The Land: Predators: A LitRPG Saga (Chaos Seeds Book 7)

by Aleron Kong

  With his elementum blade in one hand, he cast Soul Trap. A hard downward stab was all it took to kill the helpless creature. A rainbow of swirling light rose into the air. It spun around Richter’s body twice before disappearing into his bag. One of the empty common soul stones contained within began to glow, now filled with a basic soul. He repeated the process twice more, and two more souls were captured.

  A curse caught his attention. Terrod had been knocked over and had his shield over his body like a blanket. It was all that was keeping a tusker from eviscerating him. Even so, one of the bony tusks had pierced the wooden shield and had entered the arm behind it. Every flailing move the monster made to get at Terrod tore the hole in the captain’s arm wider. It was to his credit that the man wasn’t screaming in sheer agony. Another beast was already running towards the captain, and there was no way Terrod was going to be able to keep it from savaging his face.

  Richter roared and threw his short sword. Even as it flew he started running towards the captain. Randy was still nowhere to be found. Sion was engaged in his own battle, dodging and rolling even as he shot tuskers at point-blank range. The arachnid was a bit further away and had triggered its special attack again, downing three more, but it was bleeding ichor from two large holes in its abdomen. Two of its legs on one side were limp. Alma was clawing at another tusker’s eyes. If Terrod was to live, it was up to him.

  The green-bladed weapon flipped end over end. In a perfect world, it would have sunk deep into the tusker’s body. That’s not what happened. This was real life. The edge of the short sword hit both the edge of the shield and the side of the monster at once. The damn weapon was almost vertical when it struck. He had to learn how to throw blades!

  Off-target or not, the fey metal was impossibly sharp and bit deeply enough into the tusker to draw blood. Unfortunately, it also bit into Terrod’s shield enough to almost cut the man.

  “Hey!” Terrod shouted. He turned his head and looked at Richter incredulously even as he continued to struggle and bleed.

  “I know! I know!” Richter half-apologized. He closed the final distance to the captain. The elementum short sword had fallen to the ground. Unfortunately, the damage it had done to the tusker hadn’t distracted it. The creature had just been driven further into a rage and renewed its efforts to kill Terrod. To make matters worse, the second tusker was now only five yards away.

  Richter drew his moonstone short sword and, without breaking stride, rammed the blade into the tusker’s head. Hardened bone or not, the skull shattered inward. The full two feet of yellow-white metal sank into the monster and killed it instantly. He wasn’t done though. His momentum continued to hurdle him over Terrod. One fist pointed at the charging tusker and he triggered his Ring of Spell Holding. Invisible waves of sonic force shot out at his target, which was only two yards away. The tusker squealed in pain and faltered but didn’t stop, focused on hurting the creature that had hurt it. Richter hadn’t expected it to stop though, he had just needed to buy a second of hesitation. Now properly braced, he held both empty hands out to meet his opponent. Reaching low, he caught both forward tusks and went into pure beast mode!

  “Maximum effort!” he groaned as the tusker’s nearly unstoppable force met his unbreakable will. Both gauntlets wrapped around the large tusks and he twisted and lifted. Every ounce of his thirty-three points of Strength, more than three thousand newtons, went into his effort. Though he had not really used brute strength to win his battles in a great while, at level thirty-five he was more than just human.

  The tusker’s body rose off the ground and it gave a surprised grunt. Using his own body as a fulcrum, he swung the creature’s body to the side and slammed it against one of the blood-red columns. A bony spine broke off its body, but the stone of the column remained completely whole. All fight went out of the beast and Richter swung the body again like a sack of potatoes, slamming it into the ground. With both short swords gone, he let go of one tusk and pulled his high steel dagger out. Keeping its head facing up with his other hand, he stabbed his blade into the tusker’s eye. The point caught on its eye socket for a moment, but with a savage grunt, he leaned on the weapon. There was a sickening crunch that he felt first in his hand then up his arm as the eye socket fragmented. For the second time in a minute, he destroyed the brain of a monster.

  “Watch out, my lord!” came a shout from his right.

