Chapter 30 – Floor 3: Part 4

On the third night, the Goblins used ‘Wargs,’ giant wolflike beasts that they rode into battle. As soon as they had breached the hastily repaired gates, dozens of the creatures entered with their Goblin riders wielding long spears and massive, curved swords.

The human defenders hadn’t seen anything like it before, and by the time they had been driven back after running rampant through the city, hundreds of Players had fallen.

Mathew and Greg had huddled behind their makeshift barricade, improved upon by blazing bonfires that Mathew conjured to keep the Wargs away. Once the riders retreated, waves of Goblins on foot began to carve their way through the survivors.

If it hadn’t been for the timely arrival of the sun, Mathew doubted there would have been anyone left in another hour.

Luckily, an influx of new arrivals from the lower floors bolstered their numbers. After the locals had cleared away the bodies of the dead and carted the wounded to the Temple, they had gotten to work on the gates once more.

This time, Mathew and Greg added long stakes in front of their defences to prevent the Wargs from reaching them, and others adopted their tactic about the city.

The fourth night was only silence after the sun had gone down. It was maddening, and for a long hour, no drums or shouts interrupted it.

That was the night the Goblins tried something different. Rather than breach the gate, they used their sappers to blow up a section of the wall at the rear of the city. By the time the humans could respond, Goblins were everywhere. They ran uncontested through the streets, slaughtering everything in sight.

Mathew and Greg, now veterans of the battlefield, immediately fled their position. Neither were ashamed of their actions, not when there were hundreds of Goblins rushing toward them. The only thing that had spared the pair’s lives was a healthy head start and a knowledge of the city’s layout that they had gained over the past few days.

Barricaded inside the Temple with the few people left alive, they had thought they would have to make their last stand when dawn’s arrival put flight to the Goblins.

Neither had a doubt that the fifth night was going to be their last.

With the Aether obtained from the fighting, Greg had levelled up while Mathew had purchased ‘The Coward’s Brand (Tier 2), granting him piercing resistance along with slashing. He doubted it would do much against thousands of Goblins and their weapons.

Sat on the steps of the Temple in the dawn’s light, the pair waited without hope for night’s arrival and the final end of Averatha.

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Samuel Johnson had been a dedicated servant of the law, his community and to his faith for his entire life. He had been a police officer before retiring at sixty-five. Married with three children, he had raised them the best way he could, and he was happy when they had kids of their own.

He was content with his life, and even when he lost his wife a decade before, he wouldn’t change a thing.

At ninety years old, his body failing and his eyesight nearly gone, he would still watch his great-grandchildren with a sense of pride. He knew that even if he were to leave this world soon, his life would be well-lived.

But when a strange man appeared on the television of the Emerald Acres Nursing Home, exclaiming that the gods had granted Earth an opportunity to seize whatever they desired, Samuel couldn’t resist the urge to enter.

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Frail and barely able to walk, he had travelled with dozens of others from the Home on a bus to nearby Denver, where the nearest Tower loomed over the city.

His desire was clear: he wanted to be young again and have ‘Her’ back. If the gods could grant anything, then they would surely be able to accomplish that miracle.

He would do anything to earn it.

The tests had been challenging, although his time as a police officer made it simple to find clues and piece together the puzzles. But the physical challenges were beyond him. He even had trouble reading the words that appeared on the Silver Wristband the young woman gave him.

But he persevered and had chosen his first Discipline.

Zealot.

Even though the young woman told him she would do nothing to influence his decision, she had given him enough hints to guide him. His strength of spirit and faith in a higher power would be an asset, making him stronger.

But it was the Body stat that genuinely interested him. Reading between the lines, it wouldn’t only make him physically powerful, it could reduce his age!

With his Discipline and Blessing, Divine Smite, his faith in God was rewarded. He could feel spiritual energy radiating throughout his body.

The first floor had been a challenge. He was frail and nearly blind. But with faith, all things were possible. He doubted these self-titled ‘gods’ were truly divine. They were merely conduits to the one true Lord, but with their guidance, he persevered.

He had been given a wooden club on his entrance to the first floor, and each time he struck an undead, he could feel holy energy smite them.

When he reached level five, the maximum for the floor, his eyes were healed, and he was no longer frail. Despite his ninety years of age, he felt better than he had in decades. Even his white hair had streaks of grey in it, and he could fight without worry of his body failing.

From ‘Zealot,’ he became a ‘Crusader.’ Receiving the additional Blessing of ‘Divine Aura,’ that would weaken his foes and strengthen his allies, Samuel Johnson drew the attention of the god of Chivalrous Combat.

His old clothes were gone, replaced with white robes and a metal breastplate with the symbol of his new divine patron. His wooden club was now a mace, and he smashed everything in his path as he led dozens of his fellow players in cleansing Resplendent City of the undead.

On the second floor, Samuel was given the task of removing an evil cult from a village. He didn’t feel bad as he crushed their skulls and burned them with righteous, divine light.

By the time he was finished, he was Level 10, and his hair was salt and pepper grey. His back was tall and strong, the frailty of his limbs only a distant memory. He looked like a man in his fifties, and his faith sustained him.

So when he reached the Third Floor and found they were on the brink of defeat by faithless, grotesque creatures called ‘Goblins,’ Samuel knew it was his task to destroy them.

By now, he had gathered a group of dozens of Players, all as faithful and god-fearing as himself. They had joined him on the first and second floors and were ready to crush everything in their path.

It was as his god willed it.

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“Who the hell are these clowns?” Greg asked, pointing out at a large group of similarly dressed men and women who had just emerged from the Temple.

They were all attired in white clothing, either robes or shirts and pants with armour. Wielding swords, maces, long spears or even books, they had the same symbol on their bodies: a red circle with a star in the center.

To Mathew, they seemed to almost glow in the sunlight. Even in the shade, they had an aura about them and the familiar feeling of the ‘Buzz’ returned at the base of his neck, warning him that this new group was trouble. Undoubtedly, they were higher than him, and he would be defeated if he fought with them.

Their leader was a giant of a man, tall and muscular. With grey and black hair, he wore a silver breastplate over white robes and black pants. He had a large, silver-headed mace in his hand and was resting it casually across his shoulder.

“My Brethren! The gods demand our assistance! We will drive these Goblins back to whatever hole they crawled out of!” The man shouted, raising his fist into the air. The dozens following him cheered and screamed the name of the man ‘Samuel’ and their god ‘The god of Chivalrous Combat.’

“Wait, where are they going!?” Mathew exclaimed, climbing to his feet as the group rushed toward the gate.

“You’re going to get yourselves killed! They’re thousands of them out there!” Mathew shouted, and the leader of the group paused and turned toward him.

“Our god will protect us. Cower inside the walls if you wish, but we fight in the daylight!” Samuel shouted, and the group was soon out of sight.

“They’re going to get themselves killed.” Mathew muttered, and Greg snorted a laugh.

“Crazy bastards. Good luck to them.” Greg said, and Mathew could only agree.