Morgana: Everybody Loves Large Chests (Vol.4)

by Iliev, Neven

  However, using those was also how they revealed their other key weakness.

  A dragon’s scales made up one of the toughest natural armors in the world. They deflected both physical and magical attacks with ease, and damaging them was an ordeal in and of itself. The only thing in Faehorn’s repertoire that could even scratch them was Snipe, and the most a Burst Shot could do was maybe leave a scorch mark. A dragon’s insides, however, were frightfully vulnerable. Obviously, landing an attack from inside the beast was pretty much impossible without getting eaten. Unless, of course, they opened their jaws wide for some other reason.

  The green fireball left the dragon’s maw just as dozens of red-tinted arrows ploughed into it and lodged themselves into the back of its throat. The sudden jolt of massive pain caused the beast to stop its advance and recoil while grabbing onto its snout with its clawed, webbed fingers. A heartbeat later, the arrows inside its mouth exploded violently, ripping its throat to shreds. The beast let out a piercing howl as it plummeted towards the ground with black smoke coming out of its jaws.

  It crashed into the ground with a thundering impact that the elf could feel all the way up on his perch, the beast’s final breath exploding into green flames somewhere above him.

  “Heh… Hehehehe! HAHAHAHA! Hack! Koff! Koff! Koff!”

  Faehorn’s victorious celebration was cut short by him coughing up blood. He hadn’t realized it, but the MP influx overpowered his expenditure ever since his rate of fire dropped, and his body was starting to suffer for it. He quickly took his knife out and cut away the mana-imbuing vines. He panted heavily and frantically, allowing his body to steadily release the excess MP into the air through uneven breathing. A few moments of hyperventilating calmed him down enough to finally realize that the Comm-crystal at his feet was ringing again.

  Not knowing how long it had been doing that, he grasped it as quickly as his bloodied hand would allow and answered it.

  “Silus,” he smirked, “I got the-”

  “You have incoming!”

  No sooner had Underwood uttered those words when the exhausted Ranger felt a presence rapidly approaching him. He looked to his right just in time to see something long, thin, and black hurtling towards his face. There was a dull sound as the metal object made contact with his head and sent him flying off the branch. His skull most definitely cracked, and he lost vision in one eye, but he was still able to make two things out as he fell.

  One was the winged figure of Jennifer, the one responsible for knocking him off his perch. Though the emotionless mask she wore was new to him, the cold glare in her yellow eyes was all too familiar. The other thing he noticed was the aftermath of the dragon’s last fireball, which he failed to completely diffuse. His lethal assault had thrown off the creature’s aim, causing it to bathe the hylt tree’s upper canopy in emerald-green flames. He was sure the dryad was in pain right now, as a dragon’s flames were capable of scorching anything from existence.

  Ah… that poor kid…

  Time seemed to slow down as he plummeted, his mind drifting off to the beastkin who would have to deal with the distraught child and keep her in line. The girl that showed more promise than any other student he had ever seen. The girl that suffered far worse than any person should have had to endure. The girl who had the strength of will to smile and seek happiness despite all she’d been through. The girl that was sure to carry on his teachings and his legacy.

  Granted, he still had his suspicions that there was something quite off about her, but it was ultimately a good thing that he never learned the truth.

  I just know she’ll be an incredible mother one day…

  It meant that his final thoughts before he hit the ground and lost his life were thoroughly happy.

  Part Three

  A blood-stained axe swung downward, and a black staff intercepted it. It hit the high-speed attack from the side, causing it to change course and miss its target entirely. Just like before, Zone used that gap to close in and thrust a palm out at Hilda. The dwarf countered it with a punch of her own. Gauntlet clashed against bare skin, yet the noise produced was a metallic clang. Still, Zone lost in the contest of strength and was pushed back, which gave the dwarf enough of a gap to reposition her axe and take a wide vertical swing at her midsection. The Monk leapt backwards to dodge, but the axe still managed to cut a shallow wound across her abdomen, her eyes wide-open in shock at the unexpected speed of the attack.

