by Oliver Mayes
Rising Tide was taking things a little more seriously this time. It was a party of ten, and they’d been paying attention. Warrior tank at the front. Paladin tank in the back. Extremely jittery squishies in between. All of them were hugging the wall, standing as far away from the edge as possible.
Some of them were using torches, and there were two mana wisps from two different mages that circled the group. The light they cast wasn’t enough to reach the wraith at the moment, but he wasn’t going to be able to get the jump on them.
Time for phase two.
Damien canceled the possession and instructed the wraith to move down and hang over the third-highest platform instead. The platforms gradually got bigger the further down you went. This was the first one large enough to host the entire party.
The light may have prevented him from engaging with the wraith but it made the group incredibly easy to track, even from below. Damien pulled two imps toward him, keeping them on standby. He opened his chat box to Lillian.
“Get ready.”
When the trail of light breached the third platform, Damien sent the imps out into the dark to fly underneath. Then he instructed his wraith to scrape its arm-blades against each other. There were murmurs, and a mana wisp flew upward to investigate the noise. The moment the wraith was illuminated, hissing sinisterly in the blue light, Damien made his move. While the party responded with absurd force, obliterating his decoy in a hail of shrapnel, arrows and magical power, one of the two imps flew up and over the edge, hovering at head height.
All eyes were set on what was left of the wraith. Not a single player was looking out for an attack from the center of the room. Damien was already pointing at his imp across the divide. It was in position for less than a second before he triggered it.
“Implosion.”
The piercing crack was followed by ten piercing screams. The whole party was pulled toward the void. One of the mages was fast enough to Blink back onto the platform and the warrior tank was left hanging off the edge, clinging on for dear life. The rest of them were not so lucky. Most of them fell to the bottom, their screams turning to strangled yelps if they survived or silence if they didn’t. One of them collided with the edge of the platform Damien was standing on, arms impotently outstretched to grab it, catching it with his head instead. He was a quiet one.
There were more screams as Lillian set about finishing off the survivors before they had time to recover.
Above Damien, the mage was struggling to pull the warrior back onto the platform, his low strength making him ill-suited to the task. Damien still had the spare imp waiting under the platform, just in case the first one was spotted and killed before he could trigger it. There was a perfectly good use for it now, though. Damien flew it around and above the mage then Demon Gated, putting his full weight behind the daggers as he dropped down and plunged them between the mage's shoulder blades. The mage toppled forward into the warrior’s face, dislodging him on the way down. Two for one. Everything must go.
Damien peered over the edge. Lillian and his second wraith had dealt with two of the players, another two of them had landed poorly and not survived, but four more were struggling to their feet. Damien set the three hell hounds on them to buy Lillian time and prepared for the next wave.
He was halfway through summoning a new wraith when a war cry rang into the dungeon from top to bottom. It was quickly followed by the clomp of footsteps, the clatter of armor and a trail of bright lights rushing down the walkway.
Aetherius had had enough. He was sending the rest.
Damien finished summoning and sent the new wraith down to the dungeon floor. It would be more useful there. Then he ran down the steps, carefully picking his way around the highlighted paving stones where Bartholomew’s more conventional traps lay. He reached the fourth platform and looked up. The lights had already reached the second level and showed no signs of slowing, even when punctuated by the shriek of metal as Bartholomew’s traps were triggered again and again.
The flickering flames were soon accompanied by bursts of white and gold as the healers attempted to save their comrades from themselves. The damage they were sustaining must have been considerable, but the sudden rush was leaving Damien with little time to prepare.
This next bit was going to be tricky. He had a leather-armored, whip-equipped succubus and ten imps with him on this level, eleven if you counted Noigel. The ultimate interference team. They needed to play for time while the hell hounds positioned themselves for stage three.
He focused on Noigel.
“Send the hell hounds, now!”
Noigel was over the edge and diving straight down before Damien had even finished the order. He touched down on the dungeon floor just as the first of Rising Tide’s members reached the third level.
Damien sent an imp flying straight toward it, hoping to repeat his Implosion strategy without the need for a wraith. The imp got halfway across the room before an arrow struck it out of the sky. Rising Tide had been smart enough to position a spotter with night vision, turning the empty space of the dungeon into a no-man’s land.
Lillian had said this might happen.
Damien had devised counter-measures.
He focused on the succubus and it cast Bloodlust, the red mist seeping into his imps' heads via their ears. Then he sent three of them out into the danger zone: one circling round from the left, one on the right and the last zig-zagging straight down the middle. The erratic movement of the central imp drew the spotter’s attention first, but the increased movement speed bought it some time. It evaded the first two shots before the spotter successfully predicted its movement and brought it down. The spotter pipped the imp traveling on the right on their first try, just as the third and final imp reached the now well-illuminated third platform.
Damien Imploded it and a host of players spiraled through the air, many of them already damaged from the traps they’d bulldozed through on the way. It wasn’t the solid group of ten he’d caught previously, but it was well worth three imps.
