by Oliver Mayes
That wasn’t the only reason to panic. In turning, Damien had inadvertently shown Archimonde the innocuous bag strapped to the incubus’s back. Had he not turned in time to face his enemy, that’s where the bolt would’ve struck. Too late, the reason why Archimonde was advancing so slowly, with so many hounds spaced out, became clear. It had been searching for Damien, taking its time to make sure he didn’t slip through the net.
“Naaaaan-de? What’s in the bag, Daemien-chan?”
Archimonde started lumbering toward him faster and the hounds pulled in. Trinytea seized her moment, sprinting down the side as close to the wall as she could get. Archimonde didn’t even bat an eye. Even its minions didn’t change course to intercept her, moving in to crowd around their master. While Trinytea was probably delighted to be ignored, Lillian and Hammertime were used to more attention.
They both ran in on either side without hesitation to meet Archimonde, weapons at the ready. Aetherius had finished drinking a mana potion and was firing Arcane Bolts straight into the air. OhHolyLight raised a hand and clenched his fist, burning Archimonde with Smite. It was no surprise that Archimonde was classified as a demon, rather than an orc.
Archimonde stopped as the Smite took hold, its hit points dropping slowly but steadily. The Arcane Bolts were spiraling back down from above, on course to land all around it. Lillian and Hammertime were both on their backswings as the demon pointed at the ground at its feet.
“Circle of Hell.”
The two guild leaders were rooted at opposite edges of the ability. The demons in Archimonde’s thrall swarmed forward to attack the immobilized tanks, with three hell hounds taking point on each of them. With no means of dodging or blocking, their armor cut in half and their health burning away, the two strongest on the team were quickly overrun. Mr. Healy barely managed to Dispel Lillian before they arrived on her, removing the root but not the damage over time. Even with Legolias pouring piercing arrows into them as fast as he could, she was still in deep trouble; Archimonde’s minions were also healing within the circle’s confines.
Hammertime had it much worse; unable to move his feet and unsupported, he nonetheless still took out a hell hound with a single swing before the next two barreled into him. A few moments later Sabrina’s Anti-Magic Shield turned the tide in his favor, removing the burning damage. Her mana would drop the more damage he took, but that would at least buy him time.
Aetherius’s Arcane Bolts plummeted down from above, avoiding Archimonde’s problematic stomach. Archimonde was eclipsed in bright light as they landed one after the other, hitting it in the head and its recently vacated back. The mass of flesh and sinew barely even budged as they impacted. After the last of them had connected, Archimonde still had 80% of its health remaining.
OhHolyLight’s Smite was still upon the demon, but with the damage of the circle increasing over time and the trait to heal demonic minions within it stacking on top of each other, Archimonde was healing faster than Smite did damage. Considerably faster. That spell had been the bane of Damien’s existence when he was in the early stages of the game, cutting through his minions with little effort in no time at all. Yet Archimonde was regenerating through it.
Archimonde was definitely a demon, but its facial features indicated it was also still an orc. What perks demons had, Damien was sure he didn’t know, but orcs had Magic Blood: a 25% increase to health, stamina and mana regeneration. Regular regeneration was next to useless, but the orcish perk extended to extra healing, mana replenishment and stamina replenishment from abilities over time, which Archimonde was abusing to the fullest. Between Magnitude and now this thing, there was a growing and intensely undesirable trend in the tank/caster hybrid department.
“I’m hungry. I want a tasty snack. Yummy yummy yummy.”
Archimonde twisted and its terrifying barbed tongue lashed out around Hammertime’s chest. Then it started to drag him across the floor. Hammertime unequipped his weapon, took the tongue in both hands and dug his heels in, but Archimonde braced back and the tongue stretched taut before reeling him in faster. Hammertime had bashed in the brains of an imp and a hound under extreme duress, but it wasn’t enough. The three remaining imps retreated to the relative safety of Archimonde’s back while two more hounds confounded Hammertime’s efforts to stave off a deeply unpleasant end. Archimonde took strides forward while reeling the tongue back in, its arms braced against its sides and a thick stream of drool pouring from its open mouth in anticipation.
