by Kyle Johnson
“Sorcerer?” Aranos repeated, his eyes narrowing. Not many creatures recognized his Class, since the last one had vanished during the Feast of Virnal, centuries ago. “How did you know that?”
The creature laughed darkly and hefted the sword. “This sword felled many of my own kind, back when Antas stood proud, Sorcerer. I saw you craft the Spell that felled the azgrovas; I know what you are. My master is intrigued by you, and that is why you yet live.” The blade rose high. “Trust me when I tell you that you would have preferred death. Instead, I will teach you the meaning of torment.”
The blade started to descend, aimed not at Aranos’ chest, but at one of his arms. The undead warrior meant to cripple him, probably to make it easier to keep him safely imprisoned. As low as his LP was, Aranos doubted that he would survive even that blow, though, and he braced himself for respawn.
A silver flash slammed into the undead Warrior, knocking it back and sending it tumbling across the ground with a clatter of metal. Aranos blinked and saw Saphielle standing before him, her shield raised and her spear set. “No, lanohtar,” she said quietly. “You will not.”
As the woman stood, Aranos could finally see why the woman’s Class was called Bright Avenger. Her entire body glowed silver, and eldritch power rolled from her in waves. She seemed as solid as a mountain, her armor gleaming, her spear rock-steady in her grip. He stared at her with awe; the woman was a figure of power.
The undead knight rolled easily to its feet. “Bright Avenger,” it said cordially. “It has been long since I saw one of your kind. You think to pit yourself against me? Flee, and perhaps I will give you an extra day to live.” As the creature spoke, Aranos felt a wave of power roll out from it; magic backed its words, and they reached out to sap Saphielle’s will.
The woman, though, stood calmly, an unshakable rock against the flood of energy. “Save your words and your tricks, fallen one. Today, I send you to the rest you have been denied.”
The lanohtar roared in anger and leaped forward, its black blade whipping toward the Avenger as if it were weightless. Saphielle’s shield rose effortlessly to meet it, though, and her spear darted up, grazing the lanohtar’s neck and raising sparks from the blackened armor. The creature reversed its assault, spinning in a blow that could have cut the woman in half, but her shield met the strike with a loud crash. The power of the blow should have sent her flying, but Saphielle stood, immovable and grim, and returned the attack with a series of lightning-fast thrusts that the lanohtar hastily dodged.
Aranos felt a wave of healing energy wash through his as Meridian stepped to his side. “That was a pretty good job you did on that worm tower,” she said approvingly. “Next time, though, maybe leave yourself just a few LP, so I don’t have to work so hard, okay?”
“I’ll do my best,” Aranos groaned, rising slowly to his feet as his LP passed 10%. “It’s not always up to me, though.” He looked around and saw the rest of the party moving forward, preparing to help Saphielle. Aranos glanced at the woman and saw that she and the lanohtar were locked in a dance of death. The woman slid aside the undead’s massive strokes, moving always forward and never giving ground. Her spear whipped around her in a prismatic blur. She wasn’t just thrusting with the weapon; she slashed with the heavy spearhead and slammed the empowered shaft against her opponent furiously. The lanohtar responded with equal skill, wielding its massive sword like a toothpick, thrusting, slashing, and striking with the flat and pommel with equal effectiveness. The two were fighting at a skill level none of them but possibly Geltheriel could match, and if they tried to interfere, they’d probably just distract the Avenger.
Before he could call everyone back, though, Saphielle shouted out. “Hold! This creature is mine, and mine alone!” Phil and the others glanced back at Aranos, who nodded in reluctant acquiescence. With a shrug, Phil sheathed his sword and stepped back.
“If it hurts her, though, all bets are off,” he muttered grimly.
“If it hurts her, the smartest thing you can do is stand back,” Aranos said even more darkly. “Because I’ll take it apart piece by piece, even if it means going for respawn to do it.” Phil gave the Sorcerer a startled glance but nodded his head after seeing the look on Aranos’ face.
