Battle Spire

by Michael R. Miller

  I’d have to check the corridor again to see if my new idea would pan out so for now, I moved onto making the grenades.

  Success! Basic Grenade level 12 x 10

  +158 Crafting EXP

  +460 Engineering EXP

  Engineering Increased!

  Rank 2

  Engineering Increased!

  Rank 3

  Basic Grenade

  Item level 12

  Explodes upon impact.

  Damage: 100-110 fire

  Radius: 10 feet

  Cooldown: 5 seconds

  “Under fifteen minutes now,” Ellie said. “Enemy players in the grounds are beginning to form up for an attack.”

  “Eight phials of slime will do then,” I said.

  And off I went, making my way back to the war room, and polishing off the next batch of grenades as I did so. I caught the notification flash that my engineering had increased to rank 4. Like the other profession rank ups, I’d yet to receive any tangible benefit and that irked me.

  “When the hell will the profession ranks mean something?”

  “Rank 5. What do you expect? You’re still essentially a novice.”

  I grumbled but at least my inventory was looking a lot more prepared for battle now.

  Picking up the swinging axe I hurried quickly as I could to the throne room, feeling myself work up a sweat from hauling it. As I neared the stairs behind the throne that led to my corridor of doom, a pleasant notification lit up.

  Endurance Unlocked!

  Level 1

  First day in the gym, rookie? Best keep the dream of benching 150lbs a distant one.

  +1 Might

  “Every little helps, eh?” I wheezed, reaching the top of the u-bend stairs and staring straight down the gallery corridor. Less than ten minutes remained.

  “About twenty players have assembled out in the grounds,” Elie said.

  I groaned, readjusting the rope, which was digging into my shoulder. Despite myself, I grinned.

  “Then let’s prep them a painful welcome party.”

  17

  With thirty seconds to spare I dropped down from the rafters, crouched low behind the viewing deck of the gallery and loaded my crossbow. My grappling hook hung from the rafters down beside me, ready to climb when the time came.

  Everything was in place. The six-bladed axe was hoisted to the optimum point as directed by Ellie, waiting for me to set it loose. I’d even taken my chisel to the necks of the overhanging statues, leaving them ready to break and fall at the slightest provocation.

  The 20 grenades, 30 caltrops and the 3 fishing nets that I’d hastily made after setting the other traps up now sat in my inventory ready for deployment. I had the frost ones too – 14 left in the pouch I’d swiped earlier.

  “I’ll be with you, Zoran,” Ellie said, her voice low and steady.

  There wasn’t much she could do for me in direct combat, but I felt comforted by her words and company all the same. Now it came to it, I was beginning to feel sick. All the rush of preparing for the fight had expelled the looming reality of it from my mind. I closed my eyes, drawing in deep breaths. I’d survived so far. I’d killed one of the terrorists myself already. So long as Azrael or his high-level henchmen didn’t all come rushing down, I had a chance. A slim one. A distant one.

  “Ellie,” I choked. “If I don’t make it through this, can you tell my pare—”

  “NPCs respawning now!”

  I snapped my eyes open. Peering over my self-imposed parapet, I saw the miraculous site of dozens of NPC guards, the Imperial Guard and the Emperor himself pop into life. Soon the whole throne room was awash in guards once more.

  I ducked back down and pulled open my map. Out in the grounds, the golden markers upon the walls were darting around, likely fighting the guards that had just respawned. A core group of twenty players was systematically sweeping the grounds leading up to the entrance. I toggled up each level of the Spire and saw smaller bands of golden markers huddled in tight knots, evidently working together to flush out resistance up there. At the very top of the Spire, the lone marker of Azrael remained where he was. A blessing.

  “Shall I shoot the Emperor now?”

  “Hold on,” Ellie said. “We should wait until all the players tasked to clear the throne room are almost inside, that way they’ll see the guards running and give chase.”

  “Oh God,” I said, feeling bile rise in my throat. “Urgh, why did the devs allow us to feel so crappy in here?”

