CRACK!
The dragoon’s helm went flying as the barbarian’s sword connected. The man stumbled back, his legs wobbly and eyes crossed as he suffered from the barb’s lengthy stun.
Smoke swirled in my hand as I re-forged nevermore from shadow. The barbarian scoffed as I rose my blade, then swung in with his own massive sword. The blade sliced through a false apparition I’d made as I reappeared behind the brute, activating illusionary stri-
The barbarian spun around, catching me by the throat mid-attack before hoisting me off the ground. I hacked at the barbarian’s arm, drawing a thin line of blood that he barely seemed to notice. The brute responded in kind by slamming me into the ground so hard that I was certain my ribs had turned to dust.
“Razyr I need a shield!” I growled. The familiar obliged, forcing out the rest of his Aether, manifesting it into a second shield of valor directly above my chest. The barbarian paused to consider it for a second, then promptly stomped through the shield, shattering it into a hundred tiny translucent pieces.
His boot crashed into my chest, sending blood spurting out of my mouth. My health bar blinked a furious red as my HP fell dangerously low. I peered up at the barbarian who hoisted his sword into the air, preparing to finish me off. Just beyond, a trio of angelic sprites began descending from the sky towards my location… Likely coming to escort me off the battlefield before my impending death. Like hell I’d let them. I could not go out this way.
The barbarian leveled his sword, eyeing me with a final demeaning stare. I tried to squirm away, but his boot held me firm to the ground. He thrust his blade downwards.
The man paused as his eyes went wide for a brief second. He dropped his sword and began to clutch at his back where a black arrow stuck firmly out of his flesh. In the distance I heard a quick series of ‘twangs’, and another three arrows found their mark on the exposed barb. The man turned to meet his attacker when a fifth and final arrow connected with his chest, exploding on contact and sending him crashing into the arena wall. I rose to my elbows, intent on getting a glimpse of this new combatant.
Approaching was a ranger with long chestnut hair and a brown and gray wolf pacing at his side.
36
This was it.
My muscles tensed as the ranger approached, his arrow knocked and ready to fire. It was bittersweet, to have made it this far only to fall at the hands of Rhylor.
The ranger appeared emotionless as he took aim, leveling the steel arrowhead in my direction. Behind him I noticed the body of the pyromancer slumped over and full of arrows… damn was he ever efficient.
I crossed my arms in front of my face as the ranger let go of the bow string. The arrow flew through the air and…. soared past my head?
The barbarian behind me let out a sharp growl of pain as Rhylor’s arrow slammed into his gut, dropping his HP to nothing but a sliver. The ranger glanced at the barb to make sure he was down, then set his sights back on me. “You just plan on sitting there?” He asked as he knocked another arrow, preparing to fire on the next combatant that dared get too close.
I stared at the man in disbelief. “You… you could’ve finished me off there. Why did you-“
“I promised Destro I’d spare your ass.” He said sharply. “He didn’t want to see you fall from the get go. Said he would’ve felt bad… Otherwise you’d be catching a few arrows as well.” He fired off an arrow into an approaching foe, then reached for another from his quiver. “Now get on your feet.”
I couldn’t believe it… Rhylor had saved me due to his empathy for that buffoon Vic (or should I say, Destro)?!
An angelic-looking sprite paused in the air in front of me, eyeing me with a look of pity. “Would you like me to aid you in exiting the battlefield?” Its eyes focused on something unseen in the air… perhaps it had the ability to see my blinking health bar.
“I’ll take my chances.” I spat
“Very well. Good luck.” The sprite responded, then flittered away towards another downed competitor.
I rose to my feet, black armor covered in a mess of blood and sand. Rhylor gave me a mocking grin. “Damn… I’m kinda jealous. Somebody beat you up pretty bad.”
I scowled, then nodded towards the dragoon who’d just recovered from his stun. The man began rotating his spear in a spinning kata, rotating it at an impressive speed before bringing the weapon to a halt, spear-tip pointing directly at Rhylor and I.
