Keymaster

by Sergey Zaytsev

  “Soulcatcher isn’t the solution to everything, Sting. There’s no guarantee that I’d be able take it down with it.”

  “It’s still better than nothing!”

  “Where’s Marana? Tell her to distract the Demons. I’m sure that she can influence her own kind.”

  “She’s already distracting them! Did you see that thing in the sky? If it weren’t for her, the wyrm would’ve crushed the Citadel by now on its own. Marana aggro’d the damn thing, and I don’t know how much more she’ll last!”

  “Have you spent the Reanimator yet?”

  “There’s only one vsr, we’re saving it for the Dalrokts! We’re fucked if we lose any of them! Hurry up! Fuck me! I’m a little busy here, can’t talk! Contact Mashta, she’s on the wall!”

  I reacted to his request with understanding and immediately called her.

  “Mashta? Tell me about the group you’re fighting against.”

  “Where are you?! Hell has broken loose here! Quite literally!”

  “Calm down. We’re close, and we’ll do what we can. But I need information. Tell me everything you learned about the enemy.”

  To her credit, she instantly got herself together and spoke busily and thoroughly.

  “Okay. You see that wyrm? Executioner of the Rift, level 30, HP 36,666. The burning tower is its work. Marana is distracting it, so forget about it for now. The tank below is more powerful than the one who attacked us in the gorge — Elite Protector of the Primordial Flame, level 30, HP 16,666. No special abilities, pure brute physical strength, but its defense is such that even the Dalrokt swords bounce off its skin! Only Drahub managed to do some damage with his magic! It’s a walking catastrophe! We’ll be poking it forever! The thing’s simply invincible, and sooner or later it’ll crush the Dalrokts...”

  “Stop panicking, go on!”

  “Its minions... Just wait a minute... Bullseye! Literally, hit the bastard in the eye; its head just exploded! One less Punisher! You saw them in the gorge, Punishers of the Primordial Flame, levels 25-26 at average, rarely higher, around 1,500 HP each. Melee fighters with two-handed weapons. Not too agile, but much faster than the tank. We can handle them thanks to our dexterity. But it doesn’t always work. Their armor is decently tough, and they have a trademark blow — Razor, with about five minutes of cooldown. Two guys were killed by Razors right in front of me; didn’t have time to dodge. They just fell apart...”

  “How many Punishers are there?”

  “About six dozen, if I’m not mistaken. It’s a mess, I have no time to count. Ha-ha!”

  “Another head blown away?”

  “Nah, Racial Trick is still on cooldown, but my boys knock the quickest ones off the walls, we don’t let them climb up. The drop’s about fifteen feet. The Punishers can’t reach us, but the Tormentors of Flesh are still dangerous. They are their mages; they look like small trolls, and there are only three dozens of them, but we can’t knock them out for good! They’re protected by magic shields and hiding behind other Demons! About 1,000 HP each, wielding wands. They throw plasma balls, affecting the nervous system. Arkoosh was almost sent to the Mausoleum. The ball barely grazed him and he was vomiting bile for a minute, all green in the face. The other trash is not as dangerous as the Punishers and the Tormentors, but there are many of them, around three hundred. The Deceivers of Death and the Guides of Guile have about 900 HP each, they’re something like their rogues. The Deceivers are melee fighters with an emphasis on dexterity. They look like five feet tall Imps, wear light leather armor with steel inserts and are armed with short swords and throwing knives. The Guides are smaller, they’re javelin throwers... You saw them! They killed Chula, the damn freaks! Though they’re already short on javelins, they spent everything on us. But we’ve been holding them back for more than an hour, so those below began sending javelins. The whole yard is littered with the damn things; one could lay a parquet floor out of them. The Kobi began collecting them. We’ll switch to those once we run out of shells, even though we’re not used to them. Well, the Blood Hounds, on which the Guides ride, were almost all knocked out. They were the first to go into a fray. Drahub incinerated them, wave after wave, until he was exhausted... Like we’re now! Ha!”

  “Got it. The Raksh and I will make our way up. The Demons won’t be expecting an attack from the rear. I hope that we’ll get them by surprise. Tell everyone to save their best skill with the longest cooldown for when we’re close. We’ll need them for support and to break through if we’re bogged down. You’ll be the coordinator, keep an eye on things...”

