Hack, Slash & Burn 2: A LitRPG Fantasy, page 31
But it seemed as though that experience helped him push past this one. Frankly, he was surprised he was even able to stand, let alone drink a potion.
The health potion slid down his throat. The simple pain of swallowing was almost unbearable. The action tore at something, and he swallowed more than just the potion—a teeth or two had been dislodged when he had slammed into that wall. They scraped his skin, but the potion made it down.
The bones in his body slowly cracked back into place, one by one, starting with the small ones in his fingers. It didn’t take him all the way, but he didn’t need it to. He felt his mana reserve—it was about a quarter full.
Not high enough.
He pulled another potion from his pouch far faster than he had the first time. This bottle was blue, a mana potion. He downed it swiftly then grabbed for his shield.
His bones cracked even as he walked. He wasn’t quite back in fighting shape—he would need another four health potions for that, he imagined. It wasn’t just that his health was low, it was also that he was afflicted by many, many, injuries.
But he needed to push on. Needed to get back to the others.
The first Orc Tyrant is almost in the square, Graham said.
If Calder didn’t get back to that square before the Orc Tyrant, every single person he had brought with him would die. They couldn’t open a normal portal to escape.
Only he had the means to get them out of there.
Chapter 37
Calder gritted his teeth as he walked across the cobblestones where he had fallen, every step bringing him nothing but pain. He turned his painful walk into a painful run. Berserk had worn off. So had Charge. In fact, all of his passive spells were no longer active. He felt battered, beaten. Weak and slow. He cast Tough Skin and Strong Stance, but had to wait for the others.
That painful run turned into a sprint that hurt like hell.
Whatever spell was protecting the Orc Tyrant could hardly last forever, but the fact that there were more of those Beast Shifters—Calder hadn’t known how many had roared—made him very, very worried.
Dream Step reached the end of its cooldown. Though the cooldown was only fifteen seconds now, it still showed him how long he had been out of the fight. Too long. He was alone in the alleyway, but he climbed back through the two walls he had crashed through until he was on the main street with the press of other orcs.
The second he did, he was spotted. Hundreds of orcs swivelled their heads, lips pulled back, fangs bared, spittle falling from their lips as they released screeching roars and made their way to him as fast as they could.
Back to the square. I need to get back to the square.
He looked up, glancing at a nearby rooftop. If he Dream Stepped up to one, then he could run across the rooftops to make it back to the others. Or Portal them away from there, then fight until he was able to make his own escape…
Calder was a split-second away from Dream Stepping to that rooftop when he was hit by a spell. All he saw was what appeared to be a cloud of darkness shooting toward his head before it hit. Without Charge and Berserk active, he hadn’t been fast enough to dodge out of its way.
Orc Sorcerer has hit you with Shadow Blind. For the next 30 seconds, your vision shall be wreathed in shadows.
Calder cursed louder than he ever had. He felt more attacks hit him. Arrows and fireballs that glanced off his armour. The orcs had been running full tilt toward him when his vision had gone dark.
Now, he was alone in the darkness, fighting hundreds of foes he couldn’t see, and unable to use his teleportation spell to get back to the others and save them.
Well, none of this is going to plan. Calder roared, swinging his sword around him in a wide, wild arc. He couldn’t see the bastards, but he could smell their breath, feel the warmth of their mass of bodies, hear their heavy boots pound the ground.
In that moment, he wondered if he should have thrown more points into Perception, as he had almost entirely neglected that attribute.
It wasn’t that he hadn’t known just how reliant he was on his sight. He had always been reliant on his sight. He had simply never imagined he would lose it.
I’ve been blinded for the next thirty seconds, Calder said through the link, sending the message to all the other Berring Touched. Hold the square. Hold the square and get ready for the retreat.
He still felt a massive amount of Proficiency flood into him. The others had never stopped their killing, and thus the flow had never ceased, though it had slowed down since he had gone after the Orc Tyrant.
I don’t think we have thirty seconds, Cal! Peter replied.
Calder gritted his teeth so hard he felt them crack and break. Felt blood spill into his mouth once more. Again, he had gotten his people into more of a mess than he had planned. Again, they were in danger because of him. Had he not made this decision…
He shook away those thoughts. Now was not the time for doubts. He had made his decision knowing exactly what might happen. They had all volunteered for this. Despite how powerful they were as a combined force, they had known what could happen if this didn’t go to plan.
No. There wasn’t time for doubt. Wasn’t room for it. The only thing he could do was act.
He could feel his sword slice and cut and slash and tear through the orcs that surrounded him. He didn’t know what level anything was, and he didn’t care. His mana reserve crept up and up. The enchantments on his sword had long worn off.
“Volatilis gladius!” he yelled, casting Mana Blade. He roared the spells for Lightning Bolt and Fireball. Heat wafted toward him from the blade as flames he couldn’t see licked up and down its length. The crackle of electricity permeated the air. The Mana Blade floated about him, slashing into enemies, though he was blind to its actions.
He didn’t need to see his enemies to destroy them. All he needed was his sword in hand.
Calder wasn’t as fast as he could have been, but even without his passive spells activated he had close to 200 Agility.