  Zone took a brief moment to reevaluate her opponent as her feet skidded across the ground. The dwarf in front of her was much more dangerous than she initially thought. Or rather, it would be more accurate to say she had underestimated her based on the image from her memories. She knew that even if Hilda was a hothead who rarely considered the consequences of her actions, the old bat’s mind was like a steel trap when it came to combat. Although she let her anger run wild at first, she now had full control over it. Hilda honed her supernatural rage into a weapon and was pointing it directly at Zone’s neck like an invisible guillotine. That, combined with the Berserker’s oxymoronic characteristic of getting stronger as they took damage, only meant the dwarf would become more troublesome as the battle went on.

  In direct contrast to her was the Monk. Hers was a Job that required stillness of heart and calmness of mind. It read the opponent’s flow and became one with it, like a blade of grass swaying in the wind. However, this dwarf was no mere gust of air, but a raging tornado that threatened to rip out the very soil itself. Her attacks seemed completely random, yet each one was a deadly strike that would most likely be fatal if taken head on. The fact she managed to rend through the human’s dragonhide armor with so little resistance was proof enough of that.

  In short, Zone had almost instantaneously come to the decision that she could not take Hilda without revealing her trump card.

  The human in front of Hilda chanted something under her breath. Her yellow eyes glowed with a serene, cyan light and a swirl of similarly-colored energy enveloped her. It draped around her like a transparent film, a second skin that perfectly matched the contours of her body and her armor. The dwarf’s fierce toothy grin—a clear sign that she enjoyed the fight—only grew wider in response. Her opponent had activated some weird Skill, perhaps her Ultimate. There was no way the Berserker wouldn’t get even more fired up.

  Hilda prepared her axe for another attack, but Zone moved first this time. The Monk dashed forward, spun around and swung her staff downward with all her might. The sharp-eyed Berserker sidestepped the wide swing, which crashed into the hard-packed dirt kicking up a small explosion of dust. The dwarf immediately recognized it as Zone having put all of her power into a single blow. She could already tell from their exchanges that their physical strength was comparable, and she only came out on top because of the added weight of her armor.

  However, such a careless move was completely unlike Zone. It was an attack that put her all into offense and left nothing for defense. If she was in the dwarf’s class in the Consortium, a performance like that would earn her a harsh reprimand. But this was a battlefield, and the punishment for mistakes like those were one’s life. A verdict Hilda executed without hesitation as she sent her axe flying at the Monk’s wide-open neck.

  A spectral, cyan-colored form bearing Zone’s shape leapt out of the Monk’s body and swung her version of the black staff upward, perfectly intercepting the horizontal blow and redirecting its path, so it only sliced off a few hairs. The dwarf didn’t miss a beat, using her sideways momentum to swing her weapon around with a spin and deliver another blow, even faster than the last one.

  When she laid eyes on Zone once more, she saw the Monk swinging her own staff at the dwarf’s head. Her spectral self once again leapt out and brilliantly parried the axe while her physical one smashed into the dwarf’s left arm, which she had raised in defense. The armor absorbed much of that impact, but the weapon infused with her Ki still sent shockwaves of pain through the Berserker’s body. Hilda recoiled slightly, giv
ing time for her opponent to take another quick swing, which was blocked by the haft of her axe. The dwarf shifted her body forward and kicked out with her stubby leg, only to see a ghostly foot shoot out of the human and intercept her own with a metal clang. Although their power was similar, the dwarf’s much heavier body was still able to win out and push Zone away from her, creating some space between them.

  With just that much, Hilda could grasp the nature of her former teammate’s Ultimate Skill, Spirit Guardian. The dwarf might not have known its name, but her veteran mind quickly deduced its effects. That ghostly presence would automatically deflect incoming attacks, allowing the user to put all her energy into crushing her opponent. It was like fighting two people at the same time, a simultaneous application of one’s offense and defense.

  Well, two could play it that game.

  “Rearm!” chanted the dwarf.

