Steel Wolves of Craedia (Realm of Arkon, Book 3)

by Akella,G.

  I hadn't slept at all the previous night, crunching numbers and trying to account for every possible scenario. The math looked as follows: if the Lord were attacked by an average of five hundred skeletons simultaneously, getting through his defenses for at least three thousand damage per second, taking into account reduced damage due to the level difference, it would take the undead forty to fifty minutes to burn through one and a half billion HP. But now that the beast ended up having a hair over three billion HP, all my calculations had to be doubled. This new development might even play into our hands—the longer the Lord would last, the less work there would be left for us.

  I looked back to the pandemonium behind me... and froze. The next moment I pulled up the calculator, which only made it worse. Kharsa was latched on to Nerghall with a death grip, and the latter was attacking the bone hound with three tentacles at once. How could I have foreseen this! Even at thirty thousand damage per second, the hound wouldn't last an hour! Why oh why did I need to train that thing on the liches? Now there wasn't anybody left to heal the bonehound! What douchebag had written that shitty guide?! And how was anybody supposed to kill this bloody beast? What player could even tank him? After smoking the castle boss, Nerghall would start mowing down the skeletons by the dozens, making the eventual undead victory much less certain. And there wasn't anything I could do to remedy the situation. Hart! Or... could it be that I was worried for nothing?

  "If I wasn't seeing this with my own eyes, Dark One, I never would have believed such a thing was possible!" A beaming Vaessa touched three fingers of one hand against the palm of the other, imitating wild applause.

  "Squad leaders, to me!" I breathed into the officer channel, passing the tiflingess, and steered Gloom toward the main group.

  "Is something wrong? Krian?" the magus' bone horse caught up with my boar.

  "When did you obtain that ability of yours from the goddess?"

  "I don't know," the woman shook her head. "Perhaps at birth, perhaps the night we met. Why?"

  "How did it happen?" I raised my hand, calling to silence Iam and Salta who were the first to approach. The demons stiffened up, sensing that something was off, and perked up their ears.

  "In a dream, most likely, but... I simply know that the mistress had commanded me to follow the dreamer."

  "Then why were you refusing to speak with me initially?"

  "There was no reason to speak with you. Besides, I hardly ever break from my work. If it weren't for your words about my father... I had only remembered Celphata's bidding in the course of our conversation—that's called a mental anchor. The ability appeared at that moment as well."

  "You couldn't tell me about it then?"

  "What for? I didn't think it was important."

  "Listen, all of you!" I snapped at the demons surrounding me, shouting over Nerghall's roaring. "If any of you are charged with any tasks by a deity, you must report to me about it immediately. This is important!"

  "Forgive me, Dark One," the daressa lowered her eyes. "It was probably foolish of me..."

  "It's not that. Each of you sees only a piece of the big picture, and is unable to draw the right conclusions. I can't do it either, but I do see more than you, which makes it easier to make decisions."

  Seeing the pale faces of the demons around me, I remembered in time that emotional speeches spoken in combat form differed somewhat from regular emotional speeches, so I toned it down some.

  "Vaessa, you are aware that I see your abilities differently than you do. Well, this ability of yours... It works not only against creatures from the Gray Frontier. I didn't attach any significance to that initially, but had I known that you were gifted this ability then, along with orders to follow me, I might have connected it to the disappearance of the book of prophecies from the Xantarrian library..."

  "And what would you have done? Refused to kill this bucket of scum?" Vaessa jerked her chin in the direction of Nerghall, who was flailing his tentacles wildly.

  "No, but I would have had a talk with the commander of the Xantarrian army. He's the only one who seems to remember the text from the missing book."

  "Would you tell us what happened, dar?" Elnar demanded, his patience apparently wearing thin. "From where I'm standing, everything is working out beautifully. The stiffs and their hounds will take down the Soul Devourer, and we'll mop up the survivors, grab the loot, and feast to our victory this very night."

