[11:15]
While the advance party struggled on the Sin Floor, the three-nations coalition led by Absalon faced might challenges of their own. It seemed like every undead in Drakase had answered the call of war. The unending, black tide was akin to a natural disaster – never-ending and all-consuming.
By this point in the battle, every party had thrown out their trump cards, leaving the battle to the fate of the meatgrinders. Throughout the battle, every nation showcased its unique skills in various ways.
The indomitable Rosen army, of which the Maggots played a huge part, numbered the largest amongst the forces. These brave men and women occupied the vast majority of the frontlines, and as a result, took on the brunt of the undead army’s attack. Despite suffering massive casualties, they somehow kept the tide at bay, preventing the undead from taking a single step forward.
Even more surprising was the fact that most of their casualties never resulted in fatalities. Instead, the injured party would quickly switch positions with another waiting in reserve. They would then chug down a potion with lightning-quick healing that just stopped short of regrowing limbs.
The potion’s effects were so potent that even the Transcendents in the skies above were tempted. They wondered how the Rosens managed to get their hands on such an overpowered healing potion. It had to be known that a good healing potion was as good as a second life. No one could resist the lure of having that level of insurance.
Unfortunately, how could they know that the Rosens somehow acquired the services of a Transcendent Botanist? The tiny seed Kashi planted a year ago had blossomed into a magnificent tree that shielded Rosendun from the elements.
By the Rosen’s side, the fearless Serians, who largely consisted of beastkin, engaged the undead’s stronger lieutenant and captain-level figures. Their abnormally resilient physiques enabled them to endure these targets’ stronger attacks, thus relieving pressure on their allies to weed out the numerous soldier-level undead.
The dwarfs were the second smallest allied forces, only beating out the even smaller centaurs. Despite their diminutive size and numbers, the undead soon learned to especially fear them. Following their major losses in the Battle of Aygorzi, the dwarfs took to Just Matt’s hot weapons after assisting him with upgrading a few. Eager to preserve their remaining numbers, the dwarfs rapidly tweaked and improved a rifle model until they came up with a mass model that was cheap and reliable. Of course, they lost some firepower due to substituting for cheap materials, but, in some instances, a thousand bullets were more effective than a single cannon.
Every dwarf, armed with these cheap rifles, fired endlessly at the hordes of weaker soldier-level undead. Without needing to worry about things like mana exhaustion, the dwarfs never had to pause, except to reload the rifles. Fortunately, under Absalon and Just Matt’s tutelage, they learned to take turns, thereby ensuring the bullet hail never ended.
Finally, despite being the least in numbers, the centaurs played an extremely pivotal role in relieving pressures on the frontlines. They constantly charged into the undead’s ranks, using their ki-formations to tear them apart. The centaurs intelligently kept close to the frontlines during each pass to allow Absalon and others to intervene in time if a particularly strong enemy tried to intercept and trap them. Everyone present knew that a calvary’s speed was tied to both their effectiveness and lifeline. It was in the allied forces’ best interest to ensure nothing and no one stopped their charge.
Unfortunately, despite everyone’s best efforts, the undead forces’ sheer numbers had begun to take their toll. Fatigue rapidly spread amongst the frontlines as the unending undead did not permit much time for resting and recuperation. The dwarfs got introduced to Just Matt’s firearms too late. As a result, they did not have enough time to manufacture sufficient bullets, which led to their ammunition reserves running dangerously low. None of the dwarfs were looking forward to returning to close-combat when their population was already at the brink.
Several feet above the battling armies, Absalon’s brows furrowed as he surveyed the situation. As a seasoned general, he could tell the momentum was rapidly rolling away from the allied forces. At this rate, they could only hold on for about fifteen to twenty minutes before someone made a mistake from fatigue. Once the undead breached a hole in the defensive wall, their larger numbers would quickly overwhelm the allied forces’ defenses.