  “You’re an optimist. Have you seen how many of them are there?! Also, we have too few shooters, I can’t constantly stare in your direction. One can’t really work with a sling like this, it distracts...”

  “Mashta, do you want to survive?”

  “Are you kidding? Hell yes!”

  “Less talk then. I’ll have difficulties with line of sight while climbing the serpentine, your task is to warn me about any surprises in time. Is it clear?”

  “Yes. I’ll try. Double true.”

  “We’re advancing then.”

  I once again checked my pouches: a dozen socs for Soulcatcher, four Amplifiers for Flame, and a full flask of Health Tincture that might not always be accessible in battle. If I play my cards right, it won’t be needed. But, alas, no one is insured against slips, especially in combat, when the situation changes every second and it’s impossible to foresee everything. Looking at my group, I recast Tempest Blade and Wind’s Breath so that they’d last another hour and prepped a speech.

  “Warriors! We all understand what’s happening, and what choices we have. The enemy outnumbers us. But they’re not expecting us, and the Citadel needs our help. We’ll cleanse the valley of these wretches and throw them back into the fiery cesspool from which they had crawled from!”

  I might’ve overdone it a bit, but I got my point across. Their morale skyrocketed.

  Charisma: +1 (13)

  “Warrr! Tearrr! Rrrip!” twenty-one Raksh throats roared, snatching daggers and shaking them in the air.

  I hoped that they had enough time to recharge; the road behind us was long, and the one in front would be just as difficult.

  We charged forward.

  Chapter 63

  Fury rushed alongside me. An important fight awaited all of us, so there was no need to mount the Direcat and burden her, making her waste her energy. It was better to move on foot. My beast gained considerable weight with the new levels, the frozen dirt under her paws shot up like shrapnel, and mighty muscles bulged under the thick fur with every step. From her massive jaws, dotted with fangs the length of a finger, sounded a barely audible rumbling — she was purring, anticipating the fight. She was a true marvel — she was no longer a pet, but the embodiment of predatory death.

  We crossed the winter garden in less than a minute.

  We snaked up to the serpentine and began ascending rapidly. It took us a few minutes before we spotted the tail of the Creepoar column that was slowly crawling up. The width of the serpentine here was about five feet, and the Demons were cramped two or three in a row. As Mashta had described, there were Deceivers with rare inclusions of Guides, bony creatures with horned triangular skulls, dirty white scales and a long tail with a forked tip. As we had expected, all of them, without exception, stared upward, listening to the sounds of battle that drowned out the soft steps of the creeping Raksh.

  The moment came to use the next charge of the Ring of the Rank, and again raise Soulcatcher to rank 4 for a full hour. This should be enough to either reach the Citadel or fail ingloriously if we had overestimated our strength.

  The Raksh entered the battle without making a sound until the very last second, and immediately managed to surprise me. They had their own method against a crowd of small mobs, and a very effective one, too, which they clearly demonstrated on the move. Activating their main abilities, they produced combos and organized their group into an attacking chain. />
  Ahead of all, Jarook leapt into the air with Raging Leap, flew about ten feet forward over our enemies’ heads and landed right in their midst. The jump was amazingly high and long, considering that the road rose sharply up the hill. Vortex Onslaught went in like a windmill — the Raksh spun, blades whistling, cutting through the flesh of enemies, and scattering them to the sides. Several Demons who didn’t expect such a cunning attack flew off from the slope with a shriek. The drop was no less than three hundred feet. I hoped that they would break their bones and no longer return.

  Not waiting for the bloody reaping to end, one more Raksh “launched” upward, landing a couple of steps ahead of their commander. The next went after him, according their well-defined strategy — a leap, a “windmill,” scattering creatures, a leap, a “windmill...” The serpentine was being freed before our eyes with astonishing speed, the Raksh cleared section after section, like a lawnmower clears an overgrown backyard. It immediately became clear that Fury’s energy-intensive Metamorph wasn’t yet required, and that it would be better to save Burst Attack for when the Raksh fully used their burst, inflicting maximum possible damage to the enemy in a short period of time, and the fight turned into an exchange of simple blows. After all, the elite Raksh warriors were an impressive threat. It was with a good reason that they had almost captured Madogost, which alone could very likely destroy the current balance of power and destroy this world.

