“After that,” Bordeaux added. “We shall return to Lumière and brief them on what happened, then rally the rest of our fleets to join us. With any luck, we might even encounter our ships on patrol beforehand, and they shall assist.”
“And if things go south?” Guy said and pushed away from the guardrail. “We’re just one airship after all.”
“Then your Arn pilot will find us an escape route, as you claim he can do,” Remy said.
“Worry not,” Bordeaux said. “I have no intentions of putting this ship at unnecessary risk. We are to slow New Svartálfar down and leave, not fight to the bitter end as we do not have the power. I know you seem concerned, Paladin—”
“Actually, it’s Spell Lancer now,” Guy said. “Don’t worry, I’ll swap back to Paladin later.”
Bordeaux grimaced and narrowed his eyes.
“Oh shit.” Guy laughed. “Sorry, bro, did I cut you off again?”
Rachael sighed at Guy, rubbing her forehead. “You did.”
“I’m bad at that. Sorry, captain, carry on.”
“As I was saying . . .” Bordeaux continued. “Remy is right. Stopping to inform the kingdom and rally our forces may cost us precious time.”
Guy didn’t give him a reply. He gestured to Rachael to follow him to a quiet corner on the airship. “Are you okay with this?” he asked.
Rachael took a while to compile an answer. She stood as the winds blew her long, cherry, braided hair, wings, and nurse dress that she wore over a suit of chain armor. Rachael looked at him with her blue eyes and finally said. “Time is of the essence, right? Dark elves are ready to attack, Arn’s about to fall out of the sky, and the White Dragon needs us to stop this. We have to move fast to help these people.”
“All right,” he said. “If you’re cool with this, then I should be too.”
She held his arm. “I’ll be fine. But if you got any more tanking tips . . . I’m all ears while we still have the time!”
Chapter Fifty-Two
It was zero hour.
The lone Lumière Kingdom airship met the fleet of New Svartálfar airships above the ocean at the mouth of the mists—a small marshland to the east connected with the mainland to the north and south. It was likely the spot where light and dark elves would meet in ground combat if the two opposing sides were to attack one another via land.
The word had spread throughout the decks of the Sirocco—prepare for battle. Bordeaux had called for general quarters, springing the aeronauts into action. Rangers and Gunners took control of the airship’s cannons, Mages lined up along the ship’s guardrails, Clerics, and Medics were on standby with a stock of MP potions in their inventory. The engineering crew stood ready to keep the ship’s systems operational and spring up to repair its durability grade should it fall below safe levels.
Guy stood with his party on the top deck. He was back on his Paladin with Asteria’s Sword hanging on the back of his coat. Rachael was still a Berserker, wearing a pristine Lumière Enseigne’s Divine Cuirass, courtesy of the ship’s armory. He couldn’t get over how stunning Rachael looked. It was a sleeveless plate armor dress that gave the sigils on her arm space to breathe. The cuirass was white like the clouds around them and so polished it reflected the sunlight and came with a red skirt and thigh-high, white, armored boots. Speaking of her thighs, Rachael had a few sigils placed on them. Like all fae armor, there was no back section to her outfit because that’s where her wings needed to sprout out. It gave her a few new spots to put more sigils, too.
The cluster of airships in the skies grew closer. Arn’s intel was correct. The New Svartálfar fleet was gathering, and somewhere in that fleet was the imperial airship with a bunch of faes ready to leap off and fly to them. Guy looked to his left and right, noting that most of the aeronauts had finished switching their classes.
Ulysses dashed up the stairs and nearly bumped into Guy.
“There you are,” Ulysses said. “Hate to break up your epic hero poses, but Arn just called. He has a few minutes left before the Seraphim’s orbit moves out of range.”
Tempeste nodded, having overheard. “Then we need to make this quick.”
“Bring us to the lead ship,” Bordeaux ordered. “All hands, prepare for battle!”
The crew stood ready at their assigned stations. Guy prepared for action as the swordsman with his trench coat ends rippling in the high winds that blew past. He had Paladin and Spell Lancer skills at his fingertips and couldn’t wait to show Serzax and his men his new power.
