Chapter 35
Sing Long Into the Night
Though all three weapons were legendary, Asher didn't have to think for too long about which one to choose. More than once throughout this 'game' he'd first-hand experienced how important speed was--not just movement speed, but also attack speed. While the mace and the greatsword dealt far more raw damage in a singular output, their conditional use put him off. The 'ordinary' sword, on the other hand, which appeared to be shaped like a katana, was quick, and even offered temporary invulnerability that lasted a whole two seconds on an 8-second cooldown.
Taking a deep breath and putting to memory the timings--2 and 4 seconds of holding back for a big boom-boom--he chose the Dawn Ripper. The sword appeared in his hand right after--it wasn't particularly long or wide, perhaps two feet and some in length while being about two fingers wide. Though it had a bit of a curve at the center, it wasn't all that noticeable unless he focused on it.
The handle was leather-bound, roofed by a simple yet elegant symmetrical guard shaped like a lotus flower. From its center, a sharp shimmer of a blade burst out, screaming.
As soon as the world unpaused, the rain began to flood--though he had a bit of an idea of just how badly it was raining, it still took him by surprise. He was soaked to his skin within seconds and realized that the rain made this stage even harder than it ordinarily would be. The mud was everywhere, and the wet clothes added an extra weight to his movement.
It was also then that he was noticed--the young boys stood up on the ramparts, and some came walking out of the keep. The two towers standing on both sides of the wall were emptied, and the last to arrive were two heavily armored men who both seemed to be in their forties. Plated armor looked worn and aged, chips visible along the jagged edges, the hanging scabbards barely whole.
"... welcome," one of the knights said, his voice even and apathetic. "Let us talk inside."
Though Asher wanted to reject and scout out the perimeter, he followed along under the gazes of those behind him.
The keep's inside was hardly any better than its exterior--all flooring seemed to have been torn up, as did most of the furniture. He saw the fading legs of a table feeding the flame in the hearth, likely where most of it went. The two men led him to the side chamber, a tiny room lit up by an oil lamp. There wasn't any wooden furniture, just patches of straw on the ground that acted as bedrests.
Along the walls, he noticed strange shadows; no, rather than shadows, they were simply parts where portraits used to hang--there was a dash of color and freshness to them, if ever so slightly. Past that, it was an empty, barren room through which the wind whistled, as the singular window stationed on the upper right corner wasn't even closed.
"Believe it or not," in an attempt to soften the atmosphere however little, Asher joked. "I've slept in worse."
"You do not seem to be here by choice," the man who welcomed him spoke up again. He was bald, unlike his companion, with a pair of hawk-like, soft-green eyes. Both men had enviously squared jawlines and beard overgrowths as neither looked to have shaved in months at least.
"I'm not," Asher replied honestly and with a bitter smile. "I pissed off my fairy and, well, here I am."
"... quite stupid, huh?" the other man said. He wore long locks of what once was most likely golden hair, though now it was ashen and washed out with dirt, mud, and blood.
"Yeah, well, I thought she'd just fire off into my ear another thousand ways to call someone subhuman," Asher shrugged. "But I was wrong."
"Do you plan on fighting?"
"Of course."
"Can you help us win?"
"... I don't know," Asher said. "But I'll die trying. 'cause, well, I'll die either way."
"..." the two men fell silent, their eyes boring through Asher's soul. There was something rudimentary about those gazes, something primordial, something that set his alarms off. However, he couldn't--and wouldn't--do anything about it, just face them with silence and vigor. "They will come in four waves," the bald-headed man said. "The first wave will have 1,000 ordinary monsters and 6 mutations. The second wave will have 750 ordinary monsters and 2 bedeviled mutations. The third wave will have 240 ordinary monsters and 2 chaotic mutations. And the fourth wave--"
Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author's preferred platform and support their work!
"--will have the leader?"
"... yes."
"Are there limitations to when they will come? As in, the second wave won't show up until we defeat the first?"
"Nothing moronic like that. They are simply advancing here at different rates." the haired one scoffed.
"Hm," Asher frowned for a moment; the set-up for this stage seemed... different. It was less 'game' and more 'real life' than those before it. If the monsters were advancing, it meant that the vanguard likely consisted of what could be classified as light cavalry, or perhaps scouting vanguard. Quick, less-armored units that can move quickly across most terrains. The second wave would probably be something along the lines of armored spearmen, while the third would be knights of a variant thereof. However, this didn't mean much, overall, as he didn't know the types of monsters. "Can you tell me which monsters will show up in the first wave?"
