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World: MSS - Loading....
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A war was being waged in Samak City, the home of the Samak Horde.
A symphony, made from the choking death cries of men and the silent footsteps of assassins. A deadly concert showed the stars men in green armor, locked in a dance of blades with orcs dressed in black. The men in green used strange abilities, spitting acid and encasing their weapons in venom. Some of them summoned insects from beneath their skin, covering the skies with swarms of man-eating mites, flies and dragonflies.
The orcs displayed a fighting style unique to the berserkers. Their warpaints glowed, reflecting the moon’s iridescent glow. Spirits of wolves and owls emerged from the backs of their owners, lending their powers for a short while to the berserkers. The battle ensued, moving from the rooftops and spreading to the streets. The once empty roads were now stained with scarlet life-water, cries of the innocent contribution to the increasing number of death cries.
“FOR THE HORDE!”
“RAHHHH!”
“DEATHHH! HONOR!!! GLORY!!!”
The orcs cried out the age-old songs of war, relishing the fight ahead of them. It wasn’t that they had no fear of death. They were like all mortals, fearing the inevitable cold embrace of eternal sleep. But they treasured this moment, for what they would be remembered as. A warrior of the Samak Horde, proudly giving his life for family, friends and home.
The Akka Xalud’s soldiers fought silently. Most of the Cores they absorbed centered around summoning and maintaining insectoid monsters; created through mana and sustained through mana. It took great focus to control their parasitic children, directing them towards the green-skinned warriors. The Akka Xalud mages took to the skies, levitating into the cold night air and attempting to control the spies. Lightning crackled and fire rained on the city.
The maneuver was met by their counterparts: orc shamans and witch doctors. Shamans took to the skies, controlling wind and lightning to break the mage’s rhythm. Witcher doctors remained on the ground, healing their falling warriors and weakening foes with a cackle of delight. Then the orcs brought in their heavy hitters.
Berserkers who had spirits of tigers, bears and lions clinging to their backs filed out of the temple. The honor guard of Warchief Thoktur himself. Their roar contained everything ranging from anger at their city and grief for their fallen brothers. The Tiger Berserkers leapt into the air, striking down mages and swarms of insects with weapons of fire and ice.
The bear and lion berserkers crashed into the formation of the Akka Xaluds, stomping their centipedes and beetles underfoot.
On the rooftop of the temple, the door burst open.
Maria Biva Akka Xalud strode in, her hands encased in a green metal greave ending in spiked claws. Even in the dark of night, Warchief Thoktur could see that they were slick with blood. His old friend, Arrosh Bloodedge, sniffed and grimaced. No doubt he had smelled the life-blood of their kin on the woman.
Dozens of Akka Xalud soldiers filed in after her, surrounding the two orcs. They lined themselves among the parapet, various weapons pointed at the Warchief and his friend.
“You were right.” Thoktur rumbled.
He stood an imposing eight and a half-feet tall, even for an orc. In one hand he carried a greataxe. No decoration, no elaborate design. Just a long hilt made of cold iron and a double-sided blade, sharp enough to cut stone. In the other, he held a great shield big enough to cover two men.
Sitting next to him was a sliver of an orc, almost covered in filthy rags. He didn’t hold a weapon, just a walking stick.
“If only my disciple-”
“I tire of hearing about your disciple.”
Arrosh ignored him and continued. “If only my disciple was as wise as you, Warchief Thoktur.”
Thoktur scoffed. Ever since Arrosh followed that human around near 100 years ago, he never spoke like an orc anymore. Always in cryptic riddles and what he said just now was as simple as it could get.
“Enough words. They come.” He hefted his greataxe which was as tall as him with one hand, putting it over his shoulder.
“...She holds the Flute.”
“Then this will end quick.” Thoktur muttered.
“Ugh. I should’ve known you animals would be here.” Maria made a motion of holding her nose. “Yuck. Shoo, get away. I’ll let you live a few hours yet. Perhaps you can perish along with this filthy pigsky of a city you all love so much.”
“Hand over the flute, girl and I may let you live.” Thoktur got straight to the point, no need to play games.
Her dimension ring gleamed and Maria took out a small rectangular box. She opened it and took out an ornate flute. The flute was dark green like their armor but smooth like glass. Thoktur had seen a part of the item before, before it became a Singularity item. Rumor had it that the patriarch of the Akka Xaluds managed to complete the pieces in his youth but it had never been confirmed.
