Darian’s crow flew down from above, its talons outstretched. It collided with Sven’s face, the man sputtering a curse as he backed away. Darian used this opportunity to hurl [Flame Spear] at him, but the man was fast. He rolled to the side, a ball of fire spiraling from his palm.
Darian sidestepped behind his zombie, the beast grunting as the arcane fire burst against its chest. But he knew that zombies could take a beating, so he used it to shield against Sven’s ranged attacks. But while Sven and Darian hurled magic at each other, two of the other cultists rushed Darian from opposite sides. They were faster now, Sven’s buff boosting their speed considerably.
Ducking back, Darian hit them both with [Swarm]. The man to his right fought through the sudden attack, but the one on his left paused, swatting at the summoned bats. Darian thrust his sword into the man’s chest, then turned and used his body to block another fireball from Sven. Pushing the body off his sword, Darian turned and slashed at his other attacker. But the man blocked the strike and returned with a cut of his own, one that nicked Darian along the arm.
Backing away, Darian blasted the man with [Flare], but the spell did hardly any damage. Tougher than the rest, are you? He came at Darian with an overhead swing, one that might have been difficult to block if a horse hadn’t run him over.
It trampled him, the man crying out, thrashing with his sword. Darian reached into the horse’s mind, telling it not to stop until the man was reduced to paste. But a sword pierced its neck a moment later, and it stumbled to the side, blood gushing from the wound.
“Bastard,” Sven snarled, glancing at the groaning man on the ground.
Darian looked internally, finding he could use his new temporary summon one more time. But I might as well use it now. He ducked, placing his palm on the ground. But Sven lunged forward, not giving Darian a chance. Sven’s blade tasted dirt as Darian jumped back, fire erupting from his palm.
Sven brought his blade up, slashing through the spell. Then he and Darian were locked together, enchanted steel sparking in the night. They pushed against each other, equally matched in both strength and speed. But then Sven pulled back and his knee came up, smashing Darian in the groin. He grunted, then a fist slammed into his jaw. Sven’s hand pressed into Darian’s shoulder, electricity coursing through him.
He grit his teeth through the pain, sidestepping a thrust just in time. Vison blurring, he hacked at Sven, but Darian’s strikes were knocked aside. He commanded his zombie to assist, but the creature was busy gnawing on the trampled cultist. Glancing about, he could tell the battle was turning in their favor. He could hear Gorm bellowing behind him, the crunch of bone and armor sounding off each time his axe cut into a cultist.
Darian came at Sven with an overhead slash that Sven sidestepped, his elbow blasting Darian in the jaw. Tasting blood, he spun, deflected an attack, and circled. It was as they circled Darian saw Gorm be thrown back, a wave of crackling purple energy lighting the surrounding air.
He needs my help. But Sven was in the way, his eyes locked on Darian. With limited options, Darian used the second summon from his ring, backing behind the skeletal warrior as he touched the ground. Sven lunged, but the skeleton’s iron shield turned away the strike, giving Darian enough time to summon his last remaining zombie. He commanded both his minions to attack, an arrow narrowly missing Sven’s head as he did so.
Fria’s next arrow, one that blazed with fire, didn’t miss the mark. It collided with Sven’s shoulder, flame erupting across his chest. But the man didn’t relent. He fought through the pain, his sword catching Darian’s skeleton on the neck, tearing its head free. But the zombie was on Sven after that, its teeth biting into his arm.
Darian circled around his summon and brought his sword down from overhead. Sven jerked, putting the zombie between himself and Darian’s attack. The blade slid through the zombie’s collarbone, the tip tracing a searing red line down Sven’s chest.
Then a great force collided with Darian’s body, throwing him back. He hit the mud and rolled, nearly skewering himself on his own sword. Then he rose, blade held up to block a chunk of ice flying his way. He smashed it apart, then jerked to the side as a ball of flame zipped past.
A young man wearing a black robe stood by Sven now, the tip of his staff swirling with red light. Darian’s zombie was at Sven’s feet, its body reduced to cinders.
Where is Gorm? Darian searched frantically, but found no sign of him. Then three remaining cultists, one with an arrow in his arm, circled around the newcomer.
“Watch him, this one’s dangerous,” Sven said to the black-robed man.
He responded by raising his arm, shadows spreading from his body to coat the ground. Then zombies erupted from the earth, six in total. Darian hurled a fire spear at the cultists, but the hasty attack was easily dodged.
“Where’s the elf?” Sven asked, grimacing at the wound in his arm.
“She escaped,” the other man said. “There’s at least one more in the trees.” He motioned to the three other cultists. “Find them and kill them. We’ll handle this one.”
Darian charged forward, the zombies forming a barrier. But then he pivoted and targeted one of the tents to the side with [Dash Strike]. This brought him around the horde, and he targeted the cultist with the arrow in his arm next. Using [Dash Strike] again, he was able to hack the man down too quickly for the others to react. Then he backed away, ducking as the dark-robed man sent another hunk of ice flying at him.
An arrow cut through from above, striking one of the cultists in the throat. He fell, the blood from the wound flowing through the air to form a floating shield at Darian’s side. Then Zan howled from behind the group, drawing their attention, if only for a moment. But that’s all I need. Darian activated [Arcane Blade] to imbue his sword with [Life Leech] before hitting Sven with [Swarm]. He slashed at Sven next, but pulled the strike back halfway, turning the attack into a downward chop. Sven reacted to the feint, bringing his sword around to block, putting him out of position. Darian activated [Determined Strike], crying out as he put all his strength into the blow.
