Chapter Forty-Nine
“We’re clear for now, Captain.”
Ulysses nodded to Arn and tapped several buttons on his dashboard. “I’m taking us back to the fleet.”
“No, not the fleet!” Guy interjected and ran forward.
Ulysses laughed and spun his chair around to meet Guy’s face. “Are you nuts, mon ami? We’re outgunned and outnumbered here. We need back up!”
“We can’t leave Rachael!”
“Forget her,” Ulysses said. “You don’t even know if she’s alive. And honestly, sticking around for Rachael is the reason we’re in this mess and the reason that planet is getting sacked. People are fucking dead because of us.”
“She’s alive, and they have her captured,” Guy said, upping the volume of his voice and hoping it’d work.
“All the more reason to return home to the fleet. Let the Marines get her out.”
It didn’t.
“And if the sentinels follow us?” Guy asked. “That Wylume asshole kept asking me about the fleet’s location. He wants to know where it is. Take us back to Faeheim.”
Ulysses turned his chair, bringing his gaze to Arn. “Does it say ‘Captain’ anywhere on my uniform?”
“You’re not wearing a uniform.”
“Not helping, Arn.”
Arn shrugged. “Just stating facts.” He grabbed a can of cola off his cup holder then drank.
“You still didn’t answer my question,” Guy cut in. “What if the sentinels follow us to the fleet?”
Ulysses spun his chair back to Guy, this time jamming his left index finger at him. “They won’t. You can’t follow ships after they’ve gone into hyperspace. The only reason they found us was because we didn’t make a long hyperspace jump, and they probably knew we’d have to leave hyperspace fast without deflectors. After that, they just had to search each planet in the area until they found us.”
“But we got them working again, right?” Guy asked. “The deflectors?”
“Right, so let’s not waste this chance.” Ulysses spun the chair back to his console and retook the Seraphim’s primary controls. “We’re going home and alerting the military. We’re not heroes here. They are.”
Not heroes.
Guy gave that some more thought. He got Dianna, Dave, and everyone in Coldhorn killed, and the planet Mennaze invaded because of his recklessness. Heroes save lives, not accidentally lose them.
Maybe Ulysses is right . . . Guy threw Emeraldal’s Bow to the floor, pushed past his party, and stormed out of the bridge in a rage. Trying to help and save people only got them killed. Uncle Matthew giving me this fucking sword to become some hero Paladin was a colossal mistake.
“Are you sure?”
Are you sure were the words Matthew had said to . . . someone before he gave Guy Asteria’s Sword. Matthew probably had asked that question because he doubted that Guy would be a good, noble defender.
Guy spent the next twelve minutes sitting in the galley, feet up on the table, and looking at the fridge for no reason. It just happened to be ahead of him. He sighed and rubbed his aching forehead pulsing with stress.
Rachael, I’m sorry for bringing you out here. I should’ve told you what was wrong with me. It would have kept the fleet out of this mess. Hell, even Ulysses and Arn would have been free. Everyone got dragged into this because of me and my selfish thinking. I only cared about keeping my rank high and getting laid.
In the corridor, Guy heard Kam, Zuran, and Henrietta chatting and exploring the ship while exchanging their stories. Later, Henrietta tried the tutorial with the help of Kam and Zuran. The wolves spawned on the Seraphim because of that. It was too weird. Henrietta completed the tutorial and got some experience points, as well as a better understanding of the Berserker class.
“And your main weapon is that tome,” Henrietta said, probably to Zuran. Guy couldn’t tell, he still had his feet on the table and his eyes on the fridge.
“Yeah, it is,” he heard Zuran reply.
“Now that’s the class I should have been!”
“And Berserker is the class I should be! But this high intelligence is handy. I read this book pretty fast, and I’m not normally a fast reader.”
“Likewise, I’m no longer a speedy reader. I remember everything I have read in the past, yes, but reading new content requires more focus than usual. My newfound strength is fun though!” She giggled.
“Man!” Zuran moaned. “We need a way to swap classes!”
“Pretty sure you can,” Kam said. “Me screen here has a list of classes I have leveled. But I am only a Spell Lancer. Plus, what of that subclass option? Any of ye figured that out?”
“Nope,” Zuran said.