Thirty seconds had passed. Mr. Healy’s Holy Orb expired, leaving them all in darkness. Archimonde was preoccupied. Damien was one of only two people in his party who could see. He had to do something. He threw all his remaining minions, save for Noigel and the succubus, into the fray at once. The succubus would have little mana left after, but Bloodlust was required and there was no better use for her in this fight. Damien set the hounds alight and directed them to head straight to Archimonde, trying to prevent Hammertime from suffering the same fate he had. If the rest of the party watched Hammertime get eaten, it would not do much for party morale.
Archimonde looked away from Hammertime and stared the first of the hounds down. It stopped in its tracks. Damien could see no reason why. It wasn’t in the circle yet, so it shouldn’t have been rooted. He’d made his order very clear. It was only as he reiterated the order in his head that he noticed the hound had undergone a change. It now had a red name. By the time he realized, the other had taken a red name as well. Both of them ran toward Hammertime and sank their teeth in, joining the two he’d already been struggling with.
Archimonde had taken control of his minions? Just by looking at them? How could this be possible? Wasn’t Archimonde strong enough already? Damien had already known he couldn’t face this opponent alone, but this made it go from futile to insulting. If he couldn’t even use minions against this player without them being taken away from him, there was no hope. There was absolutely nothing he could do.
Noigel took command while Damien floundered. The imps came flying in at Archimonde from above, claws extended and pointed forward on hands and feet, all of them going for the face. Archimonde reached behind its back, cupped an imp of its own, and hurled it into them. A clever solution to mitigate their lack of wings. A flick of Archimonde’s wrist to cast Corruption and an Imp-losion put an abrupt end to Damien’s meager assault. At least these minions hadn’t been turned against them.
Even though the hounds had been appropriated, they’d served a purpose: they’d bought Lillian time. The battlefield was illuminated once more as she activated her Divine Might, unequipped the shield that had been reduced to scrap in her defense, then ran over the corpses of Archimonde’s dispatched minions toward her enemy. She was still burning, though the timely Dispel of her root had allowed her to deal with her allotment of minions in short order. Archimonde’s eyes were still cast up to where it had just triggered the Imp-losion. She took her sword in both hands, leapt forward with both feet, and dragged her blade downward. Through the monster’s glistening, taut tongue.
Archimonde’s anchor snapped and it staggered backward, the wretched maw shrieking and what was left of its disgusting appendage snapping back into its depths. Hammertime broke through his loosened bonds and took up his hammer to fight the hell hounds, caving one of them in instantly. Lillian landed, turned on her heel and ran straight back in.
All Smiting and Dispelling had ceased. The three players with healing capabilities were doing everything in their power to keep Lillian alive. Then Sabrina’s Anti-Magic Aura sputtered out and Hammertime was once again engulfed in flames. She’d run through all three of her mana potions in less than twenty seconds, but when the flames returned to Hammertime the increasing damage over time had reset back to zero.
While Hammertime had been protected, Lillian’s sustained damage from the black fire was increasing as she remained within the circle. The two paladins and the priest were intermittently chugging mana potions as well. Keeping up with Archimond
e’s damage was taking its toll.
Lillian wasn’t paying much attention to her health. She knew when she had the upper hand in a fight and she intended to keep it. Archimonde’s health had dropped notably. The exact number of hit points it had left was unknowable, but the red bar showed it was below 60% of them, in spite of the circle’s healing. It appeared the tongue it was so keen on throwing around was a critical hit point. But Archimonde was still in its circle, and without a suppressing Smite and with the circle’s effect increased, it was regenerating absurdly quickly.
Archimonde stopped staggering and saw Lillian running toward it. It had used its root. It had no tongue. It could not stop her. Lillian was almost on it when Archimonde pointed at her and shrieked. That it was clearly afraid was gratifying. The ability it produced when cornered was not.
“Shedim!”