“It truly is a Singularity. The clouds grow darker, our city will not avoid the hands of our enemies. Old friend, I beseech you-”
“You swore an oath, Arrosh. We will die with this city or die protecting it.” Thoktur snapped.
Maria looked at the two orcs before her.
“Grade-3 and… unknown.” She hadn’t expected obstacles on the rooftop.
Jason allowed in right after the last of the soldiers followed in.
“Gentlemen.” He gave them a nod.
In full-armor, Jason was an impressive sight to behold.
During the auction Jason only wore a part of his armor, leaving his hands and head bare. Now he had on metallic greaves ending in insectoid claws, the tips made of black metal. He walked in front of Maria, giving her a full view of his helmet.
His helmet was a living centipede about the width of her leg, emerging from Jason’s neck by breaking through the skin. It wrapped around his neck and around his face, creating a pseudo-visor. The orange-brown insect moved slowly, crawling over his face and resting its head on top of his orange-hair. Its antennae and legs flailed, every movement completely alien and otherworldly.
Its claws clacked together.
“It’s so cute!” Maria wished she had been given the same Core, [Hive Mother] on her birthday.
Jason had won it fair and square by slaughtering nine of their half-siblings in a battle royale. Normally, Cores that belonged to the family were awarded by rank and need. But this Core was so rare and useful that multiple Scions had laid claim to it. The Core held a certain amount of prestige; it was the same Core that the Akka Xalud Patriarch used.
Creating a helmet out of a living centipede wasn’t its only ability. Just the cutest by far.
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“Move aside and your death will be swift.” As he spoke, the centipede shifted, revealing his mouth amidst a cesspool of leg and carapace.
The opening closed up right as he finished speaking; the disgusting creature acted as a living helmet synchronized with Jason's very thoughts. Then the Scion bent low and touched his palm to the ground. Jason's shoulder swelled up to an abnormal size and his shoulder plates parted. It revealed a ball of flesh, full of wriggling insects who legs stuck out at odd angles from the skin. The two orcs saw Jason grunt with exertion and the skin on his shoulder ripped apart, giving birth to four centipedes that moved to each corner of the rooftop.
｢Jason Carid Akka Xalud casts [Magic Devouring Centipede] ｣
｢You have entered a Special Field: Magic Devouring Centipede ｣
｢ Field Effect - Magic Devouring Centipede is now active ｣
｢ Field Effect - Magic Devouring Centipede: [Spatial Magic] has been selected ｣
｢ Field Effect - Magic Devouring Centipede: [Spatial Magic] is Disabled ｣
Click Clack Clack
The chitinous armor returned to its original shape with the sounds of plates locking into place. Jason sighed, sounding relieved like he had just managed to pop a zit.
"That's much better. Now, no interruptions." He pointed his dagger at the Warchief, a hint of laughter lingering at the back of his throat. "Are you ready, Warchief Thoktur? Didn't you wish to meet me on the battlefield?"
Warchief Thoktur didn’t want to waste his breath. Instead, the Warchief charged with his axe and shield, aiming at Maria.
But Jason was a step faster, he drew his daggers and slammed into the Warchief from the side. He twisted, ducking dnderneath the Warchief’s axe and stretched his body unaturally long. His elongated body imitated the centipede protruding from his neck, the daggers serving as its fangs. The Warchief received the blow on his shield, grunting from the unexpected weight behind it.
Some of the soldiers closest to them lost their footing, stumbling backwards as a small shockwave was released from the two. The back of Jason's chitinous armor opened up and a dozen centipedes crawled out of his body. Their fangs dripped with dark green venom. Thoktur’s body turned gray and his skin transformed into stone. Jason’s centipedes leaped on the orc but were unable to bite through the hard exterior and hissed in frustration dissolving into greenish mana.
｢Thoktur Hornbluff casts [Stone Skin] ｣
｢Jason Carid Akka Xalud casts [Hive Mother] ｣
The two backed up after the initial exchange, eyeing each other.
A bit of blood leaked from the corner of Jason’s lips and he tasted it with his tongue. All they had done was trade a single blow but he had suffered internal injuries. Yet... he had expected more from the older warrior.
“Doable.” Jason was quick to make a decision.
“Maria… play the flute.”