  “Just think of the elation when you win,” Ellie said. “Think of that, Zoran. Think of all the experience and levels and loot.”

  I glanced at my experience bar.

  Experience: 2455/4680

  I’d blow into level nine, for sure, and God knows how high if I made it.

  “Appealing to my gaming side? Alright, I’ll bite.”

  I shook my head and tightened my grip on my weapon.

  “I’ll line up a shot.”

  I moved to crouch on one knee on the front pew, then leveled the crossbow, closing one eye while taking aim. The Emperor was just sitting there, completely oblivious. My hands began to shake, and I judged that my lack of weapon skill wouldn’t help.

  “Get ready,” Ellie said.

  “Whenever you say.”

  I didn’t need to hear her give the word though, as clashing steel and the zap of magic reached me from the entrance of the throne room. I saw the Emperor rise to his feet, pointing towards the commotion, his soft features stricken with fear. The Imperial Guard drew in around him; the paladins calling upon holy powers to buff their hammers and shields, while the priests took their places behind.

  This was it.

  I pulled the trigger.

  And I fucking missed.

  “Shit,” I hissed, scrambling for another bolt. My shaking hand dropped two more before I managed to secure the third.

  “Hurry,” Ellie said.

  I raised the crossbow, aimed, fired. This time my bolt slammed into the leg of an Imperial Guard, narrowly missing the Emperor. Both he and his elite troops ducked down, the paladins moving to shield him with their own bodies. A priest started gesticulating wildly at my location.

  “Above, noble warriors,” the white-bearded sage cried.

  A few guards started to move, but not enough to cause the flood we wanted. With the paladins tightly surrounding the Emperor, however, I’d never get a shot in now.

  The priest was still bouncing wildly so I turned my next shot on him. This time I hit home and the clean strike against a target who vastly out leveled me seemed to be enough to bump up my skill.

  Crossbow Skill Increased!

  Level 2

  You actually hit something? Was it the size of a barnyard door? Yep, thought so.

  Down below, the priest was making a fine performance out of being hit in the chest, staggering backwards, arms windmilling dramatically, even though it had done about as much damage as stabbing a rhino with a toothpick.

  Slamming his staff upon the floor, the priest bellowed. “To arms. There are assassins above. They mean to harm your Emperor. Purge them from this place!”

  That seemed to do it.

  The trickle of guards heading my way soon became a flood. Most of the Imperial Guard continued to shield the Emperor as they made their way to a central doorway behind the throne, presumably leading to what they thought would be safety. My zealous friend remained with the regular NPCs, clearly fixated on me from the shot he’d taken. All were funneling towards the desired stairway, slowing only at the bottleneck of the solitary doorway.

  “We’ll need to work on that aim,” Ellie said. “Time to climb.”

  But I was already on it, leaping off the pew and clambering up the rope.

  “You’ve got over fifty guards heading this way now,” she said. “The players have polished off the NPCs at the entrance. Now they’re yelling at each other about the remaining ones. They think the guards are retreating in fear.”

&
nbsp; “Whatever gets them up here,” I said, grabbing the coarse beam above. I pulled myself up and then the rope after me. I popped the grappling hook in my inventory, not planning on jumping down into the fray if I could help it.

  I’d just enough time to get my bearings when the lead guards came charging around the bend and past the stained-glass window. A steady stream of them ran up the corridor, three abreast, their blue-tinted steel dazzling like a river caught in the morning sun.

  Carefully, very carefully, I stood upon my beam. The NPCs were still on their aggro path with the single-minded focus of mobs giving chase. Eyes fixed ahead, they didn’t look up. I started shuffling along the ledge back towards the stained-glass window, flanking the guards and heading for where my swinging axe rested.

  The guards and I crossed paths, them below and I above. I dropped caltrops the moment the last boot pounded by. Pretending they were ninja throwing stars, I launched them free-form across the corridor. With my last 3 caltrops, I had a spark of inspiration.