He’d dealt with the front-runners, but there were already more coming to take their place. With such a long cooldown on Implosion he wasn’t going to have the luxury of using another one before they reached him. There was nothing for it. He stepped back until he was against the wall, at the most poorly lit part of the platform, and gave his imps their orders before pointing at the succubus.
“Possession.”
He opened his new eyes and gripped the whip as the six remaining imps positioned themselves around him. Then he willed himself straight up, heading for the underside of the spotter’s platform to remain out of line of sight. The imps flew out and orbited him effortlessly with their increased movement speed, providing him with a swirling meat shield.
Damien charged Chaotic Bolt with his left hand. The doubled stats his trait enhanced Possession provided had proven especially useful with the succubus. Not only did her spells now hit twice as hard while she was under Damien’s thrall, she had twice as much mana to cast them with. It was a truly excellent trait. By the time he drew level with the third platform, the Chaotic Bolt was charged and whining.
Rising Tide were already there in force, pausing their descent to recover from the traps. There were too many players to count, with yet more spilling in behind them. Damien didn’t have time to think. He continued upwards as he pitched his prepared spell at the most obvious target, a group of five damaged players huddled under a priest’s Dome of Healing. While the Chaotic Bolt traveled, Damien pointed his already extended left hand and cast Circle of Hell directly in the center of the platform, covering it almost entirely.
Both spells arrived simultaneously, eclipsing the dome’s soft light in a maelstrom of fire and rift energy. The players had been looking for trouble from below or the middle; they hadn’t expected it from the darkness above.
It took a moment or two for them to realize what was happening and run back the way they had come, still burning. The five players und
er the dome were the hardest hit, and in the least position to do anything about it. The two weakest died on Chaotic Bolt’s impact while the other three dithered, not knowing if they should exit the flames and thus the dome as well.
A warrior with a sliver of health left opted to run, then died moments later as the burning persisted but the healing did not. The priest was left frantically casting healing spells between the remaining two, racing the flames to keep them alive. His healing was more potent than the Succubi’s damage, but Damien had successfully stopped the front runners in their tracks.
While the priest played out every healer’s worst fear, Damien crested the rim of the second-highest platform. He wanted to deal with the spotter and free up his movement in the dungeon’s core.
He found himself directly in her sights. An imp stopped orbiting as it took an arrow straight through the abdomen for him. It hadn’t even finished disintegrating before the spotter nocked another arrow, charging for a moment before releasing.
Damien pulled back his whip arm and swung it forward as a piercing arrow went straight through another imp and sunk into the succubi’s leather armor. The armor, the imp and the increased health from Possession all worked to keep the succubus alive, although she lost a third of her health in the process.
The quick-thinking ranger hadn’t quite nocked a third arrow when the whip lashed around her waist. Damien tightened his grip and yanked her over the edge. She tried to Air Jump, straining against the whip and taking even more damage, before falling past him and spinning at the end of the rope like a yo-yo. The cruel serrated blades sliced through her before coming free, leaving her to spiral to the bottom of the dungeon five floors below. Somehow, Damien didn’t think Lillian would have to finish her off.
The platform the ranger had fallen from burst into light as a mana wisp pulsed, catching Damien at the rim of the effect. He was exposed and in full view, but at least he could see what he was facing as well. It was not a pretty sight.
All of Rising Tide had entered the dungeon now, and those who weren’t on the lower platform or heading toward it had gathered here to wait while the cannon fodder triggered traps. These players were much stronger than those leading the charge. Not a single one was lower than level 35. A full party of the twenty best Rising Tide had to offer. The most leveled was a level 42 mage standing amidst a tight defensive cluster.
It was only the second time Damien had seen Aetherius in-game. How time flies.
The group turned to face Damien and the more quick-witted among them started raising weapons and channeling spells. The gunslinger at the front was the fastest to attack, firing his musket straight from the hip.
The imp who’d volunteered to take the hit was blown apart, preventing the shrapnel from hitting Damien’s succubus at its core. The succubus’s arms and legs, however, were shredded.
Damien was knocked back and rolled with the hit, twisting round and diving down. The other players fired into the space he’d vacated, one of his imps not moving fast enough to avoid annihilation.
His little foray into Rising Tide’s back line had been fruitful, but the succubus was too weak to survive another hit and he only had three imps left with him. He needed the succubus alive, as well as at least one imp for his next Implosion. Worse still, while he’d been absorbing hits, the front-runners had rallied and were already halfway to the next platform, where Damien's defenseless body lay.
Damien repositioned the succubus in the blind spot and canceled Possession, leaving her far up over his head in the darkness. He called the imps back, just as Noigel arrived with his order of hell hounds.
The three imps dropped onto their mounts and took their positions at the back of the platform as Damien ran for the next flight of stairs. He just made it to the exit as the first Rising Tide tanks stepped onto his level, the players behind raising torches over their heads to illuminate the circle.
The hell hounds crouched against the back wall, waiting. Damien hunkered down below the rim of the steps, sending Noigel to the platform below so he could make a quick escape if necessary. For a moment it looked like he’d need it.
