Succubus 4 (Gnome Place Like Home): A LitRPG Series

by A. J. Markam

  I figured I might be able to buy her a couple more.

  “GO NOW!” I shouted as I summoned four imps.

  Four tiny explosions erupted in Shyvock’s path, and the imps immediately attacked him.

  Alaria looked at me with agonized indecision.

  “GO!” I screamed in panic.

  The terror in my voice must have convinced her, because the tiny rocket boosters and wings popped out of her back.

  Meanwhile, the imps got off four fireballs that inflicted less than a tenth of a percentage point of damage, but at least they were in Shyvock’s way and were annoying as hell.

  He stomped on the first one and sent it back to Limbo in a puff of smoke. Then he pulled back his bowstring and fired.

  The arrow shot through all three remaining imps like a bullet through water balloons, and they disappeared in puffs of smoke.

  Right about then the rockets on Alaria’s back erupted with fire.

  Shyvock resumed running. He was only ten feet away from the corner of the temple when he drew his next arrow –

  That’s when I cast Hellstorm.

  A swarm of tiny black-winged demons appeared in Shyvock’s face and pelted him with chunks of flaming sulfur.

  The hunter roared in frustration, swatting at them like gnats – which is all they were to him. Their attack barely shaved off another tenth of a percentage point, but they distracted him for a few precious seconds.

  Alaria took off low, flying just a few feet off the ground. She accidentally caromed off the side of the temple like a billiard ball, then blasted through the trees, mowing down everything in her path.

  Shyvock got to the edge of the temple and fired one arrow just as she disappeared into the jungle. There were too many trees in the way, though, and the arrow exploded uselessly against one of their trunks.

  The roar of Alaria’s engines disappeared into the distance. She was safe.

  However… I wasn’t.

  The Hunter looked around at me as he pulled another arrow out of his quiver.

  “Not wise, little warlock,” he snarled. “I rescind my earlier offer. I am going to flay you, break your knees, AND disembowel you before I let you die. And from there it will only get worse.”

  Shit.

  I turned tail and ran, trying to keep the stone ruins between me and the Hunter.

  What the hell was I going to do? There was no way I could fight this guy one-on-one.

  I could summon Stig, but what good would that do? He wouldn’t fare any better than the other imps, and Shyvock would probably just one-shot him again.

  If only I had Grung to help me – if only he hadn’t fallen in that damn –

  Quicksand!

  That was my only hope. Maybe there was an outside chance I could lure Shyvock into the jungle and drown him in one of the pits.

  I raced back into the jungle, staying on the firm path between trees, avoiding the open areas. That also had the beneficial effect of keeping trees between me and the Hunter, out of his line of sight.

  Or at least I hoped so.

  I raced around the spot where we had lost Grung.

  Poor guy… first time outside, and that’s how he died…

  The ground looked solid, although now that the dead leaves had been disturbed, you could see a wet sheen to the soil. But other than that, it looked harmless.

  I hid on the opposite side of the clearing behind a tree trunk and prayed to God that the Hunter was ignorant about quicksand.

  For a few moments there was no sound but the birds and insects around me in the jungle.

  I crouched there, terrified, as I waited.

  And waited.

  Another half a minute passed, and I began to wonder if maybe I had somehow miraculously evaded my attacker –

  When I heard the ih-ih-iiiiiih of a bowstring tightening just a few yards behind me.

  I lowered my head and muttered, “Shit.”

  “Turn around,” a deep voice said. “Slowly.”

  I turned to see Shyvock standing 15 feet away, his bow drawn, an arrow aimed directly at my head.

  “Perhaps it is because you are not a hunter that you do not know this – ”

  “I was,” I snarled. “Once upon a time.”

  “And you stopped to become a warlock?” He chuckled. “A weak warlock at that? Then you are an even greater fool than Varkus said.”

  I didn’t figure it was worth explaining quality control jobs at the company that had created his digital ass, so I just kept silent.

  “If you were a hunter, then you know two of the hunter’s greatest strengths.”

  I did.

  “Tracking and stealth,” I mumbled.

  Which is how he had snuck up on me.

