Silver Fox & The Western Hero: Warrior Reborn: A LitRPG/Wuxia Novel - Book 1
Page 3
A heartbeat later, the flask full of pitch, naphtha, sulfur, and camphor ruptured upon the forcefields of the coughing mages, splashing across them like droplets of blood skittering over blocks of ice.
And a heartbeat after that, the lamp Alex had tossed made contact and the corridor was suddenly a blazing inferno, surprised yells turning to agonized shrieks and choking gasps seconds later.
Feeling the heat even from where he stood, Alex wasted only a few seconds staring at the frantically windmilling figures smashing into each other in the blazing corridor before falling to the poison-covered floor, gazing at now hazy silhouettes in the multi-colored smoke cloud that Alex was somehow certain would be very, very bad for anyone lacking 100% immunity to inhale.
Greater Mage has perished as a direct result of your actions. Lesser Fire Mage has perished as a direct result of your actions. Lesser Water Mage has perished as a direct result of your actions.
Alex flashed a dark smile, feeling the surge of his enemy’s potency coursing through him, before abruptly gasping and turning around, suddenly appreciating exactly what it meant to be standing behind countless crates filled with clay flasks of what amounted to Greek fire.
Pausing only long enough to secure the flasks of Magebane and Greek fire that he had stolen with the use of the thin leather cords that Alex suspected were used to twirl the flasks around for greater range before throwing, he quickly made his way to the bilge hatch and crawled through.
It was pitch dark and filled with briny water, but Alex quickly sensed the direction that would lead to the other end of the ship, spending several painfully hot moments directly under where the blazing floorboards would be.
You have taken 5 points of damage. No significant injuries suffered.
Breathing a relieved sigh through his nose as he made his way forward past the hot spot, half crawling, half swimming, the ribs of the ship and the slope telling him exactly what he needed to know. His eyes widened as he realized that he had no idea where any other entrance to the bilge was located. Then he felt a surge that was equal parts relief and apprehension when what seemed to be blinding light suddenly pierced the gloom.
"Lord Feltur is down! Enemies must have snuck aboard. Quick, we must strike them from behind, poison the water supply, and head out with all haste. Our king and country are counting on us!"
"But sir, we can’t use the ladders with our wards on. Our grips are as slick as slippery ice!”
"Put on your wards when you've made it to the other side, fool! The hatch is safely hidden behind the crates. None will see you coming. And if our foes already have access to the all-fire, we're dead no matter what you fools do!"
"Yes, sir,” said several subdued voices in unison, slowly making their way down the slimy steps into the bilge.
Alex, half-submerged and surrounded by darkest gloom, took a quick swig from one of his flasks of poison. His heart raced, muscles tensed and coiled as the first of several mages began wading his way forward. He did not act, though. Not until first one, then another, then a third mage had cleared the ladder, all of them making their way with tiny lights projected from silver orbs, for all intents and purposes acting like dim flashlights that Alex easily avoided.
Stealth check made! +5 for limited light cone, peripheral noise, and panicked targets.
And just like in his favorite stealth games, it was nothing to slide forward just a bit faster than the slowest mage.
Heart racing, Alex could all but taste the nervous man's panicked sweat, shoulders tingling as he prepared to make his move.
"We almost there?" asked the man suddenly.
"Shut up, Giltoc!" snapped the man in front of him, not bothering to look back. “We’ll get there when we get there.”
Giltoc inhaled to reply but couldn't say a word as pale hands slapped over his mouth before clawing for the gem Alex prayed would act like the others, the man abruptly slamming his head back against Alex’s nose in a desperate bid to break free.
Your nose has been shattered! Light Wound and 10 Damage Suffered!
Save versus stunning pain – success! You have managed to hold onto your target.
And then the message Alex had gambled his life for blared in his mind's eye.
Lesser Ice Mage Relic has been exposed! Do you wish to claim Lesser Ice Mage's potency?