Damien paused, horrorstruck. That was one of the level 40 traits he’d forgone in favor of Ex-Imp-losion. The description had been memorably awful:
Adapts Possession to be used on players and NPCs as an offensive ability. The target is blinded and afflicted with nightmares as their health, stamina and mana are channeled into you.
Damien had been glad his playstyle did not warrant choosing this ability. It seemed unnecessarily cruel. As horrible as the description was, Damien knew Archimonde had chosen its target poorly. Lillian wasn’t afraid of anything and the spell wouldn’t stop her from moving. All she had to do was keep running forward with her sword in front of her and she’d cancel the ability by herself. Lillian kept running, lifted her sword above her head...and stopped dead, only five strides short of her target.
Her Divine Might was canceled and the battlefield plunged back into darkness. Her arms dropped to her sides, her sword clattering in the dirt. She fell to her knees. Clutched her face in her hands. And wailed. A piercing, broken, grief-stricken cry. As though she were an infant. The second-strongest woman Damien knew, reduced to a gibbering wreck.
Archimonde was frozen in its pointing stance. Its hit points were regenerating even faster, and Lillian’s were disappearing faster as well. Damien could see her health points diminishing in the party sidebar. 500 per second, give or take. It was hard to tell, with the burning effect on her and the heals barely sustaining her against it. The circle was nearly expired, and Lillian had been within it for the entire duration as the damage increased. With this on top, the healers could no longer keep up. They could only see her by the faint light of each heal landing in close succession. She would die if this was not stopped. That didn’t matter. This was only a game. But her suffering was very real.
Damien had thought he knew what rage felt like. He’d led a very short life, all of it against a backdrop of simmering anger. The kind of surly, slowly accumulated misgiving that stacks up when you are wronged, or powerless, or when you’re made to feel as though you’re not good enough. His youth made the occasions his anger had festered within him all the more potent, because he had less to balance it against. He’d been angry with CU for a long time, since he was old enough to understand his family was forsaken. He’d been angry with Aetherius for a shorter time, but more intensely. Most of all, he’d been angry with himself. For as long as he could remember.
As his guardian angel smashed her head into the ground, the dull thud of it punctuating her party’s stunned silence while her long scream continued unabated, Damien realized something important. Though he’d felt the sting of injustice many times, he’d never known real hatred.
His feet were moving before he’d made a conscious decision. He was Charging before Mr. Healy’s ill-fated Dispel on Lillian landed. His hands were curled into fists before Noigel realized his intent and directed himself and the succubus to come to his aid. But he was still a long way out when Aetherius Blinked into the black flames, calculating it perfectly to arrive by Lillian’s side. Even in complete darkness.
His archnemesis’s feet were immediately snared and he was engulfed. Aetherius summoned a Mana Wisp instantly upon arrival, providing light for the casters to see Lillian by so they could measure out their heals more carefully. Damien Charged on, hellbent on their mutual enemy’s destruction.
Aetherius clumsily grabbed Lillian by the shoulders, then lay over her. Embracing her, and simultaneously trying to pull her up. He lacked the strength to do so. She cried out in terror and pushed him away, hard enough for Aetherius to land fully on his back, his arms extended straight in front of him. Now he was much more effectively rooted.
Damien was approaching the edge of the circle, dull instinct prompting him to reach the nearest point of ingress, when Aetherius pointed his open palms at the abomination towering over him and Lillian. He’d somehow possessed the wherewithal to keep his hands off the ground when he fell so they’d be free to channel the purest display of wrath Damien had ever seen.
They glowed red, white and blue.
“Prismatic Storm.”
A flurry of Fire, Lightning and Frozen Bolts tore out of Aetherius’s hands, aimed at close range into Archimonde’s prone form. Miniaturized fireballs, followed by jagged streaks of lightning, followed by shattering orbs of frost. Five bolts of three damage types a second, each imbued with extra abilities from his traits, alternating between each hand.
Despite being cast second, a Lightning Bolt struck first. The Fire Bolts struck twice and the Lightning Bolts three further times before the first Frozen Bolt touched base. Each landed strike after a Fire Bolt did more damage than the one preceding it, and it was as the second Frozen Bolt landed that Archimonde’s Possession was interrupted by the rapidly stacking damage.
