The Mists of Erantia (Realm of Arkon Book 7)

by G. Akella

  Strength: 2494

  Constitution: 3580

  Vigor: 350

  Agility: 1150

  Intellect: 758

  Spirit: 503

  Armor: 18350 (94.1% physical damage absorption)

  With all the set bonuses and my title of prince, my HP was at a whopping 64,444! And raid buffs would easily double that number. The Azure Dragons' biggest tank, for comparison, had 40,000 more HP than I did, but had much weaker armor and not nearly the same max resistance against Dark Magic that I did. No one had the enchantment I did, and without that enchantment it would be much harder to tank the Lord of Darkness. 36.95% crit chance was massively overpowered, too. A damage dealer might have a number like that, but never a tank. Tanks had to sacrifice lots of firepower in exchange for survivability, but I wasn't your typical tank, not by a long shot.

  Ice Blade ХIV—113,098-143,354 physical damage.

  Tongue of Flame ХIV—113,098-143,354 physical damage.

  In the Temple of Kirana, Ruination shone more brightly than a lightsaber. My sword had sucked the life force out of that bird-headed monster, massively increasing its damage dealt. With the gifts of the Mountain People on top of that, no one in this raiding party could outclass me in damage. And that was only with my 74% damage boost and the bonuses from my equipment. The raid buffs I would get would multiply my damage output another two and a half times, at least. So why then did I feel this inexplicable anxiety?

  "Krian!" A girl with green hair and immense eyes standing amidst four men by the statue of Myrt called out my name, inviting me over with a wave. "Come speak with us!"

  "Come on, Vaessa. Come on, Reece."

  To avoid any holdups, I invited Ksenjhuan, Fenrir, and Vagabond to the party. I approached and greeted the leader of the Azure Dragons, shaking hands with the men standing around her.

  "Mistress! We are delighted to—" Ksenjhuan's greeting was abruptly ended by Vaessa.

  The necromancer's daughter had no patience for ceremony now. "Save the formalities for official receptions." She smiled disarmingly. "Here and in battle, just call me by my name."

  "Agreed," replied Jin Ho, whom I had appointed colonel for the raid, and who, in turn, had quickly appointed his centurions and issued their orders. The man turned to the high priestess of the Goddess of Death.

  "Mistress, Krian says you can weaken Teiran, even silence him, for five minutes."

  "A permanent 10% reduction in damage and in all resistances, yes," Vaessa explained. "As for the silence, only if his level is no higher than six hundred. One of the most useful spells I have for today's raid is Dematerialize Undead. Once per five minutes, I can hit a circle one hundred feet across, at a distance of up to one hundred and fifty feet, with a spell that will turn all undead within having less than one million HP to piles of rotten flesh and bone. And then there's this..." the necromancer's daughter looked towards the sky and spread her arms in dramatic fashion.

  George showed up first, as usual. Dragon females had certain things in common with human females, I supposed. But Lola followed soon after. Both dragons looked intently at the people gathered in the square. Failing to find anything requiring an urgent response, they rushed towards their mother, hurried on by the enthusiastic shouts of the players gathered at the temple.

  "400,000 to 1,000,000 physical damage per wing strike," Vaessa answered the unspoken question as she reached out to caress her pets. "And they don't mind munching on the undead. Their teeth deal five times the damage to them, in fact."

  Blackmaster shook his head in admiration. "Man, I can't wait to hit three fifty..."

  Vagabond had brought forty seven elves to Vaedarr. Taken together with those already here, that made eighty Blades in total. All my guys were assigned to the century led by Blackmaster—a thin, long-haired necromancer specializing in summoning. Vagabond wouldn't be leading the raid this time. Ruling a clan was one thing, but running raids was something else entirely. I agreed with the roles as they were.

  I saw that Father Sebastian and Brother Tukkard had arrived at the temple, so I left the others and approached. Vaessa made no move to follow me. The grand champion and the knight-commander had met her yesterday at the gate, and they had found time to speak with her there. Well, one of them had found time to speak, and the other had found time to listen.

  "You have already heard of Arkaetania, prince?" the champion asked as he nodded an absentminded greeting and looked thoughtfully at the statue of Myrt.

