be the one that granted the use of Amplification Mana. More than ever, Ray was sure of it.
Which meant the other one…
Ray: Kredevel! This is bad. We need to pull out NOW.
Kredevel: What do you mean? What is about to happen?
Ray was about to answer, but the Floor Lord decided to do so for them. The battle hadn’t stopped, but she didn’t care. Her plan had to be accomplished, no matter what.
“Citizens of Everstead,” she said, her voice magnified by the Amplification Mana from her Tower Node. “The time has come to bow down and fulfil your purpose. The time has come to give up all that you have achieved in the name of the greater ascension of your kingdom. In the name of he who wields mighty flesh.”
The second Tower Node beside the Floor Lord glowed with magenta light. In seconds, it got so bright that everything even where Ray stood so far down below was awash with ruddy pink light.
Screams pierced the air the next second. They went on everywhere. Dozens turning to hundreds turning to thousands. A cacophony that thrummed through the air and seemed to make the earth itself shake.
All over the battlefield, the Everstead were falling. It didn’t matter which side the soldiers were on. It didn’t matter who they had fought or where their allegiances lay. It didn’t even atter if they were Infected already or not, for those already afflicted by the Flesh Plague were screaming too. They were all writhing on the ground, twisting and contorting.
“Remember!” Even though the din of thousands shrieking out at once, the Floor Lord’s voice cut through it all like a heated knife in butter. “You serve the Everstead. You serve the Fleshcrafter. Your sacrifice will usher in a new era of prosperity for your kingdom and your world.”
Ray almost gagged at the horror of it. When he got a proper look at a fallen soldier, his eyes almost bugged out.
The armour was bursting at the seams. It was as though the flesh within had expanded, squeezing out through the gaps in the armour plates. Blood sprayed as the flesh serrated and tore. Bodies deformed under the pressure, all turning into grotesque caricatures.
This… Ray shook his head, swallowing down the bile rising up his throat. This was worse than what he had seen in the Flesh Dungeon.
“Ray!”
He didn’t hear the shout over the noise so much as see Kredevel yelling at him. His friend was rushing over despite his limping gait, carrying what looked like Gritty on one shoulder.
Kredevel wasn’t alone. The other Sylvans and Denizens were hurrying to their location too, several looking quite wounded and forced to support those that were as incapacitated as Gritty.
At least, when they got close enough, Ray could once again actually hear them talking.
“Is this what you warned us about?” Kredevel asked, forced to raise his voice over the racket. “This… this madness.”
Ray found it a little hard to talk with what he was witnessing. “I didn’t know they would be doing something like this.”
They were all feeling the same. Expressions of horror pilfered across all the faces. Some of the Denizens were trembling in fright. Even Joaquin looked aghast, his normally tanned face pale in the ruddy light.
“We’ll be safe, right?” he asked.
Ray nodded a little belatedly. “Denizens are immune to the Flesh Plague, and so are the Sylvans.”
“Bullshit,” someone said. A Denizen Ray didn’t know. “Didn’t we learn that these Everstead are supposed to be Denizens too? But look at them now.”
“We also learned they’re not real Denizens.”
“Yeah,” someone else said. “They’re those fucking Imitators, just really jacked up.”
Kredevel cut his hand through the conversation. Ray agreed. They could converse about the mysteries behind the Everstead later.”
“We must storm the palace,” Kredevel said. Despite the wounds he was sporting, despite his condition, he appeared resolute and determined. Ready to continue fighting. “We have a clear shot.”
“Right,” Ray said. “Terrible as is what’s happening to the Everstead, they’re all down. Which gives us a clear opening to take the palace. I’ve a feeling the guards inside weren’t spared from this either.”
“But why now?” Joaquin asked, glancing at the Everstead in dismay. “What’s the significance behind conducting this ritual at this point in time? Are they trying to summon the Fleshcrafter himself or something?”
Instead of any of them replying, it was the Floor Lord herself who answered.
“This is what we have been building up to all this time,” she said from high above, her voice echoing over the screams. “This is the culmination of our—of my—efforts. The first great tribute that will grant the Fleshcrafter control over this entire Tower. That is the significance, little Denizen.”
“You will not succeed,” Kredevel said. Now that they knew the Floor Lord could hear them, he wasn’t even bothering to raise his voice. “This Tower belongs to no Paragon, certainly not one who demands such vile sacrifice. We will stop you, Floor Lord. We will kill you.”
Ray had a hard time seeing the Floor Lord’s physical reaction, but her voice made her derision clear.
“You should have done so when you could,” she said. “Now, you will be lucky to even make it this far.”
“We’ll see about that,” Ray said
“You do not need to fight me. You—”
“That’s a lie and you know it. We’re aware that the Everstead need to kill actual Denizens to advance to the Third Floor. Otherwise, they’d already be gone.”
“Perhaps. But there are merely a scant few of them, each of whom need only one kill per entity. You outnumber them easily. Would it not be easier to pick a handful to die, so the rest of you may advance to the Third Floor as well with no fuss?”
Her words had the desired effect. Several of the newer Denizens, the ones Ray didn’t recognize, all looked around with furtive glances. Their hands clenched, their shoulders tensing.
Ah, shit. They couldn’t fight internally now of all times.
“We are not selling out any of our comrades for such vile reasons,” Joaquin said.
His attention had turned away from the Everstead, though he still appeared horrified. There was a conviction in his voice that assuaged the ones who had looked frightened. The ones even Ray had begun to doubt. It had been nothing more than a momentary lapse in judgment.
“That’s right,” Ray said. Unlike the others, he did raise his volume, yelling out to inject some of the energy he was feeling into his words. “We’re all going to come up there and tear you down from your perch.”
No point in waiting for the Floor Lord to try and divide them up even more. It was time to act.
Ray nodded at his allies, fortifying his determination as he did his best to ignore the screaming Everstead. “Kredevel’s right. We’ve got to stop her. It won’t be easy. There are a few powerful Everstead and Sylvans from the Third Floor supporting her. But we can do this.”
In no time at all, they all reflected back his determined expression. Even the new Denizens, who had so little skin in the game, who had even looked ready to abandon them a few moments ago.
Ray turned back to the royal palace. “Let’s end this.”