Masters of Strata (Deepest Dungeon #2) - A LitRPG series

by G. D. Penman

  Martin’s voice followed soon after. Agitated in a way he’d never want the others to hear him. “You are calling me a cheat? A cheat? Cheat? Cheat? Cheat? Cheat? Cheat?”

  Martin had heard enough. It was time he gave an answer. Reaching up his empty hand, he cast Introit’s dark counterpart – Revelation.

  [Phalanx has suffered 48 dark damage]

  The gonging sound of the light spell had been replaced with something raucous and thunderous, the sound of some great trumpet from down in the depths below their feet. All of Phalanx’s perfect poise gave out at the impact. The knees above its hands bowing with the blow. The clawed fingertips scrabbling to maintain their hold on the faces below.

  When the trumpeting died down, the Archduke charged. Running right at Martin with a speed that startled him, even after seeing it in action yesterday. As it went, it sowed more seeds of dissent. Jericho’s voice. “Why do you bring him? This game is actually fun. Nobody telling us what to do every minute of the day.”

  This time, Martin did not run from the monster’s advance. Setting his feet, he readied Void Strike and waited for his chance. Julia’s curses hit him as he waited.

  [CURSED: Lightning Rod]

  [CURSED: Heat Sink]

  [CURSED: Desecration]

  A quick glance confirmed that they increased elemental damage. Nothing that would interfere in the fight. Perfect. He nodded thanks to the healer then turned his full attention back to Phalanx as it leapt into the air.

  “He’s just so off-putting.” Julia’s voice came down, getting louder as it drew closer. “I feel sorry for him, but every conversation feels like a chore. God, I feel awful even saying this but…”

  Martin let the words wash over him. It wasn’t anything he didn’t already suspect the others felt. It made no difference.

  Jumping in combat was a fundamental mistake. It was dramatic, and it could give the advantage of momentum and the high ground, but against a standing foe that was waiting to see your next move it was folly. Once you were in the air, there was no changing where you were going to land. Nothing to push off. Martin made a quick roll to the side of where the Archduke’s center of mass was coming down, and waited.

  Just like last time, one hand came down to take the burden of Phalanx’s weight right where Martin had been standing, while the other lashed out to slap him flat to the ground. That was what the Void Strike was for.

  [Phalanx has suffered 10 dark damage]

  [Phalanx has suffered 10 piercing damage]

  Just as the spikes of the last Archduke had impaled Martin’s palms, so too did his sword slip cleanly into the flesh of Phalanx.

  “Me sorry. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt.”

  The massive hand still could have crushed him, but instead it flinched back from the pain, every finger contorting as though trying to escape on its own.

  “No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt. No hurt.” Speckles’ voice boomed down, louder and louder with every repetition.

  Martin wasn’t letting Phalanx off so easily. When it slipped free before he could twist the Creedblade in its palm, he reached up and dragged it back down again with Summon. His blade howled with the darkness of his inverted Smite, then Afflict just before it pressed right back into the pliant flesh.

  [Phalanx has suffered 24 dark damage]

  [Phalanx has suffered 34 piercing damage]

  This time, when Phalanx pulled away, it staggered back out of his reach as fast as it could. It may have been insane, but it wasn’t mindless. It felt pain. It feared pain. Martin could work with that.

  Lindsay made her own wild leap as Martin straightened up, screeching, “Raptor Strike!” as she soared across to bury both blades in the Archduke’s calf.

  “Completely incompetent,” Martin’s sneering voice echoed down to them. “He left a nice big hole. He left a nice big hole. Big hole. Big hole.”

  Mentally logging the amount of damage her average Raptor Strike dealt against the running tally in his head, Martin took off running, not toward the Archduke, but to its side. The other two spotted him and sprinted too.

  A moment later, all four of Phalanx’s masks blazed with light. He’d called it right. Every time it lurched out of melee range, the Archduke switched to a ranged attack. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to work out.