The battle raged between the two Warriors, but it wasn’t only a battle of steel against steel. Aranos could feel the surges of magic from the two as they empowered themselves and tried to fatally weaken the other. The lanohtar’s Spells used void and necrotic mana; it tried to sap the Avenger’s Strength and boost its own power. Saphielle’s magic sent spears of light and bursts of golden energy surging through the lanohtar, though, and healed the damage it caused her at the same time. She wasn’t using nature mana, Aranos realized; she’d tapped into a well of restorative mana somehow.
Saphielle’s blade was faster, and despite their size difference, she had a slight Strength advantage versus the lanohtar. The undead knight, though, was tireless. It felt no pain and had no Stamina to lose. Eventually, its nature won out against her advantages; her shield rose a modicum too slowly, and instead of fully deflecting the blow, she was struck on the top of her helmet. She stumbled for only an instant from the blow, but in that instant, the monster’s blade slashed down, cutting into her breastplate. The woman fell with a cry and a spray of blood, dropping to her back on the earth.
Phil and Aranos both started forward, but the Avenger raised her hand. “No!” she commanded fiercely. “It is mine!”
The lanohtar laughed harshly. “Did you think you’re the first Bright Avenger I’ve defeated, child? Your people sent whole armies against this city; I’ve killed your kind by the dozens. It’s over, and when you die, the master will have the memory of seeing you slain as one more torment for your precious Sorcerer.”
Saphielle’s eyes blazed, and a silver fire rushed up her arm and into her spear. Despite her wounds, she darted from the ground, a blaze of light aimed at the lanohtar. The creature almost contemptuously swatted at her spear with its massive blade, but her shield rose one last time, wreathed in the same silver fire, and smashed into the heavy sword. There was a flash of light, and the creature shrieked as its blade shivered, then burst into shards of black metal. Its cry cut off as Saphielle’s spear punched through its helmet, rammed into its brain, and erupted from the back of its skull, still blazing with silver energy. The lanohtar gurgled, clutched at the spear futilely with one hand, and pawed at Saphielle with the other.
“Go now to your rest, fallen one,” the Avenger said softly, her voice no longer hard but filled with pity. “I free you from this accursed life.” The lanohtar shuddered and fell still, its limp form dangling lifelessly from the woman’s spear.
As the monster died, the fire sustaining Saphielle guttered and dimmed, winking out a moment later. The woman took a step back, yanking her spear free, turned to Aranos for a moment, and smiled. As she did, her eyes rolled back in her head, and without a word, she collapsed to the ground.
Martina slowly opened her eyes, blinking stupidly at the flare of green light that surrounded her. She moved to cover her eyes with her hand, giving them time to adjust, but her limb was pinned above her and refused to move. Panic surged in her and drove her to full wakefulness, and she suddenly recalled what had happened.
Their excursion into the Fallen City had gone pretty much as Martina had thought it would. Liam seemed to know the layout of the place well enough to guide them, and while their encounters with undead had been nearly constant, they hadn’t been rushed or overrun. It was as if the undead in this part of the city were missing, and when Martina recalled the mass exodus she’d seen in the tracks of the hidden tunnel, she had a feeling she knew where the undead had gone.
“I’ll bet that they were all sent out to attack Phil and his group,” she told Hector quietly when Liam was occupied renewing the Spell that was supposed to hide their presence but that Martina didn’t think was doing a damn thing. “They must have left just before we arrived. Quite the coincidence
, huh?”
“I don’t believe in coincidences,” Hector replied, but seeing the grim look in Martina’s eye, he sighed. “And I can see you don’t, either. You think Liam somehow knew about this?”
“I’d put money on it,” she said firmly. “I don’t know how that would be possible, though.”
Hector rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “If Liam’s somehow in contact with whoever’s in command here, it would,” he said slowly. “If that’s the case, though, we’re probably walking into a trap at this temple, sister.”
“Yeah, that’s what I was thinking, too,” Martina replied grimly. “I say we ditch Liam and Monetta and follow the undead back to Phil and his party. I don’t know how many undead they were facing, but it looked like a lot, and I’ll bet they could use our help.”
