The Twilight Obelisk (Mirror World Book #4) LitRPG series

by Alexey Osadchuk

  IN TOTAL, the Caltean’s miraculous reunion had brought our ranks up to just under seven hundred warriors. I was now a proper medieval seigneur with my own footmen, cavalry and artillery.

  I even had my own champions: Pike of Many Hands, Badwar the Thunder Warrior, Gukhur the Black Serpent and Lavena the Vixen. All those weird system messages reporting my Relationship changes with them had now found their explanation. The words High Esteem now glowed red and proud in my interface.

  In other words, these guys were unlikely to leave my side any time soon.

  I’d also worked out the mystery of Pike’s glowing scimitars. Apparently, some NPCs could have the so-called super blows. It was their analog of skills, basically, when the last move in a particular combo could activate a super blow. Pike’s was called The Fury of a Wolf.

  Oh, and one other thing about my champions. All of them were literally hung with “purple” items. You wouldn’t have thought so looking at them, would you? I too had tended to believe their gear was all “gray”. And once players found that out, my new clan members would be fair game for all those willing to get themselves a pair of “Pike’s Scimitars” or “the Hammer of the Thunder Warrior”.

  Having said that, you had to defeat an NPC like that first. Their levels were 350+ with stats to match — not to even mention their super blows. Besides, I wasn’t going to sit back watching them being smoked, ether.

  We finally had a Colonel: Droy the Fang. Who else? He’d personally appointed the seven captains. Strangely enough, our champions weren’t interested in taking up command posts. All four of them constantly stayed by my side as my own personal retinue.

  All these appointments and rearrangements had had to be ad libbed during the short breaks between Noctean attacks. But now that the entire Caltean race had been affected by my legendaries, fighting the enemy had become much easier.

  Our rearmament race was in full swing. Zachary and Prochorus spent all their time forging new weapons and armor. At the time of the clans’ merger, they’d already clad and rearmed more than half of all newcomers.

  The results of our local “industrial revolution” were especially encouraging. We now had almost two thousand civilians boasting almost a hundred professions. I’d been thinking about going on a trip to get them more recipes and blueprints but they didn’t need it: the entire camp seemed to be busy exchanging “green” knowledge. Blacksmiths trained more blacksmiths. Healers shared their newly-acquired know-how with their apprentices. And so on and so forth.

  The stats and charts in my clan interface seemed to have taken on a life of their own. Their numbers blinked, flashed and grew quicker than I could take note.

  The renewed clan was seething with life. The camp was gradually taking on a more civilized shape.

  I was rubbing my hands with glee watching it all.

  * * *

  The animal roar of a thousand Noctean throats thundered behind the city wall, mingled with our defenders’ war cries.

  “Load!” Pritus barked in the heat of the battle.

  Fire! And again!

  Screams of agony came from behind the wall. Our warriors on the towers shook their weapons, celebrating their triumph.

  The Nocteans must have reached the walls, judging by the archers’ fast regrouping.

  “Fire!”

  Bowstrings began snapping.

  The growling monsters kept springing up trying to reach the top of the wall — only to drop dead studded with arrows like porcupines. The moat had claimed a generous harvest of bodies, its sharp stakes sticking out like the teeth of a giant monster.

  The screams. The hollering. The agony.

  I couldn’t force my gaze away from the bloodied stakes with guts hanging from their rough spiny shafts.

  This wasn’t right. This wasn’t normal. This was supposed to be a game.

  The world had filled with the thick, viscous presence of death. I seemed to be sensing it in every bone of my virtual body.

  “You all right?” Droy asked softly. His voice reached me over the screams of agony and the thunderous Caltean cheers.

  I managed a nod. My entire body was immobilized by this scene of slaughter.

  “Glaives!” Pritus barked.

  “Rocks!” his young Caltean assistant echoed, tending to the Brocks.

  The Brocks’ barrels were refilled, the glaive throwers loaded.

  “Fire!”

  A shower of glaives shot over the wall, followed by a cascade of rocks.