Rhylor let out a chuckle. “Let me have this one.” He said, causing Vice, his wolf familiar, to growl in anticipation. I summoned nevermore and raised the weapon alongside Rhylor, but the sound of metal scraping the ground quickly grabbed my attention. I turned to face another player approaching from behind, a thin, silvery-haired druid dragging a spiked club that appeared far too large for her body. The woman grinned, then suddenly her form changed.
The druid’s muscles enlarged, her posture straightened, and her fair skin quickly became overrun with a thick brown fur. Half-human, half-bear, the woman heaved the giant club into the air and charged. I pressed my back to Rhylor’s as he readied for an assault from the dragoon. There would be no easy end to this battle. Not with an unlikely ally at my back and an unpredictable enemy in my sights.
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The druid charged in. Despite being nearly out of Aether, Razyr remained in battlebond form to give me a small boost of strength and speed. Still, with little mana and even less health, this was looking to be a hell of a fight.
Behind me, Rhylor’s wolf howled as the ranger unloaded on his opponent, swinging his battle axe with malice as he activated a chain of attack skills.
I steeled myself as the druid drew close, gripping nevermore with two hands as the half-bear prepared to strike.
The druid stopped dead in her tracks.
A glowing green glyph illuminated on the ground as the woman stepped into one of Rhylor’s hidden traps, a handy ranger skill that I hadn’t even seen the man place! Metal jaws snapped out of the sand and dug into the Druid’s thick calf, forcing out a cry of pain.
“Switch!” Rhylor yelled before pressing his back against my own, sending both of us into a spin. I turned about to face the dragoon once more. This time, rather than perform an impressive kata, he struggled to remove his spear from the mouth of Rhylor’s familiar, Vice.
It looks like the creature had been given that name for a reason.
I lifted my blade into the air and let out a cry as I charged in, striking at the hapless dragoon. The man threw his spear to the ground and reached out, catching my hand as it brought down nevermore, halting my attack. I immediately used my free hand to blast the dragoon in the jaw. The man grimaced but remained focused, working to pry the obsidian blade from my hand.
Suddenly, his head snapped forward, connecting with a vicious headbutt on my nose. My knees instantly went wobbly. Damnit did that hurt!
The dragoon pried nevermore free from my grasp and raised my own blade against me. I dismissed the weapon into smoke, drawing a look of surprise from the now unarmed fighter. I lowered my head and charged, tackling the man to the ground. He tried to push me off, but Vice appeared at my side and clamped onto his forearm.
The animal inside of me took over as I began to rain down punches on the dragoon, slamming my knuckles against his face, diminishing his health bar inch by bloody inch.
I raised my fist, preparing to slam it down onto the dragoon’s battered face once more… when the voice of the announcer brought me pause.
“And that’s it folks! We have our first team of five moving on to the next round!” I unclenched my fist and took a long, hard look around the battlefield. Bodies lay strewn across the sand, players like myself who had refused to leave the battle but had paid the ultimate price.
On the far end of the arena were two men standing amongst a pile of bodies… a spellsword and a mage. They caught sight of my gaze and gave a silent nod in return. Then there was Rhylor and Vice, plus myself and the dragoon who was now rising back to his feet
. The first round was over… we were the final five.
My ears began to attune to the roar of the crowd as my adrenaline waned. Had it been this loud the entire time? I took a quick glance into the sea of onlookers. Many were on their feet, cheering at the display of carnage and mayhem that had just unfolded. I even spotted Brenton and the others, standing and cheering alongside the rest of the lot. I smiled and raised my fist to them in a silent salute, then quickly withdrew my hand. For some reason I was beginning to feel quite dizzy.
Suddenly, something moved in the corner of my vision. My gaze quickly averted back to the arena floor as the dragoon stepped in close, his face wavering just inches from my own.
