Viridian Gate Online: Darkling Siege (The Viridian Gate Archives Book 7)

by James Hunter

  All I needed was a way out, and this would do just as well as any other.

  I took to the chain, sprinting along the oversized links until I was clear of the tower. It wouldn’t do to bring down the Crimson Hammer in my rush to save Abby. I wanted to help, but I also needed to play things smart. I vaulted over the wall and landed lightly on the ramparts, triggering Shadow Stride as my feet touched down. Time screeched to a herky-jerk halt as I hauled ass toward Carrera and Abby, eating up the distance as fast as my feet would carry me. Vog bodies littered the ground like fallen leaves, and Imperial and Alliance archers blocked off huge swaths of the walkways, but thanks to Shadow Stride I phased through them all without ever breaking a sweat.

  My Stamina bar plummeted as I ran, legs churning, arms pumping, my breath coming in long painful pulls. I was covering an enormous amount of ground, but Abby’s rig was still several miles off. There was no way I’d be able to get there in time—not running on the ramparts. Not even if I cast Shadow Stride every thirty seconds. I faltered, glancing up, searching the skies for Devil. I needed wings, but the Drake was locked in a pitched battle high overhead with Carrera’s Griffin. There was no way to break him away from that mess.

  And, unfortunately, I couldn’t afford to transform into my Avatar form just yet. Once I activated the ability, I would have exactly five minutes of divine power, and I had a sneaking suspicion I’d need every second to take Carrera down.

  So, knowing there was nothing else I could do, I pressed on.

  My Shadow Stride countdown timer hit zero and forced me back into the Material Realm, but I didn’t stop running. Instead, I picked up the pace until every breath felt like an ice pick driving into my lungs. The going was much slower, however, since I had to step over sprawled-out Vog bodies and deftly dodge Alliance archers as they fired a wall of arrows at the incoming Darklings. Ahead, Carrera continued to pummel Abby and the Phoenix with his sword—her shield was on the verge of giving up the ghost. The mechanical arm holding it in place jittered from the strain, sparks flying in arcs and wisps of steam curling up.

  Meanwhile, fires had broken out throughout the downed siege tower, orange flames licking up from open doors, spewing thick smoke into the air.

  No, no, no!

  I faltered, doubling over, hands on knees, my Stamina bar at zero while I fought to catch a breath. I was still so far away. There was no way I was going to make it in time. Wiping sweat from my forehead with the back of a trembling hand, I finally stood and prepared to trigger my Avatar of Order ability. Better to try now and run out of time mid-fight with Carrera than miss the battle altogether. I reached out to Sophia’s divine power, which flowed through me, waiting to be used, but faltered as the roar of engines caught my ear.

  Blazing toward me was an enormous Clockwork Dragon, its gleaming steel hide riddled with bronze rivets and twirling copper cogs. Its wings were a combination of steel and thick fabric; exhaust ports lined its belly, vomiting out white steam to keep the behemoth aloft. Sitting on the creature’s back was a grinning Osmark, repeater in hand.

  “Cutter messaged me—said you might need a hand. Care for a lift?”

  Serth-Rog Showdown

  ALTHOUGH OSMARK’S CLOCKWORK dragon wasn’t nearly as fast or agile as Devil, it was a helluva lot quicker than I was on foot—even running through the Shadowverse. In less than a minute we were in range, the booster engines kicking out great gusts of steam and pressurized air as Osmark pulled a series of levers and switches, bringing us in high above Carrera. The demonic manifestation had hacked the siege tower’s shield arm off at the joint, leaving the amputated mechanical limb lying in the gray dirt and snow, shimmering purple hydraulic fluid leaking out, forming a small pool on the icy tundra.

  Alliance members and Imperials alike were attempting to flee the rig, which was crackling and burning like a yule log at Christmas time.

  Carrera wasn’t having any of that, though.

  As fighters, clerics, and engineers emerged, covering their mouths and eyes against the harsh, acrid smoke, Carrera struck, huge tentacles slamming down, smearing them across the ground like a giant crushing defenseless ants. A few fought back ineffectively while others managed to get clear of the smoldering wreckage—although that was more luck than skill from the look of things. There was no sign of Abby at all. Knowing her, she would stay with the rig to buy the crew as much time as possible to escape. I tried her on the Officer Chat, and when she didn’t reply, I hastily shot off a PM to her, hoping for some kind of response letting me know she was okay.