He killed everything in his path. Every wild strike hit true. He couldn’t see those he killed, but he felt their deaths.
Come on, come on. All he needed was to gain the next level. He would be healed. His reserves would be full. His spells would reach their cooldown.
And his blindness would disappear.
Cal. The Orc Tyrant… it’s here, Luceen said through the link, her fear evident.
I’ll tank it, Kohl replied. You get your ass back to the square.
Calder’s currently useless eyes widened. Kohl was a warrior. A strong one. He had taken the Heavy Hitter specialisation. Despite his lower level, he probably had more Strength in his arm than Calder did.
But that didn’t mean he could tank against the Orc Tyrant. Strength and Stamina were two different things. And against something of that level…
A large explosion sounded, far louder than any spell Luceen possessed. A flood of Proficiency entered into him as countless orcs must have died. Was that a Spell Bomb? They had brought a fair few Spell Bombs, only thinking to use them as a last resort—Calder didn’t bother taking any in his own pouch of holding, figuring it wouldn’t be him that needed them.
Though he could have been wrong about that.
Another massive explosion sounded—another Spell Bomb gone off.
You have reached level 67!
Your health, mana and adrenaline are now restored in full.
You have 10 attribute points to apply.
Calder’s vision returned instantly. Gods, it felt good to be able to see once more. He activated Charge and Berserk, then Dream Stepped straight to the nearest rooftop, barely registering all the dead orcs that had surrounded him. From the rooftop, he could see the square. Could see the piles of bodies around it. The blood pooling about the cobblestones, making boots slip and slide in the red muck.
Two of the three barriers had failed. But that was part of the plan. The Shield Carriers were making a last-ditch defensive barrier in the very centre of the square. As there were six Shield Carriers, all with varying length on their cooldowns, only three out of four of those walls were up.
The Orc Tyrant was almost on top of them. The rest of the orcs they seemed to be able to handle. Two massive craters marred the streets where the Spell Bombs had detonated. The craters were littered with fallen soulstones and ash, the orcs having been obliterated.
Calder clearly wasn’t the only one gaining levels. He had never seen his people this powerful before. They couldn’t hold a candle to the amount of damage he was able to deal, but they were still doing incredibly admirably.
That’s when he had a thought—did they really need to escape? None of their people had even died, even if some of them were looking close to it. They had been standing against this veritable army of orcs. They killed a quarter, maybe a third, of the enemies so far.
As rapidly as he could—and right now, Calder was damned fast—he glanced around the city streets until he saw another, mostly clear street far away from where they all stood—and far away from the army. He cast his Portal spell, creating a portal right in the middle of the three barriers, and a twin portal over in that empty street.
His people surged toward the portal. First, those that were injured that the healers hadn’t been able to get to yet. Then the Clerics and Mages. Half of the Berring Touched he had brought with him were through the portal in a second.
The other half were trying to hold off the enemy. Kohl being one of them.
Calder gritted his teeth. Opening that portal had taken barely a second. He couldn’t use Dream Step again yet, but he needed to get into the fray, help his people escape. He sprinted across the rooftop and leapt higher than he ever had before. As he fell, he kicked off the head of an orc, then off a second, third and fourth until his long strides brought him into the corpse-filled square, knowing how ridiculous his actions must look.
“Kohl! Get to the portal!” he shouted at the Heavy Hitter who was shaking himself off, getting healed by Yesna. It looked as though he had just been thrown to the cobblestones. “That goes for the rest of you!” He came straight at the bastard Orc Tyrant that stood over Kohl—the same one he had attacked before. That sheen was still around it—the black glow.
How was that possible? If it was some sort of barrier, could it be on the Beast Shifter indefinitely? Calder hadn’t encountered any spells that lasted for that long.
Graham, any ideas? Calder said as he sprinted for the beast’s leg. Hitting this thing only seems to get me hurt.
It’s susceptible to magic, Graham replied. Luceen was able to hurt it.
Hurt it, but clearly not kill it. Susceptible to magic… That meant he must have dealt it some damage on his initial attack. His sword had been enchanted, after all. Maybe it was a good thing his Magic attribute was absurdly high.
Still, the best way he knew how to do damage to an enemy—even magic damage—was with his sword. His strongest attack used magic, after all.
Burning Devastation.
The only problem was, it wasn’t just magic. If he struck this thing with physical force, that force would be reflected back at him just as it had been the first time. Guess I’ll have to take the hit.
Calder activated Burning Devastation. Flames engulfed his blade, burning higher and brighter than his Fireball enchantment could ever manage. Rage overtook him as he savagely slashed at the bastard beast, moving so fast it couldn’t do a thing to block.
The Orc Tyrant was so damned tall Calder was attacking its un-armoured calf.
Calder had expected gashes to appear in the Beast Shifter’s leg, but that wasn’t so. Though it did seem to feel some pain, none of the damage he dealt was evident on the surface.
On his fifth strike, the Beast Shifter stumbled back a step. Calder was unrelenting. He kept following his enemy, sending strike after strike its way until Burning Devastation met its end.
