Hunger: A LitRPG Adventure (Unbound Book 3), page 71
Bastards, she thought with venom. Part of her wanted to attack them now, when they least expected it. Extract her pound of flesh for what they'd done to her and others. With an effort of Will, she held herself back. Now wasn't the time.
They had glasses before the Domain shell broke, at best. How Calesca knew that, Rafny wasn't sure. The Dwarf had seen the back entrance to the Domain herself, but other than that damn kid's word, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with it. Yet he'd seemed so certain, and with the treasure hunter confirming the kid's statements, it made her course of action clear.
She just hoped she wasn't too late.
Don't think about that. Just keep moving. Just wait for these Night-cursed zealots to get out of the way and keep moving.
Heva reached out her crimson hand and grasped the Dwarf's own. "Hold fast, Rafny. We'll make it back in time. The gods are with us. They sent us the Fiend, after all."
Gods haven't done much for us yet, Heva. And I doubt that kid was sent by anyone, much less the gods. Rafny didn't voice her opinions though, merely gripped the Hobgoblin's hand instead. Heva had insisted on coming with her, though she wasn't as strong as some of the other Dusters that offered their help. "Thank you for coming, Heva."
The old Hobgoblin merely smiled and squeezed her hand once more before letting go.
Oveh was back at the warehouse, helping Bodie and the others. Thank the gods, Rafny thought without irony. She couldn't have dealt with two of them. Though perhaps the distraction would have helped. Bellyaching was easier than admitting to herself the actual reason for her anxiety. That might make it real.
She'd been leaving anyway on her task, but Calesca wanted her to help in another way, too. Weapons and armor for her people. For their people, really. After this, they were all in it together. The Dwarven weaponsmith was more than happy to agree; the blades at her forge were aching for redcloak blood, in any case.
Finally, the Inquisitor grunts turned the corner. Rafny whispered to the others. "Come, quickly."
Moving far more quietly than eight people had any right to do, Rafny and the others crossed the thoroughfare and passed into another twisting alley. Luckily, it hadn't rained in days, and the hot summer sun had baked even these secluded side streets dry. Instead, thick layers of dirt kicked up into a light dust as they moved to the edge of the alley. Another open road spread before them, Wending Street, brightly lit by the mid-afternoon sun.
We're close. It's just around the corner!
Heva's crimson arm grabbed the back of her gambeson and pulled her short just as the sound of clanking mail reached the Dwarf's ears. Everyone froze, still in the shadows between buildings. Carefully, Rafny peeked out.
A lone Initiate walked down the street, peering into houses as he went. He was big, for a Human, over twice again Rafny's size, and she was not slightly built. The man seemed to be still searching for stragglers.
C'mon, just keep moving.
The man stopped and turned, while a dart of fear shot up her spine. At first, she thought the redcloak had heard her somehow, but her fear settled into cold dread as Rafny realized where he was looking.
Directly at the Coldfire Forge.
The Initiate quickly marched inside, bashing apart the door.
"No," Rafny whispered. Without turning to the others, she rushed forward. If Elle was still in there, if she was still alive...
The sounds of battle crashed against her senses before the weaponsmith made it to the halfway point. Metal screeched and clanged, grunts and shouts rang out, and the distinct tang of light Mana positively poured from the broken doorway. Rafny sped up, not caring if her people were behind her or not. They weren't Tempered, as she was.
Someone screamed.
Rafny burst through the entryway in time to see an armored figure collapse to the ground, seeming suddenly small as they curled over a fatal chest wound. The Initiate. Dead.
With disbelieving eyes, Rafny looked up and saw a vision in green platemail, an Adeptwork armor if she'd ever seen one. It was wrapped about a stocky, significantly curvy form, no taller than she, and the warrior yanked her short sword from the Initiate's chest with a feminine grunt.
"Elle?"
The armorsmith looked up in surprise, and her free hand lifted a visor on her peaked helmet. "Raffy? Oh, Noctis wept, you're alive!"