Maria obeyed, lifting the jade instrument to her lips and began to channel mana through it. A song that sounded like skittering legs and chittering calls, combined with the emotionless appetite of a carnivorous insect began to haung the rooftop of the Orc’s sacred temple. Maria’s hair began to lift as her mana circulated faster throughout her body, feeding the instrument’s voracious appetite.
Up in the sky, hundreds of feet above them, the clouds began to gather and swirl. Lightning crackled and distant thunder cracked like a whip.
“Arrosh, fulfill your duty and kill the girl. Take the Singularity.” Thoktur prepared to face Jason again. “I will join you after I kill the Scion.”
Jason didn’t need to give separate orders to his soldiers. They inched in closer towards the elderly blind orc with a walking stick. Some of them had smiles underneath their helmets, happy that they lucked out into this mission. Jason would take care of the warchief while all they had to do was take care of this wrinkled orc.
Arrosh Bloodedge, the Third Disciple of Nearnigh, the [Sword Saint] held his walking stick like a sword. He had sworn a Mana Vow to his people, to never again hold a sword and even now it bound him.
But who knew, the night was still young and there was plenty more blood to be spilled.
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“Whatsss wrong?”
I was walking up the stairs with Kyrian and Skaris behind me when the blonde mage hissed and grabbed his temples. Skaris was the first to turn around, making sure Kyrian was ok. Like I thought, Skaris had a softside to him and it showed in how he treated us. I wasn’t sure if it was a beastman thing, a reptilian beastman thing or a Deepeater Clan thing or a Skaris thing, but once he decided you were a comrade, you were in. I wasn't an expert at people but Skaris' shift in attitude was so overt that there was no room for doubt.
I liked that.
There were bigger worries though, because whatever Kyrian had felt; I felt the same thing. However what I felt wasn’t as bad, kind of like someone just poked me with a needle. But the young mage groaned like he got punched in the stomach and turned upside down. His face was pale and he bunched over like he was about to empty his stomach.
“Something just happened… I’m not sure what.” I took the steps down to where Skaris and Kyrian were.
“I did not sssenssse anything.”
“That was definitely a mana reaction though… could it be that my Mana Sense is more advanced than Skaris?” Seeing someone with a worse Mana Sense than me was a first.
“What isss that look of pity, Sssslaveborn?”
“Nothing.” I mumbled, trying to get Kyrian to talk. “Kyrian. What was that?”
He groaned but I caught the last of the words. “...ularity.”
“What?” Did he just say what I think he said?
“Singularity.” He shook his head and stopped leaning on the wall. “Jason’s activated the Singularity.”
“Shit.”
Singularities were basically end-game items in MSS.
In MSS, it was really difficult to determine what was a good item and a bad item. That’s because they’re the same as Cores; in the right build anything could work. Looking at my Beckoning Cat Core for example, it’s ability [Coin Toss] was downright trash. But by using it in conjunction with [Arcane Masochism], it turned from a sixty-second 50% chance of buff or debuff, into a Attack, Defense or Speed buff until end of combat. With the added bonus feature that I could cast it again every sixty seconds.
Same could be said for items.
But Singularity items were a different story altogether. You had to gather its piece items, known as Plurality and combine them together. Then you could choose which form the Singularity would take, weapon, armor or charm. Higher stat bonuses were a given; Singularities were bound to the user until they died.
It wasn’t like I could go about and pick up random pluralities by hunting monsters. They only dropped from Bosses in secret dungeons and Fractures. Add in the fact that there are hundreds of Singularities and multiple Pluralities for each one… you could spend months searching for the right combination.
“Do you have any idea what this singularity does?”
“I do not know.” Kyrian admitted. “All I know is that the Akka Xaluds gave him this relic for this specific use. Rumor has it that it is an artifact from the Sundering, belonging to the Akka Xalud Patriarch himself.”
“Shit. That means the attack started.” I wanted to punch the wall but stopped.
I saw Skaris’ confusion and could only guess at how information about Singularities would be treated in this world if even Core knowledge was kept secret. Kyrian was staring at me, looking lost as well. They both knew what this indicated: we’d run out of time. The two were looking to me for direction on what to do next.
I couldn’t let them see me panic.
“Nothing’s changed. The first thing to do is leave this place and gather information.” I kept my voice calm and even. “Then… then we can decide what to do.”
