by Deck Davis
Eddie had no chance. Clyde swung his mace into my friend’s face. I heard a sickening crack as Eddie’s nose broke. He fell backward and hit his head on the ground. For a second, he was limp. I felt my breath leave my lungs almost as if it were me who’d taken the blow of Clyde’s War Bellow-powered mace.
I shouted a war cry of my own. Unfortunately, my waraxe didn’t glow red, nor did it give me any extra attack power. As I smashed it horizontally into Clyde’s chest, I heard metal hitting metal, and a powerful shock ran through my hand. His armor must have taken the brunt of my attack, I realized.
Unperturbed, Clyde walked forward until he stood over Eddie’s limp body. Just as Eddie stirred, Clyde delivered another sickening blow. Then, Eddie was completely still.
I was speechless for a second. I kept willing Eddie to get up, but he wouldn’t. His eyes were glazed over and his nose was smashed. I didn’t want to believe it, but I knew the truth: Eddie was out of the battle. Eddie was done, Eddie was gone. The spikes of a mace had smashed his face, and now he didn’t look anything like my friend, such was the savagery of Clyde’s strikes. I shoved my emotions to one side, knowing it was the worst time to let them get the better of me.
“What are you guys doing?” I said over teamspeak.
“We can’t see you from this angle,” said Rynk. “What happened to the kid? His stats are gone.”
“He’s done. You need to start firing,” I said.
“I’ve got an Ignis ready to blow,” said Glora. “But everyone keeps moving.”
“People tend to do that when they’re fighting,” I said.
“I mean our view’s blocked. They keep going in front of stuff, and the houses are blocking off most of the street from our angle up here.”
“Then you’re gonna have to come down here,” I said.
Clyde turned to face me. His bear fur was coated in blood and bone, congealing it into a sticky mess. There was a dent in the side of his chest plate from where I had hit it with my axe. I’d have to deal with him now, and then I had the rest of his team to face after that.
Across from us, Sera and Vorm surrounded a member of Team Wraith. He was a man with long, crow-black hair, and he held a pointed spear in both hands. He turned from side to side, jabbing this way and that at Sera and Vorm, holding them off like a lion tamer wielding a chair. No sooner did he jab at one of them, then the other would close the gap. Soon, Sera got close enough to sink her blade deep into his thigh, jamming it through the muscle and bone. Vorm, with his bow now slung on his back, wielded a short sword. As the Wraith fighter held his wounded thigh, Vorm wasted no time in approaching him and slicing his neck open.
With that, only two members of Team Wraith remained. My team was down to three with Eddie gone. As Clyde faced me, and Sera and Vorm rounded on the other two of Team Wraith, something struck me: I still hadn’t seen the fourth member of Team Wolfhound emerge from the house where he’d sought cover from arrows. Who was this person? Where were they?
Questions would have to wait. I still had Clyde to deal with. Luckily, even though he might have studied my Abermorph class in preparation for the fight, I knew his Battlemaster class even better. You didn’t fight with a guy without getting to know what he could do.
“It isn’t personal, Harry,” said Clyde. “It never is with me, you know that.”
It was strange to hear his voice. It was the first time I’d spoken to him since it all happened. Sera and Vorm had come to see me at my ranch to explain things, and to apologize in their own weird way, but Clyde hadn’t come. Still, what could I have expected with a guy like him? He’d never hidden the fact that he didn’t have any loyalty toward me.
“Not personal? Really?” I said. “I’ve heard that before.”
“You know me. It’s business.”
“You want to join the Tronix. Do you think they’ll take someone on who might stab them in the back when he gets a better offer?”
“Oh, they’ll take me on. Lucas is seeing to that.”
“Yeah, and he’s so trustworthy, isn’t he?” I said.
“This can all go down a different way,” said Clyde. “It can end better for you than last time.”
I lifted my axe. “I know how this is going to end.”
“Listen to me, Harry. Think like me for once. Detach yourself a little, and really listen to me.”
“What are you saying?”
“Lay down your axe. Just set it on the ground, nicely.”
“Have you lost your mind?”
He shook his head. “I can see to it that you get a bigger cut of the prize money. Just set that little axe on the ground and let me carve you up. Won’t take a second, and it’ll be over. When your buddies are dealt with and my team wins the battle, I’ll make sure you get a bigger cut than you would have.”
“You’re bribing me?” I said.
“Think about your ranch. That shit bucket prot-gen won’t hold forever. What’ll happen to you and the dogs and the kid then?”
I couldn’t believe it. Clyde was offering to give me extra bits after the battle if I gave up just like he, Sera and Vorm had done months ago. If I did, he was going to make sure I had enough bits to get a new prot-generator. That was why I had been fighting, after all. Going way back to the beginning, that was all I cared about. That Harry was gone, though.
I wouldn’t never have given up back then, and I sure as hell wouldn’t now. Nothing had changed there, but what was different now was the reasons I fought. Elder Arin once asked me why I did it, and I told him that it was for bits. That was still true, in a way, but it wasn’t solely for the bits now; it was for what they represented. I needed to make sure my wolfhounds had a safe place to live. Rynk needed to pay for his mother’s care. Perlshaw needed their underground treasure trove of knowledge to be protected, and Wolfy needed to help his dad. This wasn’t just about bits for me - we all needed things.