  I had completely forgotten in my panic. I was thinking like a Warlock, not a Hunter.

  “I will admit, it was somewhat clever of you to try to use the quicksand to your advantage. Although surely you do not think that I engaged you here by chance, do you?”

  I frowned, unsure of what he was talking about.

  “A good hunter will track his quarry through any terrain. An excellent hunter – a brilliant hunter – will decide the terrain he faces his quarry on. He will stalk him, remaining hidden, until the environment best suits the hunter’s strengths. You had a metal giant as a companion. As strong as I am, it would have been an unnecessary expenditure of my efforts to destroy it. So instead, I forced you from the main path into this forest, where I disposed of the giant… and then was able to concentrate on my primary goal. You.”

  Shit.

  Ten minutes ago, I had thought that the Hunter wasn’t all that great because he’d never scored a direct hit on Grung. But this guy was a master shot. He could’ve picked a fly off Grung’s shoulder at 100 yards.

  Now I knew that he’d never been aiming at Grung in the first place.

  We hadn’t escaped the explosions.

  We had been herded.

  I closed my eyes and cursed myself.

  I had been five moves behind this guy at every step.

  “Stand up and put your hands behind your head,” Shyvock commanded.

  I did as I was told, even though the arrow stuck between my shoulder blades made it excruciating.

  “Can you at least take the arrow out of my back?” I asked between gritted teeth.

  “No. Turn around and walk towards the temple.”

  Asshole.

  As we crossed the narrow ribbon of solid ground, Shyvock started to talk. “The civilization that built the temple originally chose this location because of the quicksand. They believed that it was a natural barrier to attacks, and would protect them like a moat or mountains. You saw the sinkholes back in the village?”

  “Yes.”

  “They did not realize that the entire area was unstable. Not until their buildings began to be swallowed by the earth one by one. They eventually had to abandon their city, and the jungle reclaimed it, as it eventually reclaims all things. Do you know why I tell you this?”

  “Not really.”

  “Because a great hunter learns as much about the terrain as he can before he engages his prey. I knew you were coming here. I staked it out before you arrived. And I used it to my advantage.”

  I’d about had enough of this guy’s self-congratulatory bullshit. He was almost as bad as Orlo.

  “Why don’t you do something to both our advantage and shut the fuck u– ”

  THOCK.

  “GAAAAH!” I screamed as another arrow sank into my back.

  Down to 17% Health.

  I stumbled as it hit me, and my left foot slid from stable ground into quicksand. I drew my foot back quickly, my boot covered in damp sand midway up my calf.

  “Asshole – I could’ve fallen in there!” I yelled angrily as I turned around –

  And found myself looking at an arrow pointed between my eyes.

  Shyvock drew back the bowstring a foot.

  “Next time, little warlock, keep your comme
nts to yourself. Now turn around and walk.”

  I stewed silently with rage but did as I was told.

  Bastard, I thought. It’d serve you right if I fell in and drowned.

  Wait a second –

  I stopped in my tracks as a lightbulb went off in my head.

  Why the fuck WOULDN’T I fall in and drown?

  All I had to look forward to were 300 gruesome deaths and a bunch of Shyvock’s self-congratulatory monologuing.

  Why not just go ahead and end it right here, right now?

  I didn’t exactly relish the thought of drowning to death in quicksand, but once I died I would resurrect.

  And because Orlo had destroyed all the graveyards for miles around, I would come back far away from this goddamn prick.

  “Keep walking,” Shyvock ordered.

  “Fuck you,” I snarled, then dove to the left of the path.

  My back hit the quicksand with a splash! It was like landing in a pool filled with gritty pudding. I could feel semi-liquid gunk moving around me in waves, but I didn’t submerge entirely – my head was still sticking out.

  Shyvock lowered his arrow as though in defeat.

  “HA – what have you got to say about that, shithead?” I crowed.

  I sounded more cheerful than I felt, especially as the sand began to creep up around my ears.

  But hell – if I was going to go out, I was going to enjoy the last few minutes of my life.

  “Fuck you, ‘master hunter’! What are you going to do now?!”