  “Run bitch! Run! Run! Run! Run!” Lindsay’s voice echoed back and forth. “Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run! Run!”

  Once more, the blazing beams of light stuttered to life, scarring the masks of the floor black as the Archduke spun and spun, trying to catch one of them with its trailing rays. This time, Iron Riot knew what was coming. This time it had no chance.

  They completed a half circuit of the room before the lights strobed out once more, plunging them into momentary darkness until their eyes could adjust. When Martin could see the Archduke he was startled at the progress Lindsay had made.

  Through all its spinning and gamboling, her blades had held true, and now that the Archduke slowed her climb began anew. She was past the knee before Martin’s eye could lock onto her, a bloody trail of dagger-holes beneath her. He couldn’t hold back a little whoop of victory. She was doing it.

  The towering mass of meat and masks seemed to topple. The very tip of the Archduke angled off to somewhere in the dark. It took off running. At this distance, Martin couldn’t see who it was after. All he could do was cross his fingers and run closer.

  “I am universally admired and adored. Admired and adored. Admired and adored.” It was Martin’s turn to be mimicked again, it seemed. “Admired and adored. Adored. Adored. Adored. Adored. Adored.”

  Lindsay bounced and jiggled as her ride bounded across the room like a wild ostrich, but even if her ascent had been arrested, she was not being shaken loose so easily. She’d survived a spin, she’d survive this.

  The only one who might not survive the charge was Julia. Martin had assumed that Phalanx assigned its attack priority based on who was dealing damage to it, but he hadn’t factored in the insanity that he noticed last time. It could very well be going for Julia because it didn’t like the color of her scales.

  At the last second, before the Archduke intercepted its target, Jericho showed his true colors. All the vengeance he’d stockpiled back in Deephaven combined with what he’d managed to whip up for himself before now into another catastrophic barrage of darkness.

  “Why won’t you say you love me? Love me? Love me?”

  Blow after blow hammered into the battering-ram head of Phalanx, and step by laborious step it was slowed until finally, just a few feet away from Jericho, it halted. His barrage stopped the very moment after. Vengeance expended.

  Martin tossed a Javelin of Doubt at the thing for good measure. His own little lightless lightning bolt leaping across the room to join the blossoming bruises that covered the monster’s skin.

  [Phalanx has suffered 24 dark damage]

  He could have gone on closing the distance with Jericho and the monster, but that wasn’t the plan. Clustering just made the Archduke’s physical attacks more dangerous, and increased their risk of colliding during the laser-eyes phase. Martin internally cursed that Lindsay had him calling it that.

  Instead, he tapped his guild crest. “Keep it up, Lindsay. Spectacular timing, Jericho. Julia, you’re doing great, but do you think you could drop a Curse of Ages on Phalanx?”

  A puff of dust rained down from all over the Archduke’s skin as the curse took hold. Perfect. Absolutely perfect.

  Lindsay sneezed as she resumed her climb, getting almost as high as the tattered skirts, when something beneath them shifted. Martin had only one horrified moment to work out what it was before the arms burst out. There was a spider-legged tangle of arms nested underneath the skirts, not one of them much bigger than a real human’s but all tipped with the same silky black claws. For a moment it was all chaos, then they simultaneously lunged for Lindsay.

  “Bu
t we’d be so perfect together.” Lindsay’s mocking voice bounced back to them from the cavern walls. “Perfect together. Together. Together.”

  She had a split second to make her decision, and wisely chose to fall rather than let those razor-tipped fingers bite into her. She toppled end over end before hitting the ground. For one awful moment she was not moving, then she rolled to her feet and took off at a sprint, heading first toward Martin, then veering off when she spotted him.

  The masks atop the totem pole of decay were white once more, and blazing brighter and brighter with every passing breath. Martin started to run and could only hope that the others were doing the same.

  It was Martin’s turn to have his words thrown back at him again. “What we all really need is a good night’s sleep. Good night’s sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.”

