Hunger: A LitRPG Adventure (Unbound Book 3), page 17
DuFont nodded at the rotund elder, and he sent a wary scowl back. The scowl became a begrudging nod as Hyde noticed the gore flecking Eliza's gauntlets as well.
At the head of the table, Elder Fairbanks raised his hand and let out a pulse of magelight. Cool green light splashed against the ceiling and drew their attention. "Let us begin."
With a quiet shuffling, all seven of the Elders made their way to their seats. Eliza eyed the pale white doors, unblemished now despite being shattered to pieces just a few days ago. The council chamber had been rapidly repaired after Hyde's paranoid display. To think, the old boor thought they had been spied upon.
Eliza scoffed to herself.
There was little reason to believe it true; the Spire was extremely difficult to reach, unless one already had access. And even if someone were to infiltrate the halls, the council room was warded against eavesdropping from outside. One would have to breach the chamber itself to listen in, an act any one of the Elders would have noticed.
Out of amusement, she had looked into it, but there had been no evidence of skulduggery. There were some faint traces of unidentifiable Mana in the hall, but that could have easily been from a passing guard or even one of the Elders. Hyde's blast had flushed the environment with his own explosive blend of fire and water Mana, the chaotic energies of which had scrubbed anything else out. Not even her Tracking Skill had found anything.
Either Hyde was a fool, or the Sworn had been contracted against them… and DuFont knew the latter wasn't possible. She had made sure of that.
"Where is Governor Westworth?" asked Regis, arcing an eyebrow. "Was he not summoned?"
"Asleep in his manor, no doubt," groused Holt through his wild beard. He didn't bother to be quiet either. "He's of no use here, anyway."
The others all grunted or nodded in agreement. The Governor was a figurehead at best. The Protector's Guild held a Charter and city Authority, provisional though it may have been.
"First order of business." Fairbanks cleared his throat and tapped his forefinger on the hard table, the sound more like metal than flesh. He turned to Elder Latvere with tired eyes. "How stands the Wall?"
Latvere smoothed back his pale blonde hair. "The Wall survives, though it has taken some damage. Elder Teine and Elder Holt's people are already on it, rapidly fixing stress cracks in the sigaldry."
"The beasts damaged the Wall?" Hyde's deep voice was incredulous. Eliza could almost see his mutton chops bristling. "That's never happened."
"Not often, but it has occurred. We fought against roughly three hundred foes this night, each one beyond what we would term First Formation for monsterkind, or Tier I. These were strong enemies, stronger than we've fought in the past, if not as numerous." Latvere's face was drawn as he looked at the Elders. "The Tin Ranks who man the Wall were barely able to hurt them, and we had to rely on Iron and Bronze to do any significant damage. We've suffered a number of losses, though the final report hasn't come back yet."
"The monsters. What were they?" Fairbanks asked.
"Insect type, a mutated variation on the Greater Mantis. Predominantly Prismatic Wretches, but there were fifteen Prismatic Lords, known as Greater Wretches." Latvere gritted his teeth and nodded at Teine. "The Elder of Spirit may know more."
Everyone's focus turned to the silver-haired man, who raised a hand. "Not as of yet. They've been mutated by the excess Mana in the Foglands, but the how of it is uncertain. My people are looking into it."
"Damned magic. What is happening out there?" Hyde muttered. "What did that woman do?"
Eliza smiled inwardly, not missing the Elder of Body's sour words. Indeed. What did you do Magda, you oaf?
Fairbanks rapped his knuckle on the table again. "Focus. Elder Latvere, you said portions of the Wall were damaged. Is that how they got in?"
Latvere nodded and swept a hand on the table before them. An illusory image of the city rose from the script circle inscribed there, shining with a ghostly yellow light. Sections of the Wall lit up brighter than the rest. "They breached here and here after several Prismatic Lords assaulted the same portions of our Wall. The Wretches flew into the city, at least forty of them. They had wings, built for short-range flight, but more than effective to reach our less-defended Quarters. Most landed near the Wall, but a few hit the Dust and Crafters’ Quarters."