Still they continued, and Aetherius had been channeling long enough now to find his rhythm. From his position on the ground, coated in black flames, his arms remained braced as his open palms twisted back and forth. Directing each bolt where it needed to go in a ceaseless blur of malicious focus and unerring accuracy.
Aetherius managed an astounding spread, avoiding the cavernous stomach and hitting all around it. Archimonde had been reduced from full to half health, even through the healing. The fire and lightning had mostly landed across its upper body and face, the ice had completely encased its legs. Nothing had missed. A feat bordering on savant, given that the twenty-five elemental bolts had cycled through each of Aetherius’s hands.
The Possession had been negated and Lillian’s sobbing had stopped, but Damien could still hear it. Ringing in his ears. The circle dissipated and he immediately changed to a direct path. Archimonde saw him coming and strained against the ice rooting it to the floor. It heaved twice and one foot came clear, the shell of ice cracking as it tore itself free. It was halfway to unrooting the second when Damien, as though he’d been pursuing this goal for a lifetime, planted his incubus’s Charge-imbued fist squarely in Archimonde’s face.
There was a wet thud as Archimonde’s facial features caved inward. Its foot broke free of the ice and flew into the air as the back of its head was propelled into the floor. Damien stepped over it and expended the entirety of his stamina to keep Archimonde in place, one fist descending after the other into the wounds left by Aetherius’s onslaught. He hadn’t known the incubus’s hands could move this fast without weapons. He’d never tried. He wasn’t thinking about it now. It was not as effective as he’d have liked, but he’d keep doing it as long as he could.
Hammertime’s voice blared out over the comms.
“Now’s our chance, everyone get clear before it gets up again. Quickly! Daemien, wait until we’re clear, then disengage!”
No. He needed to kill it. It was only a game, and it wouldn’t be enough, but it would have to do. His blows didn’t do much damage, but consequently his stamina wasn’t much affected either. He felt like doing this all day.
“Daemien, we’re clear. Disengage!”
The players were passing him on either side and he was being left behind, but it didn’t matter. Archimonde had raised its arms to defend itself from the onslaught, but Damien’s possessed incub
us was stronger. Or so he thought. At the exact moment Damien started to slow, his stamina finally waning and the Bloodlust expired, Archimonde swept its arm out and redirected Damien’s punch. Straight into the yawning meat grinder. It immediately clenched, rows of teeth digging in all the way from Damien’s closed fist to above his elbow.
Damien roared in outrage and tried to pull free, but it was an extremely nasty trap. He punched Archimonde again, but it grabbed his remaining free arm with both hands and held it steady. Archimonde was obviously not strength-based, but still had enough to redirect one of Damien’s punches and restrain another with two hands. It’s much harder to catch a punch than it is to throw one. How high were this thing’s stats?
Weaponless, Damien had only achieved a fraction of the damage Aetherius had managed, bringing Archimonde’s health down to 24%. The mouth chewed his arm delicately. Individual rows of teeth bit in while others held fast, rippling up and down Damien’s arm with excruciating care, and that number became 34%. Damien barely had 50% health left when Archimonde stopped eating.
“Daemien, we’re all clear, we’re just waiting for you now. Disengage!”
Easier said than done. Archimonde was eyeing him up rather than continuing with its meal. Very uncharacteristic. Damien’s head was clearing, now his uncontrolled rampage had been brought to a toothy end, and he suddenly realized Archimonde’s dilemma: if it kept eating, Damien would Enrage. His strength would double and Archimonde wouldn’t be able to hold him still, inviting dangerous damage, or more likely an escape attempt.
If Archimonde removed a hand to channel a Chaotic Bolt, Damien would interrupt that by punching it in the face, or redirect the bolt by forcing the arm away. If the damage didn’t kill him outright, Damien would have a good chance of Charging out of there after the five-second root was finished. Corruption, which required less than half a second and a flick of the wrist, would spread and burn Archimonde as well. They were in physical contact. Very close physical contact, since Damien’s arm was embedded in its guts.