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His sword cut into Sven’s shoulder and ripped down into his breastplate, leaving the sword buried halfway in his chest. The young necromancer beside him raised his staff, a great pillar of flame erupting from the tip. But Darian’s blood shield was there to block it, the shield rupturing but halting the flames.
Another arrow zipped through, hitting the third cultist in the stomach. But he still charged forward, Darian unable to free his sword in time to check his advance. He stepped back, the cultist’s blade narrowly missing Darian’s arm. Then Darian stepped forward, one hand melting into the cultist’s face as the other twisted the arrow in his gut free. He screamed and dropped his sword, his hands reaching for his ruined face. Darian stuck the arrow in his throat, then kicked the body toward the necromancer, half his zombies occupied with Zan, the others turning to swarm Darian.
Then Gorm lumbered out from the other side of the building, his body covered in small weeping cuts. He raised his axe and rushed the necromancer. As the man turned to face Gorm, Darian hurled a flaming spear at him, catching him in the back. He howled, stumbled a single step forward, then Gorm’s axe split his skull open.
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Enemies Defeated
[Humans Lv. 3-8] x7
[Human Lv. 16]
Companion Contribution: 15 XP
Class XP gained: 176
Progress to Class Lv. 8 (260/300)
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The zombies vanished, leaving only the sound of buzzing mosquitoes. Darian grunted, the pain from his wounds stinging him. Gorm appeared to be in about the same state. He looked around, blinking, the red aura around him from before gone.
“We’re done,” Darian declared.
“How can you be sure?”
Darian glanced at the “Enemies Defeated” screen. “I just am.”
Zan limped up to him, the fur around his shoulder matted with blood. Darian stuck his sword into the ground and inspected the wound.
“Nothing too serious.” He scanned the perimeter. “Where’s Harper?”
Fria came from the south side of the camp, Gustan trailing behind her.
“Where’s the chief?” Gorm asked.
Probably hiding somewhere while we do all the work. Darian looked around at the corpses, his body demanding more blood. But he focused on what Fria had said, that he decided if he was a monster or not. Still, all this killing. Did it really have to be this way? He walked over to the horse that Sven stabbed. Somehow, it was still alive. Darian retrieved his sword and thrust it into the poor creature’s chest, killing it.
“Here,” Gustan said, passing Darian a small vial filled with red liquid. “Drink this and I can use the vial to make another.”
Darian nodded and drank the healing potion, the pain in his arm and back easing. Speaking of vials. He walked over to the necromancer Gorm had killed. Reaching down and touching the body, the Blood Vial in Darian’s inventory was filled. Looking down at his split open head probably should have disgusted Darian, but he felt overall numb to the death around him.
“Harper!” Gustan called. “Where is she?”
“Hiding, if I had to guess.” Fria said, inspecting Zan’s wound.
Gorm didn’t look convinced. “Chief!” he yelled into the night.
A soft voice followed by shuffling feet answered. “I’m here, so quiet down, please. I have a rather explosive headache.”
She came from around the large stone structure, the one the first necromancer had burst out from. She carried her hat in her good hand, one side of her face caked in blood. Even from where Darian stood, he could smell it. Sweet, like honey. Luckily, his stomach was mostly full. The night he gave into his thirst, he’d been beaten and bled, making resistance difficult. But even if he was sated, Harper’s blood had that peculiar aroma to it, like Fria’s did. It was as if there was something in their blood that called to him on a deeper level than just plain hunger.
“Are you alright?” Fria asked, looking at the stinging wound on Darian’s back.
“I can drink a bit more blood,” Darian answered. “That should put me close to full strength.”
“Not just that,” she said, glancing at Harper and the others. “Your thirst.”
“Handled for now.” Though standing around so many bodies was making him a bit dizzy. “I think I can resist better so long as I’m full or close to it. Plus, none of the blood smells quite as good as yours.”
“Not sure if that’s a compliment, but I’ll take it.”
Darian looked her over. “And you, are you alright?”
She shrugged, her eyes drawn to a dead cultist with an arrow in his throat. “I’ve never killed a person before. Not until tonight.”
“Oh.” Darian wasn’t sure what to say.
“I expected it to feel…different. But I just aimed and shot like normal, and they went down.”
“I kind of understand how you feel,” Darian said, the old regrets and worries beginning to gnaw at him. “But we had to do it. They’re allied with the necromancer, and that makes them our enemies. Right?”
Before Fria could answer, Harper called out to them.
“We rest here for a few hours, and then we press on.” She winced, the rag held to her head coming away red.
“Are you certain?” Gustan asked. “You and Gorm are wounded.”
“I’ll be fine,” Gorm said. “None of my wounds are too serious.”
Darian was about to ask why they couldn’t just drink more potions when he remembered they acted like poison after a certain point.
“And I can just offer jolly encouragement from the rear,” Harper said, a weak smile forming on her lips. “I am reminded why I gave up doing jobs like this.”
“You mind watching the road while we search the place?” Gorm asked Fria. “Might be something useful on one of the bodies.”
“I don’t mind.” Fria gave Zan a pat on the head. “You stay here, Zan. You need the rest.”
“And you, mind helping me search?” Gorm asked Darian.
“Yeah, I can help.” The idea of looting the corpses of humans made him a bit uneasy, but Gorm was right. There had to be useful provisions in the camp.
“Alright then,” Gorm said, rubbing his hands together. “This is my favorite part of the job.”