by K. T. Hanna
“I guess you have a point then. We should have told you earlier.” Murmur smiled as she stood watching them, Snowy, Havoc, and Sinister by her side. “I pre-judged. Sorry.”
“It’s all good. I’m glad we’ve had this chance to work together.” And this time Risk smiled, and it was the first genuine smile she’d seen on his face. He turned, following Mellow and Masha as Havoc joined them and sped up to catch up with the rest of the group.
“There. That wasn’t so hard, was it?” Sinister hugged her waist, and Murmur absent-mindedly kissed the top of the dark elf’s head.
“No, but this fight is going to be a pain in my butt.” Murmur sighed as Sinister chuckled.
“We got through Jirald. We’ll get through this.”
Murmur just wished she could believe her, but the feeling of foreboding followed them along the path as the black stone walls grew more ornate, now decorated with statues and artwork, the roof still open to the sky.
“Mur. Stop it.” Sinister pouted and stopped walking, pulling back the enchanter with her. “You’re doing that ‘whole weight of the virtual world on your shoulders’ thing again. Talk to me. Share?”
Murmur blinked at the blood mage, at the seriousness in that expression, and sighed. She couldn’t keep a smile from her face. The feelings she had, at least now that she’d realized them, were obvious and ridiculously jealous. But like this, even if they were only stopped in the middle of a passageway, time spent only with Sinister was precious.
“Sorry. I don’t mean to worry you.” She stepped into Sinister’s embrace, and even though Sin rested her head on Mur’s chest, it felt more like the blood mage was doing the comforting. The warmth and assurance, the steadfast support. Everything about it made Murmur appreciate being on this journey together.
She’d never realized how much Sinister—Harlow—meant to her until the possibility existed that she might lose everything.
“Feel better?” Sinister asked, her voice soothing.
Murmur considered the question seriously. “Yes. I don’t like seeing you die, even if you can come back. It almost broke me back there.”
“Not getting rid of me that easily,” Sinister joked before smiling softly and raising herself up on her tiptoes to reach Murmur’s height.
The kiss held warmth and love, understanding and strength, and the promise that everything would turn out for the best. Murmur didn’t want it to stop, but there’d be so much time for that after this fight was completed.
“Okay.” Reluctantly, the enchanter pulled away. “We should hurry up. They can probably do without me, but if I short them a healer, they’ll get mad.”
Sinister laughed, and they half-jogged the rest of the way.
Murmur looked up at the looming walls again. She was fairly certain that if someone tried to scale the walls they couldn’t simply escape, otherwise how would the prison work? The walkway they traversed was wide. Even the walls failed to make it feel restricted. Up ahead, she could see that it widened, like a river pouring into the sea. The closer they got, she realized the others had already stopped and were waiting for them to catch up.
The tension in Devlish’s shoulders worried her. Devlish rarely got tense about something, and as they joined up with their raid mates, Murmur saw why.
This was a massive circular area. The cobblestones in the middle displayed a picture she couldn’t discern from where she stood and then spiraled outwards from the image. Instead of walls, the circle was surrounded on its far edges by huge rock formations with jagged peaks and slick surfaces.
Directly across from them, sitting on a massive black throne that appeared to be hewn out of some of the rocky cliff face behind him, sat Michael.
The smile on his face was only visible because his mouth was open, revealing sharp white teeth and a mouth as red as blood. Even his eyes were red like a freshly opened donor bag.
Welcome. His voice boomed across the surface, whooshing up to them like a battering ram of fear. It leaked into Murmur’s bones, and she pushed at it with her barrier, protecting the entire raid from the onslaught of emotion it appeared Michael had a hold of.
That wasn’t imposing her will; it was preventing their opponent from imposing his own. Belius nodded at her, reinforcing her shield with his own.
Michael frowned. “Ah. Enchanters. My least favorite class, wasting my most prized accomplishment.”