  Her massive axe disappeared in a flash of white light, followed by a few other flashes around her body. When the impromptu lightshow ended a few moments later, Hilda was holding a completely different set of armaments. Her right hand clutched a bearded mithril war axe with a long handle, while her left one grasped at a bizarre red-and-yellow-striped mace closer in appearance to a club. It wasn’t just her weapons that had changed, either. A small gold-rimmed buckler was securely strapped to her left forearm and her previously-exposed head now sported a bulky helmet. This new headgear was made out of interlocking steel plates and clearly wasn’t part of the same set as her bloodied and battered full-plate armor.

  Zone’s cold glare became razor sharp as she finally realized how that vertically-challenged reckless nutjob became such a refined combatant.

  Although an uninitiated mind couldn’t spot the subtle differences between them, each melee-focused Job had their way of fighting. A lot of it overlapped, but each of them had their own focus, their own area of expertise. Warriors trained their bodies and endurance. Berserkers honed their fighting spirit. Monks mastered the art of mind over matter. Paladins empowered themselves with divine energies. Rogues sharpened their cunning, and Blade Dancers perfected their motion and rhythm. But the Job that truly honed one’s blade, the one that was focused on the tools of war first and foremost, was the Armsmaster.

  An experienced Armsmaster could use every weapon conceivable with an equal degree of mastery and could move in cumbersome plate armor with the finesse of a dancer on a stage. Their Skills maximized the performance of their equipment, amplifying the strength of the various enchantments that a magic item could hold. Their approach to combat was as varied and versatile as all of the different arms and armor at their disposal, and their power scaled in direct proportion to the depth of their pockets.

  It was a prestigious occupation that required serious connections to even acquire, let alone utilize fully. So, it was a surprise that Hilda had access to it. The Armsmaster Job was supposed to be a closely-guarded secret of the dwarf-ruled Horkensaft Kingdom. Much like the Spies of the Empire, it was something only available to select, elite individuals who had the trust and respect of the country’s leadership. These individuals would, in turn, enter into a life-binding agreement prepared by a high-Level Scribe’s Contract Magic Skill, which prevented them from passing the Job onto others under penalty of instant death.

  In summary, it was extremely difficult to find an Armsmaster outside of Horkensaft’s elite military forces. Yet, the person in front of Zone was undoubtedly one of those. The Rearm Skill that she had shown off was a dead giveaway. It was an Armsmaster’s signature ability, allowing one to keep their personal arsenal within a pocket dimension. It was smaller in capacity when compared to an Enchanter’s Item Box and only limited to weapons and armor specifically, but allowed the user to instantly change their loadout as the situation demanded.

  “Now then,” Hilda lowered and widened her stance, “shall we give this a try?”

  She dashed forward and swung her newly-equipped axe at Zone. The Spirit Guardian deflected it with ease, while the Monk’s physical staff bounced off the dwarf’s buckler. The mace in that shielded hand hurtled towards the Monk’s head, and while the Spirit Guardian successfully parried, the near simultaneous follow up from the axe on the other side forced Zone to block it with her staff. The bearded axe, however, moved forward at the last second, causing the shafts of the two weapons to collide. Hilda pulled on her axe with all her might, and the weapon’s long, curved blade hooked around the Monk’s staff, pulling it and its wielder closer to the Berserker-cum-Armsmaster. The angelic human expertly twisted her staff around and pulled on it to unlatch it from her opponent’s weapon. She managed to release it almost immediately, but she still found herself literally face-to-face with Hilda. While the Spirit Guardian kept that heavy mace at bay, the dwarf’s armored forehead collided with Zone’s. And in doing so, the dwarf set off the impact-sensitive trigger in the helmet Fizzy had custom-made for her.

  What followed was a thunderous explosion, the force of which blasted Zone’s relatively light body several meters through the air. Her dragonhide armor dulled the impact and protected her body, but her exposed face was left covered in cuts and gashes from the shrapnel. She breathed heavily for the first time since this battle started, possibly also the first time in months. The mind she tried to keep as still and unfeeling as a pond was now rattled and disturbed by the absurdity that was Hilda.

