Chapter 69
Aria of Flames
Fire flew like a bubbling rain, showering the distant horde of men currently barreling toward Asher, seemingly untouched and unbothered by the theatrics of flames consuming those around them. There was no fear in their steps, no fear in their eyes, and no fear in the tumultuous roars invoking courage beyond reason. Rather than impeding him in some fashion, it bolstered Asher’s apathy, as the scene just further convinced him it wasn’t real.
Though there was a trace of awe in his gaze as he thrust it upon the unbending march of madmen, he'd never observed it in reality--at least not to such a degree. Here and there, in the conflagration of conflict, he'd notice the human spirit overcome the cold of fear; more often than not, however, people would collapse and fall apart like a house of cards. In the face of the inevitable, very few dared march unblinkingly and without a stop.
All the same, it did not prevent the outcome; fire rained and fire consumed, slowly thinning the marching herd. And with the thinner numbers came levels.
Up to Level 10, the only choices ended up being passive upgrades--he got his Movement Speed to 3,0, added a few extra points of damage, and increased his Attack Speed by a little.
It bothered him by quite a bit--his AoE capabilities were very limiting, and even though every attack was essentially a one-shot, the overgrowing locust was approaching with every passing second. What started off as a distance of nearly three hundred yards had now closed down to half that. In fairness, he didn’t move back that much, and his speed outpaced the oncoming horde by quite an amount; the worrisome point came when another ‘rank’ broke.
Eastward, past the dreadfully hellish landscape, another horde of thousands appeared like an avalanche tumbling down a mountainside. This one was seemingly faster, though still not nearly as fast as Asher himself. It did, however, speak of a foreboding possibility--a race that had just launched between him getting a sufficient AoE arsenal to cull numbers before all four sides converged toward him like a flood bursting through a broken dam.
The world froze suddenly and two screens appeared--it was the time to choose his Calling once more. He recognized one of the two--Novice Wizard showed up in all its previous glory with seemingly the same benefits and drawbacks, though he couldn’t be certain as he could hardly recall the massive wall of text.
The other choice, however, interested him a bit more--Novice Pyromancer.
Novice Pyromancer [Uncommon Calling]
-- A noble pursuit of fire was one of the first specialized paths of the Ancient Magi. Delving into the pathos of consumption and destruction, where only ashes and death are left in its wake, the study of Flames is as old as magic itself. Even today, though it stands besmirched by the actions of thousands of its followers, the pathos of fire remains a beloved communion--adjoining with the root of fire is, for many Noble Houses, the ultimate expression of fearless dominion over life. Novice Pyromancers, though limited in their expression of self, are still ultimately machines of war, specialized unilaterally in destruction and destruction alone. They know not the meaning of holding back, retreating, or a defense that cannot be penetrated.
The following Modifications will be applied for the remainder of the Stage:
+100% Fire Damage
30% CDR to all Fire Spells
+100% to Burn Damage
+50% to Ignite Chance
+50% to Ignite Effects
+40% Radius to every Fire Explosion effect
+1 Projectile to every Fire Projectile
+100% Speed to all ‘Charge’ effects of Fire Spells where applicable
+50% to Fire Penetration
+60% to Fire Magic Defense
You cannot be Burned or Ignited
-40 Health
-60% to Physical Defense
This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.
-40% to all Magic Defense besides Fire
-0,5 to Movement Speed
You will not be offered any other school of spells outside of Fire
+50% Cooldown to all Defensive Spells
+20% Cooldown to all Movement Spells
-60% to all Health Regeneration effects
Asher remained undecided for a moment--it felt like a trap of sorts, as though the Chieftain he was to defeat would be immune to fire damage or something insane like that. It was tempting, as it would absolutely skyrocket his damage and help navigate the Stage until he got the AoE abilities in his repertoire, but putting all eggs in one basket, as it were, was dangerous.
There always existed such debate, everywhere really--even in his previous line of work. Whether it was better to be a jack of all trades or to specialize in a few. Versatility versus mastery was an age-old discussion, and Asher always preferred the former as he favored the ability to adapt to anything at any time.
As such, he knew he should just choose Novice Wizard--it wasn’t strong, special, or particularly interesting... but it was safe. It was consistent, broad, and couldn’t be neutered by a gimmick. Yet still, he paused. More than once, ever since his arrival here, he’d reexamined his beliefs, all of them--their values, their truths, their realities within this world. Over and over, in the depths of his mind, the swivel danced like a tree in a violent wind.
