Kalin moved through the streets at a sprint. No one saw him, no one heard him his invisibility active kept him from even casting a shadow. He leapt over a gargoyle feasting on a man on the sidewalk. His movements were as fast as a galloping horse, but he still felt he was going to slow. The buildings grew more run down until he arrived at the run-down warehouse. A hole through the side of the building made his heart stop as he leapt inside.
Blood spattered the walls and he saw the bodies of several of his friends already cooling on the ground. A gargoyle was clawing at a hole in the ground that he knew led to where they had their hidey hole. He wanted to scream in rage and attack but stopped, he wasn’t Mordred. Kalin didn’t know if he could ever live up to the role his master had set for him, but he would try but today he had to do this his way.
Stalking forward he teleported through the shadows into the rafters. His boots didn’t make as sound as he landed on a beam and looked down. Taking a breath, he dropped his full weight driving his sword down. The piercing weapon wasn’t the ideal weapon to use against the beast but his Attribute bonus he got for being a vassal of the Warlord let him hit like someone with a much higher rank than he had. A massive crack spiderwebbed over the gargoyle as he struck it from above.
The gargoyle bucked and tried to throw him off, but Kalin kept a grip on one of its horns cutting down with a sword harder than diamond into the weakened monster. It shattered and he fell to the ground amidst the rock and rubble. He hadn’t taken a single hit from it which was good, at his rank one hit would probably have killed him.
125 rank points gained.
The rank points were immense and would help to quickly power him to Veteran rank.
Frozen Visage (Rank 1): When motionless you blend into the background not seeming out of place and people, beasts and monsters’ eyes will slide off of you without them even realizing.
Kaling wasn’t sure if the ability was worth the cost when he felt the red sticky blood of his friend under his boots. Pushing aside his guilt for not being fast enough, he looked down the hole. Ten frightened faces looked back at him in shock and awe, and he was reminded of how he had looked when he saw Mordred.
It made him a bit sad to realize he wasn’t one of them anymore. His friends didn’t look at him like he was one of them, because he wasn’t, not anymore. The Warlord was making him into something more than he had been and could have been without his intervention.
---
Jaruk stood atop a spire of rock overlooking a tribe of small goblins who had gathered to watch this massive goblin who stood taller than an orc and was dressed finer than any chieftain they had ever heard of. His words were proud and confident with none of the fear or self-doubt that plagued them.
“I am a prophet of the Warlord, I was like you, small and weak, until the Warlord put a propa weapon in my hand,” Juruk said raising his spiked armored fists. “he showed me that if you want to be strong you gotta run headfirst at your enemy and not hide in your holes.”
The goblins looked up at him in a mixture of disbelief, awe, fear, and apprehension. A large goblin shoved his way through the crowd. He stood almost as tall as Jaruk but the two could never be mistaken for each other.
“Be gone from my tribe outsider,” the goblin chief spat at him. “You are not welcome here; your words bring death to all our peoples. We are not meant to fight in the open, we belong to the shadows.”
Jaruk jumped down the goblins diving out of the way as he landed in the mud spraying it out over them and their chieftain. He looked at the shorter goblin and sneered.
This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author's consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.
“You cannot tell me to go or to stay,” Jaruk said. “You have grown fat here, taking all rank points for yourself but you are no true chieftain. I challenge you for rulership of this tribe.”
The chieftain snarled then sagged his shoulders. His façade of defeat lasted for only a moment as he sprung forward trying to drive a dagger through Jaruk’s chest. Jaruk blocked the weapon on his spiked gauntlet then drove the claws from his knuckles on his other hand through the other goblin’s throat. Blood sprayed out at the chieftain staggered mortally wounded but not dead yet. Jaruk grabbed him by the head and neck a sickening crack sounded as he snapped his neck and then ripped the other goblins head off.
Holding his trophy up into the air Jaruk stared down the rest of the tribe. “You serve me and through me the Warlord!” he shouted. “You will grow mighty, or your blood will water the ground for those stronger than you.”
---
Jeriah stood at the front as spears stabbed out in a phalanx in front of him. The army of Camelot stood against them outnumbering them three to one. Arrows fell from the sky like hailstones, but Jeriah didn’t even move the Foresight granted to him by the Warlord letting him know none of them would be able to pierce his armor. Like an avalanche the army marched forwards spears sliding back and slamming forward and abilities blasting out in front of them like the jaws of a snapping beast.
Wars between Gifted armies were always awkward, they weren’t meant to operate in such large groups, most of their abilities useless on such a large scale or unusable due to friendly fire. In many ways they were forced to act as if they didn’t even have abilities apart from their superhuman strength, speed, and toughness.
The forces of Camelot spread out pushing in against them from all sides. In response Jeriah had them circle up forming a turtle formation. The men of Camelot pushed forward at the orders of their superiors, but their weapons bounced off the shields made for them by the Warlord their abilities countered by enchantments on their gear or abilities of the other side.
The battlefield reminded Jeriah of the war against the World Bosses and the bodies of the endless waves of enemies. Blood flowed down the hill into a crimson stream and the ground became difficult to stand on with how slick it was with blood. Jeriah stood motionless waiting for his brothers and the Clan Leader of the Myrmidons by his side. It would happen soon they knew.
Sure enough, like a ripple through a wave of wheat they saw them approaching the Generals. The two armies pulled back from each other as their leaders moved forward. This battle would be death to any lower ranking soldier caught in the crossfire.
Tobias leapt forward the heavy maul in his hands striking the ground with the force of an asteroid hitting the earth. Fire and brimstone rained down around them as one of the Generals of Camelot called down the fury of the sky. Both armies broke at that point fleeing in opposite directions to not become casualties of the destruction that was about to take place.
These type of battles were not just based on being of a higher rank but the strength of your abilities. Jeriah regretted having asked Exar’kun to go and help the Warlord now, they could have used his breath weapon but now was not the time for regrets. He launched himself like a slingstone and collided with another man midair. They wrapped around each other as they grappled to keep the other from bringing other weapons to bear. They struck the ground as it bucked and twisted shaped and destroyed by the abilities being used on it. Jeriah got his weapon free from the edge of his sword shining as he cut off the General’s head in a devastating attack.
The ability on cooldown he spun blocking another attack aimed for his back. A bear ripped into the man from behind and Jeriah rushed forwards and left the man behind him as he screamed as the bear mauled him to death. All around him his brothers were locked in combat, but they had been in life and death battles since they were children hunted and chased into the forest.
Jeriah cut down the General Tobias was fighting from behind. They looked around but the battle was over, the generals dead at their feet. Jeriah’s eyes flicked from side to side as he read his notifications. He’d gotten a decent amount of rank points and even a new ability from the battle even with the assistance of an army accounted for by the System.
“We should have just fought them at the start of this,” Tobias said looking about at the devastation surrounding them. “They could have saved thousands of lives if they’d just fought us in a duel like you asked.”
“It is not the nature of men like this to fight their battles for themselves if they can help it,” Jeriah said. “They have given up the strength of the individual for the strength of the many.”
“What are we doing here?” Tobias asked. “Mordred doesn’t care about these lands and if I’m honest…I don’t either. What is the point of this war?”
“The point is that this war is coming whether we want it or not,” Jeriah said clasping his brother’s shoulder. “So, we’re going to have it on our terms, not theirs. Mordred’s trying to deal with them on their terms, I wish him luck, but I already know what the outcome of that is going to be, and I think so does he.”
“Then why is he doing it?” Tobias asked.
“For the same reason we will fight this war,” Jeriah said. “To protect the ones he loves.”