“Then that settles it,” Kam said. “We can change classes, we just don’t know how.”
Guy caught the flash of a hyperspace jump a few minutes later from the corner of his eye. That was it. Ulysses was taking them back to the fleet and dooming everyone there once Wylume followed with the sentinels.
Goodbye, Rachael . . .
Footsteps trotted on the corridor floors. It came from the bridge and didn’t stop until it arrived in the galley. Someone was in a rush. Arn stopped in front of the galley’s entrance, huffing and puffing, one hand holding the door frame.
“Guy!” Arn yelled in a panic. “Guy, come with me quick!”
He raised his eyebrow. “What’s wrong?”
“It’s Ulysses!”
On the bridge, Arn showed Guy what was up. Ulysses was on the floor, passed out.
Guy lowered himself to Ulysses. “How did that happen?”
“I don’t know,” Arn said. “After we passed into hyperspace, Ulysses saw the mess you left, picked it up, and collapsed.”
Guy glanced at Ulysses again and Emeraldal’s Bow under him—the bow Guy had dropped when he stormed out.
“Oh, fuck,” Guy said, standing up. “He touched the bow.”
“Ulysses’s afflicted now?” Arn tugged on the ends of his fox headdress. “Great, who’s going to help me fly this?!”
Guy grinned at Ulysses’s vacant pilot seat. “Me.”
He took the chair, cracked his hands, and readjusted the Seraphim’s course through the swirling colors of hyperspace. “Well, with the captain incapacitated, I’m officially taking command!”
Arn sat at his chair beside him. “And as the second in command of the Seraphim, shouldn’t it be me?”
“I outrank you!”
“Yeah, on your ship.”
“Still, I’m a captain.”
“On your ship,” Arn reaffirmed. “This is my ship. I should be the acting captain.”
“Feel free to stop me!” Guy returned to the controls and changed their course. “Keep in mind, I’m a level 14 Paladin with 26 charisma! Your laser pistol won’t do shit.”
“Really?”
The Seraphim emerged from its hyperspace jump, drifted from the closing rift in space, and angled toward the blue planet in the distance with two suns shining their bright light upon it.
The Seraphim returned to Faeheim.
“Yeah, man,” Guy said, to answer Arn’s question.
Arn unholstered his laser pistol from his waist, aimed it at Guy, and pulled the trigger.
A blast of red-hot light drilled Guy in the face. He just winced and waved away the smoke. “Hey, yo, what the fuck, man?”
Arn shrugged. “Just testing.”
He shot Guy twice in the head.
“Yo! Dude!”
“Wow, you weren’t kidding.” Arn reshot him again—in the chest, in the gut, twice in the face. “Dance!”
“Okay, stop! It’s still dropping my HP!”
“But not killing you. Hey, what happens if I shoot you in the dick?”
“Don’t shoot me in the dick!”
“I’m gonna!”
Arn shot Guy in the dick.
The Seraphim’s alarms blared, causing the two to pause and shift back to their computer screens. Arn still held the
laser with one hand though.
“Oh, shit,” Arn said and grimaced. “Sentinel ship exiting hyperspace behind us! It looks like the one from Mennaze.”
“It followed us?”
“Yeah, it did.” Arn eyed his computer screen, backing his face away from it. “You were right. Holy fuck.”
“What did I fucking tell you?!” Guy erupted with laughter. “What did I fucking tell you?! We almost doomed the entire fleet!”
“Okay, Mr. Gallant Paladin,” Arn said, spinning his chair to Guy. “Now what?”
It was a good question.
Arn snorted. “You didn’t think this far ahead, did you?!”
Guy took a long, deep breath as the Seraphim approached Faeheim. “Yeah, not really.”
Chapter Fifty
Xanthe and Rachael ran through the sentinel ship, its alarms screeching strange alien noises and flashing red lights. Xanthe held Rachael’s hand and turned down a connecting hallway.
Then stopped.
Two six-legged machina monsters rose from the floor panels. Behind, another two rose, baring their projectile cannons at Xanthe and Rachael.
Xanthe narrowed her eyes and tried to gain detailed information about the machina. “They don’t appear to be afflicted.” She withdrew her Steel Edge and Heavy Kilij scimitars. Rachael grabbed her Oak Staff.