"Casualties?" Elder Fairbanks turned his mild eyes to Hyde, who growled.
"Too damn many. The Guilders were more or less ready to face monsters in the Wall Quarter, but the others shouldn't have stood a chance." Hyde grunted and pointed at the illusory map. "I've reports of upward of six hundred dead, mostly in the Crafters’ area. The Dust, though… there was a lot of damage to buildings, but the casualties have been surprisingly low."
"I've heard reports of quite the strange happenings in the Dust," Elder Teine said before Elder Hyde cut him off.
"Wild imaginings of exhausted Guilders," he grunted, slapping a meaty fist onto the table. "There's no reason to believe—"
*SLAM*
The pristine white doors, just so recently repaired, were abruptly thrown open. The new sigil lock (an insistence of Elder Hyde's) was sundered as if made of paper. All those present leaped to their feet, save for Elder Fairbanks. A slew of Mana lights bloomed across the room, Skills held ready, only to fade as two men strolled into the council chamber.
The one in the lead was tall, over six and a half feet, just as tall as Elder Fairbanks, though far more slender. He was wearing elaborate plate armor, enameled white and decorated with delicate gold filigree across the pauldrons, vambrace, and cuisses. A tunic edged in gold thread and emblazoned with a golden starburst across the chest finished the look, though it looked dingy and travel-worn, as did his bright red cloak. A complicated helm was tucked beneath the man's right arm, displaying his hawkish features and graying temples. His face was severe and clenched in fury.
Katan, Eliza snarled to herself. She itched to loose one of her Skills on the interfering bastard, but common sense reigned her in. Khorun Katan, Master Inquisitor of the Inviolate Inquisition, second only to the Grandmaster herself, and she answered directly to the Hierophant. Nothing but calamity would result in attacking him, accident or no.
"Master Inquisitor," began Elder Fairbanks, still seated at the head of the table. "Welcome. I was not aware you had returned to Haarwatch."
"Only just," Katan said, curt as always. His face was a thunderhead as he looked between them all. "Imagine my surprise as I return to your city after weeks in the Foglands, only to find it having barely survived a siege. What happened?"
The Elders were silent for a moment, and Fairbanks spread his arms with a tired smile. "Please, take a seat, Master Inquisitor."
"I'm quite fine where I am, Guilder," he tugged off his gauntlets and hung them by his belt, directly next to a saber that Eliza's eyes widened to behold. Her Analyze Skill pinged it as extremely powerful, though the Inquisitor's Spirit muffled the full details. "I have gathered the bare facts from your people, and I do not like what I am hearing. Monsters breaching your Wall and attacking the citizenry? After all, I have been told that the Wall will repel anything the Foglands can vomit forth, that its enchanted orichalcum is powerful enough to last Ages. Apparently not."
Eliza could hear Elder Hyde's teeth grinding from across the table. Regis placed a discreet hand on his shoulder. The Inquisitor, whether he noticed or not, did not stop.
"On the way here, I saw devastation through the Quarters, including multiple fires. But did I see your precious Guilders walking the streets? Tending the unfortunate?" The man sneered at them, his sharp features all the sharper for his disgust. "No. Not one. This is unacceptable, High Elder. It is gross negligence."
"We have teams out there now! Sweeping the Quarters, looking for missing threats—!" Hyde bristled.
"How was your Wall breached? The enchantments reach several miles into the sky. Whose head should roll for their incompetence?" The Inquisitor's voice was quiet, and there was a power there that everyone stopped to hear.
No one answered.
Then, an undeniable pulse of energy poured from the man, a near-visible wave of aggression that flowed from a Skill and his Spirit. A blinding brilliance was conjured behind his head, a corona of light that stabbed outward. Eliza, as everyone else, was pressed hard into her seat. Katan held out a hand, and his companion, a dark-eyed man with a sharply trimmed goatee, handed him a scroll. He unrolled it and held it out toward the council.
"This, Elders of the Protectors' Guild, is your City Charter.'' His voice raised in volume as several Elders, Eliza among them, gasped. "It details your rights, your privileges, and determines your authority over Haarwatch. The Hierophant has trusted this Charter to me, and if I deem it necessary, I will tear it to pieces."