He stood up and walked down one of the five stone steps that led up to his black throne. With a simple wave of his hand, something slammed down behind them. Murmur glanced behind her to see a massive iron gate reaching up as tall as the walls went and further.
“Now.” He paused, smiling again. The pitch-black skin he sported felt like a black hole about to swallow them all up. He was nothingness come to capture them all. Murmur squared her jaw, determined not to let him.
He raised an eyebrow like he could hear her thoughts and flashed an insolent grin. “You have no choice, you know. Everything I’ve done, everything you’ve done, it was all to lead you here. And here, I will steal your power and take your lives.”
Michael’s presence was overwhelming. It wasn’t quite the darkness of night, more like a sense of utter emptiness. A solid black hole. Wings folded neatly behind him when he moved, but appeared to be made out of some thin, durable metal instead of flesh. A tungsten monstrosity, somehow alive.
When he sprang up from his throne and extended his wings, her suspicions were confirmed. They were metal, and their fringes were sharp. Getting close to him would prove challenging. The fangs that protruded were also metal, but more of a shiny hematite than the tungsten of his body. They were sharp and dangerous implements of pain. His fingernails extended to claws that resembled forged daggers, and his hooved feet no longer appeared cloven, but more like they were made out of ice skate blades.
With a challenging roar, he leapt toward them.
Right then, Murmur wasn’t sure she should have said anything to the other guild leaders. Michael was strong and damned adept at keeping his thoughts and emotions to himself. Not to mention his ability to exert his own influence over them. She could feel the constant pressure he placed on the shielding. And his resistances to her own spells drove her batty.
Still, though, she had so much to concentrate on just to make sure the shielding didn’t drain her MA too fast.
Devlish clashed with the wannabe titan, that tower shield the only thing that saved the lacerta. She saw Telvar flinch at the impact and knew somehow that the dragon was coming up with something. Maybe dread knights weren’t the ideal tank for this fight. Considering they knew nothing about it, Murmur had no fucking clue.
Snowy dashed in and out in a flurry of attacks she couldn’t follow, like he’d scaled his abilities up a notch. She didn’t even pretend to understand how he was what he was anymore; she was just glad he liked having her around.
Michael, it seemed, didn’t have timed abilities. They hadn’t yet reached a point where she could see if he had percentage-based abilities, but they’d already been fighting him for two minutes and had only dented his health by three percent.
She frowned, noting that no one had called out his weaknesses, and refused to believe that might mean he had none.
Just then, Ishwa called out. “Water. Best chance I have is with water.”
Interested, Murmur eyed the massive beast gleefully flailing at Devlish’s shield. The huge tower shield had some pretty nasty dings in it now, and Murmur knew it was one of his more recent acquisitions. With Michael’s health moving so slowly, would they even have the gear to outlast him?
She glanced at her wolf and the complete and utter rage in his eyes. It was rare Snowy showed actual emotions. It made her want to know what he was thinking all the more. The raid members were already fighting with everything they had. She noted the rangers switched to ice spells, since they obviously couldn’t arrow water, and the bards used water and ice boosters, everyone had changed their amplifications spells and buffs.
And when he hit ninety-five percent, he turned and locked eyes with Murmur.
“You,” he called out, pointing to her. “Stop blocking my fun!”
And then he raised himself up in the air on his two massive pairs of red wings and cackled like he belonged in a movie as the evil antagonist. But that was where her amusement stopped.
He roared up to the sky, outstretched arms toward the clouds, and he pulled down lightning. Or at least something very similar to it. Small thunderbolts struck all around the ground in a rain of destruction, upending cobblestones left and right, showering rocky debris everywhere.
Etriad screamed as his leg was pinned with one to the ground, and only Dansyn’s quick thinking pulled the mage out of the way of another. Cardishan got nailed through the shoulder, and Masha took one to the hip.
The damage over time was high, but a short duration at least. The healers barely managed to keep those hit alive. But at least now they knew one of his spells. Michael didn’t appear to be out of any type of playbook. He was his own character, completely subverted to his own wiles.
