by David Petrie
“Hold the doors!” Alastair dropped a velvet sack of spell ingredients into his caster’s circle of power. The theater’s doors bowed inward despite the barricade, threatening to give way at any second. The dark hands of the fallen reached in through the cracks in between, their fingers dripping with black fluid.
“We should open the doors and use them as a choke point,” shouted Lord Promethium of House Iron Forge, in opposition to Alastair’s suggestion.
“There’s not enough of us for that.” Alastair kicked over Grindstone’s table and shoved it up against the main doors before they gave way.
“Every Lady for themselves.” Amelia ran forward, pushing Lord Murph out of the way.
“Why do I even try?” Alastair rubbed at the bridge off his nose as everyone in the theater went about and did their own thing.
“Do you have any idea where Nix went?” Luka pressed up against his side. The Federal agent posing as a Breath mage dropped a few heals into her quick-caster queue. “We can’t lose her.”
“Excuse me, but there is a Nightmare loose on this ship.” Alastair stuffed an empty ingredient pouch back into his coat and pressed his back up against the table. “Nix is a few lines down on my list of priorities at the moment. If we don’t stop this madness, then there won’t be anyone left to catch her. Not to mention the ruling lords of Noctem are about to be torn apart by void monsters.” Just then, Lady Amelia cut down the Archmage of another house. “If they don’t kill each other, that is.”
“Point taken.” The elven woman threw her back up against the table alongside him, holding it to the door. “Any idea how to beat these things?” She gestured with her head to a dripping hand clawing through the door a few inches from her hair.
“About that…” He glanced to his side, making eye contact with her. “We’re doomed.”
“What?”
“The Void wasn’t meant to be fought here.” Alastair moved his foot to the side to brace himself against the door. “It’s a Nightmare, not a raid boss. It’s meant to be fought by a standard party of six. When it hits phase two, things are going to get much worse.”
“How so?”
“Now that Carver is gone, we’ve had to develop the newer Nightmares on our own, but we tried to keep them consistent with the old ones.”
“So there’s more to this one? Some kind of trick?”
“In the sense that this whole fight is a trick question, then yes. You win by thinking outside the box.”
“Great, then let’s do that.”
“Not that simple. The point is to roll the dice and embrace the unknown. Everyone has to look into the Void right at the start to win.”
“But you told us not to!” Luka screwed up her eyes.
“Indeed, because looking at it would have randomly killed half of us. I couldn’t roll those odds with so many of Noctem’s rulers in the room, as well as myself and the rest of Lockheart.”
“That doesn’t make any sense. Why would that be any different for a party of six if it will kill half of them?”
“Because phase two will begin once we destroy the monsters created by the Void, then the real boss will attack. At which point it will base its health off the number of players it killed in phase one, as well as scale its attack power off the number of players that survive. It’s a balancing act. Exactly half of your party has to die for it to be a fair fight.”
“Oh shit.” Luka’s eye’s widened. “And it probably killed most of the players on this ship already.”
“Like I said, the fight was never meant for more than a party of six.” Alastair nodded halfheartedly. “When the Void spawns in its final form in phase two, it will be larger, deadlier, and have so much health it will be practically unkillable.”
Suddenly the door behind them began to give way, forcing the table at their backs into the theater.
“Get clear.” Larkin’s army of dolls swarmed into the doors, barely giving Alastair and Luka a chance to get out of the way. Their tiny bodies wedged through the cracks, pushing back against the enemies outside in one unified mass.
“Much appreciated.” Alastair leaned over to catch his breath and glanced at the glowing circle hovering above his caster that indicated that his spell was still brewing.
“Don’t thank me yet. They won’t hold them for long. A horde of dolls won’t do much against a horde of whatever those things are.” Larkin flinched as a slimy hand reached between the doors and crushed the body of one of his minions, its stylish outfit smeared with black ink. “Damn, I had just made that dress.”
Larkin’s face grew pained as one doll after another fell victim to the horde outside. Alastair felt for the crafter. After all, he understood what it was like to care about the things that he’d created.