The two clutched at one another while the rest of her team arrived behind her, filtering into the smithy as surreptitiously as they could manage. Rafny could sense Heva holding them back a bit, murmuring something.
"Give them a moment, please."
Rafny took it, but released her wife after a few seconds longer. She stared into Elle's eyes, finding them wet and red-rimmed. How long had she been defending this place?
"Whatever's happening, it isn't going to end well, is it Raffy?" she asked.
"It's goin' south fast, Elle. They're… I can explain more when we get back. For now, we gotta pick up everything we can and bring it with us."
"Everything?"
"Whatever isn't nailed down an' we can carry, yeah," Rafny grimaced. "Weapons and armor are the priority. We might… we'll have to leave the forge."
"No," Elle said, resolute.
"Elle, please understand," Rafny pleaded. "Something bad is gonna happen. Worse than the Inquisition takin' over the town. We'll need what we can carry, and I don't have enough arms to bring the forge—"
Elle put a steel hand over Rafny's lips, gently. For some reason, the Veridian Steel felt warm. "Just listen, you hammer-headed fool. Everyone? You can come out now. It's safe."
With a murmur and shuffling, a few folks emerged from the back rooms. Then a few more. And more. And...
"Twins' breath, how many?" Rafny asked, looking over them all. She spotted a number of their apprentices and more than a couple neighbors.
"Seventy-eight, all told. Everyone I could get my hands on." Elle grinned and nudged her wife. "More than enough arms, eh?"
Rafny couldn't help but smile. Elle always had that effect on her, even in the middle of all this.
"Everyone, come with us," Heva had stepped up and addressed the crowd. Rafny looked at her in surprise. "Grab everything you can carry."
"Where?" Someone asked.
"Somewhere safe," she said with a glance at Rafny. "Where we can make a stand."
CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO
Mervin Cors was on Wall duty.
He'd been on Wall duty for the past few weeks, ever since that man had jumped outta the Foglands. He was told it was punishment, but Mervin was more than happy to stay on this side of the Wall where it was safe.
Safe from the Inquisitors, at least.
He'd been hounded by a lot of people, Guilders at first, then the Inquisition, all asking about Felix. Who was he? Where had he come from? What could he do? Mervin didn't like the attention at all. He answered the questions as best he could, but none of his words seemed to satisfy the Acolytes, and they had started to get angry. For servants of the Pathless, they did not take his ignorance well at all.
They had pressed him, hard. Asked him a thousand questions in a thousand different ways, using words that befuddled him despite his rigorous education. He'd learned all his letters well before he was ten, and his math wasn't too bad. But the Acolytes looked at him like he was an idiot.
Worthless.
Not even his revelation about the glowing obelisk was enough to sate them. Sure, at first they were pleased, but after a week, they returned with more questions. Queries about Mana and blood and things which a former plowman knew nothing about. And now, he was hearing rumors of some fighting between the Guilders and Inquisition, though he didn't put much stock in it. Servants of the holy Pathless wouldn't engage in such foul business, he was sure.
Regardless, he was happy to be out of all of it, whatever might be going on. Ironically, up here, he found a place to relax.
"I think they're gone for now," Piotr said with his steady baritone. "Mervin, Lars, Garin, rest up. Lettl, Davik, Oren, stay sharp."
Suppressing a groan, Mervin allowed himself to sink to the carved stone bench built into the Wall, one of hundreds along the length of the defensive construct. It sat behind a wide crenellation, heavily protected from anything attacking the outside of the city, the perfect place to rest when your stint atop the Wall stretched long into the night. The sun was just about to set, but Mervin had been on his feet since mid-morning, having taken a double shift from another Tin Rank. Anything to stay up there, away from the questions.
"Wave's been gettin' stronger. Those last bugs had weird metal on ‘em. Like steel, almost," Lars said with a strained grunt. He'd been on the same shift as Mervin all day.