  "It's not all smooth sailing," I said, breaking his flight of fancy. "The undead might not succeed, and then we'll have only two options: retreat, or try to finish the job the skeleton army had started."

  "So what's the problem? We practiced falling in and out for hours last night." Iam took off his helm and looked inside it, as if looking for something, then fixed his hair and gave me a searching look. "Or do you think we've forgotten everything?"

  "I think that the tiniest mistake may cost us everything, and my decision will depend on many factors. That is all." Looking around my troops, I barked one final order. "Stay alert and watch your people. Any idiot who gets caught by a tentacle will make our victory all but impossible. Now go—stay with your troops and wait for my command. Vaessa, don't leave my side for a moment, and tell me again all you can remember about your mistress' will."

  There's nothing worse than waiting, and the next hour and a half ended up being the longest and hardest I'd spent in the Realm of Arkon, with the possible exception of my original arrival. Everything had been going well until the moment Kharsa went down, which happened at the sixty fourth minute of the fight. Suddenly untanked, the Soul Devourer began methodically slaughtering the undead host surrounding him. Taking into account the fact that by then Nerghall had already taken out about a quarter of the castle garrison with his AoE abilities, it had become perfectly clear to me that finishing off the beast from the Gray Frontier would be on us, assuming I had the testicular fortitude to issue such a command. In the five minutes that Vaessa could Silence the boss, between my combat form, the getare's ram attack, and the entire century's array of special skills, we were supposed to burn through roughly two hundred million HP. Nerghall's health bar was presently stuck at ten percent. A measly hundred skeletons or so had remained of the once mighty army, and they wouldn't make much of a dent in the few minutes they had left to live. Hart! Another decision upon which rested the fate of my entire clan. If the Lord had over three hundred million HP left, I wouldn't have risked it, but now...

  The pool looks so small from the top of a thirty-foot diving board....

  "Troops!" I stood up in my stirrups, sensing the lines of clanmates at my back stiffen. "Attack!!!" A haunting wolf's howl pierced the crimson sky as I took off, popping Charge and shifting into combat form. A familiar rage began to rise from deep within my consciousness, but this time I didn't stand in its way. The wind whistled, gusting through the slits of my helm, the carcass of the six-armed nightmare on the tip of my lance growing larger and larger. "Now, Vaessa!" I bellowed, running over one of the last remaining skeletons, and popping Fortification along with Infernal Rage.

  The lance plunged into Nerghall right under his left shoulder blade, and the impact of Gloom smashing into his knee made the beast stagger. Crit! Almost six million! If ever there was a sign that I'd picked the right build, it was this: doling out such figures despite the target being three times my level was simply outrageous. Nerghall's roar of fury and pain was deafening, while the stench oozing from the monster and the sea of corpses around me nearly knocked me senseless. But then the rage finally broke through, every last drop of it, sweeping away all sensory distractions.

  Tossing aside the broken body of the last death knight, the Lord began turning toward me just as the collective getare force smashed into his side. The monster's hide lit up with the colorful flashes of finishing shots from my mages and archers, already in position. Then I noticed a cloud of gray smoke form around the boss' repugnant muzzle—Vaessa's ability had worked!

  "Celphata! You whore! W
here are you?! You won't succeed the second time!" the Lord of Darkness thundered, striking at me with four of his tentacles at once.

  Gloom caught the first blow, and another I blocked with my shield, but the other two landed, hitting me in the shoulder and hip, and nearly knocking me out of the saddle. My breath caught in my throat as inhuman pain ravaged my body, plunging my health bar into the yellow. But the agony was gone almost instantly, washed away by a string of healing spells. I sliced through the purulent hide with Tongue of Flame, followed by the blue flourish of Ice Blade. The systems log spat out a message that the boss was immune to freeze.

  "You and your master shouldn't have played gods, pup. You got lost in the game," the scathing female voice spoke softly, but managed to drown out the clanging of steel, the plangent howling hanging over the valley, and the monster's pained roaring. "Have you forgotten my warning?"