"Goblins, orcs, direwolves, ateskas--bedeviled mutation of a rattlesnake--and kobolds will make a majority," the bald man said. "Most will be riding direwolves." How do they plan on getting in? Ladders? Or just make a staircase of monster corpses? "Do not ponder on it too much," the bald man continued. "We have no tools that we can make use of to ease the assault, nor do we have the time. We'll hold them back the best we can with a barrage of arrows, but our gates will inevitably fall. And there... we just meet them, face to face."
"..." Asher remained silent. He wanted to contend against it, but couldn't. The state of the castle--the sheer level of disrepair--told him enough. The two men in front of him had already likely tried everything and done all in their power to stave off the invasion. All that was left was to try and hold on for six more hours, throwing lives at the monster's cascade.
"Right," he replied, sighing. "I'll have to go out, though."
"I imagined you would," neither of the two men protested. They likely knew that he had to kill monsters in order to Level-up. "Loe here will be your escort," the bald man, then, was the one called Havar. "While the walls will stand up well enough against the ordinary monsters, mutations will prove perverse. Loe and I can deal with base mutants and even bedeviled if we risk our lives, but it is beyond us when the stronger ones come. You, for better or for worse, are our only chance."
"Shit luck, eh?" Loe scoffed. He was a bit like Qyne-lite, though with pursed lips for the most part, only occasionally parting them.
"Even if the castle falls," Asher said. "Won't the coming reinforcements be able to intercept the monsters? So why make the last stand? Are there cities that they'd be able to attack?"
"No," Havar shook his head. "The reinforcements might be able to stem the tide, for now. But if the castle falls, a flank would be open. Within a week, tens of thousands of monsters would all coalesce at this point. The monsters, for the most part, cannot survive for long in our lands because of the Emperor's Blessings. It makes them too weak and an easy prey. But--"
"--the potency of the Blessing is somehow linked with this castle?"
"... precisely," Havar nodded. "Though it wouldn't be immediate, but, in the coming days, the lack of Blessing would cause irreparable damage. And thus, stand we must. Even at the cost of our lives."
"Let's go to the ramparts," Asher said. The two men nodded in unison and they swiftly left, bounding the muddy courtyard and climbing up a rather worn-down set of stairs up to the rampart.
Looking out beyond the wall, Asher mapped out, well, mostly nothing. The land was flat and seemingly endless, though with the clouded skies and the drifting fog, it was difficult to see beyond a certain point. Luckily, it seemed that this would be the only side that the monsters would attack from--the river blanketed the two flanks, making it impossible to converge, especially with the hastened rapids due to the rain--and there were no monsters to the rear of the castle, in the Blessed Lands.
All the same, there was still a flat stretch of land, some two hundred yards wide, that came up to the walls. The monsters would be able to attack in large numbers, and only be corralled once the gates were set to be breached. However, opening the gates for the ordinary monsters was too big of a risk to take, while it didn't matter for the mutated variants.
It was precisely as Havar said--there were no tactics to employ, no clever tricks to play, just head-on fighting. There wasn't even enough time to dig out a moat and stem the tide ever so slightly. He'd have to walk out, into the strained mud, sword in hand... and fight.
"There's a side exit that you can use to quickly get in and out of the castle," Havar said. "I'll do my best to command the archers to cover you. But--"
"--I'll be careful," Asher said simply, turning to the side and following Loe.
It wasn't long before Asher dipped through the side doors and out in front of the castle walls. Standing still in the pelting rain, with his back to the walls that were supposed to shield him, he felt sullen. His anger toward Qyne, however, was the fuel to remain standing--if for nothing else, he wanted to live and squeeze the life out of her neck with his own hands. It was one thing to simply insult him--but an entirely another to purposefully kill him. Because that was what this was--an execution. No amount of luck would keep him alive today, he knew. Today, it was beyond just getting Levels and lucky upgrades--there was only so much of the river of death lucky rolls could build a bridge upon. To walk on top of it and cross to the other side, he'd have to take the reins.
Twenty minutes were little--not enough for even a basic introspection. The 'grace' period ended, and the raining skies began to roar with sonorous thunder. The gods, it seemed, were concocting a battle symphony for what was to come.
The first thing he noticed were the growls and distant howls--and, soon, the red eyes peering from the fogged darkness. They approached swiftly, like the wind, bursting through the forlorn mist like spearheads. The monsters were upon them, horrid and rotten, singing into the ashen skies.
Asher gripped the smooth handle of the blade, took a deep breath, and steadied himself. It was do or die. And his hatred bled through him, killing the want of death at its roots, forever. Today, he would live. He couldn't die. He wouldn't die. He will live.