Unfortunately, the allied forces had used up all their trump cards. Absalon could not think of anything that would alter the current situation. Except…
Absalon glanced at Lunette, or more accurately, the skyboat she stood on. His brows furrowed but a moment, but he stopped and shook his head. He would not sacrifice the future for a momentous victory.
The General turned his attention to the trees behind the undead army. “Stryke. You must succeed no matter wha—!”
Absalon’s eyes widened in shock when a green stream suddenly surged out of the forest. Compared to the ocean of undead, the stream was like a minor puddle that trickled to the undead’s backline.
BOOM!
However, the impact that followed was anything but minor! The stream surged into the undead’s backline like a tsunamic tide! The green tide scattered the undead’s formation as they surged forward, causing untold panic and fear to spread across the undead’s ranks.
Above the armies, Absalon could scarcely hide his shock as he took in the most unlikely of rescuers. “Th—the orcs!? What is going on here?”
Absalon was not the only one shocked. Somewhere along the frontlines, Durst and Ragnar paused their rampage to glance at the distant south. They could not see beyond the dense undead, but their throbbing blood informed them of their kin’s proximity.
Ragnar and Durst saw the doubt in each other’s eyes. They could not understand what Renark was thinking. Why would he help the Maggots? Furthermore, they could sense something that shocked them even more.
“Hahahaha! Die, you sack of bones!” An orc chortled with joy as he grabbed an undead mage by the skull. His massive hand completely encased the shiny skull as he lifted it off the ground.
Desperate to preserve its undead life, the undead’s jaw clacked open. A magic circle suddenly formed in front of its ‘mouth’ and fired a concentrated flaming beam at the orc’s exposed chest.
Boom! Hit at such close range, an explosion predictably rang out, scattering many nearby undead. The undead mage experienced a momentary relief, but it soon realized something was wrong. The hand clasped around its head had not loosened at all!
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“Haha. That actually stung a bit.”
The undead mage stared in shock as the smoke cleared, revealing the orc grinning in all his glory. The orc’s chest was only slightly burned by that mega attack, and even that tiny injury had begun rapidly healing at visible speed. Most shockingly however, was the red, explosive, savage, yet contained aura wrapped tightly around the orc.
Furthermore, the orc’s muscle mass had almost doubled in size with thick, pronounced veins bulging against his skin.
“B-Berserker!” In the sky, Absalon exclaimed in shock. The forums had recently gone crazy about the latest unlocked Berserker class. Unfortunately, no one knew how to obtain the class, but Genaco had kindly released a few pieces of promotional videos to showcase Berserkers in action.
Several gaming experts analyzed every microsecond of these videos and reached some conclusions about the Berserker state. First, they confirmed that Berserker was both a class and a skill. To differentiate between the two, the forums on calling the class Berserker and the skill, Berserker State.
The base Berserker class increased its wielder's base offensive stats in direct proportion to the injuries incurred in battle. Whereas the Berserker State directly sacrificed the wielder's blood to exponentially increase both offensive and defensive stats. As can be imagined, the Berserker State cannot be maintained for long. Well, it shouldn’t be able to last long.
However, as fate would have it, Orcs were the greatest cheat codes when it came to this particular skill and class.
Orcs possessed some of the best regenerative physiques in all of Destia. As a result, they usually replenished their blood fast enough to mitigate the Berserker State’s drain. So, while they could not infinitely persist in the Berserker State, they certainly lasted exponentially longer than most other species.
The orc guffawed as he squeezed his enlarged hand, crushing the undead’s skull into piles of dust. “Brothers, let your rage boil!” Following his shout, several similar auras erupted around the green tide. Shockingly, at least half of the orcs had achieved the Berserker State!
The strengthened orcs were like bulldozers strapped with rockets as they bombed through the undead forces. The orcs’ efforts were extremely effective, causing heavy disruption among the undead as they faltered between charging toward the wall or turning around to excise the tumor at their rear.
“All captains, advance!” Absalon, the ever-watchful general, did not miss this opportunity. He swiftly relaid his orders across all channels, aiming to seize this brief window of opportunity. He waved his hand and mandalas appeared below his chosen targets.