  Richter caught a flicker of movement out of the corner of his eye but had time for nothing else. Then there was pain.

  You have suffered 29 damage!

  A tusker had run up behind him and pierced his calf with its tusk. It kept rushing forward, knocking him off his feet. Richter screamed as his legs went out from under him and his body flew up in the air. He fell hard. The dagger was still inside of the last tusker’s brain and he had no other weapons on hand. Suddenly, Randy’s bajillion knives didn’t seem like overkill. There were more weapons in his Bag of Holding, but extricating items from it took focus and at least a few seconds. Both were a luxury he just didn’t have.

  Terrod was still getting to his feet and Sion was holding two tuskers at bay with his short sword. Randolphus was running towards him but was too far away. The monster Richter was fighting turned immediately and sank its teeth into the same leg it had already gored. His sprite armor was resilient, especially for light armor, but the beast’s sharp teeth could still pierce it in places. The armor also did nothing to stop the crush damage the monster’s bite inflicted.

  You have suffered 43 damage!

  Tears in his eyes, Richter began trying to summon the clarity of thought needed to cast a spell when the tusker suddenly dropped. Blood leaked from its eyes, mouth and nose, and it spasmed. Atop the creature’s shoulders was Alma’s dark form. The dragonling drained Thought energy from the tusker and siphoned off its health, mana and stamina at the same time. Terrod walked up, his injured arm cradled to his chest. Knowing that Alma was helpless while she fed, he carefully drove his sword into the beast’s neck. Between his attack and Alma’s Brain Drain, the monster succumbed seconds later.

  A loud boom punctuated another of Sion’s imbued shots against the creatures. His latest target stumbled away, a large chunk missing from its side. The close-range detonation had made a tennis ball-sized hole in it. Splinters of ribs, mangled flesh, and strips of skin with charred hair hung around the hole; blood flowed freely from the wound. One large artery must have been severed because a gout of blood shot forward from the back of the crater. The spurts were angled inward somewhat because the jets of blood hit the edge of the pit Sion’s arrow had made. Every beat of the tusker’s weakening heart added to the splattered mess. It still stumbled towards Sion, unaware that its death was already assured.

  Before it could take another step, Randolphus phased into existence behind it and plunged his large dagger into the wound. He scored a critical hit. Multiplied by his sneak attack and its already weakened state, the tusker gave up the ghost.

  There were no monsters left, and the only sound Richter could hear was his own breath exiting his open mouth.

  Richer cast Minor Slow Heal. That almost bottomed out his mana, but it was worth the small headache. The two hits he’d suffered had taken more than a hundred health and he’d picked up a Bleeding status. There was no true danger to his life, but it didn’t stop him from feeling a shit-ton of pain. The Life spell helped ease that almost immediately.

  Alma had detached from her victim and her body was now enveloped in a golden glow. From the slight angle that now existed in the middle of Terrod’s right forearm, it was clear that either the ulna or radius, or most likely both, had been broken. Luckily, no bones were sticking out past the skin so it looked like a simple fracture. Alma made eye contact with the captain, established a mental connection and sent one word across it, *Straighten.* One-word communication was all she could manage with those she didn’t share a Psi Bond with.

  Gritting his teeth, Terrod grabbed his right hand with his left. The
man showed what a badass he was by pulling to realign his own bones. A muffled scream escaped his clenched lips and his eyes watered, but he remained upright. Alma cast Weak Mend Bone and followed it immediately after with Minor Slow Heal. The pain in Terrod’s face began to ease as soon as the bones straightened and the repair began. It was almost a relief as he applied a faint upward pressure on his right hand, further helping the bones align. It took a few seconds, but when it was done he smiled affectionately at the dragonling.

  “Thank you, Alma,” he expressed sincerely. He carefully rolled his wrist and found it to be hale. Then he hefted his damaged shield and sword, peering into the surrounding gloom just in case they had missed enemies. Alma purred in contentment.