And the machina monsters? They discharged their projectile weapons.
Xanthe | HP: 383/504
Rachael | HP: 192/313
It did a lot of damage.
“Shit . . .”
Rachael gasped and cast Medica, recovering 54 HP. She repeated her healing spell, granting the duo another 54 HP, then stopped for one second and cast Regeneration on herself, then on Xanthe.
Regeneration
HP is slowly recovering over a period of time.
Xanthe made the first strike and raised her AP quickly with each dual-wielded slash, as her high agility enhanced her attack speed. Xanthe’s and Rachael’s HP hovered between 200 and 350. The numbers went down, then up. The relentless projectile fire from the machina monsters left Rachael with no choice but to continuously cast Medica as Regeneration’s effect passively healed the two. When Xanthe hit 100 AP, she used Alluring Waltz. The shadow angel stilled herself for a second, then Xanthe’s astral circuits forced her arms, legs, and swaying hips to perform a quick three-second forbidden and magical exotic dance that sent a pulse of energy at the machina when finished.
Nothing happened.
Of course not. These are machines, and dancing has no effect.
Brisk Strike was a different story. When Xanthe had 100 AP for that, her twin strikes destroyed machina unit number one. With three machina monsters left and their projectile rounds chipping away at their HP, Xanthe repeated her assault. She slashed at the metal monster, got 100 AP, and used Brisk Strike to destroy the unit. Two machina monsters remained, giving Rachael the opportunity to ease up on spell casting. Regeneration’s effect was enough. Rachael smacked the left machina monster with her Oak Staff as Xanthe took the one on the right. The two women pulverized the machina into scrap metal and sparks and earned no experience points for their hard work. Is it because the machina are not afflicted?
Rachael strapped the Oak Staff on her back. “This proves their tech is better than ours,” she said. “If it weren’t for my healing magic, we’d be dead.”
Xanthe looked at the dead machina monsters. “Walking machina strong enough to fight afflicted.”
“Pretty sure the term is called robots, Xanthe.”
The two were on the move again, desperately seeking escape off the sentinel ship. Every hallway they ran past had the machina monsters with projectile cannons aiming for the duo crawling up from spread floor panels.
Xanthe answered the machina monsters’ call for a challenge. She charged the mechanical fiends while swinging and thrusting her scimitars. A hail of projectiles soared toward Xanthe. She dodged to the side, then rolled to escape from a second discharge. Xanthe came about, leaped, and twirled up and over one machina monster, landing behind and sinking her dual blades into it, making sparks rain to the floor.
AP: 100/100
She grinned and finished the pest with Brisk Strike.
Xanthe | HP: 137/504
Her HP had gotten low—
A flash of blue and green energy blinded Xanthe for a second—then a second later, another. When it faded . . .
Xanthe | HP: 195/504
[Regeneration]
Rachael’s healing was on point, and two seconds later, Xanthe’s HP had recovered to 253. Xanthe rotated and located the next machina monster, then dispatched it using multiple rapid cuts and a Brisk Strike when the AP was available.
Another set of dead machina lay at their feet as she pulled her dual scimitars from the sparking wreckage.
“It looks like the ship is automated,” Rachael said, her eyes examining the strange layout of the sentinel ship. “I don’t think hijacking it is an option.”
“And I do not think this machina would allow it!”
“Robots!”
The duo fought their way to the door Xanthe had arrived from. Xanthe reached it first, making the door slide open when it detected her presence. A gust of wind blew in, scattering the ends of her Crimson Bedlah, raven wing feathers, and black hair. Behind, Rachael’s red hair did the same, as did her fairy wings. Xanthe nodded to the drop as Rachael approached it, looking at the fall with a frightened face.
Rachael just stood there. “Oh, shit.”
Perhaps she needs some encouragement. Xanthe ambled behind Rachael and stroked her wings—
“Hey!” Rachael snapped around, scowling.
Xanthe grinned. “You are level 9, correct?”
“Yes, but—”
“Do you have the trait Enable High Altitude Flight?”
Rachael waved her hand and opened her Status screen, scrolled, and narrowed her eyes. “Yeah, I do.
“You can fly then.”
“I’m a fae. I’ve always been able to fly.” Rachael gazed at the opened door as the winds continued to scatter her red hair. “Just not like this.”
