Morgana: Everybody Loves Large Chests (Vol.4)

by Iliev, Neven

  “Sorry for taking off like that,” Durothil grumbled while the Druid treated his arm.

  “I know, you couldn’t help it. That Tempest of Rage got the better of you, didn’t it?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Did you at least make those guys suffer for taking Miria?” butted in Nottley.

  “I… Yeah. I must have killed about a dozen men out there… Not my proudest moment though… I lost my weapons somewhere along the way, but just charged at the enemy with my bare fists… I’d probably have died out there if not for the Sandman.”

  “The Sandman? You saw him?!”

  “Heh… I didn’t just see him, Nottley. I felt him.”

  “… That’s gay,” the Wizard said jokingly.

  “Really, Nottley? Really?” the Druid complained.

  “It’s fine, Elyon,” Durothil calmed him.

  The three of them shared a moment of silence while the people around them prepared for the next part of the siege.

  “So, what happened with the Sandman?” Elyon inquired.

  “Well, most of an Imperial soldier landed on me.”

  “What?” the other two blurted out.

  “Like, just the upper half. Everything below the man’s waist was missing. Like it was ripped off or something. See this blood? This isn’t mine.”

  The Paladin pointed to the red stains on his tunic. Looking at it closer, it wasn’t just blood, but several bits were also stuck to the fabric, causing his comrades to dry heave out of disgust. It wasn’t like they were particularly squeamish or anything, but as back-liners, they weren’t nearly as accustomed to gore as a vanguard like Durothil.

  “So, anyway,” the Paladin continued, “being hit with that mess sobered me up a little, and I noticed that bits and pieces of people were flying all over the place. I looked around for the source and I saw that guy from the rumors towering over the crowd, mercilessly chasing down the humans as they ran for their lives.”

  “Running for their lives?” said Nottley while raising an eyebrow. “I highly doubt Imperial soldiers would do something shameless like that.”

  “No, you don’t understand, man. That Sandman, he’s fucking terrifying. A single glance at him made my skin crawl. I can’t imagine what it was like for the ones that were right next to him. I’m just glad he’s on our side.”

  “Sounds like Despair Aura, a Warlock Skill,” noted the learned Wizard.

  “Oh yeah, he’s definitely a Warlock. Had his demons out and everything.”

  “Still, to send so many people fleeing at once… That’s no ordinary Warlock, huh?” Elyon remarked.

  “I’ll say,” the injured man agreed. “The fear and anxiety from just seeing his blood-drenched form from afar completely overpowered my anger and fully brought me back to my senses. The enemy was so busy withdrawing, they just left the me who was knocked over by half a corpse on the ground while they fled for their lives. I got trampled a bit, but… hardly the worst that would’ve happened to me if that man hadn’t appeared.”

  “I see…” Elyon sighed. “I guess we owe that guy one, huh?”

  “Yeah, most definitely,” Nottley agreed.

  “Either way, good job on making it back,” Druid added as he finished treating the last of Durothil’s broken bones. He also healed the large scar on his face, but the eye seemed like a lost cause.

  “Heh. We’re not out of the woods yet.”

  The Paladin jerked his head southward. The Empire had begun their push towards the keep and poured through the holes in the wall. The catapult garden that Elyon had worked so hard on was trampled underfoot. They also spotted the Shaman called the Black Tower—the very obvious culprit behind that earthquake from earlier. The man stood out like a sore thumb, so it was rather impossible not to notice him.

  “Well, I guess I better go make myself useful.”

  Durothil stood up and was about to head down the steps to the walls below, but Nottley stood in his way with crossed arms, clearly intent on keeping him from doing anything stupid.

  “And how exactly do you plan on fighting without weapons?”

  “I saw Frankie on the way up. He’ll hook me up with some of his spare gear.”

  The Paladin forcefully shoved his concerned teammate aside and strode off without looking back. The Wizard wanted to go after him, but Elyon stopped him by grasping his shoulder with a spare hand.

  “Leave him alone, Nottley. He has his duty, and we have ours.”

  The man let out a heavy sigh, then said, “Have I mentioned I fucking hate this war, by the way?”

  “Only about eighty-seven times, but who’s counting?”

  The two of them shared a brief chuckle before turning their attention to the oncoming Imperial troops. It wasn’t long before the two sides started exchanging Spells and projectiles in earnest once more. At some point, a fully-healed Hilda leapt off the ramparts and cut a bloody swathe through the enemy force before engaging the Black Tower in one-on-one combat. Imiryl was having a mid-air duel against that angelic Monk that Elyon saw fly overhead a few times, though it seemed more like a glorified game of cat-and-mouse.

  As for Elyon, he was sitting cross-legged in the center of the tower’s roof and focusing on his Tranquil Presence Skill. It was something that steadily restored the HP and MP of those around him, letting them fight for longer. Nottley the Wizard was finally free to hurl Spells at his opponents, although he had to stick to ice-based magic due to the Centurion’s orders from earlier. The rest of the magic users and archers on the tower did much the same while the keep’s barrier-generating magic item kept them safe from harm for the moment.