The Beast Shifter stumbled, tumbling for the ground. Though no wounds or burns were evident, Calder was glad to see his strikes had done something. The massive weight of the Orc Tyrant slammed into the orcs around it.
Calder stepped back, let out a breath, then noticed he was completely surrounded. Is everyone through? he asked Graham.
Everyone but you and Kohl.
Calder swept his sword around himself just as he was struck with a wave of power—the Orc Tyrant’s protective spell, unleashing the gathered energy from Calder’s strikes. This time, it didn’t send him flying. At least, not very far. The wave of energy slammed straight into his chest, cracking a few ribs. He slid across the bloody ground and slammed into the nearest orc, which tried to grab hold of him, a dagger striking at his neck.
Calder wriggled out of the way then sent his sword up into the orc’s throat. He couldn’t see Kohl. These blasted orcs were too damned tall. How was he supposed to see anyone around them?
His Dream Step spell was active again, but he wasn’t sure how useful it would be. It would get him out of danger, but it wouldn’t do a damned thing for the blacksmith.
Though he couldn’t see Kohl, he could see the Orc Tyrant well enough. It had made it back onto its feet. His little strikes against its leg only seemed to have enraged it. And it wasn’t just one Orc Tyrant. Another had reached the square, ready to join the first. The look on its face said it was ready, able, and eager for blood.
Calder tore through the mass of orcs around him. Strike Advantage was active again, and once more his sword was an instrument of immediate death. Without being able to see it, he knew exactly where the portal was. It seemed as though he had a sixth sense for the portals he created. He could feel which direction the twin portal was in, too, in the far-off street.
He felt that the others were trying to contact him, but he pushed away their words, making it so he could only speak to Graham and Kohl through the link. He couldn’t afford to lose even a split second of focus.
The stomping steps of the two Orc Tyrants sounded right behind him, though their steps must have been hindered by the orcs beneath them.
Hang in there, Kohl, I’m coming to you! Graham, which way is he?
Hard to tell. He’s down. Health falling fast. Surrounded by orcs. He’s fending them off… Graham went silent for a split-second. I think he’s left of the portal. Go a little left.
As Kohl wasn’t his immediate party member, Calder wasn’t able to identify the man’s position through his mini-map. While Graham could help, he could only see and know what both men knew.
Calder didn’t even look at the orcs as he killed them. His gaze was focused on the ground. He climbed over a dozen corpses. If Kohl was on the ground, this was where he would find him. Among the other corpses. How long would the man last? Was that another person he had known all his life that would be dead because of a decision he had made?
Calder pushed ever forward.
He’s yelling out for you, Calder. Search for him by sound, Graham’s voice was urgent within Calder’s mind.
Calder strained his hearing, but all he heard was the roars and howls and screeches. The marching and the stomping. The clash of his steel upon flesh. Then he remembered—he hadn’t applied the points from the level he had just gained.
He threw all 10 points into Perception and saw the modified value of the attribute change.
Perception increased from 61 → 72!
With the 10% boost from being the Main Defender of the outpost he had claimed, he had effectively gained 11 Perception for the price of 10. Though he knew his level of Perception was still dismally low compared to his other attributes, the difference was obvious the moment he had applied the points.
Everything around him came into acute focus. He cut through the sounds of battle around him. Cut through the sound of his blade slashing and swiping the soon-to-be-dead orcs.
He strained his hearing beyond anything he had been capable of before.
“Cal!” he heard a raspy voice yell.
Calder pinpointed the exact direction the voice came from. It couldn’t be far away. Perhaps five steps. But in the press of enemies, those five steps were hard won.
As the spell reached its cooldown, Calder unleashed Burning Devastation on the enemies around him. One after the other the last vestiges of life within the orcs were burned to cinders.
Finally, Calder saw the big, dark-skinned man. He was no longer yelling. Hell, he no longer looked conscious. Calder threw his shield into his pouch of holding—he couldn’t get it onto his back in this mess—and slashed his sword in a wide arc, trying to create some space around him as he knelt and tossed the large blacksmith over his shoulder.
Calder got back to his feet. He had expected the man to be heavy, especially in his full-plate armour, but apparently having a lot of points in Strength paid off. It felt like he had a pillow draped over one shoulder—an unconscious, unwieldy and very bloody pillow.
He could feel the portal. It was close. So damned close. His blade carved their path. The breath of the Orc Tyrants was forever at his back as he moved. But he was fast. Faster than anything in this city.
Calder pushed through and sprinted into the open portal, finding another fight raging on the other side.
Chapter 38
Calder stepped into the once-empty street where he had made the other portal appear, only to find himself almost closed in by barrier spells.
While the street he had sent the others into had been clear, one thing he had forgotten to account for was the fact that the orcs could pass through the portal as well, and there was most certainly no twenty-being limit on the portals Calder created. Dozens of corpses lay around the portal, the street already soaking in their blood.
Peter had an arrow nocked and looked about to loose it. He lowered his bow the second he saw Calder.
A white light enveloped Kohl as Calder jogged to the side and placed the man on the ground. The large blacksmith came to consciousness as one of Yesna’s heals brought his health back from the brink.