Then I realized something. Clyde wasn’t making an offer here; he was playing for time. As a Battlemaster, his War Bellow had a cooldown phase, and he couldn’t use it until it replenished. Not only that, but for a period of time after using War Bellow, his stats were weakened. He’d have much fewer defence and attack points.
“C’mon,” said Clyde. “Think about your dogs, Harry. Think about your ranch.”
“They’re not dogs,” I said. “They’re wolfhounds.”
Then I spoke into Teamspeak. “Glora, cast Igni in the middle of the street when I say so.”
“But I won’t hit anything. The others are near the houses and I can only see part of the street.”
“Put a map marker on the part that you can see.”
“Thought you said no map markers, partner?” asked Rynk.
“I think we’re way beyond that now, buddy. Glora, can you do it please?”
“Done,” she said.
I brought up my map for a split second, and I saw the part of the street where she had set her pin. Now, I just needed to convince Clyde to take a walk toward it.
“Do it when I say, Glora.”
“One sec.”
I rushed toward Clyde. Aware of his weakened stats, he started to walk backwards away from me, without turning to see where he was going. As I got close to him, I didn’t strike. I walked forward one step at a time, holding my axe as if I was ready to strike him when I got close enough. Clyde carried on retreating. He kept walking back, never taking his eye off my axe, until he was in the middle of the street where Glora had set her map marker.
“Now, Glora!” I said.
There was an almighty whoosh, like the ignition of a gas cooker. A ball of fire shot from the hill, with the flames dancing as they flew through the air. Clyde looked to his left and saw it approaching him. He tried to dive out of the way, but it his bulky bear-frame made such a move impossible.
The ball of flames hit him square-on, and then spread along his blood-crusted fur. I smelled his hairs scorching as the fire burned them. His weakened-stats meant that the fire caused
more damage than it would have in normal circumstances, and his pain made him slow to react. A second fireball followed, this time hitting Clyde’s back and spreading across him like flames on a petrol-doused rug. Following this, a shining scimitar twirled through the air and plunged into the right side of his waist.
“Score!” shouted Rynk.
Clyde stumbled back, making a heroic effort to stay on his feet. I could see in his eyes that he knew he was done now. Wasting no time, I hit him with my axe, cleaving the blade upwards along his chest like an uppercut and slicing open his charred fur. When he fell sideways and onto the ground, he went limp, and his blood seeped out around him in a pathetic puddle.
I was about to loot his broadsword from his inventory, when I heard dogs barking. Over at the far end of the estate, near the open gates and giant billboard, a dozen dogs tore across the ground. Only, they looked like dogs at first, but when they opened their spit-covered jaws and their giant paws pounded on the roads, I realized that they were something else. These were Kafka wolfhounds, and these weren’t like the ones back at my ranch. These beasts weren’t the friendly animals that I had lovingly looked after for years; the creatures tearing through the estate gates had feral looks in their eyes, and I knew they wouldn’t just lick me if they got close. They were heading our way to tear each and every one of us apart.
It must have been another of Lucas’s flourishes. There was no other explanation for it. In all my years of fighting, I’d never seen wolfhounds on a map. Lucas knew how much I loved the animals, and now he was going to force me to fight them.
I heard Rynk yell over teamspeak. “Holy hell, what’s that?”
“Wolfhounds,” I said. “But you’re safe up there. Let me think of something.”
“Down there!? They’re coming right at us!”
“Oh shit, Rynk!” shouted Glora.
I looked up at the top of the hill and saw Rynk and Glora. They were joined by at least ten more wolfhounds. There was no time for them to run. Rynk cast his scimitar out using Blade Float, while Glora blasted them with a ball of fire. The first two wolfhounds dropped, only for the other eight to tear forward. As another hound reached Rynk, I saw it smash into the thin air in front of him, and then fall back as if it had hit a wall. He must have used his Shield rune, the one he’d used against me back in the Bernli VBR.
His use of a rune had only delayed the inevitable. Within a second, the beasts were on my teammates, tearing them apart. I heard Rynk scream over teamspeak. It was such a blood curdling shriek of pain that it sent a tremor of fear through me. I needed to get up to them, but it was useless. I’d never get there in time.
I opened my team screen on my holoface and watched with a sickening feeling as Rynk and Glora’s hitpoints plummeted. Within seconds, they were gone, done, dead. When their character sheets disappeared from my team menu, I felt sick. I was alone now. It was just me down here, with two members of Team Wraith, three of Team Wolfhound, and a dozen angry beasts. I was alone.
I had seconds now, and I had to use them as best I could. What did I have at my disposal? My four skills, my Rune of Lesser Healing, and my waraxe. That wouldn’t cut it. I quickly picked up the broadsword from Clyde’s corpse.
Arcane Broadsword – Level 3
A rare, lootable, silver broadsword infused with arcane energy.