Suddenly, a sound drew his attention to the balcony. Alastair froze in horror as a dark form leaned over the railing above and slammed into the floor behind Larkin. It twitched once, then reached out and grabbed the leg of the distracted Rage class.
“Look out.” Luka fired off a pulse spell to slap the monster’s hand away.
“They must have found the stairs in the lobby.” Alastair raised his head to the balconies where several of Void’s monstrosities staggered toward the edges. When they reached the railings, they simply threw themselves over and crashed into the theater floor. A few died on impact, while others got right back up.
“We can’t stay here!” Luka backed up to Larkin.
“We can’t go out there either.” Alastair gestured to the doors that surround them, each pushed to their breaking point by the victims of phase one.
The theater fell into chaos, reminding Alastair of earlier that night when Tusker’s Boars had attacked. The Lords of Noctem’s most powerful houses all fell back. At the same time, they each seemed to be staying away from each other, like they feared that one house might take advantage of the situation.
Alastair gasped at the stupidity around him.
They’re spreading themselves too thin. We need to fight together.
“Fall back to the stage!” He beckoned Luka and Larkin to follow as he raced back to the high ground. He hoped the rest of Noctem’s lords might follow suit. Unfortunately, the only taker was Dartmouth.
“This is your game.” The Lord of Serpents climbed up onto the stage and huddled behind him. “You have to do something about this. You have to protect me.”
“I don’t have to do anything, Dartmouth.” Alastair glanced at his caster to check his spell’s brew status. “You’re not even one of Noctem’s rulers. It doesn’t matter if you die here.”
“True.” Dartmouth looked at the floor. “But my house is on the brink of mutiny. I haven’t exactly lived up to my predecessor’s legacy. If I don’t survive this, my Lordship will be in jeopardy.”
“Then find a new house.” Luka climbed up onto the stage.
“I can’t do that!” Dartmouth stomped one foot. “I’ve gone public with my real-world identity. Think of the humiliation. No prominent employer will want to hire a dethroned Lord, and I shan’t have this tarnish my reputation or hurt my future opportunities.”
“I understand completely.” Larkin leaped up to the stage. “Commoners, am I right? So beneath us.”
“Exactly.” Dartmouth inched closer to the crafting-obsessed Rage, not catching the man’s mocking tone.
“Let me help you out,” Larkin grabbed his caster. “Believe it or not, you are a Venom mage, and this elegant bracelet can be used to cast offensive magic.”
“I know that.” Dartmouth pulled his hand away.
“Oh good.” Larkin placed his hands together in a thankful gesture just before narrowing his eyes. “Then start casting.”
“Agreed.” Alastair pushed the elf toward the edge of the stage.
A sudden crash came from the back of the theater as one of the main doors burst open. The horde from the main deck poured in, crushing the tiny bodies of Larkin’s dolls underfoot.
“Get to the high ground!” Alastair shouted
over the chaos, trying to convince anyone that might listen to work together.
“Go down fighting!” Lady Amelia rushed into the horde, ignoring him entirely.
“No!” Alastair reached out in her direction then dropped his hand to his side. It was already too late. Her saber cut a swath into the center of the mass of bodies, only to have the rest surround her. Enemies piled on after that.
It didn’t take long for the Lady of House Winter Moon to emerge again, a familiar inky darkness pouring from her eyes.
“That’s not good.” Dartmouth took a step back behind Alastair.
“Indeed, with her dead, the throne of Reliqua will be up for grabs until she gets back online.”
“Who cares about Reliqua? I’m talking about that.” Dartmouth stabbed a finger past Alastair’s shoulder, pointing at the dead woman’s saber.
“Oh…” Alastair’s mouth fell open as he watched a purple mist flow from the sword. “What was Amelia’s contract weapon called again?”
“Corpse Maker!” Dartmouth shrieked in his ear. “One scratch is enough to kill. How do you not know that?”
