Tailyn spent his thirteenth birthday standing on the new walls. From her spot next to him, Valia glanced out nervously over the Gray Lands. Although, to be fair, they weren’t nearly so gray anymore—colorful flags, tents, and signs spread out as the aristocracy of all four empires gathered at Mean Truk. They’d gathered as many people as they could find. Guards, mercenaries, hunters, and even simple farmers—they were all there. Even the elite of the world had arrived, including the academy provost and his deans, the patriarch of Crobar and his aides, the viceroys, and nine destroyers to boot. The army had turned up two weeks before and had been spending the time patiently getting ready for when the god stopped protecting the idiot boy.
“It starts in an hour,” Valia said, although she knew Tailyn had the same timer as she and everyone else in Mean Truk did.
“If they break through the defenses, we aren’t going to be able to hold them,” Tailyn said. He wasn’t afraid for himself. Worn out and exhausted, he would have been okay with dying if that meant the whole nightmare would stop. But the people entrusted to his care were another matter altogether. He was afraid for them. And that meant he was going to fight until the last drop of blood.
“Let’s go—you need to say something before the battle starts. Everyone’s tired; they need some cheering up. Even the tough ones like Sadil.”
Tailyn left the wall, and there was a thunderous blast of trumpets from the direction of the Gray Lands an hour later. The combined forces of the four empires were moving in to attack.
The battle for Mean Truk had begun.
Chapter 17
“CATAPULTS!”
The lookout’s warning cry broke the silence that had settled over Mean Truk. For just a few seconds before the attack, the city had quieted, almost as if nobody could believe what was about to happen. Everyone hoped it was just a bad dream they were about to wake up from in a cold sweat, home in their comfortable or less-than-comfortable beds. Their children would have been amused to hear the story. Only it wasn’t a nightmare, and a few hundred fiery charges bore witness to that. Picking up speed, the burning boulders took just a few moments to reach the city and slam into its population.
At least, they would have if it hadn’t been for the impenetrable dome. Mean Truk met the first wave with flying colors.
Ten percent down, will recharge in twenty seconds, came Valrus’s message in the leadership chat. He had been put in charge of making sure Mean Truk’s hefty defenses stayed online. As Tailyn realized in that moment, nothing else mattered. The walls he’d placed such high hopes in just a couple months back were really just there to keep out the wind-swept sand. They weren’t enough to hold back well-trained fighters.
“Second wave! Mages!”
While the catapults were reloading, mages came rushing in to put their blue bars to the test. A few thousand moved forward to use their most fearsome spells. And while none of them were the equal of a catapult, they were capable of doing significant damage in a group. That’s what they would have done, too, if the city had let them.
“Fire at will!” came Valanil’s order in the group audio. “Tailyn, you take the high-level ones—they’re more dangerous. Fire!”
After the last monthly trial leveled-up everyone in Mean Truk, Sadil had a genius idea. There was no point saving money—if the city fell, everyone would be slaughtered. And if they won, there would be enough loot to cover all their expenses. And so, with that in mind, the head of security suggested buying everyone a set of level three armor and a weapon. There was no problem with the first, Forian also having been planning on suggesting the same, though there was an issue with the weapons. The numericals could only wield hoes or plows; swords, pikes, and halberds were out of the question. However, there was one perfect solution: crossbows. They didn’t take much experience to use, and it was easy enough to get everyone’s shooting and anatomy knowledge up to level five. After the free parameter point they got from the local event, the untrained peasants turned out to be quite the force. Level three crossbow bolts couldn’t penetrate the mages’ personal shields, though they didn’t have to—the impact was strong enough to turn the insides of just about anyone on the planet into mush. Anybody who survived or had sufficiently high-level armor was left to Tailyn. Among those rushing the city, none were capable of standing up to a level seventeen named crossbow, and that meant the defenders were in a good spot. That was especially true since the mages had to get within a hundred meters to cast their spells. The crossbows had a range of a hundred and fifty meters, which meant the skirmish was in the bag. Right on cue, mages began dropping like flies. Forty crossbowmen were more than enough to strike terror in the mage ranks, and the latter hesitated, began looking around, and, in some cases, retreated under the unrelenting fire. The crossbowmen were working in pairs—one firing, one reloading. After taking out yet another target, Tailyn grinned. It was certainly helping that they could shoot out of the dome.
But the foolhardy attack turned out to be a diversion. While the defenders were cutting down the mages and reveling in their success, the main attack on Mean Truk began. The lookout on the temple roof was the first to spot it.
“There’s something strange coming from the mountains! And it isn’t alone...there’s one from that side, too. And that side! The dome is under attack!”
Mean Truk was situated perfectly for defense. The high, two-hundred-meter cliffs surrounded the city on three sides, making magic impossible since it only had a range of one hundred meters. And to keep the city safe from archers, another wall was built around the entire perimeter with guards patrolling it in search of assailants. On top of that, the energy dome covered the whole city, including the walls in the mountains, keeping everything out. The only problem was that the whole system was designed to fend off living creatures who obeyed the laws of the System. The six destroyers approaching Mean Truk from different directions could simply ignore those laws.