"Steel bugs? You been drinking again, Lars?" Garin asked with a grin.
"Shut it," Lars groused. "I saw it."
"Calm down. It ain't nothing we can't handle," Piotr said. "And I saw it, too, Garin. You callin' me a drunk?"
"Sir, no sir," Garin lazily saluted.
Mervin glanced nervously at the older Piotr, but the man just rolled his eyes and kept watching the treeline. He was in charge, their senior but still another Tin Rank. He didn't have the authority to do much to Garin. Ranks were spread thin since the bugs had gotten through the wards weeks back.
"What if Tier Two's show up again?" Melvin asked, voicing the worry that ate at him. He felt safe from the Inquisition up here, but the monsters were getting stronger. Lars was right about that.
"That's what the Bronze're for," Piotr said, nodding at several women tinkering with metal styluses on the red-metal parapets. Shimmering symbols flashed beneath their markings as each worked quickly to repair damaged sections of the walls. They were all preternaturally beautiful, a symptom of Tempering themselves into Apprentice Tier. The bronze medallions hanging from their chests meant they were likely close to Journeyman, too, and their assured competence at their craft was clearly evident.
"You think they can fix it? They've been at it for hours," Lars asked.
"They're Bronze," Garin said by way of explanation as he leaned back, his eyes closed. "Elder Spirit's got ‘em trained on those scripts. Wouldn't be out here if they didn't know their stuff."
Bronze. It seemed an impossibly far chasm to cross to Mervin. Still at level eleven, he'd failed to raise any of his Skills beyond level twenty, let alone Temper himself with them. His one saving grace was his extremely high Perception for his level, a stat that had saved his life several times by that point. But it wasn't enough. He didn't have the Strength to destroy a Skink with a single punch, or the Skill to disappear in plain sight and knock out an Acolyte with lightning.
He was no Felix, whoever or whatever he had been.
"Can't believe the monsters damaged the script so bad," Melvin said. "Thought this Wall was indestructible?"
"Ain't been fixed right since the incursion a few weeks back," Lars said. "Been patching it up nightly ever since. But like I said, those bugs're gettin' stronger. I know it. Soon, we won't be able to hold em back."
"Easy, Lars," Piotr said, fixing the two of them with his steely glare. For all that their Rank was the same, Mervin felt like a bug himself when Piotr looked at him in that way. "The Wall will hold. To say otherwise could be considered insubordination, yeah?"
Lars' mouth shut with a clack of teeth, and a frown started to form on Mervin’s face. Piotr was agitated far more than normal. Because of the rumors? They'd all heard the booms and felt the ground tremble earlier that day, but patrols had told them not to worry about it, that the Elders were handling it.
Is he worried about the Inquisition? Surely he doesn't believe that—
Someone stood beside him.
With a start, Mervin found a short and slender man in cream robes standing within an arm’s-length. He was older, his hair and goatee silvered, but looked to be a youthful forty years old. A strange artifact was in his hand, like a flask of some sort, leaking a glowing, rust-colored steam.
What in the world—?
"Elder Teine!"
First one, then all of the Bronze Guilders snapped to attention as they saw the slender man. Mervin was so surprised by the speed of their movements that it took him an entire five seconds to register that he was looking directly at the Elder of Spirit in the Protector's Guild.
"You, you, and you, come with me." He ordered, his eyes never ceasing their movement. Yet the Elder wasn't looking at the Wall or the Foglands, but into the city itself.
"Sir, we're not finished. The sigaldry is incom–"
A terrible aura pressed down on the Bronze Rank, so skillfully accurate that Mervin barely felt the shivering echoes of its force. Lars gaped like a fish, noticing the man for the first time. The Bronze Guilders, however, could barely stand under his gaze. There was a feverish intensity to him that Mervin found upsetting. "Do not question me."
"Y-yes, sir."