  "If you mean the undead gathering in the Dead Princedom, then yes, I have heard of it."

  "I need not tell you how important it is that the Lord of Darkness be destroyed." He nodded at the Untainted frozen in place around the perimeter. "Even at a site of Power, we have little chance of keeping the infection from spreading. Four hundred royal mages and necromancers now stand guard in the city, but that is not enough. The soldiers are evacuating the city, too, but Teiran is not called 'Master of Pandemics' for nothing. Garzaga, Virr, and Liva each perished within two weeks of his attack, and I have no wish for Vaedarr to follow in their footsteps."

  "Neither do I have that wish, Champion. But all I can promise is that I will do everything in my power."

  Sebastian nodded. "I know. Although you have come here from another world, you are very much like us. I am glad that you came to us in such trying times. If you have any questions or requests, please ask them."

  I shrugged. "Just one question. Brother Tukkard—why is he always silent?"

  "Because he believes that the less a person speaks, the more weighty his words." the champion smiled. "Some people here in Vaedarr should heed such unspoken wisdom."

  "All right, we're going in, century by century!" Jin Ho shouted into the channel, and the first century marched towards the temple entrance.

  "I will not bid you farewell, prince," Father Sebastian said quietly, gripping my shoulder in support. He left me there, walking towards the mages standing by the fence.

  "Good luck!" the knight-commander said, slapping me on the back and following the champion.

  "Thank you!"

  Ruminating on what was happening with a smile on my face, I followed the rest of the players to the temple.

  Entrance to the Tomb of the Forgotten God. Zone level 200.

  Thirty-foot metal gates, light brown walls, and magical white lights on the ceiling. The past week had changed nothing of the appearance of this place. Despite the fact that Arkam's tomb was right under the temple, we had to take a long, winding way down. I doubted the catacombs of Vaedarr had ever seen such a force. The first century moved in quickly as they followed their commanders' instructions. I walked in after them, still grappling with that sense of foreboding.

  We had no strategy guide, but the mood of the players was positive. And no wonder, with the raid rocking +294% damage! In the training sessions they had conducted outside the city, at the Livendum training ground, the raid had dealt something like two billion damage per minute. Meaning that Teiran shouldn't make it to ten minutes—barring any nasty surprises.

  The gate itself was formed of dark-green metal. Symbols similar to the runes on the tomb of Erast were drawn in symmetrical patterns, with a five-pointed groove in the center, ten feet off the ground. I stood looking at them, waiting for the half-legion behind me to finish activating every buff they could. Hart, how I dreaded opening it!

  Jin Ho stepped up to join me, remaining silent. He looked like Eren from Attack On Titan, which I knew so well since one of my girlfriends had done little else but rewatch it, again and again. But there were so many other anime characters he could have drawn inspiration from, too.

  "Is something wrong?" he nodded at the gate.

  "No, everything seems fine," I shrugged, not wanting to make a fool of myself.

  "I hope nothing was forgotten. Use venom on command, and activate defenses as soon as Teiran aggros on you. Oh, and..." the elf looked at me, touching his ear. "Turn off the general channel, it'll just distract you. Listen t
o no one but me. If I go down, code six-seven-seven, the raid goes to Fenrir. Now, you open the gate and move towards the wall, just like we planned. You and your people form up behind the second century."

  "All right..."

  "You know," he added with some hesitation. "I also have an ill foreboding. But that is nothing objective. I always feel that when I adventure somewhere without a guide."

  I sighed. "You're probably right. Uncertainty breeds caution. Yet, as soon as we enter that gate, what is uncertain will become certain."

  "For me, the great Joy of all players sits beyond that gate," the elf said in a melancholy tone. "This world is barely a game anymore. All of these castles, plots, rituals—of course, there will still be more adventures, yes, but not like this. I have been raiding for thirty three years now. May this be the final accord of a departing game world!" Jin Ho smiled and gestured towards the gate. "Everyone ready? Open the gate! To our final trophy!"

  I need another five, at least, I thought as I pushed for the gate. Vill, Cheney, Urgam, that orc—the third target in my wife's quest—and that beast Sata had asked me to kill. But no time to think about that now. I would sort out my kill list once Teiran was dead.