“I think that’s the best plan you’ve had all week,” Hector grinned at the woman. “Let’s…”
Hector grunted as a thrashing, black tail slammed into him, catching him by surprise. The Warrior fell heavily to the ground but rolled to his feet, hefting his shield and unhooking his axe. Martina spun, nocking an arrow and drawing it hard against her cheek, her eyes seeking their attacker.
Liam stood several feet away, his arms crossed, shaking his head and clucking his tongue in mock sorrow. “Tsk, tsk,” he said, his voice mournful but with a gleeful undertone to it. “Were you really just going to leave me here on my own? You could have asked me if I wanted to go help Phil and his friends, too, you know.”
Martina sighted at the Summoner, her heart racing but her voice strangely calm. “Would you have gone if I had asked?” she said simply.
Liam chuckled. “Fair enough, I suppose. You’re right, I’d have said no. I’m not about to turn around when we’re already this close, for one thing. For another, running into your buddies would have put something of a kink in my plans.” The Wizard shook his head. “No, I suppose this was going to happen at some point.”
“You’ve got plenty of summons to keep you safe,” Hector spoke up. “You don’t need us. We’ll go help Phil and his crew, and you can do whatever you need to do here. We don’t care.”
“Actually, I do need you,” Liam sighed. “Don’t expect some sort of big reveal, though. I know that you can private message Phil while you’re in the same area as him. I’m not going to tell you anything that I don’t want Aranos to know.”
“That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?” Martina asked, her eyes darting around. Monetta was missing; the Rogue was probably in Stealth somewhere, but Martina’s Perception was high enough to pick her out – so long as the Rogue was in line-of-sight, that is. “This is all some big plan to get Aranos, isn’t it?”
“Nope, not really,” Liam laughed. “Again, sorry, no villain spiel today.” He sighed again. “This has been fun, but we might as well get it over with.”
Hector roared and charged at the Summoner, but a huge, black-scaled lizard jumped in his path. Martina released her arrow and nocked another, activating her Precise Shot Ability and sighting carefully along the shaft. The first arrow, as she’d suspected, shattered against an invisible barrier. Precise Shot, though, gave bonuses to penetration, meaning that if she just held her aim for a few more seconds, she could punch right through the shield…
A lance of pain slammed into Martina’s back, where her right kidney was located, spoiling her aim and ruining her Ability. She gasped and spun around to see Monetta standing before her, a long knife in the Rogue’s hand. The black-leathered assassin lifted the blade to her mouth and ran her tongue along it, shivering with seeming delight as she tasted Martina’s blood. The Ranger whipped her mace from her belt, but as she did, a wave of weakness rolled through her. It was then that she saw the red notification flashing in her vision:
You are Poisoned!
Type: Debilitating Poison
Effect: Lose 2 points of Str /s
Duration: 10 s
Martina groaned and hefted her mace. With the penalties they’d already taken from being in the Necrotic Zone, the poison would drop her Str into the single digits by the time it had run its course. Still, she figured she had enough in her to take Monetta in a straight fight, and she charged the slender woman, swinging her mace with a shout.
Monetta danced backward, but Martina pressed the attack. Her mace hummed in the air as she struck, pressing forward, ignoring her dwindling Strength. The Rogue finally dodged a moment too slowly, and Martina’s mace slammed into the side of her head with a sickening crack. The Rogue fell, undoubtedly stunned, and Martina followed the strike with two more to her skull. The third blow caved in the side of the woman’s head, and the light fled her eyes as she was sent for respawn.
Martina turned back and found Hector fighting three of Liam’s summons at once. The big Warrior was battered, bleeding from multiple wounds, and staggering, but he swung his axe gamely, carving into the side of the giant spider and opening a huge gash that spouted ichor. Martina snatched up her bow and sighted on the creature, aiming just below the center of its mass of eyes – there was a nerve bundle there, and hitting it would have to count as a critical shot – but before she could, a wave of gray energy slammed into her. Her already weakened muscles seized up, and she dropped to the ground with a Paralyzed debuff. A similar blast struck Hector, who fought it off, but the distraction allowed the spider to sink its fangs into him once more. The poison and the Spell combined were too much for the Warrior, and he fell nervelessly to the ground.