  I still had the quick poison I’d scavenged from the rogue Shanksy. Poisons were often applied to weapons in games, notably daggers, for extra roguish damage. Taking the vial of poison out, I yanked it’s cork off with my teeth, careful not to let any enter my mouth, then I tried pouring the contents over the caltrops. Focusing on the traps, it seemed to work.

  Poisoned Iron Caltrops

  Item level 8

  Scatter spikes upon the ground to catch unwitting enemies.

  Damage: 50-55 piercing

  Applications: 15/15

  Bonus effect: Quick Poison – Rank 2. 20-25 poison damage per hit.

  The best part of this was the caltrops would apply damage up to fifteen times. Had I coated my crossbow bolts in the poison, I’d have got three poisoned shots out of it. With the poison on 3 caltrops, I’d spread the extra damage so that it could be applied up to 45 times.

  Sometimes, I amaze even myself.

  Proudly, I dispersed the poisoned caltrops and surveyed my handiwork. The white floor looked like it had sprouted iron stubble.

  “Players incoming,” Ellie informed me.

  I hastened to the rim of the rafters, where an eagle-head statue helped to hide me from view. Now, near the middle of the hallway, my six-bladed axe was only a few beams away, but it lay out on the middle of the rung and I’d surely be seen standing there. The NPCs might not have the wherewithal to look up, but the players would, or they’d see me in their peripherals. What I needed now was the cover of a brawl.

  At the far end of the gallery, the NPCs had halted, hitting a dead end. In a confused mass, they started to turn around, weapons lowered, shoulders slumped, their aggro lost.

  Then the players arrived.

  A stocky dwarf led the pack, a shaman by the looks of the totem pole upon his back. Lightning crackled around his hands. Given his class and tanned skin, he was probably a skyborn dwarf boasting bonus elemental damage. He was level 43, probably one of the more powerful players that Azrael had brought with him.

  “They’ve got stuck up here,” the dwarf called behind him.

  “The hell’s wrong with them?” asked a warlock.

  “Maybe the boss has mangled their minds,” the dwarf said. “We just gotta kill them. Where are my tanks? Come on, assholes we have a job to do.”

  Beefy warriors, along with a paladin of their own, came lumbering to the front. The guards had caught onto the host of enemy players and now renewed their efforts in aggression.

  “They’ve come for your Emperor!” the priest’s voice rang. “Slay them all!”

  The dwarf cricked his neck and fired off a lightning bolt. “Mash them to pulp boys.”

  “It’s working,” Ellie said.

  I held my tongue, not daring to speak as the two sides thundered towards each other. There were more of the NPC guards and their average level was far higher, but the players had coordination and a wide range of classes. Rangers and spellcasters the players had brought also surged forward but were unable to get off clear shots in the confines of the hallway. Only their own priest healers hung back, beginning to channel healing spells in preparation for the clash.

  Spire Guards were the first to hit my caltrops, yelping in pain as the spikes pierced the lining of their boots. The dwarf shaman stepped onto them next, howling and hopping on one foot comically. Yells went out to be careful and the charging players suddenly slowed to a crawl as they attempted to negotiate my densely packed field of traps. The NPCs didn’t seem to have the same compulsion to avoid pain, continuing to run at full tilt to crash into the front players at full momentum.

  Damage notifications flooded in from the caltrops. Pistols banged, and spells flared and ricocheted off the walls, including all manner of flames, frost, shadow bolts and violet energy. A firework display happening in a rectangular box. The first kill appeared for my viewing pleasure.

  Spire Guard level 45 dies – 135 Assisted EXP

  My trap damage must have given me an assisted credit for a kill.

  I chucked down two of my nets, getting the players and guards nice and frustrated and clumped together. Time to let this axe loose. With all chaos below I felt more confident in moving unseen above the battle. Making straight for my deadly contraption, I pushed it off, letting gravity do its magic.

  Tied securely to a central beam, the six-bladed axe descended, picking up speed until momentum carried it upwards, cutting through the fray like a razor-edged golf swing. I didn’t see any damage notifications, for I supposed it wasn’t my weapon, technically, but damn was it effective.