  I pressed the plate to the matching notch. The magical magnet—or whatever it was called—worked. The star jerked away from my hand, clinking into the place meant for it. Uh-oh. The floor began shaking underfoot. I had enough time to Jump if I needed to, though, and so I proceeded to the left wall, as planned, and watched. What was the meaning of all the flashing and sparking colored runes, the spinning star, and the bright blue light leaking out from all around the door? I already knew that this world was one of magic. Had Myrt placed this ostentatious light show here to seal his friend's tomb? After a few more minutes of Vegas-level visual theatrics, the door at last shuddered and slid to the side with a loud crashing sound.

  ERROR 757#%^&34!

  Before our very eyes, the film over the dungeon gate changed from blue to orange as the word "unique" was added to the dungeon's description. Meaning we would only have one chance at the dungeon. If we failed, the orange film would vanish, and everything inside would joyfully rush out into Vaedarr. Not that any of us had counted on a second chance, anyway.

  "Ready!" I turned and smiled at Jin Ho, frozen still in the middle of the tunnel.

  The elf's eyes met mine for a moment. He nodded ever so slightly, stepped aside, and gave the command.

  "First century, forward!"

  The difference between noobs like me and experienced players like these was on full display. The century approached the film hanging over the gate, yet no one entered. They formed a column ten people wide, lined up so tightly that each row was practically eating the hair of the row in front of it. The second century formed up no more than a hand's breadth behind the first. My squad of ten and Vaessa's dragon took up behind them, and behind us came the third, fourth, and fifth centuries. The first two would burst in at about the same time and could hopefully secure some ground for us. The third through fifth would follow shortly thereafter. Posting the main tank at the front would be a terrible idea—if the raid was attacked immediately, I would be caught up in the fight and stripped of the chance to adequately observe and assess the situation. My task was to select the most dangerous mob and go after him. With this arrangement, I would have at least a few seconds to do that.

  "We're going in!" Jin Ho barked, sending the front-row tanks in. They and Jin disappeared into the orange film.

  The whole first century was in the dungeon within three seconds, and the second followed immediately after.

  Hmm. Maybe they put me back here just so I wouldn't get in the way, I thought just before I stepped in.

  Orange flashed before my eyes, and I sensed a dull blow to the chest and the smell of burnt bones. Then the silence exploded into a deafening symphony.

  "Second century to the right, form up a line! Mass heal! Archers, mages, max range AoE!"

  I reflexively covered my chest with my shield and stepped to the right, blinked, and looked around for a second. The map had been right—we were in a wide corridor leading off into the distance, lit with hundreds of magical lamps. The remnants of some ancient massive steel constructions clung to the walls and the hundred-foot-high ceilings. It was just like the residential area of the catacombs, only with the barracks added. I guessed that the locals had no special desire for barracks, anyway. Hundreds of undead soldiers were attacking the tanks in the front row while huge skeletal archers from afar showered us with arrows. The figure of a colossal boss stood behind them. The level of these undead was no higher than 250, but there were a lot of them. Our situation was further complicated by the dungeon entrance's position in the very center of the corridor, meaning we were dealing with skeletons from all sides.

  "Hold the line!"

  I made sure the boss was still far enough away, then carefully navigated the ranks of spell-casting mages. Once I reached the center of the enemy's front line, I struck out with an Ice Blade. Crit! The bones and plates of an armored warrior crumbled to the floor. Another took his place immediately. I took two hits to my shield and felt an arrow ricochet off my helmet. Tongue of Flame! But the skeleton blocked the hit with his shield, losing less than half of his HP. Damn. If only I could have Gloom and all of my guys down here, we could have swept this corridor in five minutes. But in our current formation and our movement limited, we could only attack with thrusts, and the opponents' shields reduced the power of our attacks significantly. I would save Infernal Rage for the overgrown bastard in the distance. I stepped forward, blocked a parry, and lunged with an Ice Blade. Then again! I heard the sound of thunder echoing through the massive chamber. Iron clangs, bone crunches, flame roars, ice and stone boulder crashes. The heavens opened up just ahead of us, above the rusted helmets protecting the brainless skulls of their owners. The AoE attack mowed down dozens of skeletons, but their spots refilled as fast as a hole dug in ocean-drenched sand. One whole minute had passed, and we had not advanced a single step. Another Ice Blade again, followed by shield block...

