Chapter 32 – Floor 3: Part 6
Silence. It was almost oppressive after the constant din of the battlefield.
The sun had sunk below the horizon hours ago, and the moon shone brightly on the field outside the city walls. Not even the wind stirred, leaving the survivors in the calm quiet of the night.
Mathew stood off to the side of the white-clothed fanatics that had turned the tide of the battle against the Goblins. The scent of blood and death filled the air, but he had long since stopped caring about it. He was tired. It was an exhaustion so deep into his bones that not even potions or the spells of the clerics and priests could banish it.
The aura that surrounded them all day had finally faded, and with it came the fatigue it had kept at bay. It hadn’t removed it at all. It merely made it so that they didn’t feel it and weren’t slowed by its effects.
Mathew swayed slightly, catching himself at the last moment before he collapsed. Greg hadn’t even made an effort to stop himself. He sat down on the blood-soaked ground and leaned against a mound of Goblin corpses.
The former Poacher, now a Trapper, had pulled out a large bottle from his inventory and was in the process of consuming it a mouthful at a time.
They stayed like that for hours, just surveying the battlefield in stunned silence and the single man who had single-handedly made the difference.
While Mathew and Greg felt so tired that they doubted anything short of a level-up could help them, Samuel was still walking through the battlefield, finishing off any surviving Goblins while encouraging his comrades.
The Crusader had lost his mace; the durable metal weapon hadn’t been able to withstand the abuse the warrior was giving it, and it had shattered after obliterating a Goblin and the Warg it was riding.
Indifferent to its loss, Samuel had grabbed whatever weapon his foes dropped, ensuring that there was an ample supply of destroyed weapons littering the ground as none of them could match his strength and ferocity.
Mathew was glad of the giant man’s presence. He doubted he could have ever left the safety of the walls, as limited as it was, without the support of Samuel and his companions.
Since his selection of ‘Coward,’ Mathew had been more hesitant to engage directly with his enemies. Staying behind a barrier, burning Goblins while protected by walls or a line of other humans was much preferable to him than running out and putting himself in danger.
In the back of his mind, he couldn’t help thinking that the choice of Discipline had been influencing his actions. He hadn’t been at the forefront of the battle against the undead but he also hadn’t hidden behind his companions like he was afraid of everything.
He would need to be more careful in selecting his Discipline in the future. His choice's downsides on his behaviour could outweigh the benefits of a Blessing.
All these thoughts circled in his fatigue-addled mind, not latching on for long before they were gone again.
‘Ding!’
The sound rang out in the silent night, and Mathew gave a start in surprise at the sudden noise. Everyone froze. Even Greg halted with the bottle nearly at his lips as he waited for the notification they knew was coming.
Burning words appeared above their wristbands, announcing their success.
Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.
Floor 3 Complete!
You have successfully protected Averatha from the Goblin army. The citizens are grateful for your intervention.
Completion Bonus: You have taken the battle to the enemy beyond the city walls. The gods have granted you a boon for your audacity and perseverance. Your ‘The Coward’s Brand (Tier 2)’ has been upgraded to ‘The Coward’s Brand (Tier 3).’
Please Proceed to Floor 4 within the next 24 Hours.
Mathew could feel the brand on his chest burn with mana. He opened his jacket with shaky hands and lifted his shirt to observe it. It was glowing red in the darkness. Along with the symbol of a slashing sword, a pointy knife and a club had joined it to form a triangle of markings.
Lowering his shirt, Mathew looked around the battlefield for the elevator. It was in front of the gate, blocking off access to the city. It was starkly out of place, with its pristine metallic doors and unblemished floors.
“Are you coming?” Mathew asked, looking down at his only friend in the Tower. Greg shrugged, taking another mouthful of the strong liquor before answering.
“You go ahead. I’m going to rest here a bit. Maybe take a look around to see if the Goblins left anything good behind.”
“Alright. Good Luck. I’ll see you on one of the higher floors.” Mathew replied. He didn’t question Greg’s decision. He likely just wanted time to process what happened and settle things in his head. It was understandable.
“You can count on it.”
Mathew reached the elevator before any of the other players. The giant Samuel was still discussing something with his followers, and it looked like they would be awhile before following. Not worrying about the others, Mathew waited for the doors to close silently and the Elevator to begin to move before he looked at his gain for this Floor.
He was Level 8, and his Coward’s Brand had reached Tier 3, giving him resistance to Piercing, Slashing and Bludgeoning damage. He still wasn’t sure exactly how much resistance it gave him, not since that Goblin attacked him on his first night here, but he wasn’t ready to test it.
It was just comforting to know that he had it.
“Let’s check my Aether. I needed 36000 to reach the next Level. Hopefully, I earned enough. Otherwise, I’m going to sleep for a month.” Mathew muttered, his words slurred slightly by fatigue.
Name: Mathew Larson
Discipline: Coward (Level 3) -> Coward (Level 4)
Charlatan (Level 5)
Level: 8 -> 9
Aether Required For next Level: 36000
Aether: 41363 -> 5363
Attributes
Body: 2.3 -> 2.5
Mind: 2.8 -> 2.9
Spirit: 0.3 – 0.3
Blessings
Create and Control Flames III (Max Tier)
The Coward’s Brand (Max Tier)
“Confirm.” Mathew stated, thankful that he had enough. The energy swept through his body like a wave, and his weariness evaporated. He was clear-headed and energetic, whereas before, he had been dead on his feet, his mind barely working.
“Thank the gods.” Mathew whispered gratefully.
Once he had used a magical ‘laundry tab’ to remove the dirt, blood and sweat from his body and clothing, he felt like he was capable of handling the next floor.
“I just hope it’s not another warzone.” Mathew muttered. He could use a break. Mathew never thought that he would miss Bellmare. Lazing around for 30 days had been tortuous at the time, but he hadn't realized how good it had been compared to living constantly on edge from Goblin attacks. Not a single person had tried to kill him the entire time he was there. It was heavenly.
The elevator let out a ‘ding’ a moment later, surprising Mathew with its promptness. Maybe the transition between the first and second floors was the longest, while the rest were more typical.
The doors opened to a paved street, not cobblestones or paving stones, but honest-to-goodness asphalt. Stepping out of the elevator, Mathew shaded his eyes from the bright light. It was noon, and the sun was shining directly overhead.
The heat was radiating off the pavement, causing the air to shimmer.
Mathew stood in the center of a small town. A couple dozen buildings were in sight, most of them made of brick. A large building beside him had a sign that read ‘Aurora Trust,’ and a large American flag hung outside the entrance.
People had been walking down the street when he arrived, and they all stopped and stared at him. The men were wearing suits while the women wore dresses, and their style reminded Mathew of watching black and white movies from the forties and fifties.
They were talking to each other and pointing at him. He heard a car honking behind him, and spinning around, Mathew saw an old-style convertible car with a large chrome grill and fins on the side. It was blindingly pink. The driver and passenger, an older man and a woman were staring at him with their mouths agape.
Where, or when, the hell was he?