Alone and outgunned, the Sirocco angled itself in the clouds and moved to focus on the lead New Svartálfar airship, its propellers spinning rapidly. The remaining New Svartálfar ships farther out rotated to chase. There were no longer any airships above the ocean heading to the Lumière Kingdom. At least that part of the plan worked. The Sirocco bought Lumière more time to live.
The New Svartálfar elf ship drew near. The Sirocco spun to make its starboard side, and its many cannons pointed outward, face the lead New Svartálfar ship.
Bordeaux gave the order. “Fire!”
The cannonball barrage was deafening, like a thousand thunderbolts had gone off, one after another, shaking the deck where Guy stood. The Sirocco’s cannons hit their targets dead on. Guy expected to see the New Svartálfar airship go down, but instead was treated to a light show of explosions, then the frightening sight of the New Svartálfar vessel returning fire with its cannons. He forgot about the durability rule. Like HP, you had to bring a ship’s durability down to zero.
The lead New Svartálfar ship was still in the game.
The Sirocco took a direct hit, returned fire, then ascended above the New Svartálfar vessels. The maneuver allowed the Mages to cast and bring down a torrent of Lightning spells. The lead New Svartálfar ship exploded in a fiery blast, and the flames reduced its durability to critical levels. The Sirocco dove to the nearest New Svartálfar ship to the side, gave it a cannonball barrage to weaken its defense, then a mana bombardment from the Mages. To the aft came a third New Svartálfar airship, gaining closer and closer to the Sirocco. The captain didn’t concern himself with that. He just nodded to Guy.
It was time for Rachael’s team to act.
Guy approached Zuran, Xanthe, Averyl, and their party leader, Rachael.
“You four ready?” Guy asked.
Rachael gave him a nod and held the hilt of her new longsword, the Lumière Enseigne’s Divine Saber, sheathed to the sword belt around her skirt. “Just say the word.”
Guy spun to Bordeaux. “Captain?”
“Ten seconds!” The elven captain yelled in response. “Get in position!”
Rachael led her party to the Sirocco’s aft railing. Guy followed behind to send them off and watched as three faes and a shadow angel spread their wings and grabbed hold of their weapons. Enseigne’s Divine Saber for Rachael, Aspirant’s Spellbook for Zuran, twin Aspirant’s Blades for Xanthe, and the Flame Priestess’s Scepter in Averyl’s hands.
The pursuing New Svartálfar airship neared with its forward cannons blazing.
Bordeaux gave the signal. “Now!”
Rachael’s party flapped their wings and leaped off the ship. The four took to the skies, angled their flight trajectory toward the pursuing New Svartálfar airship, evading the incoming cannonballs that came soaring across the gap. None of those balls hit the flying four. Rachael and her party twirled out of the way, came about, and zoomed to their target in the sky like epic superheroes.
As for the Sirocco.
A cannonball barrage hit the Sirocco, shaking the deck so hard, Guy nearly lost his balance. Everyone else did, sans Henrietta. The librarian-turned warrior adjusted her glasses and smiled at Guy, he smiled right back. They were the only two humans aboard, humans who were resistant to knockbacks. Guy raced to the edge of the deck and looked at the pursuing airship. It stopped firing, and soon afterward, moved away from the Sirocco. The crew was too busy dealing with their winged intruders.
Rachael
had evolved into a fierce swordswoman on par with Tempeste. Only Rachael used healing magic, rather than elemental magic. Rachael found a way to be like Guy . . . she found a build that allowed a Berserker to operate as a Paladin. Rachael wanted to be just like him. She wanted the two to be like each other.
And he wanted her to lead the party to a glorious victory full of rare loot.
“C’mon, you can do it!” Guy cheered on. “Fuck ‘em up, Rachael! Fuck ‘em up . . .”
Averyl finished casting Starlight Recovery.
It topped up Rachael’s HP as she led the charge, diving down to the frightened dark elves, then slicing their torsos in half when their HP slipped below 23 percent. The party had focused on the dark elf Mages first, which made sense as they posed the most significant threat. Rachael drew their attention by flying just low enough for their spells to target her. After that, she continually cast Regeneration to get her HP high, while Averyl remained farther back.