Swiftly, the Elder and all of the scripters left the Wall, speeding down the interior stairs at a clip Mervin's eyes couldn't follow. They had gone so fast that a few of them had even left their metal styluses.
"What in Yyero's blighted backside was that about?" Garin asked, his rest apparently disrupted by the Elder's abrupt passage. "Can't a man get a few winks anymore?"
A bell sounded from down the Wall before being echoed above their position as well. With a groan repeated by a hundred others atop the Wall, Garin lurched back to his feet.
"Monsters, incoming!"
Mervin stood up as well, Lars close behind him. The forest of lethwood trees and other, more exotic lumber had begun to shake and quiver. His sharp eyes picked out a small horde of six-legged Wretches, their rear ends clearly coated in a dull metallic gray.
"Time to fight, Merv," Lars said as he slipped on his boiled leather helmet. "Let's kill some bugs."
Mervin smiled back at the man, but his insides were tight and cramping. He repeated his mantra.
Be like Felix. Be like Felix. Be like Felix.
He wasn't sure, but Mervin liked to believe that helped.
Slowly, the team climbed down the rocky decline of the Larval Ravager's tunnel.
Situated at the center of the broken tower, the tunnel dropped nearly fifty feet that accumulated debris turned into the most treacherous of ramps. Atar and Alister had the worst time of it, helping each other carefully navigate the shifting earth, while Evie and Vess ghosted right past them. Evie altered her density until she practically floated to the bottom, while Vess used a combination of her Dragoon's Footwork and spearwork to negotiate the terrain. Harn was much more blunt, but perhaps even faster. He had just leaped over it all, letting his body coast the last few feet atop jagged stone chips the size of a car.
Felix, of course, utilized Unfettered Volition. His steps were sure and quick, easily keeping pace with the two women. But more importantly, giving Harn his space.
Felix had told the warrior everything. Everything. The man had taken it better than Felix had expected; he hadn't lashed out in anger or retreated in disgust. Harn had merely walked away, his face hidden behind his armor, though his internal rhythms suggested his emotions were in turmoil. Conflicted and worried.
Admittedly, it's a lot to take in.
Instead, Harn had addressed them all and broken down their plan. They were going to enter the tunnel and make their way to the Domain Core. From that point on, the plan was to destroy the Domain Core and stop all the creatures it spawned. A seemingly simple plan, were they to ignore the level disparity between their group and the monsters.
No one had a better idea. Well, running would have been a good idea, but they'd committed.
So, on they went. The first few miles beneath the earth were relatively unremarkable. The smell of loam and damp earth pervaded their senses. Felix's Manasight was filled with dusty-brown Mana swirled with the gray-black of shadow and the green-gold of life Mana, all of it mingling somehow chaotically. Unpredictably.
Pit nudged his leg, their bond warming in comfort. Felix smiled back at the tenku, but his eyes drifted once more to where Harn had disappeared beyond a bend in the tunnel. A full twenty minutes later, Harn crept back into sight.
Both nodded.
Ten minutes later, Felix found himself down the tunnel and hiding behind a rock larger than his first apartment. Alister was next to him, fiddling with the hilt of his rapier. Vess had laid out quite the comprehensive attack plan, and the two of them were to start things off.
In the near distance, a gaggle of Spawn swarmed over each other, like desperate scavengers. Felix couldn't make out what they were so excited about, and he was certain he didn't want to know. Instead, he could feel them pulse against his sense of Affinity, their endless hunger so much more clearer than Harn's own mixed feelings to Felix.
From across the tunnel, he saw the signal.
A deluge of fire arced from Atar, hidden across the tunnel, spraying like a firehose upon the gathered Spawn. Beside Felix, Alister tensed and jabbed his elegant rapier into the air. A series of five-foot columns descended from the sky, each hitting the group with the force of a speeding dumptruck. The Spawn were filled with a sudden rage and fear that oriented in their general direction. Felix felt his connection to them thrum as they communed in some sort of… hive mind. As one, they charged.