Grissan
Lvl 20 Dragoon
Familiar: Argo (full bond)
“Hell of a fight, kid.” The man said, his voice deep and rustic. Looking past the bruises on his face, I realized just how much older he was then me. I suppose people of all ages were trapped in this game… this world. It made me shudder to think how any children logged into AGO had fared.
“Uh, thanks. You too.” I replied, offering the man my hand. My fingers shook as I extended my palm outwards… hell, I could even feel my knees growing weak. Damnit, Zan! Hold it together!
Grissan disregarded my hand but held his gaze. “Keep up that intensity, kid. We’re gonna need it to make it to the end of this thing…”
“Right.” I replied, unsure of how to talk to a man I’d very recently bludgeoned with my bare hands.
He grinned then pointed to his bruised face. “You and me are gonna be the last two left … and when that time comes, I’m gonna beat the living hell out of you.” He laughed heartily, then gave me a firm pat on the back as he began to stroll away. A ball of light exited from his chest as he walked before resting on his shoulder as it took the form of a white-haired mongoose… his familiar, Argo.
Just another player in the tournament after my head. I thought to myself. Join the club.
The announcer floating above began to pump up the crowd for the next big battle, so I assumed it was time to make a hasty retreat. I turned to head towards the gate when a feeling of light-headedness overwhelmed me, causing me to stumble back. I tried to steady myself, but my legs wobbled, and I collapsed against the wall of the arena. A series of status indicators blinked next to me name.
Greivous Wound
Bleeding
I peered towards the ground where a pool of my own blood continued to grow. This was worse than I thought.
Pain began to ripple through my body as the last of my adrenaline finally left my system, leaving me incredibly weak. I slid into the sand, vision blurring at a rapid pace. My HP continued to tick away… damn, there was hardly anything left.
“Ra… Razyr….” I muttered, sensing the drake’s worry in my thoughts. Finally. my head crashed into the ground as consciousness fled, my final sight a trio of angelic sprites descending in my direction.
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My mind drifted on the edge of consciousness, coherent thoughts floating just out of reach. The confusion felt palpable, like the current of a mighty river that forced me down, refusing to let me surface.
I fought, swimming against the current. I needed my mind back. I needed to wake up. I needed to-
My eyelids snapped open. Panic set in as I realized that I was in fact swimming in something… a foreign liquid that was green and thick like gelatin. I flailed around but didn’t get anywhere. My chest began to heave. Damnit this was bad. I grabbed at my face where some sort of apparatus was attached. I had to get this thing off. I ran my hand along a long tube that protruded from the apparatus… Wait. Was it allowing me to breath?
Calm down, damnit! I told myself, coming to a rest in the liquid. Settle down and figure out what the hell is going on.
I slowed my breathing and took some quick observations. From what I could tell, I was floating in some sort of tank. My body had been stripped of everything but a pair of plain linen briefs, and my wounds… well, my wounds were nearly gone!
A knocking against the tank caught my attention as it vibrated through the gelatin. I strained, looking through the goo until I could make out a figure on the other side of the tank, a man’s making some sort of excited gesture towards me. Was… was that Vic?
I tried to wave back at him, but he ran off, becoming a blur as he retreated into the room somewhere. A few moments later he returned with an older man in gray robes who wore a seemingly permanent scowl on his face. The man appeared to lean down and fiddle with some sort of control panel. In seconds the lid on the tank began to creak open as the gelatin began to drain from the tank.
I swam upwards until my head crested the top of the liquid and fumbled to remove my breathing apparatus. I was in some sort of holding room where nearly a dozen of these tanks sat, other players swirling about in their slimy contents.
“Boss!” Vic said excitedly. In fact, his voice almost sounded giddy. “You were awesome out there!”
“Thanks.” I replied dryly. “Do you by chance know where I am?”
“You’re in one of the great temples of Vorghan, god of the great marsh.” The robed man cut in, giving me a curt look.
“Another god?” I blurted out. “Is this one… living?”