Rising Tide was getting the measure of the dungeon now. With tanks at the front, the players behind them had taken minimal damage. Rather than pausing for breath on the trap-free level, as Damien had hoped, they were making a beeline for the next exit. For him.
Damien sent a hell rider sprinting forward through the torchlight, gunning for a priest who’d been left exposed by their fast advance. The hound caught the player around the throat and the three of them went sailing over the edge.
Damien resisted the urge to Implode the imp riding on its back. He and Lillian had agreed they couldn’t risk relying on fall damage from the lower floors. It was too risky. If too many players landed well, she’d be overwhelmed. Which is why Damien had allocated his most dangerous set-ups to the fourth level and below.
Now the threat had been established, Damien ran the second hell rider into the light. He needed the players to stop advancing and stay on the platform. The players at the front ran forward to engage, only for the dog to skirt around them as it went for the center of the group. When they turned to follow its movement, Damien sent the third one running in behind it.
The ranged players in the back opened fire, some of them hitting their own team in the process. A few of them did manage to find their target, though. The hell hound took two arrows and a round of buckshot in the face before toppling over, the imp rider propelling itself forward and weaving between players as it tried to reach the platform’s center.
Damien ordered the succubus overhead to cast Circle of Hell and pointed at the imp, but it was slain by a well-timed Arcane Bolt before it could be Imploded. The last hell hound, already burning from a paladin’s Smite, jumped over his predecessor’s body as the Circle of Hell formed over all of them. It was just shy of the target destination before it crumbled, the last imp leaping forward off its back.
Damien cast Implosion.
The closest players were almost completely unaffected, but those on the edge of his Circle of Hell were swiftly drawn in. Now all the players were suffering damage over time. More importantly, they also had their armor reduced by half.
The players weren’t the only thing being pulled into the center of the platform. Damien had spent a great deal of time and energy fastidiously lining the walls with half the junk he hadn’t found any use for: boar tusks, splintered bones and, best of all, hundreds of rounds of buckshot. They were right on the edge of the Implosion – the exact place they needed to be to achieve maximum velocity.
The roar of ricocheting projectiles echoed around the dungeon.
By the time it passed, there was very little left of them to loot. Every last item had been weaponized, producing the kind of firepower you’d expect to see from a Gatling gun. Except a Gatling gun is considerate enough to put the bullets out one at a time. This was instantaneous and nearly 360 degrees.
In a fraction of a second, seventeen players were reduced to cautionary tales. Precious few survived the onslaught; none who were on the platform when Damien had triggered the ability outlasted the succubus’s Circle of Hell. From where he was crouched, Damien could see the stragglers gathering at the foot of the stairs, saved by their tardiness.
They looked suitably horrified. Even so, he didn’t want to hang around now that his trap had been used up. He crept to the edge and reached out for an imp, Demon Gating to the dungeon floor.
In the wake of the many casualties he’d inflicted, Damien had only leveled up three times. Many of the players he’d killed had been too low level to grant XP. That was fine. This was not a leveling exercise. He didn’t care as long as they were dead. The mana he’d restored on leveling up was reward enough.
This was the perfect opportunity to replenish his forces with the Unrelenting Talisman. He’d painstakingly gathered souls on the dungeon floor with his earlier Implosions to prepare and his minion count was now low enough to justify it
s use.
He got there and looked around, mystified. There were no souls anywhere. The bodies hadn’t faded away yet, and plenty of the players he’d knocked down had been high level. It made no sense. He looked to Lillian, hoping for some sort of explanation, and was met with an even more confusing sight.
She was standing over the body of the recently departed priest, having a heated discussion with… Bartholomew? But it couldn’t be.
Damien moved a little closer and the vampire’s head abruptly turned, the jet-black eyes pinpointing him effortlessly in the darkness. If not for them, he was hardly recognizable. His face, once little more than a skull, had reformed into quite the aristocratic visage.
He had hair now, long, black and curled, framing gaunt cheeks and a haughty, thin-lipped sneer. It was Bartholomew, all right. Even his tattered robe had changed, glowing with regal purple light to display myriad occultist symbols. Damien marched toward him, his fists clenched. He was starting to get an idea about where his hard-earned soul energy had gone.
“Bartholomew, why are there no souls here?”
“Come now, Damien. Surely you didn’t think you’d reap all the rewards for yourself? Think of it as a hosting fee.”
This had not been the plan. Including his base minions, he was already down to just thirty-four souls' worth of minions.
There was a screech from above as his battle-scarred succubus was spotted and destroyed, bringing the number down to twenty-seven. Low enough to control with just his own Soul Summon Limit. It wasn’t going to be enough.
“That’s great, Bartholomew. Really, I’m so happy you gave yourself a little makeover, but I needed those souls! How am I supposed to hold them off now?”
“I shouldn’t worry. I can make far better use of them than you. Besides which, you have more than enough souls to make use of in your base. There’s no need to be selfish.”
“What are you talking about? There are no souls in my base! The souls I needed were right here!”
Bartholomew tutted and slowly shook his head.