Averyl spotted a dark elf Mage cast Fireball on Rachael, while a second cast Lightning Whip. Two devastating blasts of elemental magic soared up to Rachael. Rachael’s HP was full, sitting at 883, so Averyl cast Starlight Recovery anyway.
Boom.
A fiery blast of lightning and flames exploded on Rachael, setting her armor and wings ablaze, and took her HP down to 598. Averyl finished casting Starlight Recovery immediately afterward and brought Rachael’s HP up to 763. She followed up by casting Heal Up to cleanse the burning debuff, removing the flames that burned Rachael’s wings. Meanwhile, the Regeneration spell continued to restore 50 of Rachael’s HP per second.
Rachael stopped falling and maintained her distance in the sky to annoy the dark elf Mages with mocking laughter. Zuran returned fire and sent his Fireballs crashing down upon the distracted Mages. The Fireballs exploded and burned their targets. Zuran spotted another party of Mages clustered together, so he cast Firestorm and burned them all with one cast. The Mages scattered to regroup, then stopped when a shadow angel descended from the clouds, cut into their searing flesh, and sent their bodies to the deck. A dark elf Cleric attempted to heal their burning Mages—
Xanthe danced and charmed the Cleric with Alluring Waltz, then ordered them to leap overboard.
There was enough space for the four to land now. Rachael did so first, threw down a Recovery Orb, then goaded the Spell Lancers to fight her. The enemy forces did so without hesitation and without looking up at Averyl and her buzzing fairy wings in the air, continually casting healing spells upon Rachael and Xanthe as they fought, or Zuran with his impressive dragonfly-like wings while he held a tome glowing with red energy.
Nobody in Averyl’s party fell below 70 percent HP. An alert pulsed ahead of Averyl.
Flight Time Remaining: 1 Minute 12 Seconds
A similar one flashed for Zuran.
With the herd thinned, Averyl and Zuran joined Xanthe and Rachael on the deck of the New Svartálfar airship and gave their tired wings a rest to recover flight time. The four moved on to strike down the surviving crew members, primarily dark elf Spell Lancers and aeronauts, at that point. The dark elf Clerics lay dead at Averyl’s pristine black heeled shoes.
Out of desperation, the last surviving dark elves kicked open a crate and collected the potion bottles, full of a red liquid, that rolled out to the deck. At first, Averyl assumed they were HP potions but noticed that the Spell Lancers who had full HP drank them anyway. She found out what they were as they charged and impaled Rachael with their lances. They were hitting Rachael for 150 HP with each hit.
Strength potions . . . there is no way they could have inflicted that much damage.
Rachael yelled, kicked back a Spell Lancer, rotated with her Enseigne’s Divine Saber out to deflect the next hit before retreating to collect a Recovery Orb. Rachael recovered 290 HP, and the impaling wounds gored through her chest and belly closed shut.
“They are drinking strength potions!” Averyl yelled. “There physical attacks will inflict far greater damage now!”
Rachael grimaced. “Good thing my flight time recovered.”
Rachael buzzed her wings and leaped up to fly above the deck. She was out of reach of their lances and only lowered herself to make slicing aerial strikes. Xanthe flapped her wings and the shadow angel Blade Dancer resumed her diving assaults, twirled to perform her dances, or finish a target with Brisk Strike when she had AP.
Averyl checked her flight time.
Flight Time Remaining: 4 Minutes 6 Seconds
Averyl and Zuran were the last to land, and therefore needed more time to recover it. She backed off and hid behind the ship’s mast, watching as Zuran sent an Icicle through the left eye of a Spell Lancer who tried and failed to skewer Rachael. As the Spell Lancer staggered and cried out in pain, Rachael swung the Enseigne’s Divine Saber and cut the dark elf in half at the waist. A torrent of crimson juices spilled from the Spell Lancer’s gut, along with their intestines. Rachael looked away and continued her assault.
The battle was going well.
And then Averyl spotted something at the corner of her eye.
On the deck lay Averyl’s Flame Priestess’s Robe. She stooped to pick it up, confirming it was real via the screen that floated next to it. The sight of the robe and its thin, silky texture put a smile on her face.
“My robe!” Averyl announced. “I found it!—”
Averyl’s ears picked up the sound of a soothing song played from a Bard’s ocarina.