Yes! he whispered fiercely to himself, feeling a sweet, icy cold rush of power roar through his soul as his target's gem came suddenly free and the man seemed to shrivel and die in his arms.
"Giltoc?" Sensing that something was amiss, the man in front of him began to turn around.
But Alex, berating himself for seven kinds of fool for making such an amateur move as to leave his nose exposed like that, was already lurching forward, right palm smashing into his next target's forehead.
The blow didn't have to be any harder than a boxer's jab. And for all that his foe hissed and easily blocked the first blow, Alex's other fist jabbed against the silver-white jewel glittering in the man’s forehead, earning him a cut knuckle and his favorite message in the world.
Lesser Air Mage Relic has been exposed! Do you wish to claim Lesser Air Mage’s potency?
YES! he thought, before immediately declining the class, as he had the man killed moments before.
Unlike the others, this man's eyes widened in horror, instantly understanding. "No. Please, no! Don't—" he gasped, bulging eyes abruptly bursting before his entire body shriveled with a dying wheeze. Alex shuddered as a hideous flood of ecstasy and inconceivably sweet pain washed over him.
Four souls directly absorbed. Three souls indirectly absorbed. Interface has limited storage capacity.
Your soul has limited storage capacity.
Recommend selecting class at earliest opportunity to quantize your growth and reduce soul-pressure.
Perception check made!
The farthest mage was no fool, already turning around, a handful of fire crackling in his right hand.
Fuck! Alex thought to himself as he raced forward, knowing he’d need a hell of a good luck roll if he was going to survive.
He didn't let panic consume him, immediately ducking below the surface of the two feet or so of water they had all been wading through, praying it wouldn't strike the surface enough to set off the flasks that were thankfully next to his stomach and the fiery stream of death’s heat was quickly dissipated in the bilge water, not doing more than warming up Alex’s back as he swam for all he was worth, already growing dizzy as he got to within a few feet of the mage, the man’s now white-hot stream of fire that was finally stinging against the back of Alex’s neck cut off as the man ran out of steam just Alex ran out of air, desperately popping up in front of the cursing man who was lunging at an exhausted Alex with a dagger he couldn’t do more than put a wobbly arm in front of.
Dagger has pierced your forearm! Dagger fails to nick artery or severe tendon. You have taken 15 damage and 1 Light Wound.
Alex grunted with pain, but not before spitting the contents in his mouth, the reason why he had to swim with such discipline despite the nose-breath he had gulped down, caustic poison shooting into the now screaming fire mage’s eyes, the man lurching back, dropping his dagger, shrieking as his flesh began to bubble and peel off, instantly blinded as he began to wheeze and choke, the poison exposure already inflaming his airways.
A furious Alex felt no pity, thanks to the agony in his arm, and didn't hesitate to slam his palm against the ruby gem glittering upon the man's forehead, getting his favorite message once more.
Lesser Fire Mage Relic has been exposed! Do you wish to claim Lesser Fire Mage’s potency?
"Yes!” He said the word like a curse, fearing what was to come, feeling a hot pain mingling with the ecstasy, realizing that he really was approaching whatever odd maximum limited him.
Soul storage will soon reach maximum capacity. You presently have no class. Do you wish to take on the class of Lesser Fire Mage?
"No!"
Refusal a
cknowledged. 4 opposing elemental relics affiliated with Welton culture’s arcane traditions have been discovered. New class has been synergized. Lesser Elementalist Class is now available to you.
Alex frowned, washing out the last tingles in his mouth with the salty bilge water. He might be 100% immune to the poison, but it still stung like he was sucking on hot peppers, even if his eyes and sinuses were fine.
All in all, he was not a fan. But damn if it wasn't effective.
He glared at his wounded forearm, surprised and grateful to find it wasn't bleeding. If he didn't know better, he'd say the injury was several hours old and had already scabbed over, but it still made him wince to use his arm. He could only hope that the injury wouldn't be exacerbated by whatever else he had to do to survive tonight. Speaking of which…
He cursed and filled his mouth with more of that toxic little cocktail he had put together, resigned to suffering through a blazing tongue as he made his way back to the open hatch, having grabbed one of the tiny magelights.