  The dwarf, on the other hand, had barely moved from her spot. The remnants of her helmet-shaped bomb fell off her smoldering head, with the only sigh of injury being a fresh trickle of blood running down her temple. Even if it that helmet carried a shaped charge that directed most of the explosive force forward, it was impossible for Hilda to not take damage from it. Her head might have gone missing altogether, if it wasn’t for her absurd vitality. The Craggy Skin Skill she had obtained as part of her Rank Up into a stonekin dwarf had also helped. The ability reduced damage taken from nonmagical sources, which included an Artificer’s explosive devices.

  All in all, Hilda’s opponent clearly got the worst part of that blast, but it was the process that led up to it that shook Zone. That fast, compact, and calculated combination of blows were completely unlike the axe-wielding maniac she’d been fighting until then. It was almost the polar opposite of Hilda’s natural fighting style, but one far more troublesome to deal with.

  The dwarf undoubtedly understood the weakness in Zone’s Ultimate Skill. Although the Spirit Guardian could block incoming strikes with all of the Monk’s speed, strength, and expertise, it could only focus on one blow at a time. While huge singular swings were of no concern, it was possible to overwhelm the ethereal entity’s defenses with rapid consecutive or simultaneous strikes. Zone herself could handle those well enough on her own, but doing so defeated the purpose of her ghost-self being there. It was a good thing Faehorn had stopped taking potshots at her, otherwise-

  The Monk’s eyes widened as she recalled that long-ranged threat’s existence. The thought reminded her that there was more going on around her than a one-on-one duel. Her tunnel-vision dispersing, Zone finally noticed the Comm-crystal vibrating inside the pouch at the back of her waist. The item had somehow avoided being shattered in the battle and served to remind the Monk of her role in this siege. One that she had completely and utterly failed to fulfill.

  Looking up at the tree Faehorn was using as his perch, she saw he was already engaging the incoming aerial reinforcements. Zone was supposed to intercept and shut down the anti-air threat that Ranger posed, providing cover for that dragon-riding mercenary to make his approach. She was clearly not doing that, having been drawn into her own little world where the only things that mattered were herself and her opponent. This habit of hers was a very, very bad thing, and also the main reason why Edward loathed to trust her with any mission that was more complex than ‘smash the thing.’

  Having remembered her actual orders, Zone took advantage of the distance between her and the dwarf and conjured up her angelic wings. Her body soared into
the air with a single mighty beat, and she rapidly gained altitude.

  “Oy! Where’d ye think yer goin’?!” Hilda yelled from the ground. “I’m not done with ye!”

  She tossed several enchanted axes after the ascending Monk, but failed to so much as graze her. In the next instant, the dwarf realized where that woman headed. She fumbled around the pouch on her belt, but found that her own Comm-crystal had not survived the brawl. Must have been that one good kick that ‘Jen’ had gotten on her earlier. Well, someone was bound to see and report that eyesore of an angel’s movements, so Faehorn would just have to deal with her in his own way.

  Besides, Hilda didn’t exactly have the luxury to worry about other people, as Imperial soldiers still surrounded her on all sides. Her wounds had piled up by now, and her HP was dangerously low. At the very least those humans were hesitant to get near her. The duel unfolding before their eyes was too absurd for any of them to follow, and a few of them had gotten needlessly caught up in it and lost their lives. The dwarf hurriedly Rearmed herself with her favorite oversized axe and glared viciously at those around her, sending them several steps back in fear.

  This was the natural response to seeing her bring out that monstrous weapon again, but there was more to it than that. Somewhere along the way, the dwarf had obtained the Slayer of Humanity Perk after having killed more than five hundred of them throughout her lifetime. Its effects on those around her were rather subtle compared to the Butcher tier of a certain chest-minded shapeshifter, but it still amplified her natural ‘charm.’

  As a result, she got a bit of extra room to catch her breath, but the damage she had sustained so far was quite serious. She counted no less than six bone fractures, felt like the world around he was spinning, couldn’t feel her left leg below the knee, and felt a constant, stabbing pain somewhere in her midsection. Her HP was only a third of its original value, and steadily dropping due to internal bleeding. She wouldn’t even be standing if not for her stubborn nature and Berserker Skills propping her up. In short, there was a very real chance she might not make it back to the Fort, even if she were to make a beeline for it.