  “Don’t praise her!” Richter shouted, having gotten back onto his feet. He tested his newly healed leg and found it a touch stiff but completely useable. The “tight” feeling wasn’t unexpected after a fresh healing. “Where the hell were you?” he demanded of the dragonling hovering in mid-air.

  *I was killing the tuskers I disabled,* she responded archly. *I did not think that my powerful master would have such a problem with a few little piggies!* She sent him a mental replay. After the others had scurried off, she had hopped from one downed tusker to the next. The dragonling knew her stun blast would only last seconds so she had capitalized on the creatures’ helplessness. With her sharp claws, she had opened a small but deep incision in each of their necks.

  The first one she had had to attack three times before she found the carotid. She had started too far to the side, not knowing the carotid was more central on their fat necks. After that though she was able to fatally wound two more before the creatures began to stir. Alma still managed to hop to a fourth tusker and blind it as it was struggling to regain its footing. Her first few victims didn’t even make it back to their feet, too weak as they bled out.

  The fourth ran off in a random direction, squealing in pain and fear. It ran for a minute before barreling head-on into a column. When it fell to the ground, dazed, she opened its neck with her claws. Then she flew back to help Richter and his Companions. Her master looked more closely at her and saw that her dusky scales were actually drenched in the tuskers’ dark red blood. In the weak light, he hadn’t initially been able to tell.

  “Well…” Richter started, still pissed because of the pain that was still fading, “don’t go off playing on your own next time.” He knew that she had done great, but he wasn’t going to let logic interrupt his bad mood.

  Somehow Alma managed to make her mental voice shrill with static as she expressed her opinion of his displeasure. He rolled his eyes and did his best to ignore her as Sion and Randolphus walked up.

  “Any problems?” Richter asked.

  Sion smiled ruefully, “I was knocked around a bit, but I’m fine. Your spider has seen better days though.” He threw a thumb out, pointing behind his back.

  Richter leaned to the side and saw that the spider had been crushed under the body of a tusker. Two more of the Dungeon beasts lay dead beside the corpse of his summoned creature. He looked at it in appreciation. The spider had fought well. He dismissed it. Whether that actually mattered now that it was dead he didn’t know, but he figured it still deserved to be returned home. A green disc appeared and the spider’s mangled body disappeared. The disc vanished right after, leaving no evidence of the arachnid except its victims.

  Randolphus simply nodded that he was fine and looked around, seemingly unconcerned. The Spy’s calm face looked like they had been discussing ledgers in his office rather than fighting a pitched battle.

  “Did we get all of them?” Richter asked.

  “I believe so, my lord,” Randolphus responded. “There were thirty-six tuskers initially. I slew eleven of the beasts.”

  “I killed seven,” Sion chimed in. Sapir chimed in with pixiespeak, proud of his contribution to the battle.

  “I got four,” Terrod threw in.

  Richter did a quick count. There was the one he had killed with his moonstone arrow and the three he had coup de graced after the spider had attacked. He had killed the one on Terrod and then there was the one he had swung into the column. A pretty righteous slay in his opinion. He had been focusing his stat points more around magic, but there was something completely man about just hitting something real hard. That made six. Six… one less than Sion.

  *How many did you kill all together, my love?* Richter thought to Alma sweetly.

  She turned her sinuous head to look at him suspiciously from where she was flapping in mid-air. Something was behind his change in tone, but she didn’t know what, *Five, master, including the one I saved you from.*

  *“Saved” might be a strong word,* Richter thought to her, *but thank you, love.*

  Now that he knew her count, he added it to his own and threw in the three the arachnid had taken down for good measure. “I got fourteen,” he proclaimed smugly.

  *Those were mine!* Alma blasted at him. She flapped her wings at him in agitation, trumpeting her displeasure.

  “What’s wrong with her?” Sion asked.

  “Nothing,” Richter said, swatting Alma away. She easily dodged his arm and took a nip at him in response. He snatched his hand back, glaring daggers at his feisty familiar.

  “She does seem quite agitated, my lord,” Randolphus commented. Terrod nodded, brow furrowed as he watched the dragonling.