Murmur gulped, glancing at the destruction a few feet from where she’d been standing. If Snowy hadn’t bowled her over, she’d have been pinned. That wolf saved her life more than she could count.
Michael laughed, descending to land on the ground. Murmur wondered why he didn’t just continue to rain shit down on them, and then she checked. He had mana, and with a quick test of Mana Drain, she realized she could siphon it off. But his pool of power wasn’t large. In fact, he’d mostly drained it with that spell.
Murmur smiled to herself even as Michael fixed an irritated gaze on her. She knew what his biggest weakness was, and she could do something about it. Mana draining it was, and she would do it until he was dead.
As if in retaliation to her decision, Michael swatted Risk out of the way when the dread knight tried to taunt him, choosing to focus on Devlish instead. The taunt, it seemed, was only mildly effective on him, which meant he’d be able to ignore the ability every now and again.
He could hit like a wrecking ball, so now Murmur just had to keep his mana drained so he couldn’t add magic into the mix, and all they’d have to do is dodge his massive melee attacks.
She announced it over raid. “Keep out of his reach as much as you can. If you can do effective DPS on the outskirts, do it. If you can’t, just watch for telegraphed movements. If he’s dry on mana, he can’t fuel his melee attacks with spells.”
Between her and Belius, they’d leave Michael’s damned mana tank dry. She settled into a rhythm and watched as his health hit ninety percent and kept going down.
Hold him for as long as you can. We will be there shortly.
Somnia’s interruption caught Murmur unawares, and she frowned. Okay, but why? She had to keep her eye on their opponent and couldn’t miss a turn to drain him or they were going to get bombarded with lightning bolts again.
We have the solution in the works. It’s just taking a little longer to power up than expected. Somnia paused for a moment, and then added, Sorry.
Murmur sighed to herself. It’s okay. Just do whatever you need to do, we’ve got this.
But you can’t kill him yet.
Murmur paused, counting to three before answering so she wouldn’t snap. What the hell is your deal with not killing shit? Especially this total douchebag?
You can kill him—just wait until we get there. Somnia sounded impatient, and suddenly her presence was gone.
Unsure how long the world was going to take there, Murmur eyed Michael’s eighty-seven percent health and didn’t think waiting was going to be a problem.
While she’d been conversing with Somnia, the sun had come out overhead, almost like it was summoned. They’d spent the majority of their time on Gefängnis with dim lighting because the sky was overcast. But now those clouds were banished.
Michael preened in the sun, and the rays that struck him were swallowed up somehow. He flexed his wings like he was done warming up his muscles, and Murmur had a distinct feeling things were about to get a lot worse.
It wasn’t going to matter if his mana was unusable; the man had turned into a flying demon minotaur, and he had enough appendages to create severe pain. Regardless, she wasn’t about to let him have his mana back and give him a full arsenal. Just as she had the thought, Michael rose into the air, health ticking down to eighty-six percent as he did so.
Telvar and Devlish quickly put their heads together, and the AI gestured wildly while the tank listened, a thoughtful expression on his face. Then Dev shrugged as if to say, “what the hell,” and called out through the raid.
“Keep in your groups,” Devlish called out. “When he’s grounded again, Telvar and I will yo-yo him. Don’t get between us.”
Murmur didn’t even know if this was going to work, but if Telvar had suggested it, then that’s what they were going to do, simply because it was the only plan they had.
Michael’s wings flapped, creating gusts of wind on the ground as the entire raid craned their necks to see him, and then, after the last DoT on him wore off and dropped him to eighty-five percent, he folded in his wings and dropped.
“Clear the middle!” Havoc yelled as it became abundantly clear why.
Their opponent dropped down to the middle of the circle, landing in a kneeling fighter’s pose and caused all of the ground around him to reverberate and buckle momentarily.
Snowy growled next to her, standing with his legs splayed and his teeth bared.