He sighed and made a choice--laments of flames suddenly erupted around him and apostatized him before disappearing. He immediately noticed that the lurched bundles of fire grew livelier and more colorful, and the explosions echoing off in the distance grew larger and far more noticeable. In the end, he went against his own set of beliefs for a simple reason--to expand on his experiences. Whether it went wrong or not, it didn't matter, ultimately; he he knew well enough that he couldn't even survive, let alone triumph in this world by playing it safe and 'staying the lane', as it were. He'd have to become more, far more than he ever was in his life if he wanted to entertain the thought of victory.
Luckily, he still held onto the get-out-of-jail-free card that was the Scroll should all hell break loose.
Fires surged more brilliantly than ever before--a tinge of deep red and holy gold was added to their hue, beautifying them even further. Soon, the distant flesh was charred and burned and smoked at a rate that began to outpace and eclipse their march. Even so, in the midst of fires and corpses, the bannerless marched. Fearless... or simply numbed?
Though there were a few moments here and there that made Asher recognize it, it was never more evident than now that this, indeed, was a game. Or, at least, some parts of it were. Just as some parts convinced him that it was real life, certain others convinced him otherwise.
Both were true, he ultimately thought so.
Watching men stomp over their burning brethren as though they weren’t there on a relentless march toward him certainly reeked of ‘dumb AI’, but as they inched closer, Asher’s heart tightened. Especially so when the western route was shorn off, too, with the arrival of a sea of people, innumerable in the shadows they cast upon the stained lands.
He’d killed hundreds by now, but just like with the first Stage that dealt him the hand of thousands of enemies, he could hardly feel it. The difference was in the type of a foe he was facing--staggering diversity and number of monsters, all cut from amalgamated cloth of unholy, was certainly soul-stirring... but there was something to watching men made of ordinary flesh, blood, and bones march through flames without fear.
Fire Storm [Rare]
Level: 1/5
Effect: explode a bundle of flames above the targeted location within range, causing a shower of fiery droplets to rain down and deal damage to all enemies within the radius.
Damage: 16 damage/second
Range: 100 yards
Radius: 50 yards
Duration: 4 seconds
Cooldown: 16 seconds (begins upon cast)
Asher didn’t ponder too much on the choice, quickly picking Fire Storm. Though he was bothered a bit by the fact it had limited range, 100 yards was still massive in the end, and it more than made up for it with its rather massive radius. Even the damage was rather insane, as just two ticks were enough to kill every one of them.
Right after he chose it, he aimed toward the nearest cluster--westward--and fired off a massive clump of flames the size of a house. The explosion at the end of its range was quite spectacular and loud, and the resulting rain of fire mesmerizing and hauntingly horrifying. Men melted like wax candles under the simmering of the inferno, yet nary a weep could be heard.
Asher moved north, the only destination left, before suddenly pausing. A knot was caught up in his throat and he temporarily forgot to breathe; from the jagged mountain, he saw a swarm descend like a plague of nightmares coming alive. They were innumerable, more so than any group before, and at their rear stood a silhouette towering over them all.
Even at a distance, Asher quickly asserted that the figure was at least ten-eleven feet tall. Right after, a deep, husky voice bloomed from the scorching silence, conjuring up blade-cutting wind.
“Harken, brethren of North!!! Pagu watches over thy Blood! Be Proud! Be Strong! Be Fearless! Defend home! Fires o’ th’ heathen mayst burn our flesh, but scorch our souls they cannot! Onward, ye fearless!”
The voice was the wind in the sails of all the seemingly blind, marching madmen. Their speed doubled instantly, and their roars grew louder and more maddening.
Asher came to a halt, facing the shadowed figure in the far north descending down a mountain. The salvaging point was that it didn’t seem the man would be immune to fire in any way--though it only soothed the burns of reality, as he had essentially four armies converging toward him from all sides, all so unilaterally determined that short of cutting through them fully there would be no way to deter their march.
And yet, he smiled. Ultimately, Sarah was right--about both of them.
He felt most alive when the flicker of life looked like it could be extinguished with the faintest of winds. He enjoyed tempting death as, otherwise, life was dull, insipid, and hardly worth living. A truth he denied for most of his life surged to the surface and became a blazing and sobering revelation.
A smile turned to a grin as he twisted toward the south, where the first band broke through. It had the smallest numbers by far, and he immediately marked it as his primary target, ignoring everything else. The world would burn, and he’d be the point of ignition, standing within the heart of perdition.