Xanthe stood beside her. “You can trust me. Your flight skills are active if you have that trait.”
“I’m not so sure—”
“Just watch.”
Xanthe jumped out.
She swan dived and plunged toward the island below, surrounded by the calm waters of the ocean. The gusting winds rustled her hair, wings, and attire. Midway into the dive, Xanthe flapped her wings, and the act of doing so caused her body to become light; the affliction recognized her as a woman in flight.
Flight Time Remaining: 12 Minutes 30 Seconds
Xanthe was flying again, and despite having to flap the wings on her back, she felt little strain. She spun to Rachael standing at the ship’s entrance, clinging to the door frame like a child reluctant to go swimming for the first time.
She held her hand out to the star-fae. “The imperials can do it, so can you.” Behind Rachael, the machina monsters drew near. Rachael would die if she remained there. “Come quick!”
Rachael looked back, eyeing the machina monsters. She returned to the drop at the door. After another bout of hesitation, Rachael dove out. Either that or one of the machina had shot her arse. In any case, Rachael plummeted to the ocean and screamed on the way down.
“Oh . . . damn it . . . !”
Xanthe lowered her head, watching as she fell. “Well . . . that was unexpected.”
Xanthe spread her arms wide in another elegant swan dive and descended from her position in the sky. Rachael extended her left hand to Xanthe during the fall, her back poised to crash into the ocean first. Xanthe’s descent continued as she reached for Rachael’s hand. She was closing the gap. She was inches away, just a few more seconds.
Their hands clasped during the drop. Xanthe held Rachael in her grip and came to a full stop in the air. She was floating in the sky now, raven wings flapping as she held Rach
ael’s dangling body. Gravity cared not for Xanthe, so long as her wings were in motion and not tired. However, gravity cared for Rachael since her wings were not buzzing. The sensation was strange.
“Focus!” Xanthe said to Rachael. She could not hold her forever.
“I . . . I . . .”
“You can do it!” Xanthe clenched Rachael’s other hand and lifted her up so that the two could be level in the air. She felt a tremble in Rachael’s hands that would not stop.
Rachael shut her eyes and flapped her fae wings, making them look like a continuous blue blur with a buzzing noise. Rachael’s body had become light like hers, and soon after, Xanthe did not need to hold Rachael. The affliction and its physics-breaking ability recognized Rachael as a level 9 fae in flight.
Xanthe released Rachael from her grip and drifted backward. Rachael did not fall, not even when she opened her eyes and panicked. “Wow . . .”
“And this is why we cannot let you live,” said a voice from above.
The duo looked up.
Leafblade and four imperials descended from the sentinel ship and imperial airship above. The incoming imperial fae held their swords steady, tips aimed for Xanthe and Rachael. They positioned themselves to fly back to back as Leafblade and his men surrounded them.
Xanthe winced. “The sentinel crew must have called for help.”
Leafblade stood ahead of his men, his buzzing wings keeping his gaze level with Xanthe’s. “I should have chained you up and tossed you in a cage, shadow angel! Just like the rest of your people on our world.”
Leafblade flew for Xanthe.
Xanthe pulled out her dual scimitars and flew for him, allowing the hate to carry her to victory in the aerial sword flight.
Clang. Clang.
Their swords met in battle.
Behind, Rachael attacked using her battlestaff, making it thud against the armored fae who surrounded her. Xanthe hoped she could hold her own because . . .
Rachael (Medic) | LVL: 9 | Rank: D
And her opponents . . .
Imperial Trooper (Berserker) | LVL: 15 | Rank: C
Imperial Trooper (Berserker) | LVL: 15 | Rank: C
Imperial Trooper (Berserker) | LVL: 15 | Rank: C
None of the swords held by the three Imperial Troopers struck Rachael though. Rachael smiled, smacked them with her Oak Staff, and flew wide circles around the troopers, keeping the soldiers strung to her. She would only stop to cast Medica or reapply the Regeneration buff, then continue. From a distance, it looked like Rachael was flying three kites while circling through the air with her arms spread and a big smirk on her face. For lack of a better term, Rachael was kiting the three imperials.
Star Paladin: A LitRPG Space Fantasy (Sword of Asteria Book 1) Page 38