“Sorry, I usually have an assistant that keeps track of that stuff.” Alastair rubbed at his ear. “But I sort of pushed him off the ship earlier.”
Luka shot him a questioning glance.
“Don’t ask, it was a whole thing.” He shrugged off her gaze just as the glowing circle hovering over his caster shrunk into a single point of energy. “Finally, my spell is ready.”
“What is it?” Luka swiped open her spell-craft menu and set up a buff for his arcane stat.
“Desolation.” Alastair threw out his hand to target the doors of the theater, making sure Amelia would be caught in the blast radius. “Clear the floor if you want to live. This spell doesn’t have an indoor voice.”
“Really wish we had a Shield here.” Luka ducked behind Larkin, who ducked behind Dartmouth, who was already hiding behind Alastair.
“Me too.” He stretched out his fingers as power surged through his skin. “Me too.”
Ribbons of light swirled into existence, streaking through the air into the center of the doorway. Then they exploded. The blast hit the air like a thousand cannons firing at once, the concussive force throwing Alastair back into the three players hiding behind him. Bodies flew through the air, some landing on the balconies above. Fire climbed up the doorway as smoke filled the lobby beyond.
“Did you get Amelia?” Dartmouth asked from somewhere nearby.
Alastair searched the devastation. “I don’t see her.”
“How many enemies did you get?” Luka pushed Dartmouth off of her.
“Not enough.” Larkin pointed to the flaming doorway as dozens of forms began walking through the smoke; there was no end to them.
“Well, I tried.” Alastair rolled over to push himself up.
With nowhere left to run, what remained of Noctem’s rulers finally climbed up to the stage. Behind one curtain, Dalliance and Grindstone helped each other to collect a few books.
“Oh good, the lawyers are still alive.” Alastair looked out over the theater as more dark abominations sauntered in. “Probably not for much longer though.”
Klaxon, House Winter Moon’s Archmage, had survived as well. Though the only remaining rulers were Alastair, Promethium of Iron Forge and Murph of House Saint.
“We can’t let it end here.” Luka cast an area effect heal across the stage.
“You’re right.” Larkin held up the lantern that had held his favorite doll. Half of it was smashed beyond recognition with a tiny arm hanging limp. He pulled a scrap of white fabric free from the twisted metal scrap and folded it neatly. “I’m not going out looking like this.” He gestured to his vest, the front spattered with black fluid.
“I can’t argue with that.” Alastair swiped open his spell-craft menu and dropped a few Crystal Shard spells into his queue. He rose up as tall as he could, bracketed by a crafting-obsessed Rage and an elven federal agent. It was time for a final stand. “As Max would say, it’s all or nothing.”
The horde trickled in through the smoke, their black eyes trained on the stage. Alastair reached out and took aim, ready to take at least a few down with him.
A burst of crimson light exploded from his target’s head.
Alastair froze, looking at his hand. “Was that me?”
Suddenly, gunfire erupted from the lobby beyond as muzzle flashes lit up the smoke. Somehow, they seemed to come from multiple angles at once. Bullets mowed down the enemies blocking the exit.
An excited chill gripped Alastair’s spine as a line of text appeared on his stat-sleeve.
You have received a party invitation from MaxDamage24
“Yes!” He slapped the accept option as the silhouettes of two players appeared through the smoke, dropping enemies one after another in their wake. “The cavalry’s here!”
His stat-sleeve redrew itself to show the health readout of his new party leader, MaxDamage24, alongside his own.
Farnsworth’s name appeared next.
It didn’t stop there.
Alastair’s whole body froze as a third name appeared.
Nix.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
“Oh, hell no!” Ginger swung across the main deck, tucking her feet up as far as she could. She reeled some wire into her wrist launcher as the hands of the fallen reached for her legs. One grazed her boot, but she kicked it away. The momentum spun her around and she took the opportunity to taunt the horde below.
“Nice try–!”
Of course, that was when she slammed into the glass front of the theater’s lobby, sounding like a bird crashing into her kitchen window.