Then, with another wave, Absalon launched Leila with the various guildleaders, Durst, Asha, and Ragnar over the frontlines, and into the heart of the undead army. These powerful warriors, who were akin to tactical nukes wherever they landed, rapidly harvested undead by the hundreds.
Between the orcs and the newly launched leaders, the undead army's ranks rapidly crumbled. Suddenly their numbers became their greatest crutch, as the tight formation bred confusion when the soldiers had differing opinions on which side to attack.
Absalon gazed upon the madness with a smile. However, he knew this would not last long. The lich had so far displayed an impeccable mind for tactics. He did not believe the lich would let this situation play out too long before offering a counter.
Surprisingly, Absalon retained an enigmatic smile despite these considerations. He looked at the distant forest and his lips curled, “Show them, Stryke. Show them why you’re the undisputed raid leader for the Hopeful Maggots.”
***
Just as Absalon thought, the Lich had no intentions of watching this farce play out any longer. It raised its right hand, intending to release a devastating spell, but it suddenly paused halfway.
The Lich turned its empty eye sockets to the southeast. “Come out.” Its grating voice, like the cries of a rusty door hinge, spread through the forest in an instant.
“Heh, looks like it was too hopeful to think we could catch you unawares,” Stryke’s joking voice emanated from amongst the trees.
The Lich’s guards promptly raised their guards upon realizing intruders were present.
The Lich’s right-hand undead, a slim-looking 7-foot tall knight wielding a spear, slowly turned its helmeted head to peer at the forest through the slits.
“Alright guys, let’s keep this one simple.” Stryke laughed as he stepped out of the forest with Hogosha by his right. “Formation B-2.” Stryke kept a constant pace as he spoke, confidently walking into the undead’s ranks.
An undead could no longer handle the blatant insult and charged at him with a spear, but neither Hoghosa nor Stryke paid it any heed.
Bam! Just before the undead’s spear made contact with Stryke, it suddenly stopped, rapidly drew back its spear, and placed it across its chest. BAM! “You’re mine!” Sara extorted with determination as she punched the undead several feet backward.
The other undead suffered similar fates as the Maggots raiding party exited their various stealth skills to launch rapid ambushes.
Unfortunately, the Lich’s guards were on a wholly different level. The sneak attacks did some damage, but they were far from being fatal. The undead then absorbed some of the dense death chi surrounding Drakase to rapidly heal those fractured bones.
The Maggots were not discouraged by the subdued sneak attack. They had accomplished their goal anyways. No guard blocked Stryke’s path to the Lich… Well, except the final spear-wielding undead knight.
However, Stryke smiled at the powerful enemy. Seemingly talking into the air, he called, “I’ll leave him to you.”
“Hmph!” A terrifying grunt burst out of the forest as a massive orc leaped out of the trees. In one leap, he scaled over several dozen feet and landed in front of the undead knight.
Renark stood at full height, towering over the knight with his nearly eight-foot-tall frame. “Just about good enough for a warm-up.” Renark licked his lips and whipped his ax at the opposing knight.
The blow struck the knight’s spear, sending it skidding several feet backward.
Having created the space he wanted, Renark laughed and immediately chased after the undead knight. Unfortunately, their second clash only resulted in a draw, causing both parties to back away by a few steps.
After confirming each other’s base strength, Renark and his opponent quickly got serious. Their destructive battle left massive potholes and barren wastelands in their wake!
Meanwhile, finally, unimpeded, Stryke and Hogosha approached the Lich. They did not let their recent successes get to their head, choosing to stop a few meters away from the Lich’s bone throne.
The Lich looked down at Stryke as if measuring his value.
However, Stryke did not intend to let the monster seize the initiative. So, he drew his sword and crouched into a low stance. After readying himself, he grinned. “First, we get him off that damn throne!”
With those words, Stryke and Hogosha charged at the overbearing Lich, carrying on their shoulders, the fate of the entire battle.