  Only Rawrk, who stubbornly considered himself my bodyguard, and my roaring Fury, which only my will restrained from fighting, remained with me. In front of us were half a dozen Demons, which the Raksh jumped over at the very beginning of the fight and almost disappeared around the turn, quickly moving forward and leaving me with Rawrk to deal with these enemies. Demons had come to their senses. Javelins and throwing knives immediately went into action — Mashta was mistaken, they still had some reserves.

  The Sign had long started pulsing on my bicep, demanding blood; the pain that had become a familiar companion spread over the nerves and muscles in waves.

  Well, let’s see what I’m able to do at level 23.

  Having dodged a javelin flying toward my face, with a powerful kick to the frail chest I knocked a Guide off the cliff, and with one blow of Searing Flash took off the triangular head of another one who rose its paw for a throw. Great! They’re just cannon fodder! With a reverse move of my hands that were firmly gripping Flame’s handle, I imprinted its hilt into the face of a Deceiver who rashly closed the distance with me. Dodging, hitting, kicking...

  The Guide grinned viciously, showing its small teeth, jumped back, obviously using a special maneuver to cover the distance, and threw a javelin. I cast Lash of Pain at its face and, when it fell in agony, immediately losing its temper, drove Flame’s blade through its chest. Right after that Windspear knocked another Guide, one that liked to throw stuff at good people, that is, at me, off the cliff. I noticed the third “deadman walking” — having used his scales to merge with the gray surface of the rocks, the weasel was trying to hide in a recess to backstab me when I passed by. I ignited it with Flamespear, enveloping its body in flame, making it run away shrieking and fall off the cliff like a smoking comet.

  “Warriors! Throw them off the edge — time is of the essence! You can’t lose speed!”

  My chat message wasn’t ignored. No matter how much the Raksh loved fighting they saw reason in such a demand, as there were still too many Demons. All of the enemies that were too hesitant to attack flew off the cliff, one after another. Terrain features can also be turned into a weapon.

  It seemed like Flame itself was craving blood, having yearned for a real fight. The sword lit up with a blue blaze, singing an ode to death, inaudible to the ears of others. The Direcat made her way forward with ferocious ardor, landed mighty blows at lightning speed, ripping bellies and chests, crushing skulls, and tearing off limbs with her terrifying fangs. Each strike that I failed to parry was immediately intercepted by Rawrk. This was his main task — to intercept and deflect all the attacks aimed at me. The Raksh were pros at this. Like his older comrades, Rawrk used his “windmill,” but being level 20, he was still too “young” for these Demons. Although he distracted them, he didn’t cause serious damage, so Fury teamed up with him, forming a duet. Having risen on her hind legs, the beast beat with her front paws, like kids playing Patty-Cake, and the head of the nearest Deceiver, who was very impolitely trying to put a dagger into her eye, exploded with fragments of bones and brains. The Direcat found the learned trick to her liking. She immediately repeated it on the poor fellow’s neighbor with the same devastating result.

  And then merrily ran to play Patty-Cake further.

  We soon caught up with the rest of the Raksh group, which had managed to clear at least a hundred steps of the serpentine by this time. There were still three hundred more ahead, crowded by enemies. Once again, having finished off a Deceiver, so small next to the Raksh, Jarook turned around for a moment. Bloodlust burned in his narrow, orange eyes. Intercepting my gaze, he sheathed two daggers, grinned triumphantly, and rose both of his upper arms, showing a total of seven fingers.

  “Rawrk, what is he...?”

  “That much killed,” he growled, realizing what I was going to ask. “Finger be ten foes.”

  Impressive. Not counting those who had fallen from the cliff and survived, we killed seventy Demons. They were probably worth a ton of XP, but we really had no time to study the numbers, the main thing was not to lose pace.

  But we lost it.