  Down on the ground, the Imperial troops gradually encircled the keep from all sides. Many of them lugged around steel-tipped battering rams to break down the doors on the east side. Others tried clambering up the walls either under their own power, or by using tools such as grappling hooks and siege ladders. The ban on fire-based magic was quite evident and a serious handicap in that respect. Not only were such Spells naturally devastating against living creatures, but they could easily turn that siege equipment into ash and cinders.

  “Freezing Beam!”

  A pure-white beam shot out of Nottley’s hand, aimed loosely at the crowd underneath. It brilliantly bounced off some magical barrier or another, dealing a grand total of ‘fuck all’ damage.

  “Tch. Okay, then let’s try… Chain Lightning!”

  A flash of purple electricity arced out of his fingertips. It did even less than his previous attempt.

  “Damn it. it’s just not good enough,” he grumbled under his nose.

  Even if Wizards could use a multitude of elements, each individual was naturally inclined to focus on one, maybe two of them through Skill choices and Mastery training. There were several reasons for this, but chief among them was one’s elemental aptitude. It had never been PASSIVE understood why or how, but it was a known fact that certain individuals were naturally more gifted when weaving magic of a specific element. However, while playing to one’s natural strength was expected, it also meant that other flavors of magic would lag behind and fail to improve.

  “Give it up, Nottley!” his teammate called out to him. “Just put your Mana Shield up already!”

  The Wizard glanced up to see something like cracks forming in the air, a clear sign that the keep’s innermost barrier was about to break. As much as he disliked going on the defensive, he had to admit it was a much better use of his MP than throwing those pathetic Spells around. He still made sure to click his tongue in frustration as he and several others layered the defenses on in preparation of that barrier breaking.

  However, they would soon find out that this preemptive course of action was unnecessary.

  *HUMMMMOOOOOOOHHHHHH*

  A loud, deep something echoed throughout the besieged fort. The bizarre noise was somewhere halfway between a groan and a roar that rapidly rose in volume. Those with trained ears and senses could tell that this disturbance had not one, not tw
o, but five distinct sources, all making the same noise at that same pitch.

  Scouts on both sides of the conflict then started keeling over as the mysterious voices became loud enough to deafen their sensitive ears. Moments later, pretty much everyone else in the area followed suit. People of all races and vocations were momentarily paralyzed by the deafening noise that seemed to rattle them down to their very bones. Even the four surviving VIPs were nearly driven to their knees as the insufferable noise drilled into their skulls.

  It wasn’t just the air vibrating, however. The ground shifted and undulated unnaturally, causing more than a few people to lose their footing and fall over. Several gigantic roots burst out of the dirt, completely sealing the holes in the walls and trapping roughly three quarters of the Empire’s remaining forces inside the fort. The cry that seemed to split the very air apart suddenly stopped, and a heavy silence hung over the battlefield. Combatants on both sides hastily rebuilt their formations, yet none of them dared to utter so much as a peep. Their bodies and minds reflexively tensed up as they scanned their surroundings. For even though only a handful of individuals knew what was about to happen, none of those men and women believed even for a second that the auditory assault was the end of it.

  *SHUNK*

  A chorus of bizarre sounds came from outside the wall. It was short, abrupt, and sounded like a whole lot of something happened simultaneously.

  *SHUNK*

  Barely a second later, the noise repeated itself-

  “Ah…. AAAAAAAH!”

  -followed closely by a scream. Lots of screams, actually.

  *SHUNK*

  That dreadful noise rang out once again, this time accompanied by the sound of full-blown panic. It was painfully clear that something was attacking the Imperial soldiers beyond the walls, but those on the inside could not fathom what it might be based on the auditory clues alone.

  *SHUNK*

  Zone, having regained her senses, spread her wings and immediately bolted upwards. She was already up and over the wall before anyone could do anything to stop her. What she saw on the other side of those roots was something that could only be described as one thing.

  A bloodbath.

  *SHUNK*

  She turned around in the air and stared silently at the soldiers on the ground. Her trademark ice-cold expression shattered, and her face showed a mix of spite, anger and fear.

  *SHUNK*

  What she just witnessed was something she could neither fully comprehend nor handle, but she still wanted to do something. Anything.

  *SHUNK*

  But what? What could she possibly do against that? Her mind spun along at great speeds looking for an answer, but came to a grinding halt when she realized the ghastly noises had stopped, leaving behind nothing but a heavy silence. It was a sign that whatever powers were at work here were finished with the people outside.

  This meant that they would undoubtedly move onto the inside.

  *SHUNK*

  Hundreds of slim roots sprang up from the ground. Each fully impaled a single Imperial soldier from below. Metal, flesh and bone were pierced completely as if made of jelly. The targets were chosen seemingly at random, and they all let out that terrifying sound at the same time. A few of the sturdier ones clung onto life, letting out a few disgusting noises or spurts of blood before the spear-like roots retreated into the ground with the same blinding speed with which they appeared. It wasn’t until the humans’ punctured bodies—living or otherwise—hit the ground that their allies began to realize the grim scene in front of their eyes was, unfortunately, a reality.