  Those who weren’t maimed scattered instead, diving out of the way and sewing yet more confusion into the skirmish. Once the axe reached the top of its swing, it came back for seconds, a perfect pendulum of doom. Any semblance of formation from the players broke down entirely and the spire guards broke free, making for the softer healers at the back.

  Healers draw the most aggro in these sorts of games after tanks, so it was no surprise.

  I held back on my grenades as I’d need every scrap of damage to mop up the end of the fight. Yet there was no need to hold back on the slime.

  Pulling out four of the large phials of the bright green goo, I hurled them down to smash upon the floor beneath the combatants’ feet. Glass shattered, sending the slime in all directions. The effect was immediate. If footing had been hard to find before, it was a nightmare now. Players and guards slid, stumbled and fell, hitting each other and landing upon my caltrops multiple times.

  I was just about to lob another phial of slime down when I saw an angry mage player, level 37, high elf no less, revving up some sort of area fire attack. Judging myself to be within its range, I hastened to the edge of the rafters once more, backing away from the blast radius. The mage’s snide elfish features contorted as he completed his incantation, then cast his hands outwards, unleashing his spell. A dozen guards were engulfed in the flames, including a few players on the outer edges of its radius. But it also touched the slime.

  At once, the slime ignited, burning white-hot and exploding upwards like lava. Those not hit or killed by the mage’s attack were caught in the slime fire, or badly burned from the molten chunks of goo raining down on them. My nostrils filled with the smell of burning cloth and hair. The nets were incinerated along with the rope securing my pendulum axe, sending the weapon crashing down for one last round of damage.

  To cap it off, my caltrops had gained fresh life from the blast, blown around the confined corridor in a storm of hot iron. One even hit me where I was skulking above, wiping over 100 of my precious health points away: a third in one hit.

  It hardly mattered, for the kill assist notifications were piling up so fast, the game collated what it could together.

  Spire Guard level 45 dies x 18 – 2430 Assisted EXP

  Level Up! You have reached level 9

  +3 attribute points

  +45 health

  +45 mana

  The level up restored my health and mana
to full.

  Buckey666 – Shaman – level 43 dies – 260 EXP

  DomTron – Warlock – level 31 dies – 200 EXP

  Kills from the inferno kept coming.

  I had no idea quite what had just happened or why the slime had reacted the way it did to fire, but I wasn’t about to complain. Nor did I have time to contemplate it.

  The fighting raged on. My friend, the elite NPC priest of the Imperial Guard, was out of mana now, reduced to shouting religious dogma at his allies by way of encouragement. The surviving players, on the other hand, were bolstered by their own healers while the guards’ health moved in only one direction. I’d need to take those priest players out. Fast.

  Hopping from beam to beam back to the entrance, I took advantage of the weakened statue heads I’d set up and sent lumps of marble crashing down upon unwitting foes. Ahead, huddled before the swan stained-glass window, the three priest players threw out heals while a warrior tanked two guards who were attempting to attack the softer cloth wearers. The warrior used some roaring ability, throwing back his head like a lion.

  That’s when he saw me.

  Knowing I had one good shot, I threw down one of my nets in the hopes of keeping the group close together. It only proved a mild inconvenience for the players, as the warrior started to hack through the rope with ease. But for the moment, they were contained.

  I sent a phial of slime to shatter between the players, then followed this with a grenade. The explosion was just as impressive as before, with both the grenade’s fire and the white-hot slime dishing out damage. The stained-glass window blew outwards, letting a cold wind rush in from the world beyond. Strands of burning rope signed into black ash.

  My targets spluttered and coughed, bewildered by the ambush. None of them could react to the marble stag head I sent to break across one priest’s back, sending him crumpling onto his stomach. Another healer was at deathly low health. With my grenades on a short cooldown, I loaded a bolt and activated Desperate Shot. Being directly above my target, I managed to land a hit, despite the accuracy debuff of the ability.