He glanced at all of their faces, by turns shocked, appalled, and enraged. He did not seem to gain an ounce of satisfaction from it, the grim set of his eyes and mouth never changing. The light behind him faded away as his Spirit eased back. "Now, I'll ask again: how was your Wall breached?"
"A, ah, concentrated assault, Master Inquisitor," managed Latvere, his eyes darting between Fairbanks and Katan. The High Elder nodded, and Latvere continued. "The Prismatic Wretches made up the bulk of the attack, but there were a number of Lords among them. These Prismatic Lords sundered the sigaldry in two places, allowing a number of Wretches to fly through."
The map of the city flickered back on and the parts of the Wall Latvere had pointed out before were highlighted. The Inquisitor stepped forward and placed a hand on the script circle, spinning the projection and zooming in on a piece of the wall itself. Eliza raised an eyebrow, impressed. The Inquisitor was adroit at scriptwork; surprising for a man who hated magic.
But I suppose scriptwork isn't Sorcery, she thought, scathingly.
"Coordination like that is not normally seen in Tier I monsters. This sigaldry..."
"Yes," agreed Latvere. "The creatures were frighteningly accurate."
Eliza saw Teine lean forward in interest, his eyes flashing between the Inquisitor and the model. He met her gaze and smiled. Eliza smiled back and flexed her gauntleted hands just out of sight. She could tell the bastard just had another idea, likely regarding his damn experiments. The last thing she wanted to be concerned about was what fresh horror his team would requisition.
"I have also heard tale of another monster, one seen in the Dust Quarter this night." Katan turned his gaze across the table. "People on the street are talking. One… creature killed fifteen of these Prismatic Wretches and protected your people. They weren't a Guilder, and they certainly weren't one of mine. Do you know of whom I speak?"
Teine perked up even further, his easy smile stretching wider with excitement. "We heard. One of our Guilders saw him, and now they all know about it. They're calling him the—"
"I've heard. Ridiculous," Katan snorted. "This Guilder, did they see his name?"
"Unknown," shrugged Teine.
"Race? Level?" Katan pressed.
"All unknown," the Elder of Spirit sighed. "We assume he is wearing a powerful artifact to so completely hide his information."
"It's all rumors, and idiotic ones at that," scoffed Hyde. "Our man gave us a description, but it's the worst sort of tripe. Aric can hold a sword, but he sees Chimeras in every shadow. I don't know why you're concerned about this fool—"
"Tell me." The words weren't a question, that same pressure shone off of the Inquisitor. Hyde only paused a moment before rattling off the details, each one more fanciful than the next. Eliza would have laughed had the Inquisitor not been so intent. Claws? Wings? Eyes made of blue fire? An intelligent Chimera?
Idiotic doesn't cover it.
"...Reports from the citizens are scattered at best, but the eyes are a constant. Blue and glowing. That and some sort of lightning Skill," Hyde finished rattling off, his memory impressive despite his dedication to his Body above all else.
The Inquisitor's aide leaned forward and whispered something in his ear for a moment. It was so soft that none of the Elders even caught a syllable. Katan fingered his chin before his attention sharpened again, and his eyes bored into the Elder of Body like daggers.
"The Inquisition will take over searching for this person. Report any findings to my undersecretary with due haste." Katan dismissed the matter, apparently done with the topic. He leaned in closer.
"Now, show me how the monsters attacked. Show me everything."
Eliza repressed a groan that threatened to become a yawn. It was going to be a long night.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The darkness burned. It roiled, clouds of black grown heavy with a baleful promise. A wind grew from nothing, a thickness to the air that felt—
—Oily, slick—
Clicking segments brushed against his legs, and he shook them off. The darkness resolved into shades of gray and bruised purple, tinted reality tainted by miasma. The thick wind swirled, gained heft, a soggy weight that dragged him down.
Below the surface.
He drifted. Beneath the waves, beneath the world. Where things crawled in the everlasting night. Unfurled, unseen in the liquid shadow. There was no sound, no sight.
Something bumped his legs again.