  Another one of Nerghall's tentacles struck me in the chest. Disoriented, I spun my head around, trying to figure out where the voice was coming from. Vaessa! Some ten yards behind me the necromancer's daughter was standing up in her stirrups, her horse still as a statue, her arms spread wide as she fixed the beast with eyes glowing a menacing blue. Fancy seeing you here, goddess of death! How about lending a hand... The bitter thought flashed through my mind as I backed away, trying to evade the grotesque tentacles.

  Every blow that landed sent excruciating pain shooting through my body, and cut my health bar by almost half. The razorback was reeling under me—the healers were struggling to keep up the heals as Nerghall's tentacles were lashing at the getare surrounding him, knocking the soldiers out of their saddles periodically. The experience of sharp pain surging and receding was remarkably similar to that time in Lamorna, when I was dying time and time again after getting shoved into the game by a certain scumbag who had deemed himself arbiter of destinies. Cheney, you rat, I'm coming for you! Nerghall's mug started to lose its form, shifting, morphing into that reviled, insufferable face. I struggled to think, to breathe... All I could do was hate. There was no room for pain anymore, no room for anything but one simple fact: this beast, this grotesque mutant from the Gray Frontier stood between me and my enemy. The fringes of my consciousness registered James' cries of warning—the tifling had been tasked with watching out for Dark Rain. There was Salta's sonorous voice, and Reena barking abrupt commands... But all that was far, far away. I had lost count of time, but I didn't care—the Soul Devourer was about to die, and nothing was going to save him!

  "Dreamer?! Where did you come from, you bastard?!" there were notes of shock in the beast's dying roar. "You will not free HIM! Not you, not your Whore of a mistress!" The gray cloud around the monster's head exploded with a myriad resplendent shards. All six of Nerghall's extremities came down on me and Gloom in a synchronized blow of awesome power, and the boar began toppling over, wheezing in agony. As Reena's desperate cry rang out in my ears, I managed to hop off and roll to the side when the monster's eyes suddenly lit up a bright blue color.

  "Die, maggot!" Nerghall bellowed, and a blinding explosion filled my consciousness from end to end.

  There was a murmur of water somewhere to my right. The air was thick with blood and decay. The ceiling of the enormous cavern disappeared in the darkness above, and the ground was rent with fissures. A soft greenish light was being radiated from a colony of fungi, casting fanciful patterns on the walls. Here and there the dull white of old bones peeked through the darkness, as the ground shook periodically from the heavy step of someone unseen but apparently quite enormous. Whoever was causing the quaking, I had absolutely zero desire to meet them. Out of all my clothes, I had only those given to me by Treis. Armor, shield, weapon—all of that was gone. Standing barefoot on the warm rocks, I was peering at the corpse of a colossal white dragon lying in a pool of blood some twenty yards away. The giant reptile's wings, tail, neck and torso were perforated by pitch-black stakes, each no smaller than a lamppost—the kind they often put up alongside highways in the world I'd left behind. The monster's glazed-over eyes were looking right at me.

  "You have come," sounded a voice in my head, full of unbearable pain. "Come closer."

  My whole body hurt terribly, making every step a struggle, like trying to pass through thick and thorny bushes. My head felt empty and apathetic. The battle still raged on somewhere out there, where my trusty Gloom had just died. And what was this? Yet another twist of reality? But why was I the subject in this vision? Something like this happened only once, back when I'd agreed to accept that quest from Hart. Suddenly my mind's eye saw the walls of the Twice Cursed god's vault, the chessboard with its endless zones. No! Anything but this! I will not survive another round! My bare feet kept sticking to the disgusting floor—the pool of blood had spread to about five yards of the carcass spread out on the tiles, and there was no way of avoiding it. The dragon's face was dotted with a myriad sharp spikes. His gray scaly sides heaved sharply, like forge bellows, sucking the air in and out through huge yellowed fangs. His sapphire blue eyes were boring into me, unblinking. The dragon's name and level were hidden from me. Why am even I coming over to him? And who's making the ground shake? I thought, though my feet kept moving stubbornly. The immobilized creature before me wasn't aggressive; moreover, something was telling me that the dragon could be a treasure trove of information that I could only tap into by drawing real close to him.