  A new torrent of agonizing screams assaulted my eardrums. Wincing, I closed my eyes. That felt a bit better. I just wished I could block my ears with something. Unfortunately, my commanding rank didn’t allow for such luxury.

  The Nocteans’ last attack was by far the most desperate — and scary. Fear gripped my heart in its insistent sleazy tentacles.

  A loud cracking sound came from a distance.

  Droy next to me jumped as if electrocuted. “The gates! All available warriors to the gates!”

  His captains started running around, issuing orders.

  “To the gates, quick!” Droy bellowed.

  “The gates!” the captains echoed his order.

  Still, the Caltean warriors on the walls already knew something must have changed on the other side. A few of them dropped from the wall like ragdolls and never came back. One of them had a stone axe buried in his back.

  “Shield Wall!” the commanders shouted. “Serry the ranks!”

  Two giant captains, Crym and Orman, towered over their soldiers like cliffs, repeating Droy’s commands. Their two companies locked their shields and raised their spears, making a formation about a hundred feet from the gates.

  Behind their backs, the companies of Horm the Turtle and Seet the Burly hurried to fall in, readying their arrows and loading their crossbows. Whoever would attempt to break into our camp wouldn’t enjoy it, that’s for sure.

  The Brocks continued to launch their deadly missiles over the wall. The glaive throwers fired non-stop.

  If it went on like this, our artillery wasn’t going to last long. Pritus still had about forty charms left; I had another twenty.

  We absolutely needed to get rid of the Noctean avant-garde before they exhausted us with their constant assaults. We needed at least a three-day break before the main horde arrived. We were too low on energy. We needed to do something pretty soon.

  “Get ready!” Droy continued to spit orders.

  “Hold the line!” his captains’ commands reached far over the orderly ranks.

  The soldiers’ faces betrayed a calm determination to die.

  “They’ll break the gates down in a moment!” someone shouted from the wall.

  The miserable makeshift structure we so optimistically called “the gates” was gradually crumbling under the blows of hundreds of stone axes.

  Finally, it gave way with a thunderous creaking. I could already see the Nocteans’ bared teeth through the splintered gaps in the wood. Froth drooled from their jaws. Their animal eyes glowed with madness.

  One last blow.

  The jury-rigged arrangement of wooden planks, rocks and pieces of metal listed forward, forming a gap for the Nocteans to pour in. They looked a sight, I tell you. They’d suffered a lot in this last battle.

  Ignoring their terrible wounds, they lunged forward blindly like puppets controlled by an invisible puppeteer. The gateway soon filled with a mass of gray bodies which continued to pour forward like a river bursting a dam.

  “Fire!” Droy barked.

  Hundreds of arrows showered the gateway, followed by rocks from a Brock which Pritus had promptly had moved over.

  Finally I could see the Ennans’ killing machine in action. The torrent of rock shrapnel blocked the gateway with the Nocteans’ still stirring bodies ground to a pulp.

  The system kept showering me with messages. I was already level 230.

  “Glaives wait!” Droy commanded. “Another Brock ready!”

  “More rocks!�
��

  The Brock assistants didn’t have to be told twice. They were already filling its barrels with new boulders, working efficiently and in synch.

  Healers threaded their way through the crowd, helping the wounded. Young boys and girls flew up and down the walls delivering armfuls of arrows.

  Droy watched as the army executed his orders. “Wait for the second wave!” he thundered.

  The Nocteans weren’t long in coming. Once again the breached gateway filled with their growling mass. These were considerably stronger, their levels higher. Many were holding clubs and stone axes.

  “Aha,” Badwar chuckled bloodthirstily. “The Kerook is sending his elite.”

  “He must be real close,” Lavena added.

  A double volley from the Brock made quick work of their so-called elite.

  Suddenly it dawned on me.

  Eureka!

  I turned to Droy and my champions. “We need to kill their leader, otherwise we’ll still be fighting them until the main horde arrives. And then we won’t have any energy left to face them.”

  Judging by the grins on their faces, they loved the idea.