Ten thousand eyes lit up the deeps, malevolence in their rapidly approaching gazes. He sensed spines and sharp, chitinous legs slicing, their forms undulating through the dark water. Only a flex of his Will, and they were blasted away. The lightning of the Reign of Vellus went wild beneath the surface. It burst from him in a savage storm that was virtually unimpeded by the acid around him. It spread like the roots of an ancient tree, fine lines of blue energy branching outward to strike everything in reach.
But it wasn't the lightning that ravaged the approaching horrors; it never had been. The kinetic force behind Reign of Vellus shattered those nearby, churning the sea into a chaotic maelstrom of silt and monstrous effluvia.
More followed.
More.
He was rage. He was unbridled hatred. And he was Hungry.
Creatures fled before his power, things he didn't recognize. Shelled and segmented, covered in fins and spindly legs. Lights flickered in the depths, gathering far beneath him like a sea of stars.
Without warning, the sea became sky, and the clouds reemerged. Thunder boomed and rattled all around him, the shattering cry of vengeful monstrosities. He hovered above a vast city, the lights having resolved into a million points of illumination on the streets miles below. It was surrounded by mountains and draped in the velvet coverings of darkest night.
A titanic roar, and a mountain rose from the dark city. Wreathed in fire but impossible to see, it was teeth and claws and ten thousand swirling blue-green eyes.
A new sound ripped through the air, a staccato burst of explosions. Fireballs the size of city blocks screamed toward him, heavy with heat and death, seeking his heart. He roared.
And everything was obliterated by azure lightning.
Vision streaked by jagged lines of white, he crouched low. The ground was soft, plants and soil and frequent rains having made for treacherous footing, but his people were nothing if not stable. His broodmate chittered nearby and stabbed the earth with her razor-sharp legs.
Threat. Trees. Fear.
More concepts than words, they flagged a dark source of instinct in his brain, and he swiveled toward the nearby copse of trees. His vision was faceted, wide, and could spot the heat boiling off a Mana Vole at a thousand paces.
So why did he not sense the terror beneath?
Hands of hardened shell burst from the soft earth below, grabbing at two of his legs with a frightful grip. A body followed, something entirely too large, nearly as big as him. He scrambled, scything out with his iridescent claws, but the creature brought him low. They hit the earth with a dull thud, and the creature swung atop him. It reached out and grasped its heaving abdomen and twisted and—
Felix lurched awake in the dark.
Frantically, he glanced around, but it was too dark to see. He experienced a half second of rising terror before activating his Manasight. The ambient Mana of the room pulsed into visibility, a sharp contrast that made his eyes ache.
He was in his room at the Drum Tank. How? When did I—?
The memory resurfaced, slightly hazy as if viewed through a dirty glass. Of himself sneaking across the Dust Quarter and through his own window. Of collapsing in his room as Pit materialized next to him.
Felix looked to his right, wincing as he saw the state of the window and, indeed, the room itself. The casing around the small window had been cracked and torn half-way from the wall, no doubt due to his forceful entry. Pieces of wood covered the floor, and the bed he was on was no longer even supported by its posts. The thin mattress and board now laid directly on the ground.
Sitting up, Felix noticed that Pit was dozing peacefully next to him. The tenku cuddled against his warmth, like the puppy he was, and a small huff came from his agape beak. Drawing strength from that peace, Felix dared to lift his hands.
They were… absolutely normal.
He brushed his hands up his forearms, noticing all the bone spurs and discoloration had vanished. Then he shoved his fingers into his mouth, checking his teeth. They were blessedly flat and small.
Holy shit, they grew back. He closed his eyes and rested his head against the wall. A shudder crept across his shoulders as the memory of them falling out replayed in his mind. Thank god.
Better yet, Felix felt good. Without pains or aches, and when he checked his Health it was completely full.
Health: 864/864
Felix eyed the dark sky through his window. If he had to guess, it was coming close to dawn, so he'd only been asleep a handful of hours. His Health regeneration wasn't that fast, so why...?
His notifications were blinking. Bracing himself, Felix toggled them open.
You Have Gained 1 Level!