  "Dreamer," the voice boomed in my head, sending shivers down my spine. "I have been waiting for you. Nerghall had been in oblivion too long to realize that you've already traveled the Primordial Paths."

  "Who are you?" my voice rang out like a shot, echoing through the cavern. The steps off in the distance paused.

  "I am known in Arkon as the Nameless. We only have a minute before Mahrregidon returns, so be quiet and listen. I am confined to this place by the realm's true creators. They were in need of my blood, so they employed several dark gods to bind me, and I cannot free myself on my own. The stakes impaling my body can only be removed by you, but first you'll need to find a way here. Not even my brother can help—my blood conceals this plane from him, so he cannot see me."

  "How is this my problem?"

  "Like me, you do not really exist. And if you help me, I'll be sure to return the favor. We have common enemies."

  "How can you help me?"

  The footsteps resumed, and with them the shaking of the cavern's floor and walls.

  "You're looking for one of them, aren't you? The one who did this to you? But you will never find him without my help."

  "Wait! Are you talking about Cheney? But how did you—"

  "I do not know their true names. They are concealed by my blood, which the power-hungry gods of this realm pass to them. It is thanks to Nerghall's unwitting actions that we're speaking now. His master is one them, the ones who are behind all this. You must find a way here and set me free, for you are one of the few who can survive contact with my blood. But you must hurry—I don't have much time. My death would unleash true darkness upon the realm, and the heavens would weep tears of blood."

  "How in Hart's name am I supposed to find a way here?" I screamed in frustration, my head turned in the direction of the footsteps. They were drawing closer.

  "The key, you need the key! My blood will help you find it! You're still weak, dreamer, you haven't yet found your woman. The future is not predestined, but I have faith that you will return."

  "What woman?! What blood? Am I supposed to drink it?"

  The darkness parted, and there tumbled out a colossal bulk of a three-headed canine, the sight of which made my hair stand on end. As tall as a three-story building, the beast's eyes shone with blood-red fury, all three of its jaws drooling copious amounts of what looked like molten metal. Mahrregidon, a dark god. Level 750 with twenty five billion HP—numbers like that weren't even funny. The monstrosity saw me, and rushed in my direction with a thunderous roar.

  "You will know everything in time," the Nameless convulsed in his tra
p. The spikes on his face turned the color of blood, grating terribly against the stone, and the bound deity lunged toward me with his head, skewering my ribcage. "Till next time, Krian," the voice sounded in my head as inhuman pain gripped my body.

  You've earned a unique achievement, Nerghall's Slayer. Nerghall is a unique boss that can only be killed once. You and your allies have been granted a permanent 6% increase to your physical and magic damage.

  Your clan has gained a level!

  The Steel Wolves clan is now level 5.

  Now available: clan treasury upgrade to level 5. Clan membership limit increased to 500 sentient beings. New options available in the clan menu.

  The morale of your party has risen by +10 points. Your party's current morale is +40 (a 40% increase to your party members' physical and magic damage).

  Your reputation has increased. Light elves are now unfriendly to you.

  Your reputation has increased. Humans are now unfriendly to you.

  Your reputation has increased. Drow are now unfriendly to you.

  Your reputation has increased. Dwarves are now unfriendly to you.

  Your reputation has increased. Orcs are now unfriendly to you.

  Your reputation has increased. Demons are now unfriendly to you (respected in Ashtar, revered in Craedia).

  You have gained a level! Current level: 170.

  You have 1 talent point to allocate.

  Class bonus: +1 to intellect; +1 to spirit.

  You have 3 stat points to allocate.

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