Chapter 202 – Floor 28: Part 1
Floor 28 - The Abyssal Onslaught: A Battle for Survival
The City of Valoria is the last bastion of humanity against the endless demonic hoard that continually emerges from ‘The Fracture,’ a breach in reality that leads to the Abyssal Plane. The people have taken shelter in the Church of Sanctuary Retort while the end approaches.
Summoned by Sanctuary Retort to defend Valoria, it is up to you to protect the Church and slaughter the invading monsters. The Aether accumulated from the deaths of demons will repair ‘The Fracture.’
All grievances must be put aside, all objections stifled, as you join your fellow Participants of the Tower of Avarice in the defence of the city. The Fracture must be sealed, the demons driven back to their own reality.
Goal: Survive long enough for The Fracture to seal. Prevent the destruction of Valoria and its people.
Reward: Advanced Word of Power: Combust
A combination of the Words ‘Burst’ and ‘Burn,’ this advanced Word of Power reaches a level of force unattainable to those stuck on a single syllable. Through the use of the ‘Potion of Celestial Knowledge,’ you have gained access to a higher tier of the Celestial Language.
Description: You utter the Word of Power and call upon the Celestial Language, causing a catastrophic explosion at a point within range. The target, or a point you choose, erupts in a burst of searing flames and intense heat. The explosion deals massive fire damage to everything in a wide radius around the target.
Mathew arrived in a city of fire and blood in a flash of white flight. The city stretched for tens of miles in all directions, and not a single part of it was untouched by the ravages of war. Large skyscrapers had tumbled onto their sides, leaving the ground littered with debris.
Roads were torn apart, bridges collapsed, and nothing grew anywhere Mathew could see.
The air hurt to breathe; it was heavy with smoke and had a chemical smell to it that stung Mathew’s nostrils and lungs. The sky above was obscured by clouds that reflected the red and orange light below.
He wasn’t alone, more people arrived all around him. They came from various nations, eras and times. They wore clothing to reflect their different backgrounds. Some wore armour, or clothing belonging to the medieval era, while others were like Mathew in modern jeans.
He could even see some dressed in futuristic body suits, the light reflecting off their metallic surface in an odd way. One thing was common for everyone here: they all possessed mana, and the items they wore were mostly magical in nature.
Explosions rang out in the distance, and great gouts of fire rushed skyward along with dozens of new sources of smoke. The earth shook, and the air was filled with the screams of the dying or the yells of those still fighting.
Many of Mathew’s fellow Players from the Tower rushed toward the sounds of fighting immediately, all intent on earning Aether or accomplishing other goals for the Floor. But Mathew, having been through battlefields in the past, held back for a moment to assess the situation.
He was about to find higher ground, or perhaps a more central location, in search of a command post when a voice spoke out from the crowd.
“Well, fancy meeting you here!” A woman said, her voice loud enough to cut through the din. Mathew turned to find a familiar face, although one he hadn’t seen in decades.
Aliva looked happy to see him; her small, pixie-like face was smiling as she walked toward him. Her deck of cards were clutched in her hand, ready to pull a card free at a moment’s notice and unleash its powers. As a Drafter, Alivia’s powers were directly tied to the cards she used and purchased from the Shop.
Mathew hadn’t seen her since the 9th Floor, where they had to act as ‘Demon Lords’ for the local population. Fittingly, he saw her again on a Floor where they had to fight real demons.
“Alivia.” Mathew said softly, his tone filled with relief at seeing someone he knew. With a Floor as dangerous as this, it was good to have someone you could rely on to watch your back.
“Wow, Mathew, did you miss me or something? Didn’t take you for the type to miss anyone.” Alivia responded as she came up next to him and punched him gently on the shoulder in a friendly manner.
“I’m not a monster, Alivia. It’s good to see you, although I wish it were under better conditions. How has the Tower been treating you?” Mathew asked and immediately regretted it as Alivia’s pretty face twisted into an expression that he was all too familiar with.
A mixture of frustration, despair, anger, and a dozen other emotions rolled into one. He understood it so well because he often felt the same way, and he suspected so did most of the others who entered the Tower.
“Terribly, you?” Alivia replied, and Mathew shook his head.
“Bad leg that I can’t get fixed, and I’m stuck at Level 1 with no ability to advance. I lost all of my Blessings and Disciplines, and, oh, I’m an Apostle for an Alien god.” Mathew responded, and Alivia barked out a short laugh.
“Par for the course then. Still, I think you got off easy.” Alivia retorted.
“How so?” Mathew asked in confusion.
“You’re still alive.”
“Don’t speak too soon. I think this Floor is going to be rough. Stick together and watch each other’s backs?” Mathew offered, and the Drafter immediately agreed. They were about to pick a direction to set up and prepare for the onslaught of demons when another person suddenly joined them.
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Mathew was about to tell them off that their group was full, and they didn’t accept strangers when something made him pause. The man next to him was somewhat familiar, with a long-barreled rifle gripped in his hands and a set of the futuristic armour Mathew had seen others wearing.
The man had a long beard, and his face was scarred. His hair was brown and pulled back so that it wouldn’t fall in front of his face. He looked rough, like he had been through hell and back and had the scars to prove it.
His eyes kept flicking around to take in everything around them, a habit that Mathew was familiar with after being exposed to danger for so long.
“It’s been a while, Mathew.” The man said, his voice gruff and hoarse.
There was something maddeningly familiar about him, but Mathew couldn’t place it. His memory wasn’t as clear as it had been before his attributes had been taken by Unyielding Declaration. Everything from the early Floors of the Tower was hazy, but he dredged a name from the depths.
“Greg from Vermont. But not my Vermont.” Mathew said hesitantly, unsure if he was correct.
Thankfully, the man immediately nodded and smiled slightly, little more than a smirk that pulled on a corner of his mouth.