  Or alive at least.

  A full minute passed as we tore through the sky. Still nothing.

  Fear and anger formed a knot in the pit of my stomach, but I stomped those feelings down since I couldn’t afford any distractions. What would be, would be.

  “Get me a little closer,” I yelled, popping up into a crouch, balancing on my toes as I eyed the distance between me and Carrera.

  Osmark flipped another panel of switches, rocket boosters igniting in an abrupt spurt, closing the distance. At fifty feet out, I leapt, diving toward Carrera as I triggered one of my Champion abilities—arguably my rarest and most costly talent of all: Avatar of Order. The pinnacle of my Champion of Order Skill Tree. At 50,000 Experience points a shot, I couldn’t afford to use it often, but when I could, there wasn’t much that could stand in my way. Carrera, decked out in his Avatar form... Well, he was probably the exception.

  But he was also exactly the reason why I had an ability like this in the first place.

  If now wasn’t the right time to use it, then there never would be one.

  As I careened toward the earth like a shooting asteroid, my body shifted and changed. My Spirit gauge dipped by a whopping 2,000 points, wiping out my reserve in the blink of an eye, and my Experience bar took a steep nosedive—a costly price to gain the power I needed to stop the drug lord and save my fiancée. It cleared out two-thirds of the points I’d earned since taking Idruz over a week ago, but it would be worth it in the long run. And, chances were, I’d earn at least a few of those points back once I turned Carrera into a greasy stain on the snow.

  Above me, Osmark dove, unleashing a hail of gunfire at the enormous otherworldly Avatar, drawing Carrera’s attention away from me and the downed rig pinned beneath his withered mass.

  Power swelled inside me, hot and terrible, and with it came a wave of pain, which pummeled me like the hooves of a stampeding cattle herd. My bones groaned in protest, my muscles screamed in abject terror, and my skin stretched and twisted, growing uncomfortably tight. Magma burned its way through my veins, shooting down my arms and legs with every beat of my heart. Terrible pressure built inside my head. My stomach clenched, and bright jags of cutting pain invaded my joints. The razor blades came next, an invisible whirlwind of them, flaying me alive.

  Still I fell, the frigid wind biting at my cheeks a balm against the fierce pain.

  Twenty feet above Carrera, the pain vanished, swept away almost as abruptly as it had come. My muscles no longer shrieked; instead, they bulged and distorted, my gray skin flaking away, revealing sleek purple-black scales, identical to Devil’s. My fingers swelled, my nails popping free as wicked ebony talons erupted along each tip. My shoulder blades writhed and wriggled, a pair of new appendages rupturing outward, unfurling into leathery Drake wings more than capable of keeping me aloft—at least for short bursts of time.

  I stretched my wings, flexing them like fingers, slowing my blazing descent even as my mouth gave way to a reptilian muzzle filled with jagged teeth as big as any T. rex’s. I angled my fall, adjusting my wing position so I crashed into Carrera’s upturned back like a thirty-foot wrecking ball. He staggered and reeled from the blow, but somehow managed to stay upright. I acted instantly—while I still had the element of surprise on my side—wrapping my powerful arms around his shoulders and interlocking my hands, pinning his arms against his sides. My lashing lizard tail slithered around Carrera’s waist, digging in to furthe
r secure my position.

  Carrera’s oversized Malware sword slipped from his hand, hitting the ground with a dull thud.

  Carrera howled and cursed, confused, wiggling as he fought to break my death grip.

  And unfortunately, he was winning.

  As strong as I was, Carrera was both bigger and stronger. He flexed his arms with a grunt, breaking my grasp, then prying free from my crushing bear hug.

  Thankfully my tail was still wrapped around him, anchoring me in place. But that wouldn’t be enough.