  It truly felt like there should have been a sound to accompany the blast from the masks, but it was as silent as the slow spin of a lighthouse. Even where it should have sizzled on contact with the stone masks where it blackened and burned them, it did not. All they could hear was Martin’s voice chanting, “Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.” Over and over and over as Phalanx turned graceful pirouettes.

  It was definitely faster this time around, and Martin found himself running in a spiral, closer and closer to the Archduke, to stay ahead of the blast.

  Despite that, not one of them cried out, not one of them was hit. Another laser-eyes phase navigated without injury or error.

  Since they’d been locked out of all their healing abilities by the class switch, maintaining their health had become an even higher priority than usual. Any injury ran the risk of taking one of them out of the fight. If that one was Martin, it wasn’t a huge crisis, but without the damage Jericho and Lindsay were churning out they would struggle to beat Phalanx before their luck ran out. Martin had no delusions about that. Not to mention just how catastrophic it could be if Julia was dropped and their curses fell off before the Devoured by Darkness phase.

  “Man was not meant to come here.” Martin froze. Klimpt’s voice echoed down from on high. “Man was not meant to come here. Man was not meant to come here.”

  If Martin’s little Master stalker was listening in on this fight then the game was up. There was no question about whose voice that was. Even the rest of the guild were looking askance to one another. Martin tapped his crest. “Focus.”

  The towering mass of Phalanx swung to face him once more.

  “Focus.” It mocked. “Focus. Focus. Focus.”

  It ran right at him, ducking its tip down again, but contorting so that a blackened mask was looking right at him. There was a crack running over the surface of the stone, from above the right eye and down through the nose and to the lower cheek. With every thumping step it shook a little looser, and a little more of the void behind the surface became visible.

  “Hey, it is my turn!” Lindsay intercepted the Archduke as it charged, trying her best to hamstring it with the glowing green trailing from her blades. The wounds she hacked into it weren’t all that deep compared to the size of the limbs, but the poison took hold quick, shriveling the flesh away. Purpling and puckering the skin all around the leg.

  “Is bad enough enduring moron in chief.” Jericho’s growls. “Moron in chief. Moron. Moron. Moron.”

  The bounding progress of Phalanx slowed as that limb withered. Martin didn’t know when he’d started his own charge to meet the beast, but he was running by the time the Archduke halted and jerked upright to turn its violence on Lindsay. The one healthy leg slammed down and the other, now looking like it had been chewed halfway through, rose.

  It had no right to move so fast. Martin was only halfway across the distance when it slammed down at Lindsay. There was no time for her to dodge. No time for anyone to do anything. Martin had a hand out toward her and it felt like time slowed as the tiny Corvan in the Archduke’s shadow looked up with wide eyes. He cast Summon.

  Lindsay was yanked from her feet and came tumbling end over end across the uneven cobble-faces of the floor. Squawking with every bump she hit.

  Phalanx’s bludgeoning strike found nothing to slay, but the impact shook loose another cloud of dust from the Curse of Ages. Some of the arms that had begun to curl back up under the leather skirts came loose too, flopping out and splaying in every direction.

  Martin caught her before they collided, spinning the both of them around. It was strange, she was bigger than him, but the hollow bones of the Corvan race meant he could pick her up easily. “Nice catch, snack-size.”

  “A bird in the hand…” He smirked.

  “Will kick you in the crotch if you don’t put her down.”

  He tossed her away and the moment she found her feet they charged in together, either side of the central pillar of the one healthy limb still supporting the weight of Phalanx. They went in hard and silent. Martin led with a Void Strike.

  [Phalanx has suffered 9 dark damage]

  [Phalanx has suffered 9 slashing damage]

  Then he slapped his empty hand against the clammy flesh to deliver the inverted version of his Healing Touch, Withering Touch.

  [Phalanx has suffered 6 strength drain, 6 agility drain, 6 endurance drain]

  From the blackened palm print on the Archduke’s leg, weakness and corruption spread. The ankle that had supported its athletic leaps through the air and the dance of its ranged phases began to tremor under the weight it had to bear.