  We had to wait for the cooldowns to end. In the meantime, the fierce Creepoar resistance increased with each step taken, and javelins and throwing knives constantly whizzed through the air. Most were repelled while in flight by the skillful Raksh, but already half of them had their arms and torso full gashes and wounds, dyeing their fur ruby red with blood. They were still combat-ready, but they could definitely use a breather. It was time for me and Fury to step in.

  Snatching an esc out of my pouch, I swung it around as if throwing a grenade and activated Banner of Protection. I threw it far ahead so that those 25 seconds that I’d spend moving forward with the Raksh at my heels wouldn’t be wasted. A short and bright flash occurred at the moment of impact, spreading instantly and highlighting some twenty steps of the serpentine. Activating Shadow’s Edge, I immediately felt my surroundings change. Now I was ahead, on the spearhead. For the next fifteen seconds the Creepoars would move like snails, and each of these seconds had to be used in full.

  I used my whole arsenal — Flame, magic, Lash of Pain, and advanced four dozen steps without an issue, littering the path behind me with corpses, severed limbs, and throwing tailed and horned creatures off the cliff. That’s all from Shadow’s Edge for the next hour, but it did its job. The generated threat was sufficient for all the Creepoars to switch their attention to me. Of course, I didn’t stand still, constantly spoiling their aim, and the Raksh, always close behind, ruthlessly finished off the wounded and the survivors. Taking the initiative, Jarook threw another Banner in front of us. Our defense was increased by 10% once more, and we rushed forward. I hope that we’ll have enough escs.

  “Warriors, use Bloodlust if your HP drops below 60%!”

  I grabbed another javelin thrower by the forked tail and threw it on my followers’ daggers. With a kick, I sent another Deceiver flying down and got distracted by Mashta’s cry in the chat.

  “Wise, a strong squad is moving toward you, you pissed them off big time! Get ready!”

  I looked up and immediately noticed a level 28 Punisher in the crowd of demons. If both the Deceivers and the Guides were the lowest type of Chaos spawn, this one was definitely from a higher caste. The six and a half feet tall horned demon, slim, like an elf, with strong muscles, noticeably towered over its smaller kin. Its black figure was covered with small fish-like scales. Its torso was protected by a breastplate made of purplish-black metal, similar to a regular vest, wrists encased in wide bracers, and legs protected b
y spiky greaves. It wore no shoes; the ice melted where its wide, clawed feet stepped.

  The Demon arrogantly strode toward us, raising its foot and a half long sword, one the wavy blade of which danced red and yellow flames, over its unprotected horned head. The Punisher wasn’t alone. At least one and a half dozen of similar creatures, but one or two levels lower than their leader, followed it. Closing the procession was a Tormentor — a stocky, troll-like creature with dirty-gray skin. The Creepoar mage had a flat head with a wide, low forehead, from under which sparkled deeply sunken red eyes full of insatiable malice. The mage hid behind the Punishers, taking advantage of its small stature, barely reaching to their waists. They parted the ranks of petty imps so unceremoniously that they kept pushing their own kin off the cliff.

  The fun seemed to be over. Exchanging courtesies with these creatures would be best done from a distance. Good thing that the Raksh’s signature abilities will be usable by then.

  “Jarook, take care of the Punishers, leave the mage to me!”

  The Raksh leader soared into the air with a menacing roar and swooped at the leader like a vulture. An elite Raksh warrior against a greater Demon; level 29 against 28. Raging Leap was strong and impetuous. Four daggers blocked the swing of the flaming sword with a loud screech, throwing it along with its wielder onto the followers.

  I wasn’t lagging behind. Supporting the attack, I treated the Demon with Lash, taking off a hundred HP and forcing it to stand still for a second with a painful grimace of agony on its face.

  Jarook immediately unleashed Vortex Onslaught.

  I don’t know how it did it, but the Demon instantly moved two steps back, and its fighters smoothly parted their ranks, allowing it in. The Tormentor jumped into the gap of the formed corridor and swung its wand. Their maneuver was clearly a well-worked out one. Their ranks immediately closed, again hiding the mage behind the Punishers, and I didn’t have time to strike. But the mage’s attack still did its dirty work — a sparkling purple ball hit Jarook in the chest, and the Raksh fell to his knees, howling in pain and widely spreading his cramped arms.