Liam appeared in Martina’s vision, shaking his head. “It didn’t have to be like this, you know. You could have just gone along with me; it would have been less painful for you.” He touched her, and while the Paralyzed debuff faded, her Str Stat hovered at 1, not enough to let her move, much less attack the Wizard.
Anger flared in the Ranger, and she spat at the leering Summoner. “Go ahead, send us for respawn,” she snapped. “We’ll come back, gather Phil and his group, and come for you, Liam! You’ll pay…” Her voice halted as Liam renewed the Paralyzed Debuff.
“Goddamn, were you about to tell me that I’ll pay for what I’ve done?” he asked incredulously, his tone shifting as he spoke, becoming less refined and more nasal. “That has to be the worst, fucking cliché I’ve ever heard.” Liam shook his head and stood up.
“I’m not sending your asses for respawn, even though it would be pretty damn fun to do it. Like I said, I still need you, even though it’s probably not the way you’d want it.” The man raised his hands and pointed at the two, black energy gathering around them. The blackness had wrapped around Martina, and suddenly, she’d found herself here, bound and helpless.
“Hector?” she called out as she looked around, trying to make out her surroundings. She was lying on her back on some cold, unyielding surface – probably a stone slab or table, she reasoned. She could feel some sort of rope binding her legs in place and wrapped around her chest just under her armpits. Her hands were tied uncomfortably over her head, making her shoulders ache. Her head was free, though, so she could take in the area around her.
The slab she was on had a partner right next to it, and Hector was bound just as she was to that stone table. Where she seemed to be held with ropes, the stronger Warrior was secured with solid-looking chains. Above them, a statue towered; it was upside down in Martina’s perspective, and she couldn’t make out the features at this angle, but she was pretty sure she knew where they were, at least: the temple Liam had been seeking.
Martina felt panic rise in her as she realized what being bound like this on a stone slab in a temple probably meant. She tamped it down, though; she’d gone to respawn before, and while it wasn’t fun, at least dying in-game wasn’t permanent, even when it meant being sacrificed to some strange goddess. Once it was over, she and Phil would come back, find Phil and his group, and hunt down Liam. Martina knew that she wasn’t particularly heroic, and vengeance struck her as a perfectly good motivator to play the game. She started to think of different ways she could kill Liam;
it was as good a way as any to pass the time.
“Oh, you’re awake!” she heard the Summoner’s voice, interrupting her thoughts. As Liam strode into view, the Ranger raised her head and stared at him with what she hoped was a sufficiently intimidating gaze. If Liam was bothered by it, though, no sign showed in his face.
“Welcome to the Temple of Virnal,” he said grandly, gesturing around at the room. Catching the Ranger’s surprised face, he chuckled. “What, did you actually buy that bit about this being a temple to Maeve? That I needed an Advanced Class? No, no, nothing so prosaic is happening, trust me.”
Martina struggled, noting that while her Str was still recovering from the poison Monetta had hit her with earlier, her Stats hadn’t dropped any further from being in the necrotic zone. She’d actually kind of been hoping for that; if the zone dropped any of her Stats to zero, she’d be sent for respawn and would be free of Liam, if nothing else.
The Summoner seemed to notice her faraway gaze and barked out a laugh. “I told you I wasn’t sending you for respawn, didn’t I? That means I’m not going to let this zone do it, either.” The older man leaned over her, his face inches from hers. “You’ve probably guessed that I’ve been working with someone in the city, so I guess it shouldn’t surprise you that I arranged for this place to be free of the draining effect for a while. Long enough for us to finish up, at least.”
He stood back up and snapped his fingers. Monetta suddenly appeared in Martina’s sight, carrying a black, lacquered case about a foot long. The Summoner took the box from the silent Rogue and glanced at Martina. “You’re wondering how she respawned and got back here so fast, aren’t you?” the man chuckled. “Well, it won’t hurt to tell you that; Monetta’s not really a player. She’s just another summons. Your killing her just meant I had to call her back again, nothing more.” The Summoner snorted in seeming amusement. “I’ll bet you were proud of yourself, though.”