  I opened my mouth wide and drove my fangs into the side of his neck, clamping down like a striking serpent. Fetid blood filled my mouth and washed over my chin. The coppery tang made me want to gag. Refusing to let go—to let him win—I bit down harder, digging my teeth in while I triggered one of my Avatar abilities. Burning Talons: 3/5 strobed in the corner of my eye as I sheathed my claws in blue-white power and drove them into his chest. Carrera’s blackened plate mail had scaled up during his transformation, but my talons sheared through the metal, driving into the vulnerable flesh beneath.

  His Health bar was draining from my continual assault, but at an appallingly slow rate. Holy crap, but this guy had to have more raw Health even than Osmark. And, in my experience, no one had more HP than the Artificer.

  I wriggled my teeth and forced my claws in deeper, fighting desperately to hold my position.

  A tentacle snaked around my throat like a garrote, yanking tight and cutting off the air to my brain. My jaws released from his throat on instinct, and a forceful yank pulled my claws free from his chest, rank green blood dripping down my hands and splattering across the ground. In an instant, the tables had turned, and I found myself gasping for breath as a new combat prompt appeared.

  <<<>>>

  Debuffs Added

  Induced Suffocation: You are being suffocated by crushing strangulation. You suffer 20 points of Stamina damage each second until you can breathe normally once more. If your Stamina reaches 0, you will die.

  Current estimated time of death: 48 seconds.

  <<<>>>

  Already, black was creeping in around the edges of my vision.

  Carrera’s sword was still well out of reach, but his Avatar came with some inbuilt weapons as well, it seemed. He grinned at me, his jagged teeth black and covered in blood, and raised his right arm. His fingers shimmered and merged, turning into a knife-hand of silvery metal. With a snarl, he reared his arm back and drove the arm-blade into my side at an angle. Trying to pierce a lung, I had no doubt, since that would speed along the suffocation process considerably. Mercy of mercies, his aim was subtly off, but that didn’t mean the blow wasn’t excruciating.

  It felt like someone had jabbed a red-hot poker into my chest cavity.

  Sheer misery. But misery with a silver lining. As the blade tore through muscle, my HP dipped below 75%. A wave of awesome strength flooded into my body, filling me with raw power—like getting a great night’s sleep, then downing a gallon of primo gas station coffee. That was another one of my many Avatar abilities, Desperate Strength, which added a hefty Strength bonus to my already formidable stats. But the trick was, it only kicked in once my Health dropped past the 75% threshold.

  With renewed vigor, I activated Burning Talons again, slashing furiously at the tentacle wrapped around my neck, cutting through rubbery meat. Carrera growled and hurled me away, the pressure blessedly vanishing from my trachea. Sweet, delicious air flooded my mouth once more, though the pain radiating out from my side was still nauseating. I flipped in midair, shooting my wings out with a wince, and landed forty feet away in a crouch, lips pulled back in a snarl. Carrera wheeled around, his back turned on the fallen Phoenix, his cancerous emerald green gaze fixed on me.

  “I’ve been waiting for this, you know, pendejo,” Carrera said, his voice deep, guttural. Inhuman. He extended his arm out to the side, his hand reverting back to its customary form. The enormous Malware weapon on the ground quivered, an insidious green light engulfing the blade. It pulled itself from the earth, floating into the air, then rushed into his outstretched grip like a boomerang returning to its master. “Over and over again you take and you take and you take. You’ve taken everything from me. Stole my faction seal. Stole my city out from beneath me.

  “I thought I would pay you back, thief. To make you feel what it was like to lose everything. So I tried to take your whole world from you—to destroy the Realm of Order the way you destroyed my second chance at life.” He tsked and shook his head. “You ruined that, too. Then... then you killed my general, Peng. And now, here you are. Knocking on my doorstep, trying to steal the scraps from my mouth.” He leaned over and spit green blood into the dirt. “But not this time, pendejo. This time, I win!”

  He surged forward, bringing his sword down in a crushing blow.

  I darted left, pulling the oversized warhammer from my belt, swinging it up into an overhand block, bracing the weapon with both hands. His blade clanged against the shaft of my weapon, the razor-sharp edge stopping mere inches from splitting my skull cleanly down the middle.