The man scowled at me. “Vorghan has not been seen since the worldbreakers descended on Aetheria, but as a disciple of Vorghan I must insist that he is quite well. In fact, you’re floating in a tank of captured essence from the great marsh itself, liquified of course. It’s quite the efficient healing agent, much better than trying to get stitched up by a group of poorly trained clerics.” The man beamed with pride as he spoke of the strange healing gelatin. I guess I couldn’t really complain… I was feeling a thousand times better.
“So… can I get out now?” I asked. “I really want to catch the other rounds of battle royale.”
“Only if you promise to put some pants on.” A familiar voice said. I followed the voice across the room to find Helena perched against the wall, smirking with that devilish look of hers. “Don’t bother rushing, though.”
I raised a brow in suspicion. “Oh? Why not?”
“Because the other rounds have already concluded”.
My eyes went wide. “Wait, what?!”
She shook her head. “You’ve been out cold in that thing all day, Zan. It’s almost nightfall.”
“But…”
“Don’t worry.” She cut me off. “Your pal Hilda’s made it to the next round.”
I breathed a long sigh of relief. Thank the gods.
“Yeah….” Helena went on. “She’s got a hell of a teammate, though. Guy decimated a quarter of the field on his own… hope she doesn’t stick too close to him. Something about that dude rubs me the wrong way.” She turned and began to walk away.
“Wait!” I yelled, bringing her pause. “Whose Hilda paired with?”
Helena sighed. “Oh, you’ve met him… a duelist that just might have it out for you.”
No… damnit no! Hilda was trapped on a team with that bastard… A man whose former companions all lay dead.
She was trapped with the man who survived.
Arden.
37
“And that’s it folks! These spear- wielding sword swinging masters of combat and their lovable sprites have pulled off an impressive victory! Let’s give them a hand!” The crowd roared as the announcer cooed over our performance, a dominant victory in the first round of team battles.
Despite a lack of teamwork, the five of us were able to quickly dispose of the other squad, an unlikely grouping of five melee fighters. One more win and we’d be in the finals…. And facing grueling single combat.
Of the four other teams remaining, Hilda and Arden’s team appeared to be the biggest threat. Damnit, I didn’t know what I’d do if we had to face them. I’d be glad to put Arden in his place, but I could never raise a blade to Hilda…
I pushed the thought out of my head. After two days of bloody battle, fighting was
the last thing I wanted to think about. And besides, further contests had been put on hold for the evening to allot time for Airrigar’s famed Swordmoon Festival, a celebration of competition and combat used to attract more followers to the already packed city. That was fine by me, though. After so much fighting, I could use a night on the town.
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A few hours later I left the small barracks that housed the tournament competitors and headed out into the city. It felt good to be out of my combat gear for a bit, to remove the burden of fighting, if only just for the night.
I gave myself a look over as I passed through the large wooden door of the barracks. I was dressed in a new outfit that Hilda had gifted me, and by the gods, I didn’t look too bad at all. Tall leather boots, dark trousers and a long blue overcoat that matched Razyr’s scales… I don’t think I ever looked so nice in the real world.
Speaking of Razyr, the small drake scrambled out of the barracks behind me and leapt onto my shoulder, nearly ripping my coat.
“Careful!” I scolded. “You’re supposed to be an accessory. I can’t have you damaging the coat.”
“Accessory?” Razyr asked in confusion.
I smiled, then lifted my sleeve up beside him, comparing the likeness of color. The drake groaned. “You know, Zander… I had this color scheme first. Perhaps you are the accessory.”
My grin widened even further. “Perhaps I am, buddy.”
Making our way into the street, I quickly realized that I underestimated the size of this massive festival. Vendors lined the circular streets of the city, handing out exotic foods and taking bets on the next round of fights. Music filled the air as bards took to the street corners, working their instruments and bringing an air of joy and excitement to the area. A few spellcasters even roamed the street, performing small showy feats of magic to impress those that passed by. I breathed it all in as I strolled down the crowded boulevard… The city was so alive!
The Slayer Page 23