Chapter Fifty-Three
Several cannons exploded in unison, launching the balls to their intended targets. Those unfortunate enough to get hit screamed from the subsequent blasts. Ignoring the battle’s chaotic environment, Guy observed Rachael’s team from afar, holding his hands on the Sirocco’s aft guardrail. There wasn’t anything to do but watch, wait, and hope that his advice on tanking helped Rachael, and hope that her party assaulting the crew of the New Svartálfar airship had enough flight time to make it back.
Come on, Rachael, I know you can do this!
It was working. It looked like Rachael’s team was kicking ass.
Guy’s party members, Kam, Ulysses, and Henrietta, lingered about on the deck. Remy refused Guy’s repeated party invites. Joined a party with members of the Sirocco’s crew, Guy assumed, since that’s what Tempeste and Bordeaux did.
Ulysses’s communicator beeped. It was an incoming message from Arn. Guy felt his heart jump into his throat as his belly flipped about. This was it, Arn was feeding them critical intel, and it probably was about the imperial ship they asked him to track. It was probably coming for the Sirocco or supporting the New Svartálfar vessel Rachael’s team attacked. Guy had long abandoned the possibility of good news happening.
“What’s up, Arn?” Ulysses said as he whipped out the device and spoke into it. He listened to Arn, then lowered the communicator to address the crew. “All right, people, we got new airships leaving the mists! Back up for New Svartálfar is coming!”
“We have to leave,” Guy said to the captain. “I think we’ve done enough damage to slow them down.”
Bordeaux nodded in agreement. “Pilot, bring us in range of the ship behind. Let us close the gap for our winged friends to fly back. After that, send us home!”
“Aye, captain.”
The pilot pushed the Sirocco to its destination, the New Svartálfar airship Rachael’s team boarded. Cannonball fire thundered the air and struck the Sirocco, taking massive chunks off its durability and rocking the deck with violent tremors. The crew grabbed ahold of the railing or masts to stand still. Three New Svartálfar ships climbed upward and positioned themselves ahead of the Sirocco with their forward cannons blasting their artillery.
The Sirocco made a hard turn away and paid the price with extensive durability lost on its starboard side, then slowed when two more New Svartálfar ships soared in front of it, blazing their cannons. The enemy ships forced the Sirocco to turn yet again. There was too much flack in the air.
It was impossible
to close the gap between the Sirocco and the ship Rachael’s party was on.
“What the?”
That was Bordeaux, and he sounded incredibly flabbergasted. The elven captain lowered his handheld telescope, his bearded face twisted with frustration.
“Something wrong?” Guy asked Bordeaux.
Bordeaux nodded. “Aye.” And pointed out a cluster of airships on approach, leaving the mists. Guy was sure those airships weren’t part of the original group.
“It’s the new ships Arn talked about,” Guy said.
Ulysses overheard the chat and came over to watch.
“They got here fast,” Ulysses said. “Arn just scanned those airships recently.”
The existing New Svartálfar fleet, and the newly arrived ones from the mists, spread out to form a circle in the air around the Sirocco, covering all escape paths. They even sent a dozen ships to hover above and below the Sirocco just in case they tried to ascend to fly over or descend to fly under. The circle transformed into a spheroid web of New Svartálfar vessels. Guy saw nothing but airships for days wherever he turned.
The skies exploded with thundering bursts again. Just about every airship targeting the Sirocco fired their cannons, sending by far the largest barrage yet. And if it wasn’t for the game rules governing things, that barrage should have brought the Sirocco down in a blaze of flames. The Sirocco’s durability made it one tough ship.
So, instead of sinking, the Sirocco lost most of its durability. It rocked about as the screams of its crew shrieked, then came to a sudden end. A few men were too close to the cannonball’s impact.
The Sirocco wasn’t moving, the ship just idled in the sky and nobody talked to Guy or put his panicking thoughts, regarding Rachael and the others, at ease. Everything was going to hell. Guy marched to the captain and gave Remy a dirty glare. This was Remy’s idea, after all.
Mirror Princess: A LitRPG Space Fantasy (Sword of Asteria Book 2) Page 41