  “You understand, don’t you,” Droy began, “that you’re the only person capable of stealing up on him.”

  “Oh yes,” I agreed. “The problem is, he’s clever. I’ve tried to do it quite a few times already but he keeps a low profile. If we kill him, it has to be done quickly. I alone can’t do it. I don’t have the right weapons.”

  “How about your scarabs?”

  “They’re not right for this kind of job. The Kerook’s bodyguards will engage them, allowing their master to disappear. We need to kill him in one clean sweep.”

  “What a shame,” Badwar said. “If only you had Lavena’s skill!”

  I turned to double-check on her. Lavena the Vixen had the body of a gymnast, small but strong and agile. A powerful composite bow peeked from behind her back.

  I opened her stats and looked for her super blow. Aha. The Mountain Hawk, activated by every fifth arrow she launched.

  Badwar had been right. This looked like just the thing we needed, with excellent damage and bonuses to Accuracy. And if you added my legendaries to this...

  Droy guffawed. “Look at his crafty face! I bet he’s already come up with something!”

  “Come on, tell us,” Badwar demanded, playing with his poleaxe.

  “I have an idea,” I said. “I wonder if I can pass my skills on to her?”

  I looked over their puzzled faces until my gaze alighted on Lavena. “Are you okay with flying?”

  * * *

  My plan was simple. Lavena and I would leave the city hidden in the middle of serried ranks of warriors to make sure the Kerook didn’t sniff us out. He was a cunning little bastard, elusive like you can’t imagine. I already knew this from experience.

  But the moment our tanks drew aggro to themselves, he’d be obliged to take command of the Noctean attack. That’s where we would come into play.

  Boris’ new skill allowed him to carry two riders. And once our tanks had tied the Nocteans down in battle, Lavena and I would do our little double act.

  “You must be bored, kiddo,” I whispered into Boris’ ear, stroking his back. “Time to stretch your wings.”

  Lavena was stroking his neck in silent awe. He accepted our affection with calm graciousness.

  “You need to trust him,” I told the girl who was visibly on edge. “Flying is great. You’re gonna love it. Now remember. You need to get to him as close as you can and shoot him at point blank.”

  She kept nodding as she admired Boris’ silvery ashen feathers.

  “Advance!” Droy growled. “Let’s kick some butt!”

  The air was shattered with the roaring of hundreds of warriors brandishing their swords, poleaxes and spears.

  Our giant mass of steel stirred and headed for the gates. Lavena and I walked behind the tanks’ backs. I’d unsummoned Boris, unwilling to expose him too soon.

  The earth groaned with the lockstep of our armored boots. The sergeants’ commands hung over the ranks clanging and rattling with steel and wood.

  An eerie feeling dawned over me. I felt one with these hundreds of warriors, my brothers in arms, who would unhesitantly give their lives for me. Did the devs really think so low of me, believing me capable of betraying them? So which one of us was playing this game, then?

  We reached the gateway. There wasn’t a single Noctean still alive there. A game, yeah right.

  We walked out of the gates — or whatever was left of them — and stopped, taking in the scene of carnage behind the walls. Some Nocteans still stirred, their plaintive groans floating over the battlefield.

  The Noctean elite stood in a single line about five hundred feet away from the gates. They looked remarkably calm, with only an occasional growl or show of teeth-baring.

  The Caltean warriors lined up to defend the entrance.

  “Why aren’t they attacking?” I whispered.

  “The Kerook is waiting for more food to come out,” Lavena replied, also in a whisper.

  “In that case, he has to be somewhere around,” I said. “He must be very strong to control so many monsters at once. We’re obliged to rid them of him.”

  “He’s not going anywhere,” Lavena promised. “Today is his last day.”

  “Once the melee begins, we need to get closer. I’m counting on you to seek him out.”

  “I’ll keep my eyes peeled,” she bared her teeth in a predatory grin.

  I opened my profile and began activating all my legendaries. The Calteans met my “Keeper’s magic” with wholehearted cheers.

  I downed a potion and turned to Lavena. “Let’s do it.”