[+180 melee attack, +40 Arcane attack]
Wow, this was a beauty of a sword alright. When I equipped it I immediately felt stronger, but it still wasn’t enough. The odds were weighed too far against me. I remembered what I’d said to the serpent back in Bernli, when I found my golden sword.
“Looks like the odds aren’t even after all,” I had told it. “I’m beyond the odds, buddy. I’ve got something that nobody else has.”
Back then, the ‘something that nobody else has’ had been a one-of-a-kind golden sword, easily the most powerful weapon on the map. Now, with my arcane broadsword I had something that could do damage, but it wasn’t unique, and it certainly wouldn’t let me take down five fighters and a dozen angered wolfhounds. I did have something else, though; I had my Abermorph avatar. I had thought that it was weak and useless when I first found it, but I had come to realise how useful it was. Now it was going to help me once again using a trick that I already knew was effective. If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it, I thought. If it worked once, it’ll work again.
As the dozen wolfhounds galloped toward Sera, Vorm and the two members of Team Wraith, I cast Terrain Drain.
Sera turned just as the wolfhounds reached her. Her avatar class was Nightblade, and one of her skills was Blade Jump, which let her leap an incredible distance. Using that, she’d be able to get away from the beasts.
Before she could, I used Terrain Drain. I already knew that the harder I concentrated, the more of my mana pumped into the skill. The more mana I fueled my skill with, the quicker it worked. I let my mana flow out of me so fast that it was almost gushing. The stone roads around Sera and the others rumbled. Then, as though it were a volcano waking up, the stone exploded upwards, cracking and groaning as it went vertically up in the air. I concentrated so hard that my head started to throb and my cheeks warmed, but I couldn’t stop. My mana bar plummeted. A warning bell sounded. A symbol flashed in my peripheral vision to tell me I was at ten percent mana, but I didn’t stop. I manipulated the stone roads until they twisted around Sera, Vorm and the others on all sides, trapping them inside a prison of stone.
They weren’t alone in the stone tomb, though. I had used so much mana that the stone had closed in on them tightly, with not even an inch of light peaking in. As well as Sera, Vorm, and Team Wraith, I had also trapped the dozen wolfhounds.
First, I heard a series of growls. Then a bark. After that, the screaming started. I couldn’t see any of it, but I could hear Sera and the other fighters getting torn apart as the wolfhounds rampaged. The screams grew so loud that they reverberated deep inside me, and I started to feel sick. I heard flesh tearing, I heard the wolfhounds chewing. I imagined that this was what the wolfhounds in real life were like, the ones bred in the fighting pits that were too aggressive for us to rescue.
Soon, there was silence. They were gone. The wolfhounds had torn Sera, Vorm, and Team Wraith apart. That was the end of the battle; with them dead, who was left for me to fight? I felt like sinking to my knees to catch my breath, but then I heard the wolfhounds scraping against the insides of the prison I’d trapped them in. Don’t worry, they can’t get out, I told myself. This is done. The teams are gone. I won.
As if in answer to my thoughts, a figure stepped out from the doorway of a house ahead of me. When I saw who it was, every trace of breath left my lungs.
Chapter Eighteen
2 Teams Remaining
It was Overseer Lucas. He wore a chest piece made from glittering gold, with the black shape of a wolfhound printed on the front. He’d obviously made his avatar a couple of inches taller than he was in real life, not to mention adding extra muscle on his arms and shoulders, but it was him. I’d know his pale, sharp-cheekbones, sneering face anywhere. Only, out here on the battlefield was the last place I’d expected to see it.
“What’s the matter, Harry? Wolfhound got your tongue?”
I groped for words, but I was finding them hard to come by. “This doesn’t make any sense.”
“Well, you see, the popular saying is ‘cat got your tongue?’ but given that you love your stupid dogs so much, I switched it.”
“They’re not dogs, they’re wolfhounds.”
“Yes, as you always used to say. Somethings never change.”
“Anyway, I wasn’t talking about that, you dick. You’re an overseer. Overseers can’t fight in VBRs.”
Lucas’s trademark mocking grin spread across his face. “Oh really? Can’t they? Does it say that in the commission rules? Don’t answer, Harry. I’ll tell you – it doesn’t say that. Even if it did, do you think my family would find it a problem to circumvent a few minor rules?”
/> I could only assume that he was right on the first count. I’d never read the rules thoroughly enough to know whether an overseer could take part in the battle he was overseeing. It didn’t seem right, but then Lucas was only the third overseer in Eden, wasn’t he? Technically, that made him an assistant to Overseer Sternbuck. Still, how was this fair? No doubt Clyde would have known every rule by heart, but I doubted his corpse would cast light on the question. On the second part, I knew that Lucas was telling the truth. The Helm family had so much money they could tug on any strings they liked.
“The thing I don’t understand,” I said. “Is why, Lucas? What the hell is the matter with you? Why are you so obsessed with me? Isn’t it enough that you screwed me over once? Why do you hate me so much?”
“It isn’t you. It’s your parents, but since they are gone, and you are the last of them, it is only natural that I’d focus my energies on making sure you fail at everything you do.”
