Kill or Die Book #4: A LitRPG Series, page 28
The Landsknechts with the Zweihänders were immobilized by the Groovers, who conjured jungles of predatory vines around them, while the Death Clan’s DPS fighters punched a breach in the line of pikes and slaughtered the rear. Once the Whisperer’s rogues scaled up to the galleries and fell upon crossbowmen, the battle turned into a rout.
Theophilia kept us updated through the chat. She had stayed behind to command the assault, while we, like proper heroes, set out to flank our enemies.
“How much longer?!” Lance asked for the fifth time. “How long are you going to take?”
He had a bad case of FOMO, envying those fighting in the palace and whining with the impatience of a child who was waiting for a candy shop to open.
“If you stop distracting me, it will be faster,” Mirta snapped.
She was trying to use another skill of hers, called Wallbreaker, which sounded very promising and required the caster’s full concentration for a full two minutes to charge. Any distraction reset the timer. It did not seem long but Mirta still kept getting distracted—even when Lance stopped pacing like a caged bear. The trouble was, as soon as he stopped, his eyes fixed on Ariel.
Nothing surprising there. My own gaze, stubborn as a compass needle, kept drifting in the same direction.
The Mermaid had spent the longest searching through the loot, but at last she found her treasure—a lacy slip that covered about two-thirds of her backside and barely a quarter of her chest. Ariel declared it a dress and no one dared object. Strangely enough, this garment granted +15 to Intelligence, which was either some strange form of compensation or some mean mockery.
We huddled at the palace’s rear entrance. Lance had once tried to take the palace from this approach and despite being at a lower level then, had reached the throne room. I intended to follow his path. If we struck the guards from behind, the battle would be decided. And along the way, I could pay a visit to the Rat King. Now that my hands were free, I was going to repay that monster for the fear he’d caused me.
“This isn’t just waving a pike around. It takes talent,” Shiloh said smoothly. “Mirta, could you do the same to a safe? Or a stash? I know one—the boys say you’d need dynamite, but where would you find that? With a skill like yours… You could join us. We’d carry you in our arms and shower you with gold.”
“I can do anything if you leave me alone for TWO MINUTES!” Mirta roared. “And as for you, you old goat, I wouldn’t go with you for anything in the world. ‘Carry me in your arms,’ ha! Keep your hands to yourself!”
Shiloh looked clearly offended at being called an “old goat” but kept silent. Either he liked the skill too much, or he did not want to provoke Lance, who had ostentatiously rested his hand on his Katzbalger’s hilt.
“Boys, don’t fight,” purred the Mermaid. “Let’s go stand over there so we don’t bother dear Mirta… She’ll calm down without us…”
She deftly slipped between them and took each one by the arm.
“Damn it!” Mirta exploded. “Just SHUT UP!”
Apparently, the thought of Lance going “over there” with the Mermaid was not helping Mirta concentrate.
I rummaged thoughtfully in my inventory. I remembered having something suitable from the merchant’s stash. Yes, here it was.
“Here, put this on,” I handed Ariel a long hooded cloak.
“Why? Do I look bad like this?” she protested.
“You look fantastic,” I said with deliberate conviction, “but imagine the effect: Once you drop the cloak, everyone around us will be struck all at once as if by lightning.”
“Aye, like a stripper popping out of a cake,” Shiloh nodded knowingly.
“The bombshell effect,” Lance echoes sagely.
“All right,” Ariel said doubtfully, glancing at us all before wrapping herself in the cloak.
That got things moving. Undistracted, Mirta crouched and pressed her palm to the cobblestones, causing smooth white tendrils to sprout like blind snakes and push apart the stones. The vines climbed upward with slow confidence, feeling out the gates, finding hinges and fittings.
Craaaack! came a deafening crunch. The shoots tightened their grip on the gates, crushing them like paper and splintering them into dust.
“Let’s go!” I shouted, snapping my stunned companions out of their reveries. “Storm the place!”