  "Keep pushing them back!"

  Jin Ho's voice was calm. I saw no gray icons, and the skeletal forces would dry up eventually. Tongue of Flame! Another critical hit, and another armored corpse collapses, but I missed two hits that took off less than five percent of my HP—minor scratches, and the regen on me restored the lost health in a couple of seconds. I blocked the incoming blow from the next skeleton. The air began to darken up ahead. Another thunder crash. All of the undead in front of us froze for a moment, then fell apart, their bones clattering to the floor.

  The miniboss one hundred feet ahead of us, having lost almost a million HP from Vaessa's spell, drew his monstrous bow and loosed a volley directly at us. Two arrows hit our shields, and a third took a soldier in the shoulder, knocking him to the ground. At that, the rage seething in the back of my mind exploded in full force.

  I leaped forward, watching the blue flickering emanating from the bastard's eye-sockets. Ruination crunched into the skeleton's thigh. Crit! Ice Blade procced Freeze, converting the monster into a column of ice for ten seconds.

  The raid leader gave a belated protest. "The hell you going? Third century, drive center, break their line! Ranged, stop the AoE and assist on the MT's target!"

  The skeleton had sixty million HP. Tongue of Flame. Ice Blade. Crit! The armored undead surrounded me on all sides. Dispersion! I was hit with a heal spell and still had my regen buffs, plus Dispersion cut the damage by 25%, so the eight skeletons around me failed to take even 10% off my HP. Tongue of Flame! I heard a familiar roar from behind as the two ten-foot-long dragons scattered the undead around me and knocked the miniboss flat on his back.

  "Fourth and fifth centuries, let's go! Allard, grab the second! Ranged in first and second, nuke the last one!"

  Right. There was no more need to focus on this miniboss. He had fallen at my feet, and I, having gripped Ruination like a dagger, proceeded to jab the bla
de repeatedly at its silently screaming throat. Crit! Crit! Crit!

  The tanks skirted around the shredded dragonprey and formed a line up ahead.

  "Dar, let me!"

  I stepped aside.

  "Thank you!"

  Vaessa bent over the twitching skeleton and placed a hand on his forehead. The victim's remaining twenty million HP disappeared in little more than an instant.

  "See, that was quicker, wasn't it?" the necromancer's daughter have a comical shrug.

  "Much quicker."

  Shaking away my surprise at the sight, I pushed my way through dragon and bone to see a twenty-foot-tall monster emerging from the wall of fire burning up ahead. It looked like the Magroom the reaper, the bastard who had killed my guys back at the Farot wastes. Level 420 with five billion HP, he wielded two huge curved blades enveloped in a dark green mist. Morgh Garng, Terror of the Catacombs. Ugh, what was with all these pompous names...

  The boss glanced at the line of tanks that stood in his way, then raised his hands and the monstrous swords they gripped with visible effort. The bones around him rose into the air, and then, as their master turned his shoulder as if pushing some invisible gate, the whole pile took off in a slow, circular motion.

  "MT, on the boss! Vaessa, shut him up!" Jin Ho shouted, but we were both already on the move.

  At the same moment, a gray haze appeared around the boss' face. I used Step through Darkness to leap over the first row of skeletons and struck the boss' belly with an Ice Blade. Infernal Rage time! This was the same kind of scum that had killed my people! Tongue of Flame! Crit!

  "Max, all damage on the boss! Paladins, Fury of Light on your parties!"

  Morgh responded with a double blow with both swords. I caught the right blade with my shield, but the other struck my shoulder, dropping twenty percent of my HP. The monster's stench was so powerful that even I, as accustomed to odors as I was, involuntarily gagged. Ice Blade! One sidestep ensured that the two immense swords missed, burying themselves partway into the stone slabs of the floor. I stepped forward and to the right. Tongue of Flame! Back here, you bastard! The boss yanked his weapons out and whirled just as one of the skeletons behind me knocked the shield out of my arms. Both of Morgh's cutlasses drove directly into my chest.