  My muscles shook from the strain of staving off the attack. Even though I was the Avatar of Order, this guy was way out of my weight class, and it was showing. I grunted and tried to put a little distance between us. He moved before I could get my footing, lashing out with a club-like tentacle, catching me directly in my wounded side, sending a fresh bolt of pain lancing through my body and knocking the wind from my lungs. I wheezed, one claw-tipped hand flying to my side. He renewed his assault, sword flashing out in a horizontal slash. I moved on instinct, bringing my hammer up in a feeble attempt to parry or divert the blow.

  I was too slow by half, and my grip on the hilt of my hammer was tenuous. The sword landed with clang, knocking the weapon from my hand, sending it spinning away and into the dirt. Leaving me momentarily defenseless. He took full advantage of my vulnerability, lunging in, sword thrust straight out. The tip of the beefy Malware blade sheared through my wing joint, siphoning off another chunk of my rapidly dwindling Health. He twisted the blade in a single, fluid movement and sliced down, nearly removing the wing from my back.

  Critical Hit!

  The pain was incredible, and my Health lurched, this time flashing a brilliant red as it edged below 50%. A firm reminder that no one was invincible or immune from superior skill and strength—not even the Avatar of Order.

  “Good to see you again, Carrera!” Osmark yelled from behind me as he swooped in on his clockwork mount, fire erupting from the dragon’s mouth, blasting the former drug lord in the side of the face while Osmark’s myriad of guns and rockets fired in concert. The Artificer hurled a trio of mechanical drones into the air, and they immediately whirled to life, unleashing a stream of bullets and screaming buzz saws at the towering horror. Carrera flinched, tugging his sword free as he batted at the drones circling his head like vultures.

  When he couldn’t get those, he turned his fury on Osmark with a growl, a tentacle flying through the air like a whip.

  The Artificer flipped switches and cranked levers, throwing the dragon into a blazing fast barrel roll, but the tentacle caught one of the dragon’s wings, crunching through metal and obliterating the steam thrusters. Smoke and fire plumed up as the clockwork marvel dropped, Osmark doing everything he could to land the rig safely.

  Osmark hadn’t done much damage in the grand scheme of things, but he’d bought me a little breathing room.

  The drug lord turned his attention back on me, Osmark already forgotten. “Now where were we?” He raised his sword.

  “We’re at the part where I kick your ass,” I yelled, rushing in. He’d hacked through most of my wing, crippling my ability to fly, but in doing so, he’d also unwittingly pushed my Health below 50%, unlocking my last and most powerful Avatar ability. Jaws spread, I unleashed a javelin of pure white fire. Cleansing Light, 1/2. The uber beam of Divine Energy dealt a devastating 550% of spell power on contact, making it my single most powerful
spell, hands down with no runners-up.

  I swung my head left to right as I moved, the talons on my toes finding easy purchase in the ground, scarring the earth behind me. Carrera tried to evade, throwing himself to the side, but he was both too large and too slow for that. The opalescent beam of dragon fire burned through several tentacles, severing them entirely, while wounding others. His HP took a nasty hit, dropping by over a quarter, but he was too powerful to kill so easily. And since he had a sea of tentacles propping him up, even trimming off a few wouldn’t give me much of an edge.

  I had other weapons at my disposal, however.

  Carrera had unwittingly positioned himself between me and my fallen warhammer, so getting to it wasn’t an option, but I had a nuclear option I could always use.

  I glanced at the blazing wreckage that had been the Phoenix only minutes ago, and anger ignited inside me. If Abby was alive, she was still in there, likely trapped, and the only way I could get to her was to get through this asshole. And if there was anyone who deserved to be knocked out of the game for good, it was Carrera. He’d been a thorn in my side since the beginning, and instead of working to redeem himself and his terrible choices the way Osmark had, Carrera had gone from being an awful human being to a monstrous human being with all the morals of a great white shark.

  With clawed fingers, I reached beneath my armor and pulled the Reality Editor from around my neck.

  Like my warhammer, the key had scaled up during my transformation. But I didn’t need a key right now, I needed a weapon, and the Reality Editor seemed to intuitively understand my need. It pulsed in my hand, its magic potent and hungry. The key wasn’t alive—certainly not sentient, the way Devil was—but it did have desires. Or a purpose, rather. It was a complicated machine designed for a very specific reason, and right now, the key was guiding my hand, whispering that purpose into my head.