  Alma flew towards Sion quickly. The sprite took a half-step back in alarm, but stopped in surprise as she sent him a one-word psychic message. Then, a pure shit-eating grin bloomed on his face as he looked at Richter.

  “What did she say?” Richter asked too loudly and already a touch defensively. His gaze darted back and forth between his best friend and his familiar.

  Sion grandly drew in a breath before cocking his arm back like he was about to pitch the opening ball of the World Series. He threw his hand forward and pointed his forefinger at Richter, proclaiming loudly, “Thief!”

  “What? No!” Richter protested immediately.

  “She sent me one word,” Sion said, immensely enjoying himself, “‘Thief!’ Now are you,” Sion stated, pausing for dramatic effect, “or are you not, taking credit for her kills?”

  “She’s my familiar,” Richter protested. “Her kills are my kills!”

  Alma hissed at him.

  “It appears she does not agree, my lord,” Randolphus chimed in. His tone was completely respectful, but there was a smarmy twinkle in his eyes. On second thought, Richter wasn’t so sure that he liked this new side of his chamberlain.

  “Wait, wait, wait,” Sion said closing his eyes and waving his hands. He was staring right at Richter when he reopened them, “How many did you kill by yourself?”

  “I don’t see the point in-” Richter began, but his best friend cut him off.

  “How many?” Sion asked again loudly.

  “Nine,” he responded. “Okay? Are you happy now? Nine.”

  “That is a very respectable amount, my lord,” Terrod stated in a conciliatory tone. “And you saved me. There was no need to pad your numbers.”

  “I wasn’t padding my numbers,” Richter spat. “She is my familiar, so her kills should count as mine.”

  “There is precedent for this,” Randolphus interjected. “Some of the nobles I used to adventure with in Yves had strong pets. They counted the kills of their creatures as their own.”

  “See,” Richter said to Sion, gesturing at Randy in validation.

  “Those were usually the female Adventurers, however,” the chamberlain added.

  Richter looked at him sharply again. Did this sumbitch just say he was hitting from the ladies’ tees? Randy’s tone was as respectful as ever, but that damn twinkle was in the man’s eye. Terrod muffled a laugh.

  “Alright, alright. You got nine. I’ll stop teasing,” Sion said taking mercy. Then he looked sharply at Alma as she sent another message. “Spider?” he said in confusion. Then his eyes widened in understanding and de
light. All thoughts of clemency fled before the chance to mock his friend anew. “You included your summoned creature’s kills too?”

  Richter opened his mouth to respond, but Sion held up a hand. He looked around and saw the three tuskers the arachnid had definitely killed and then said, “Six? Which means… you got less than me! Hahaha!”

  “It was my summoned creature,” Richter said with some real heat in his voice now. He felt like he had a completely valid point.

  “Oh, yeah,” Sion told in an annoyingly sympathetic voice. “Sure.” He accompanied the admission with a pursing of his lips in a small moue, closing his eyes and nodding placatingly.

  “You look like an asshole,” Richter snapped. Then he stopped for a moment and realized that pursed lips actually did look like an asshole. Was that where the phrase came from? He could almost see a gold star trailing a rainbow with the words “The More You Know” shooting across his brain.

  “Whatever,” Sion said with a broad grin. “I keep telling you to stop trying to measure up. I am a sprite. You are a human.” He hitched up his belt, “Nothing wrong with you falling short. It’s a bloodline thing.”

  Alma flew into the air with a toot of triumph over the trouble she had started. Richter glared at her retreating form. As he prepared to deliver a scathing reply to Sion, Randolphus interrupted, “I believe you should see this, my lord.” He was staring at the ground near one of the tuskers.

  Richter cast a last dirty look at his former best friend then walked over to the carcass. He immediately saw what Randolphus had wanted him to see. The blood was flowing out of the body and into the ground. That was not overly surprising seeing as the creature had been stabbed to death, but the blood should have stopped actively flowing once the heart stopped. What they were seeing was like the blood was being siphoned from the corpse. Once it hit the grass, it disappeared as the ground drank it. He looked at the nearby corpses and saw that the same thing was happening.