We climbed the stairs in silence, each of us exploring our own thoughts. For Kyrian, it was obvious: fear. He was afraid of facing this Jason guy. From what little Kyrian told me, I could surmise that he was a grade-5 adventurer who used insects. These ‘Scions’ or Great Houses didn’t exist in the game when I played but using insects?
“[Hive Mother], [Carapace Skin], [Exoskeleton], [Hive Mind], [Metamorphosis], [Water Gliding], [Creepy Crawlies]...” I began to list the Core abilities that I knew of, trying to think how to counter them.
Deep inside though, I doubted we’d even see Jason. The whole city was under attack and we were just two slaves and an abandoned mage. Chances were high that we wouldn’t be anywhere near the fighting between the strongest individuals. Hopefully, during the chaos we could find L’teya and Clover then escape without anyone paying us any attention.
I was growing impatient.
I looked back to check on Skaris and Kyrian.
Skaris had been the least wounded out of all three of us, probably the most fatigued. I had been trapped in the cage for about two days and was starving. He had been trapped longer than I have; it was a wonder the grim-faced beastman could walk without complaining. He saw me looking and gestured with his chin, telling me to keep leading.
Resuming the grueling climb up the stairs, I assessed Kyrian. The mage had been disemboweled by one of the berserkers. It was one thing for an adventurer whose bodies were reinforced with all sorts of Cores to get wounded like that but a mage who had nothing but his own Mana Heart and Mana Core? Plus he was having the toughest time climbing these stairs. He was sweating buckets and I wasn’t going to force us to go faster.
Health Potions could only do so much.
“You can speed up, Lock.”
“...” Instead of answering, I chose to climb the stairs. One foot in front of the other.
“It is obviousss that you are impatient, Ssslaveborn.” Skaris chimed in. “If the mage sssaysss it isss ok, then I can go faster.”
“I’m not going to be the one to hold you back.” Kyrian lifted his chin and I saw a hint of pride in his eyes. “I will watch your back even if I have to crawl. You don’t have to slow down on my watch.”
I felt my molars grind. Hard. They were right.
I wanted to push us to go faster but I didn’t want to. I was sure that if I had said it first, they would have followed me; all decisions had been left to me since the Berserker Battle. But if I pushed these guys harder and they were too tired to protect themselves when the time came to fight… wasn’t that just using them for my own gain again?
“Not if they’re offering and they know what the cost is.”
Slowing down would be disrespecting them as well.
I had to strike a careful balance here, walking on a tightrope between a decision that was best for the party while still keeping their well-being in mind.
Maybe this was how my mom and dad felt, every time they had to make a decision for their employees.
“Every ten minutes, we break. If I judge that you two can’t keep up,” I didn’t point at Kyrian specifically. “We’ll slow to a walk. Now let’s move.”
Turning on my heel, I sprinted up the stairs.
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Screams filled the air as the slaughter began in earnest.
Between the alleyways and the homes of the orc civilians, people of all races ran in the streets with manacles around their necks. Flashes of fire were followed by the stench of burnt hair and the metallic taste of blood, all carried by the wind. That same wind howled, spinning in on itself and turning into countless blades, cutting down any who dared to flee from the fire.
Beastman. Orc. Human. Merchant.
None of those things mattered. The only thing that mattered was whether they wore the deep green of House Akka Xalud or not.
｢Arione Popwindale casts [Razor Winds] ｣
｢Arione Popwindale casts [Razor Winds] ｣
｢Arione Popwindale casts [Flame Tornado] ｣
Arione Popwindale levitated in the air, dark green robe billowing out behind him. Orbs made of wind circled around him and wherever he pointed with his staff, blades of wind pierced lung, heart, leg and brain with abandon. The staff was made of pure gold, matching the color of his eyes, and had a clear-blue crystal sculpted in the shape of a dragon hoisted at its head. With his free hand, Arione Popwindale made hand seals and the arcane flames obeyed his commands. They rose up like a great tidal wave, greedily devouring buildings and the inhabitants within.
Slaves were burnt alive by the droves, their screams decorating the sound of battle. Minor nobles who had been left behind, merchants who didn’t get out in time. Orc civilians who were nothing more than peddlers, street rats and the like were all equal before Arione’s magic. He left nothing in his wake, just burnt skeletons and men lying in pieces; eye sockets burnt ash-black or lifeless eyes reflecting the red glow of fire.
Arione Popwindale descended upon the burning city like a God of Flame and Death.
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