“Balls…”
Ginger shook the stars from her field of vision and reeled in a few more feet of wire to make sure she was out of reach. Then she groaned at her reflection in the glass.
I swear, Max is rubbing off on me. Can’t believe I just tried to wise ass a bunch of monsters. The thought made her smile, bringing back a feeling that she was afraid she’d lost. Lately, thinking of Max had only made her sad. There had been so much pain in his eyes that things hadn’t felt the same. Now, though, knowing that Kira was alive, it was like a dark cloud had lifted from them. Not to mention he hadn’t tortured anyone.
That would have been a relationship killer.
Maybe now we can finally move forward?
Eventually, she pushed every thought of her love life out of her head and focused on what was important. That being the fact that no one had seen her slam into a window like her goon of a boyfriend.
Then, as if on cue, a smug voice came from above.
“How you doing down there?”
Ginger pressed her face against the glass in defeat before forcing a smile and looking up.
“Hello, dear.”
Piper stood on a walkway above, laughing at her mother’s expense. Corvin stood beside her, clearly suppressing a chuckle of his own.
“What are you hanging around here for?” Kegan leaned on his elbows on the railing.
“No time for puns up there, we need to get to the bridge.” Ginger shot them a serious look, hoping to guilt them into forgetting what they’d seen. “I just heard from Seven. Cassius is up there and he aims to bring the ship down.” She pulled her legs up and pushed off the window until she was practically standing on the glass. “So how about you all quit laughing?”
The three of them promptly shut their mouths.
“That’s better.” Ginger began stepping up the window to the walkway that circled the roof of the theater. At least there are no enemies up here.
“Where’s Max?” Corvin helped her up and over the railing.
“He and Nix are attempting to rescue the lords down in the theater.” She reeled in the rest of her grappling line, her new Yoink claw snapped into place at the end, ready to be fired again.
“Nix is with him?” Corvin arched an eyebrow.
“Yeah.” Ginger took a breath. “A lot
happened. All that matters is that we know Kira is alive.”
“She is?” The three of them responded in unison as a visible wave of relief washed across their faces.
“That’s what Nix said.”
“Can we trust her?” Piper held breath.
“Her story tracks. Seems she’s having trouble getting Kira to behave. And was recording us to find some footage that she could use to manipulate her.” Ginger left out the part about Max trying to torture the woman. It wasn’t exactly information she wanted to share with her daughter.
“Has Nix tried bribing Kira with food?” Kegan smiled, looking more relaxed than he had in months.
“Who knows. Either way, Nix is Max’s problem at the moment, and we have our own to worry about.” Ginger started toward a narrow flight of stairs that led up to the bridge. “Let’s go show the Silver Tongues what House Lockheart is made–”
Her sentence was cut off as a bullet ricocheted off the railing in front of her.
“Never mind, they brought a Fury this time.” She scrambled back to the others around a corner.
“Two, actually.” Piper peeked around the side at a pair of gunmen. “And they brought that damn bird, Ruby.”
The sound of angry cawing could be heard over the gunfire.
“And a Shield.” Kegan loosed an arrow up the stairs only to have it blocked by a faunus. He frowned, then shouted up at the group. “Hey, you with the horns. Didn’t we kill you a couple hours ago?”
“Maybe.” A gruff voice responded. “Did that Blade kid apologize to that girl he shot down yet?”
Ginger slowly turned her head to Corvin. “What is he talking about?”
“Yeah! What the hell, you ass?” Piper gave him a good slap on the stomach. “Even those assholes know about me?”
“Wren, language.” Ginger scolded her daughter, using her real name for impact.
“Sorry. Even those asshats know?” Piper repeated, slapping Corvin in the gut again.
“Gah!” The Blade keeled over. “Hey, Kegan brought it up while we were captured. So this one’s not on me.”
“I guess asshat is slightly better.” Ginger covered her face with one hand. Her daughter was becoming more like her every day, which was probably not something she should encourage.