Powerful plasma charges slammed into the protective dome, forcing a report out of Valrus.
Each hit costs half a percentage point. If they don’t stop, we won’t last long.
“Tailyn, they’re yours—see what you can do. We’ll stay with the mages!”
“Catapults!” the lookout called again, and balls of fire crashed into the dome. The attackers weren’t going to give the city a moment of respite.
Moving over to the reserve, dropping the main dome to regenerate. It needs five minutes—stop that plasma! The reptiloid pushed a few buttons, sending the set of defenses that had sustained the first wave off to recharge. After the group had unpacked what One had sent them, they’d found it was only enough for three circuits, a main one and two backups with 40% of the main circuit’s capacity. It wasn’t reliable at all. Valrus wasn’t a fan, but he hadn’t been able to think of anything else since that equipment simply didn’t exist on the planet. Nobody was sure where One had gotten it from.
Tailyn was aware of all that, so he took off as fast as he could. A few dozen leaps and some mana restoration flasks, and he was at the top of the cliffs just three hundred meters away from the terrifying machines. They weren’t coming any closer, but that was because they didn’t need to. The destructive plasma didn’t have a range, and the metal dragons could hover in the air. There was no getting to them, no attacking them. For taking out any target with minimal risk, they were perfect.
The only problem for them was that they’d neglected one small detail they couldn’t possible have known. And Tailyn had big plans for that detail. After his first destroyer encounter, he knew they could fly, and nobody had any doubt the emperors would spend their resources wisely, sending in their destroyers right at the start of the battle. The question was where they would be coming from. In the end, they came from the mountains, but that didn’t really change the strategy. Tailyn was in grave danger. For a few weeks, the group had bantered around ideas for how to take out the flying beasts, though it was only a week before the combined forces of the four emperors came c
rashing down on the city that Valia had what at first glance seemed like an absurd idea. But it eventually became the main feature of their defense.
Tailyn needed to walk on air.
A golden streak of lightning shot skyward. Sweat broke out on the boy’s palms as he fixed his eyes on his companion, but fear was no reason to turn his back on the plan. The city was depending on him. Continuing to rain balls of plasma down on the city, the destroyers ignored the nimble dragon, not taking it for a threat. And that was their mistake.
After the god had returned Tailyn’s parameters, his teleportation had started sending him up to 121 meters. Waiting for the moment to get to the distance, Tailyn activated his ability and found himself in midair. His companion itself was what he’d used to lock in on. As it turned out, Li-Ho-Dun didn’t even need a stone. As the space around him formed, Tailyn felt emptiness beneath him, and all he wanted to do was look down at the ground, find the stone he’d left on the wall, and head back. But he didn’t give in. As gravity sank its teeth into him, his breath caught in his throat, and his organs all mashed together. Still, he kept his eyes trained on the flash of gold climbing ever higher. It took the dragon less than a second to cover the distance Tailyn was waiting for, and he used his ability again. Balls of plasma had come hurtling at him before he could even dissolve. As soon as the boy had left the protected confines of Mean Truk, the destroyers had made him their primary target, only they were too late. Their shots flew through what was just empty space—Tailyn was already a hundred meters higher.
The third leap was the most difficult. From the outside, the destroyers looked like a cross between a dragon and a scorpion, though they could somehow still move through the air. Plasma cannons fired from broad wings fixed to their cylindrical bodies. As the boy knew, they could also release a fearsome wave of fire from their mouths, while their sharp scorpion tail helped them balance in flight. Six thick legs pressed up against their bodies to stay out of the way. And there were long spikes everywhere. Lots of them. Thinking back to his first meeting with one of them, Tailyn had to assume they hadn’t changed, and that was what he’d built his entire plan on. One of the destroyers whipped its tail in an attempt to knock Tailyn’s companion out of the sky. When it missed, it lost interest.
And that was the moment Tailyn picked to use his teleportation. Space blurred, and he reappeared on the back of the dangerous beast. Vargot shook immediately as a wave of electricity rippled across the surface. In fact, the charge was so intense that a cloud of burning dust appeared around the machine. But Tailyn, immune to electricity as he was, felt nothing. And while the flying beast was thinking about what to do next or sizing the boy up for a strike with its tail, Tailyn took the initiative.
Fang slipped easily through the machine’s body, almost as if it were made of paper instead of rugged metal. A charge of necrotic energy sent billions of slender strands forward to...duck right back inside the knife as its master got an unpleasant alert:
Necrotic energy does not work on machines.
For a moment, Tailyn wasn’t sure what to do. The weapon capable of destroying the Absorber, death itself, was useless in a fight against an advanced but still standard machine. But the destroyer was ready to use the opening the boy was affording it. A powerful swipe of its tail nailed Tailyn to its body, piercing the boy with several sharp spikes—his vaunted level seventeen protection was powerless against the beast’s onslaught. Red circles appeared in his vision; the spikes in his chest didn’t let him catch his breath. An unpleasant salty taste filled his mouth, and it was then that the destroyer decided to cut loose another charge of electricity to finish off its target.