  *SHUNK*

  A second wave of spears followed the first one almost immediately. The Imperial soldiers flew into an uncoordinated panic. How were they supposed to fight an enemy that used the very ground beneath their feet as shield?

  *SHUNK*

  Several of them realized the trees were at fault and started attacking them in earnest. However, a hylt tree’s Ironbark was not to be underestimated. That tough natural armor effortlessly absorbed any and all attacks and Spells that came at it. A few managed to chip or singe it, but that was it.

  *SHUNK*

  The human Wizards realized resistance was futile, and immediately followed Zone’s example and bolted into the air.

  *SHUNK*

  “Shoot down the fliers!”

  A commanding voice rang out within the Republic’s stupefied ranks. Adventurers and soldiers felt their bodies jolt as if struck by lightning, and immediately targeted the flying Spell-slingers.

  *SHUNK*

  The humans who tried to flee through the air were riddled with wounds and lost their lives in an instant. Those closer to the outside wall, Zone included, escaped the Republic’s deathtrap with their metaphorical tails between their legs.

  *SHUNK*

  “Hold!”

  The same voice rang out atop the keep walls, clearly audible over the chaos beneath its walls. The Republic troops followed it without question, and halted their attacks. It was quite clear by this point this is what their superiors plotted, so all they had to do was simply obey those orders and pray they were not next on the chopping block.

  *SHUNK*

  They just silently watched the Empire’s plight with a mixture of horror, fear and awe.

  *SHUNK*

  It was like being in the eye of a hurricane of death.

  *SHUNK*

  None of them dared to move or even utter a peep, lest they raise the ire of their betters.

  *SHUNK*

  Many of them tried closing their eyes, but that was somehow worse.

  *SHUNK*

  It just made that horrible sound even more pronounced.

  SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK SHUNK

  It took a mere two minutes to completely decimate nearly fifteen thousand people. Their mangled corpses and discarded weapons littered the ground. The upturned and hole-filled soil eagerly drank up all their oozing blood, and the terrain inside Fort Yimin’s walls became a bloody swamp. There was a loud rumble as the giant roots that prevented the soldiers’ retreat sank back into the ground, revealing the scenery beyond them was just as gruesome. The only survivors outside the keep were the handful of the Republic’s troops who had leapt off the walls after following Hilda’s questionable example, the dwarven Berserker herself, and the man known as the Black Tower.

  He didn’t know it yet, but the Shaman’s habit of going around topless had miraculously excluded him from the dryads’ game of ‘Pop the Blue Things.'

  “So… uh… Elyon?” Nottley muttered, struggling to find his voice.

  “What?”

  The Druid had, almost without thinking, gotten right up next to his friend at the edge of the tower, a macabre curiosity urging him to get a better view of what was happening below. It was a decision he regretted immensely at the moment.

  “What were you saying about those dryads earlier? That they were weaker than expected?”

  The elf nodded slowly, his face steadily turning pale.

  “So… How does it feel to be wrong for once?” the Wizard asked.

  “BLUURGH!”

  Elyon vomited violently over the side of the tower in response.

  “Yeah. Urp! That’s, uh, about right.”

  Nottley could only sympathetically pat him on the back, while doing his absolute best to keep his own breakfast down.

  “BLUUUURGH!”

  He failed.

  Epilogue

  Somewhere deep beneath the earth, yet at the same time hundreds of meters u
p in the sky, a consciousness stirred. It saw without eyes, breathed without lungs, heard without ears, tasted without a tongue, and groaned without a mouth. As it rose from a century-spanning slumber that felt like hours, it once again reached out and grasped for its inherited memories. Except this time around it was in no rush, and it pieced together the precious mental fragments slowly and carefully.

  This time?

  A troubling thought passed through that peculiar mind. Was this truly the first time it had awoken? For some strange reason, it had the nagging feeling this was not the case. How else would the words ‘this time’ come up so naturally, without it even doubting them. It slowly and meticulously studied those inherited memories that were both foreign and its own. And after several months of dissecting them over and over, it arrived at the answer.

  I don’t remember.

  Granted, not the best answer, but it was still the only one available to it. Deciding that mulling over things it could do nothing about was fruitless, it pushed that nagging feeling away and instead focused on the task at hand. Objectively speaking, delaying it any more at this stage was neither good nor bad, but it felt lonely. It wanted to get out there and meet its kin. Thus, the sea of thoughts, memories and sensations converged and coalesced. The muddy, seemingly endless mindscape steadily shrunk to a single point, which threatened to burst under the pressure.

  And then, the dryad opened her eyes. The other half of the existence known as a hylt tree stirred much like her host and home. Painfully, agonizingly, slowly she rose up from one of her branches, taking an entire day to completely emerge from its bark. And then she blinked several times in rapid succession as she once again checked through those implanted thoughts that were centuries, possibly even millennia old.

  “Ah… In the end something still feels off…”