  Shyvock leisurely put his arrow back in his quiver and selected another by touch.

  This one was different. The end of the shaft was connected to a looped handful of what looked like silver chain. The chain ended in a small hook, which he attached to his leather gauntlet.

  …oh no…

  It was an arrow designed for scaling walls.

  GOD DAMN IT –

  Shyvock drew back the bow and let the arrow fly straight into my right shoulder.

  THOCK.

  “OWWW!” I howled.

  I sank lower, and liquid sand began to fill my mouth.

  I thought about intentionally inhaling it – but before I could, Shyvock began pulling on the line and reeling me in like a fish.

  I skimmed across the surface of the quicksand, pulled painfully by the arrow embedded in my shoulder.

  “Clever, little warlock,” the Hunter said. “Just not clever enou– ”

  Suddenly the quicksand underneath me erupted like a volcano.

  I was thrown ten feet into the air on a tidal wave of wet sand, then crashed down on the firm bank.

  What the FUCK?!

  I looked back in shock to see a sandy, amorphous shape emerging from the gunk.

  But a familiar pair of goggle eyes gave away who it was.

  “GRUNG!” I cried out.

  Shyvock stumbled backwards, but not fast enough to avoid the giant, sand-covered hand that grabbed him around his body and pinned his arms to his side.

  “THAT WASN’T VERY NICE, WHAT YOU WERE GOING TO DO TO IAN,” the robot said, though its voice was choked slightly by the wet sand over its mouth. Speakers. Whatever.

  “How did you get out?!” I asked.

  “THE SAND WHERE I FELL WAS FAIRLY DEEP, BUT I COULD STILL MOVE, SO I BEGAN TO WALK IN WHAT I HOPED WAS THE CORRECT DIRECTION. I WAS ABOUT TO SURFACE WHEN I HEARD THE HUNTER TALKING TO YOU, SO I DECIDED TO WAIT UNTIL YOU WERE CLOSER.” Grung looked at Shyvock, clamped firmly in his hand. “TELL ME – DOES THAT MAKE ME A MASTER HUNTER, TOO?”

  I almost laughed my ass off.

  When Shyvock didn’t answer, Grung looked over at me. “WHAT SHOULD I DO WITH HIM?”

  “Kill him!”

  “Wait – ” the Hunter said.

  “BUT I DON’T REALLY WANT TO KILL ANYONE,” Grung whined.

  Jesus – really? A pacifist war golem?

  But he had just saved my ass, so I tried to work with him.

  “Then why not do what he did to you?” I suggested. “Put him at the bottom of the quicksand.”

  “WON’T THAT KILL HIM?”

  “The quicksand will. You won’t.”

  Grung thought about that for a second, then nodded. “I SUPPOSE THAT IS FINE.”

  “No, don’t – ” Shyvock yelled, but was drowned out as Grung dunked him beneath the surface of the sand.

  “Awesome job, Grung!” I yelled happily.

  “THANK YOU,” the robot said as it crawled all the way out of the quicksand and onto the ribbon of land between trees.

  Just in case the Hunter tried to take me down with him, I grabbed the arrow connected to the wire (and thus to Shyvock at the bottom of the quicksand) and yanked it out of my right shoulder.

  “Gaaaaaah!” I screamed as it tore out of my skin.

  Now I was safe. There was no way for the fucker to get me.

  “ARE YOU ALRIGHT?”

  “I will be in a minute,” I grunted, then screamed as I tore out the other arrows one by one. The ones in my back that I couldn’t reach, I had Grung pull out.

  By the end I was sweating and nearly dead from the pain – but it was over.

  “Let’s get out of here.”

  “WHERE ARE STIG AND ALARIA?”

  “Stig died, but I can easily summon him back. But I don’t know where Alaria went, so we have to go find her.”

  I looked down at the quicksand. The surface was undisturbed… peaceful, even.

  I tried to ‘select’ Shyvock as a target to make sure he was actually dead – that his hit points were down to zero – but because he was out of my line of sight and buried beneath a dozen feet of wet soil, there was no way to know for sure.

  Was he really dead, though?