He slowly made his way to the edge of the hatch, crouched down, and used the reflection off the shiny knife he had retrieved to quickly eyeball the room above.
It was clear for the moment, though he heard shouting close by.
Wasting no time, he sprung through the hatch, foot slipping on the rung turning a glorious acrobatic feat into a clumsy spill, poison stinging as it shot out his nose.
"You bastards better not be..."
A sailor lurched into view, cutlass in hand. His eyes widened, as did Alex's, but not before Alex spat a stream of caustic poison into the man’s gem-free face, with the expected results.
Alex's bare foot slammed down on the spasming man's left wrist even as the right continued to claw at the bubbling mass of suppurating flesh the poor sailor’s face had become. He bent down and tore free the cutlass, finding it surprisingly comfortable in his hand, even if not weighted exactly like the training sabers his private fencing coach and he had sparred with the one summer he had gotten into HEMA with his friends before putting it aside for other pursuits.
"Thank God I at least got Terran Fencing Rank 1 here. Here's to hoping it's enough to save my sorry ass," he said to himself. And perhaps it said something for his panicked state of mind, or simply a mind's ability to overcome repeated trauma, that he was phased so little by the sailor's horrific death, the man's back arched at an impossible angle, clawed hands gripping his own swollen throat.
Because all Alex saw was the flask of mead by the man's hip, and he realized then that he was all but dying of thirst.
A furtive look showed no one else approaching and he drank deep of the surprisingly sweet drink.
You have found Mead. You are no longer dehydrated. You now have 20% immunity to ethanol alcohol and all its intoxicating effects.
Alex smirked. It looked like his days of enjoying the local equivalent of a beer were numbered, but the sweet joy of leveling up in a fantasy world would more than make up for it. Besides, the rush of power he got with his kills was unlike anything else he had ever experienced, save maybe joyriding with his friends at crazy speeds, or hunting big game with his father, a lifetime ago.
It was an incredible boon, filling him with a sense of exhilaration that almost made up for terror he felt, save for the whole overwhelming and rupturing his soul thing, of course. But the mundane sailor seemed to be a lot less potent than the mages he had taken out. So hopefully soul bursting wouldn't be an issue. But even if it was…
He didn't hesitate to fill his cheeks with of more of that wonderfully caustic brew he now had complete immunity to as he took a quick look out of the small storage room he was in, spotting a dimly lit passage and several doorless entryways, his ears ringing with the panicked yelling of multiple crewmen.
His nose wrinkled at the acrid stench of smoke, and he quickly raised the hood of the robe he had claimed, hoping no one would think to question one more scurrying mage, caught up as they were in their mounting panic.
With a deep breath through his nose, Alex braced himself and began walking down the corridor at a fair clip, his cutlass pressed against his robe as discreetly as he could manage.
A sailor glanced his way.
Then ignored him, chasing after his fellows towards the smokier part of the ship.
Heart racing, Alex continued to walk forward, feeling a sudden waft of fresh salty air just up ahead, a shouting mage clomping down the steps before losing his balance and collapsing to the ground, thanks to the forcefield Alex sensed crackling around him.
The man cursed and tried to right himself, and Alex swore he heard a distant sailor laugh before darting away.
The mage's cheeks were beet-red with embarrassment and fury. He turned to Alex, who had just grabbed a lantern from a nearby hook, his formerly injured forearm hardly troubling him at all.
The mage's eyes widened, his brilliant gem flashing. "You. I don't recognize you. Who are you?"
Alex said nothing, quickly dropping his sword, right hand fumbling for a flask he had secured all too well.
The mage's eyes widened in sudden alarm. Then he snarled. "Intruder!" he shouted before reaching for a wand that also got caught in his clothing, both of them fumbling like fools before Alex finally pulled free his flask and threw it at the mage, who laughed when it shattered harmlessly against his forcefield.