“Are you willing to team up again? I know it’s been a long time.” Greg said, and Mathew immediately nodded.
“Decades.” Mathew said, only for Greg to shake his head.
“Centuries. The 7th Floor, and Samuel, was a long time ago.” Greg explained, and Mathew winced. Had it been centuries for him as well? It was hard to keep track of time in the Tower, and it worked differently for everyone.
A day for Mathew could have been a decade for Greg; it all depended on the Floors you travelled through. Especially the Punishment Floor; his sense of time had been warped there with no one but the Celestials to keep him company.
Lost in thought for a moment, he was disturbed by Alivia and Greg swapping introductions. Shaking free of the chains of memory, Mathew turned his attention to the here and now.
“Alright, three is a perfect number. Let’s go see what we’re dealing with, shall we?” Mathew said, and his companions agreed.
It was good to be amongst friends again. Mathew had forgotten the feeling of security and trust that came with having competent, trusted people beside him. He wanted to hold onto that feeling and he wished he could carry it forward to the next Floors as well.
In a few minute's time, they came to the front line of the conflict between man and demon.
It wasn’t hard to spot; they merely needed to follow the screams, explosions, and pillars of flames that erupted periodically.
The front line was divided into two parts: the humans were using toppled buildings as cover and the sunken remains of a subway line as a moat to slow down the advance of the approaching demons. At the same time, the Demons themselves were emerging from ‘The Fracture’ in a disorganized, endless mass.
The Fracture looked like a black and red crack that ran from the ground into the sky. Fire poured out of it, burning the ground on their side until it was charred and barren. It was perhaps a hundred or two hundred feet wide but tall enough that it nearly reached the clouds above.
The Demons were nearly uniform in appearance, something that surprised Mathew as he expected them to come in many different varieties. They were humanoid, with two legs and two arms. Muscular and taller than a person, they had red skin and horns protruding from their skulls and swept back like a crown.
They wielded flaming swords with jagged edges, whips of flames that could reach fantastical distances and black spears that could pierce through steel and concrete with ease.
Mathew could feel the Buzz explode from the threat of the demons, a headache that caused Mathew’s vision to blacken around the edges and his body to teeter on the edge of collapse. Alivia and Greg fared better; their higher levels and Blessings put them on a more even playing field than the demons they faced.
Humans and demons alike perished in incalculable numbers as the battlefield stretched for miles. Bodies piled up along the front line, while the demons would burst into flames and leave nothing but ashes behind as they died. The ground, parched and barren everywhere else in the city, was wet and muddy from the blood being spilled.
As the defenders died, they were replaced with more from the Lower Floors of the Tower to match the oncoming demons. Both sides clashed, but it was clear to Mathew, after only a few minutes of watching, that humanity was being pushed back.
But there was hope. Each time a demon died, a small bit of Aether would rise from the ashes and fly toward The Fracture, sealing it a minuscule amount. A single demon’s death did practically nothing, but a thousand, ten thousand, a million would make a difference.
The battle raged for days, and Mathew and his companions would throw themselves into the fray until Greg ran out of bullets for his rifle; Alivia would use every card she possessed, and Mathew would be hoarse and mute from calling down the power of the Celestial Language.
Retreating, they would recover while others fought. Using the Aether they gathered from the killing, they would restock their supplies, heal their wounds and prepare while the front line would retract or expand as the tide of battle went back and forth.
“Burst!” Mathew shouted the Words of Power as he pointed at the demon looming over him. The universe responded to his call, and the head of the demon exploded in a gory mess. The creature stumbled forward a few steps before collapsing into ashes.
“Retreat!” A voice called out, soon joined by hundreds more. The demons had secured the toppled building the humans had been using as a barricade, and the defenders were forced to pull back once again.
It was a common occurrence over the days of fighting, and Mathew lost track of the number of times they lost ground, only to take it back after a surge of fresh reinforcements arrived from the Floor below. But the push forward would also falter, and the defenders would end up losing ground again.
Looking around for Greg and Alivia, he found them fighting only a few meters away. Greg had run out of ammo for his rifle and hadn’t been able to replenish it yet, so he had taken to bashing demons with the weapon while Alivia had pulled a knife out of her inventory.
They were in trouble, and Mathew was about to call upon the power of the Celestials again when his voice failed him. Coughing, he spat out blood.
Ignoring it, he tried again, only to have the Power refuse to come forth. He had reached his limit. Seeing his friends in danger, Mathew stumbled toward them while pulling an object out of his inventory.
The Wrathful Blade, the enormous sword that was too heavy for the weakened Mathew to lift, crashed to the ground at Greg’s feet. Furiously gesturing for his friend to pick it up, Mathew swiftly drank a potion and tried to speak.
“Burst!” The magic reluctantly came, painfully tearing through his throat along with a spurt of blood. The body of another headless demon collapsed to the ground just as Greg picked up the weapon and swung it at the other demons.
The Wrathful Blade, a weapon forged from the remains of an Ancestral Beast, viciously tore through them. When they were dead, Greg stabbed the flat end of the sword into the ground and nodded gratefully to his friend.
“We can’t hold much longer.” Alivia said, already looking in the Shop for more cards. Joining her, Greg restocked his supplies while Mathew put the Wrathful Blade back in his inventory.
“We don’t have to. Look.” Greg said, pointing at The Fracture. There was only a small sliver remaining open. But the demons weren’t willing to quit, and they threw themselves at the defenders with boundless rage and aggression.
They were at the point of failure when The Fracture was finally sealed.
Standing on top of the Church of Sanctuary Retort, the very last line of defence, Mathew and the remaining defenders, including Greg and Alivia, watched it vanish from sight.
‘Ding!’
Mathew had never heard such a welcome sound before.