  There’s a rule in television shows and movies: if you don’t see them die onscreen, they ain’t really dead.

  I was afraid the same rule might apply here. But there was no way in hell I was going down after him to make sure.

  If he wasn’t dead, he would be soon. And if not soon, then… well, at least he was out of my hair for the moment.

  “Are you okay after having been in all of that quicksand?” I asked Grung.

  “SOME OF IT GOT IN MY JOINTS, SO I DON’T MOVE AS WELL… BUT IT’S BETTER THAN BEING DEAD.”

  “True dat,” I muttered, then motioned towards the temple. “Let’s go.”

  24

  As we continued down the trampled path the other war golems had left behind, I sat in Grung’s hand and summoned Stig.

  He came back freaked out as hell. As soon as he reappeared, he raced around the grass in a circle like a hyperactive dog, then scrambled up Grung’s body for safety.

  “Ugh,” was the first thing he said. The war golem was still covered in a thin layer of drying sand, so now Stig was covered in a thin layer of drying sand, too.

  Then he remembered that wet sand hadn’t been the thing that killed him.

  “What was THAT?!” he whimpered.

  I filled him in, and he gradually calmed down.

  “Are you sure he’s dead?” he asked fearfully.

  “No, but there’s nothing we can really do about that right now.”

  “I think we should go back, boss.”

  “And do what? Throw you in there to make sure he’s dead?”

  Stig slapped the metal plate he was sitting on. “What about firing one of these at him?”

  The rockets.

  Dammit, he was right. I should have had Grung blow Shyvock up, just to be sure.

  But I didn’t really want to risk running into the Hunter again so soon, so I started making up excuses. “We can’t target him, so we couldn’t be sure if we hit him or not. We might even end up blowing all the wet sand out of the pit and freeing him. Is that what you want?”

  “No,” Stig grumbled.

  I made a mental note to myself, though: If Shyvock comes back, blow him up.

  “Where’d Alaria go?” Stig asked.

  I scanned the skies above the jungle
. “That’s what we’re trying to figure out.”

  “Shouldn’t we call for her, boss?”

  “I’m afraid if she’s far enough away, she won’t be able to hear us. Anyway, let’s wait until we’re out of here first.”

  With Grung tromping along the pre-cut path, we made it through the jungle and up the opposite slope of the canyon in 15 minutes. The giant robot stood at the top of the ridge, and we stared out at the sea of green treetops below us.

  I stood up on Grung’s outstretched palm and cupped my hands around my mouth.

  “ALARIA!” I yelled out over the green abyss. “ALARIA, WHERE ARE YOU?!”

  All my shouting was like a cricket chirp on the bank of a vast lake of silence.

  “WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO MAKE A SOUND?” Grung asked.

  “Sure, that would be great! What are you going to – ”

  A deafening foghorn erupted from Grung’s upper body.

  REEEEEE-OOOOOOOOO.

  I was knocked flat on my back against his curled middle fingers.

  Stig stumbled backwards in fright and fell 20 feet to the ground below.

  “Ow,” I heard his muffled voice say from behind Grung’s feet.

  “Dude, a little warning might’ve been nice!” I yelled over the ringing in my ears.

  Grung didn’t reply.

  “Grung? Are you listening to me?” I snapped.

  “I THOUGHT YOU WERE TALKING TO SOMEONE NAMED DUDE.”

  “…what?!”

  “YOU SAID, ‘DUDE, A LITTLE WARNING WOULD HAVE BEEN NICE.’”

  “Yeah, I meant you!”

  “MY NAME IS NOT DUDE.”

  “It’s an expression! It’s a way that guys talk to each other!”

  “I AM NOT A GUY. I AM A DEMON TRAPPED IN A ROBOT’S BODY.”

  Jesus. His literalism was killing me.

  “Never mind – next time you do that, give us enough warning so we can get far enough away so that you don’t blow out our eardrums!”

  “I’M SORRY. I WILL DO BETTER IN THE FUTURE.”

  “It’s all right,” I said grumpily. “Just don’t let it happen again.”

  Grung tilted his head up and looked past me. “I THINK THAT MIGHT BE HER.”