Ariel was first through the breach. A rain of bolts shot toward her—and passed straight through the cloaked figure, clattering harmlessly on the cobblestones. The phantom dissolved into dust, and the real Mermaid appeared in its place. She shrugged off the cloak with the playful flourish of a porn heroine arriving in nothing but a coat and stockings, skipping the coffee-and-chat stage and getting straight down to business.
The crossbowmen gasped, froze, gaped and… that was the end of their resistance. Lance and I each took a gallery, efficiently cutting down the mobs, while Shiloh strangled the only elite—a preening Level 31 officer—with his Whisperer’s cord.
“You have to admit that high intelligence suits a girl better than any trinkets,” I said with a wink to the Mermaid.
She lifted her chin proudly. Mirta gave her a thoughtful look, then swapped her ribbons for a similarly sheer dress, only in black.
“Intelligence boosts mental skills,” she explained. “Phantom, for example, gets stronger from it, along with a couple of other skills. That’s why I changed—certainly not for the reason you’re thinking.”
“Of course,” I said. “Pity we didn’t find a Bikini of Wisdom. That would probably be something, too.”
We walked through the corridors, talking, but gradually the conversation petered out on its own. The palace was empty and that did not feel right. It was clear most of the defenders were fighting in the other half of the building, but there should still have been patrols or reserves here. These were mobs; they could not just up and leave. They followed strict game mechanics.
For now, it felt more like someone was letting us win… or rather like we were walking into a trap.
By and by, the vibe grew steadily creepier. We began to see rusty stains on the flat stone floors that looked like blood, scattered weapons and uniforms torn to shreds. In one place, a bloody handprint stood out clearly on the wall. Below it, someone had tried to write something, but managed only a crooked brown “R…”
“Oh,” Ariel cried. “Poor thing, who did that to him?!”
The officer of the city guard—because that is what he was—was on his last breath. Like a broken doll, he lay slumped against the wall, too weak to rise.
“Let me finish him off!” Lance said, pushing Ariel aside.
“No,” the Mermaid said stubbornly. “Look how handsome he is!”
The mob really did inspire pity. Young, with only the faintest shadow of a mustache, dressed in a bloodstained white shirt, a fresh scrape on his forehead, he looked like a romantic hero from a teen novel.
She bent down in a casual motion to feel his forehead for fever, when suddenly the wounded man opened his eyes.
“The rats,” he croaked. “They killed everyone… I’m the last… but I haven’t much time… Tell Count Ludwig that we did all we could, but there were too many of them.” He coughed for dramatic effect, then delivered his message. “Save the city from the rodents and your names will be honored forever!”
“I think I just got a quest,” Ariel squeaked.
She spoke unnecessarily. A new text had appeared in my long-dormant quest window:
NEW QUEST: EXTERMINATION (EXTERMINATE ALL RATS INFESTING THE PALACE).
CONDITION: THE MAYOR (COUNT LUDWIG) MUST SURVIVE.
REWARD: FULL AMNESTY.
FAILURE: THE PALACE WILL BE DESTROYED AND ALL ITS CONTENTS WILL BE BURIED INSIDE, FOREVER LOST.
QUEST ACCEPTED!
The next book of the series!
Kill or Die Book #5
End of Book Four
Thank you for reading Kill or Die!
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About the Author
Alex Toxic was born in 1978. He liked reading and playing video games from an early age. These two hobbies found an ideal common ground when he discovered the LitRPG genre.
Alex dreamed of becoming an author but the profession seemed too complicated to him. So he began working first as a journalist, then as a TV anchor and then as a documentary filmmaker.
There came a point when the books that Alex wanted to read ran out. The authors simply couldn’t write new ones fast enough. The only way out was to write a book of his own. That’s how he launched into the passion that would with time become his primary profession.
Alex believes that the most important thing in a book is the main character. He has to be strong and unrelenting in the face of whatever challenge arises in his path, and he must always triumph.
Alex Toxic, Kill or Die Book #4: A LitRPG Series