  None of Lindsay’s attacks were being called out today. She spun in grim-faced fury through her rotation. Eyes fixed on the target. Not a hint of her usual joy. It took Martin a moment to realize that not everyone could ignore the things that Phalanx was repeating.

  Julia’s words washed over them, pushing Lindsay to new heights of viciousness. “She’s a joke. A joke. A joke. A joke.”

  Above their heads, the nest of clawed arms was reaching down toward them, slashing at the air but far out of range. The other massive limb had stretched out to swipe at Jericho where he was battering at himself with the cat o’ nine tails, and he leapt to intercept it when it faltered. He took the hit, rolling across the floor surrounded by a nimbus of crackling Vengeance.

  Julia again. It seemed to hurt more when it came from Julia, judging by the way Lindsay’s shoulders drooped each time she heard the woman’s voice. Like she expected it from Jericho, but when Julia said it, it became truly damning. “We don’t owe her anything. Don’t owe her anything. Owe her anything. Anything.”

  Afflict was the next ability off cooldown, and Martin was more than happy to use it, dragging another swathe through the flesh of the leg before him.

  [Phalanx has suffered 24 dark damage]

  [Phalanx has suffered 34 slashing damage]

  If they could take the leg down and leave the central mass of the Archduke reachable and undefended then there might not even be another phase. He activated Void Strike again, but it had shifted for this third blow into Annihilation Strike. That sounded like good news.

  He hammered it into the ankle, right through the bulbous ball joint that he’d already crisscrossed with bloody slashes.

  [Phalanx has suffered 21 dark damage]

  When he yanked the sword free, the hole left behind did not fill with blood as the others had. It stayed dark as a starless night. Darker even. Like the void outside of Strata. Like the event horizon of a black hole. Darkness given form.

  “What the hell are you doing down there?” Lindsay’s voice echoed from above.

  Martin’s count was off. He’d been so caught up in the violence that he forgot to keep track of the masks. “Lindsay, we need to move.”

  She barked, “What?” without looking up from her routine.

  “Move!”

  The light blasted out from all the masks up above, illuminating the chamber once more. Every face on the floors and the walls seemed to leer as the shadows shifted. Jericho and Julia were visible at opposite ends of the chamber, doing their best to stick to the plan even w
hen Lindsay had driven in to do all the damage she could, and Martin had foolishly gone along with her.

  Both of the fools leapt clear as the mass above them began to spin, the ankle twisting as the pirouette began. The ankle shaking as the hand beneath it, numbed by the burden it had to bear, failed to move. The ankle snapping with the sound of a falling redwood as the black hole that had been planted in the bone tore it apart.

  Phalanx fell. The beams from its face ripping out in wild spirals as it went tumbling. Julia was untouched at her end, but the arc of the spinning rays cut right through Jericho where he stood.

  The Archduke hit the ground hard, and the beams firing from the two masks aimed at the ground managed to rock and bounce it about for only a few moments before dying with a splutter. Two matching black marks had been carved into the roof.

  Jericho’s guts spilled out of him. Fur and flesh had been stripped clean by the passing lights. What hair was left around the great angled wound was crisp and black. He fell to his knees, grabbing for his intestines as they writhed and rippled out from containment. Blood boiled up out of his mouth and his nose, but none of that drew Martin’s eye like the black cloud of Vengeance that surrounded their Heretic now. He tapped his crest. “Hang in there, buddy. Healing is coming.”

  Jericho’s growl echoed back to him through the link. “Liar.”

  Martin had been so distracted by Jericho’s plight that he forgot about his own. The hands at the end of the two spindly limbs that the Archduke flailed around might have been dead and useless, but the rest still served perfectly well as bludgeons.

  They lashed out spasmodically as the black fog came pouring out the holes in Phalanx’s head. Kicking and twitching with no method to their madness, but no less dangerous for that. A sweeping kick knocked Martin off his feet.