  * * *

  Reluctant to witness a new massacre, the sun took shelter in its celestial halls behind the leaden thunderclouds, leaving the handful of valiant fools to the mercy of cannibalistic hordes.

  The two armies froze at a mere five hundred feet from each other. The Calteans’ locked shields resembled a wall of steel barring the entrance to the upper city. Their eyes glowed with fury from under their helmets, their strong hands clenching their spears.

  Archers were lined up on the wall, ready to do battle. I glimpsed Pritus’ black robes rushing to and fro amid the glaive throwers. He was probably busy loading them with the remaining charms. I’d given him mine before I’d left, keeping just one for replication purposes.

  The warriors on the walls cheered, encouraging us. Badwar raised his poleaxe, triggering another wave of battle cries.

  “Fire!” Droy thundered.

  More arrows rustled out of their quivers. Bowstrings groaned.

  The fletched messengers of death escaped the confines of the city wall, enjoying their free flight and celebrating their freedom. Then Mother Earth pulled them back down. In answer to her call, hundreds of arrows began their descent.

  From the safety of my position behind our tanks, I couldn’t see the arrows pierce Noctean bodies. I was too focused on one single spot at the very heart of the enemy formation. I thought I’d glimpsed something there.

  “He’s over there,” I whispered, pointing at a Noctean group that had caught my eye.

  Lavena nodded. “I think so too. I can sense his power. It’s like the cobweb of a big black spider. How strong he is! Incredibly powerful. It’s our duty to kill him before he becomes even stronger. Whatever it costs! Even if we die, it’s worth it.”

  An icy fear ran down my spine. A primeval panic tugged at my heart. What on earth was wrong with me?

  I stood behind the soldiers’ backs, tense as a coiled spring, ready to summon Boris and soar up to the skies. My Fix Box was full to the brim, ready to shower the enemy crowds with every bit of metal I had.

  The invisible puppeteer gave his troops the order to proceed. I sensed his command with every fiber of my overwrought psyche. Оr could it be my imagination playing up?

  In any case, the mass of mobs shifted into action. Howling
and roaring, they lunged at our ranks.

  “Hold the line!” Droy’s voice sounded as if from afar.

  The barrage of arrows kept coming from the walls, piercing more Noctean bodies.

  The Calteans tensed up. Their bristling spears prepared to receive warm flesh.

  The first Noctean line was almost upon us, enormous clubs in their clawed paws, their tiny eyes glowing with fury and savage hunger, their fangs grinning.

  Fifty feet.

  “Hold the line!”

  Twenty.

  Ten.

  “Hold the-”

  Droy’s order was drowned out by the clatter of steel and screams of agony.

  The first strike was horrendous.

  The Nocteans barged headlong into us without sparing their lives. Like mindless zombies, they threw themselves on our spears trying to break the first line of our defense, slaying our warriors with heavy blows from their clubs and claws.

  The first two Caltean lines had died almost instantly. Still, their death wasn’t in vain as the Noctean attack had become bogged down, their advance hindered. More arrows kept showering the mobs from the walls, sowing death in their collective wake.

  Death reigned on the battlefield. The small area in front of the city gates was filled with mortal cries and the agonizing screams of the wounded. All the shouting, the growling and the groaning added to the mayhem.

  And there was only one creature lurking somewhere here which enjoyed this gruesome symphony.

  Finally, I saw him.

  So that was the Kerook, then. Tiny and cute he was, like a cuddly toy. Which had in fact given him away.

  His fluffy snow-white coat stood out amid the Noctean leaders’ gray bodies. The bastard watched the massacre, pulling the invisible strings like a spider watching a fly struggle in his web.

  “I can see him!” I shouted to Droy. “He’s very close!”

  Droy nodded his understanding and began dishing out orders. A new formation took shape at the center of our ranks, resembling a turtle bristling with poleaxes and spears, the warriors’ shields forming its shell.

  A few crossbowmen stood at the heart of this new structure shoulder to shoulder, prepared to give us covering fire with a barrage of bolts.