Murmur almost missed her turn to drain his mana, but she got it just in time, and the beast turned to her with a scowl. “You think you’re so clever.”
And he began to stalk toward her. Devlish stepped in his path, firing both taunts off at once and forcing Michael to look at him. Glowering, the beast turned his head to the main tank, begrudgingly obeying the wonky physics of the game. Murmur had a feeling it had just put the man in a very bad mood.
DoTs were back on him, and rotations began again. There was no way for them to stop his rising into the air, but as long as they could prevent him from casting spells on them, she supposed that’d be enough. For now, anyway. His health moved so slowly, and he didn’t seem concerned in the least.
She kept an eye on her MA and her sensing nets, making sure everything involved in her Mental Acuity abilities was working to full capacity. She couldn’t afford to lower that shield and leave the entire raid susceptible to Michael’s manipulations.
Murmur refused to let another person screw Somnia over the way Jirald attempted to. Past eighty percent and Murmur began to worry. Michael was far too calm; he had to have more in his arsenal, and she doubted it was programmed. Like Jirald, Michael wasn’t going to let a lot of the game physics affect him. Those things he could control, he would.
It was like he read her mind as his health dropped further into the seventies.
He hefted his shoulder back, telegraphing an incoming punch. But it moved so fast after that initial moment, Murmur couldn’t follow it with her eyes. The next thing she knew, Devlish was smashed against one of the cliff rocks surrounding the arena they stood in.
Michael’s eyes crinkled, and he laughed, taking a step forward to run after the dread knight. He paused mid-step, a brief flash of confusion showing across his face. Behind him, Telvar grinned and taunted him with his second taunt.
They’d already figured out that Michael needed two taunts for them to stick. Game physics in all its glory. It was fascinating to watch. Even as Murmur pushed every single thing in she could to take his power from him, and even as she watched the rogues throwing knives or using bows instead of their habitual close combat abilities, Murmur knew what was happening.
Even as powerful as the man had become inside his own fantasy, even as much as he wanted to and thought he could and should be able to read minds, Michael had forgotten something. Telvar grinned, hittin
g that damned taunt button again. “How about you turn and face me then, because I’m your opponent now.”
He’d forgotten that the AIs were sentient and that they could and would fight back.
Murmur could sense the regret at that oversight roll off him in waves. It was quick, like a brief drenching downpour, and then he sealed his thoughts back up and away from her. But it was enough to know he wasn’t completely immune to anything they might throw at them.
She tossed a thought out to Somnia as Telvar kept their opponent engaged. Devlish had suffered some heavy DoT damage and needed them to wear off before he could step back in. Luckily, Risk was ready to take over the yo-yo when it was next required.
Any ETA? How low is too low? Can you give me anything else to go on? She shot the questions at the world, just needing an answer at any time, if not now. Michael’s health ticked toward the seventy-five and down past it before Somnia finally answered.
It’s better if he’s more alive than dead. We are probably ten minutes out? It was like she asked for confirmation and Murmur rolled her eyes.
We’re sitting just under seventy-five percent right now. So he’s more alive. Get here when you can, and by the gods, you owe me explanations. Murmur left the conversation this time, needing to concentrate as she could see Michael getting ready to push off again.
It made her wonder why he wasn’t using more specific attacks. Surely his predecessor that he’d taken over had more offensive tactics? Hell, Jirald had his full arsenal of spells available to him, and he’d used the hell out of them.
And then, as Michael rose into the air and this time got ready for what looked like a corkscrew dive directly down into the stone beneath him, the reason why he seemed so limited on abilities hit her. Michael wasn’t a gamer. Nor had he previously had a character in Somnia.
She had to duck and roll as Michael landed, a shard of rock catching her in the face and cutting through her flesh as if it were butter. She grunted and forgot about it a second later when a heal landed on her. But she had hope now, so injuries didn’t matter. Nothing mattered except what she’d discovered.