Everything quivered, and a message from the god appeared in the boy’s vision, though he couldn’t concentrate on the letters. Vargot thrust a straw into Tailyn’s mouth and emptied one of his last regeneration potions. Again, something shook, and Tailyn activated his return ability just before he was swept off into dark nothingness. If he was going to die, he wanted to die among the ones he cared about, at least. One more time, the spheres of plasma fired by the other destroyers met nothing but air—Tailyn was no longer on the back of their defeated comrade. The machine crashed into the protective dome and lit up the sky as it disappeared.
Pull back. The destroyers heard the order from the emperors and retreated from Mean Truk. Losing one during the first hour of the battle was more than the heads of state could handle. But Tailyn didn’t see what had happened. As his unfeeling body materialized in the temple, the city leaders saw a four-hour timer pop up showing how much time the boy’s body needed.
You destroyed a non-level creature.
All your attributes and skills were increased by 5.
Level +3 (115)
Named item level +1 (18)
“Awake?” Forian’s voice was coming from another world. Peeling his eyes open, Tailyn waved away the divine messages, automatically dropping his three free parameter points into his lowest attribute. It was scanner’s turn—the attribute was already up to thirteen. After coming back to Mean Truk, the first thing the boy had done was unlock it and get it up to level five. That wasn’t much, but it was still enough to link up with Raptor and identify 99% of living things.
“How’s the city?” Tailyn whispered. Judging by the still-active timer, he’d regained consciousness an hour before completing the regeneration process. His body was barely responding. Even not speaking was difficult. Breathing was hard enough.
“It’s fine. Apparently, they ran out of rocks, so they’ve just been attacking the dome with arrows and crossbow bolts for the last two hours. The mages backed off, and the destroyers are nowhere to be seen.”
“We’re pulling it off?” Tailyn asked hopefully, though Valanil’s sarcastic snort put an end to that.
“Yeah, sure! If that’s what you call sitting here and doing nothing. It’s only been three hours since the battle started, and we already just about lost you. Why did you put yourself in danger? What did we say?”
“Fang doesn’t do anything to machines, just cutting through their armor. The destroyer killed itself with electricity the same as the first time.”
“You need to see this!” One of Motar’s fighters dashed into the room. “They have something new up their sleeve!”
“Take Tailyn over to the wall,” Forian said to the guard in an unflappably calm tone. “We need his Valkyrie. Valia, make sure your betrothed has everything he needs. Okay, let’s head up and see what kind of a surprise our guests have for us.”
And a surprise they had. Once again, the catapults got into the action, the army presumably having found more boulders for them. The mages also tried to get close, though they were thwarted one more time by the crossbowmen. Swordsmen charged. But none of that compared to what was bearing down on the city—enormous animals clothed in metal from head to toe.
“I always thought battle elephants were a myth,” Valanil said, her voice awe-struck. “It’s a good thing we brought Tailyn. If anyone can stop those monsters, it’s him and only him.”
“Those are elephants?” the boy asked in surprise. The hulks were outside his scanning range, so his perception hadn’t yet fed him the data. “Elephants are half that size!”
“A third, but that’s beside the point. There’s no easy way to beat those things—they have more armor than our walls! Even if your Valkyrie bolts can get through, they still won’t pierce all the way to a vital organ. I’ve read about whole armies being mustered to take them down, but not...”
That moment was fateful for the Mean Truk defenders. Suddenly falling silent, Valanil stared at the guard who had carried Tailyn up, the burly man straightening up and gasping for air. But there was none forthcoming. The piece of sharp metal jutting out of his throat made sure of that.
“Everyone get down!” Valanil barked loud enough for all of Mean Truk to hear. She also took the lead, instantly plastering herself on the stone. “It’s Crobar’s turn!”
The guard’s body topp
led off the wall, dropping the city’s population to eighty-three. Another second later, that number was cut by a further ten. The numericals hadn’t realized what the herbalist wanted from them in time, and they’d paid with their lives.
“How?! We have a force field!” Valia and Motar yelled at the same time. Happily, they’d been among the first to take cover behind the stone projections. Tailyn pulled himself silently over to the edge of the wall and looked over at the body below. All that remained of what had once been a dagger was the blade, everything else destroyed by the city’s protection. But it hadn’t been able to do anything about the blade. Turning to the rest, he gave his verdict.
“Now it makes sense why Crobar stilettos are so dangerous. I’ve always wondered how Valanil is able to kill people hiding behind powerful shields, and it turns out the trick is the blades, not their owners. They’ll cut through anything—personal shields, Vargot, other armor. Since they have a bit of real material in them back from before the god appeared on the planet, they can pierce whatever they want. Mark Derwin talked about that a lot. But what I don’t understand is where the patriarch found weapons like that.”
Tartila Mine (The Alchemist Book #5): LitRPG Series Page 24