"Fool! Neither sword nor spell nor cultivator's fist will pierce my ward!" The man crowed as ash-gray liquid formed a pool by his legs.
His eyes suddenly widened. "No, no!"
Lightning crackled from his wand as Alex slammed to the ground.
And that was enough to set the Greek fire ablaze.
The man shrieked, struggling to his feet, the liquid not touching him directly, but second-degree burns were already forming on his skin.
That's when a once-more upright Alex charged close and spat his toxic brew in the man's face, the poison bursting into smoky fumes upon contact with the superheated naphtha.
The mage immediately began choking and gasping, his arcane shield collapsing in his panic, at which point the naphtha and sulfur settled into his skin, and he truly began to burn.
The poor man's shrieks echoed through the ship, and Alex embraced the stupidity of the moment, charging forward on the boots he had seized from the sailor, leaning against the lip of the hatch, wincing in pain as heat washed over him, carefully stepping and unfortunately plunging his boot right into the Greek fire, his hand only then managing to touch the now super-hot gem. He hissed when flames caressed his fingers, but thankfully avoided touching the furiously burning sticky liquid itself.
You have suffered 10 damage and a Light Wound. Your boot is now on fire! The hem of your robe is now on fire!
Adept Elementalist Relic has been exposed! Do you wish to claim Adept Elementalist’s potency?
"Yes!"
You presently have no class. Do you wish to take on the class of Adept Elementalist?
"No!"
Soul Storage is near maximum capacity. Capacity will increase over the next 24 hours. No more souls can be absorbed without strain until capacity increases, or a class is chosen.
Alex winced as he desperately leaped up the steps and smashed through the hatch, still not certain if it had been greed or just a desperate need to alleviate the man's horrific agony with a quick death that had compelled him to risk dying by Greek fire himself.
A quick furtive glance revealed half a dozen panicked, shouting men as he burst on deck. To his relief, he saw that the ship was still out in the port and had yet to dock.
No poisons could be unloaded yet, and if things went according to plan, casualties would be kept at a minimum.
Assuming he could survive the next couple of minutes, of course.
Alex's eyes widened as he caught the nearest sailor’s gaze. “Fire in the hold!” He screamed, his burning boot giving credence to his words, amazed to hear his tongue form the syllables so adroitly as he raced for the starboard side of the ship.
Wearing a hooded robe, Alex could only make out the snowy beard and the crimson irises glaring back at him. Even in that split second, Alex could feel the waves of deadly magic radiating from the man, having no doubt that should the wizard channel that fearsome storm of power into Alex, he would be obliterated instantly.
Yet the nightmarish figure did naught but roar at the sailors gazing at a frantically sprinting Alex with poleaxed expressions.
"Bring me the head of that intruder, fools! Must I both obfuscate and destroy?"
But before the sailors could do more than put startled hands to the hilt of their cutlasses, Alex had already jumped over the side of the ship, praying he’d survive the leap.
3
For endless moments, he sunk into the cooling depths of the sea as he methodically shucked off boots that sizzled and flared even in the water, then his thick cloak as well, only then kicking free. He crushed his racing panic and hunger for air as he somehow sensed multiple crossbow bolts biting through the murky water before resistance killed their inertia. For all that his lungs screamed for oxygen, he knew that to lose his cool now was to drown.
He channeled his panic into focus, swimming away from where his boot was still blazing like a flare and serving as an excellent distraction for the homicidal sailors to focus their bolts and spells upon as he gained distance. All the while he waged a desperate battle in his mind between his very real fear of a crossbow bolt blasting through his skull the moment he went for air, and the desperate need to breathe that only grew worse with every passing second.
When it was finally too much to bear, he broke free of the water's deadly grasp and breathed a life-giving gulp of air, wheezing and gasping and sobbing with desperate relief when he looked back, sensing that now he was just a dark smudge in the black sea to the massive galleon that had held such deadly promises in its bowels.