Manassassin 2: LitRPG Harem Adventure, page 19
part #2 of Manassassin Series
He shook the attribute scroll to his lap, then the skills, and finally found his inventory. The chalice was removed, he snatched the fallen scrolls with his fingers, and stormed toward the pool. DeVante guzzled the water as quickly as he could, but the mana didn’t replenish fast enough for his liking. Cup after cup he drank, forcing the water down his gullet, then he’d check the numbers. He lost count of how much he consumed, but when the water expelled from his throat, he knew he couldn’t take another sip. Only 750 of his 2,100 had been returned, and the two Naga cowards now likely retreated to the safety of the sea.
He screamed in anger, in pain, but mostly in frustration. His feet fell from beneath him as the tears swelled in his eyes, and the chalice fell from his fingers with an unceremonious ping upon the floor. He wept. Tears fell upon his lap, and soon he couldn’t see the blood bath before him. Words flashed in his vision as the Naga slowly bled out, one by one, accompanied by an occasional update from the others.
Time ticked by as he buried his face in his good hand, not caring if some stray Naga or undead happened upon him. He’d failed. There was no denying it, and Osmorra had paid for his shortcomings with her life. He should have been there. It should have been him, and not his Shaman. Of all those
who stood by his side, she was the one who sought to break the Sha’Kurian blood that boiled in his veins, to teach him how to be a man, rather than a conquering monster.
Perry wound his way around his good forearm, then nestled his tiny head into the crook of his neck.
DeVante ignored the screaming pain from his right side, but took the moment to lift the injured hand to gently rub the top of the creature’s tiny head.
“I know, little one, I know,” he whimpered, stroking so hard that Perry’s head bobbed with each touch.
It was fitting, almost fate that he suffered among so much death. Right now, he yearned for nothing more than to huddle with his companions, his friends, and share his pain with them. But the fact remained that they were still out there, suffering as he, waiting for him to come to their aid. He’d failed Osmorra, and he would condemn himself for it when time permitted. For now, however, there were too many counting upon him, and sulking wouldn’t win their freedom.
His hand recovered the dagger from the floor, and he sucked in a breath while he ran the tip over his injured arm. Seething in pain, he cut two slashes into his burned flesh. One for Osmorra, and one for Nhuon, lest he ever forget the debt he owed.
“That bitch is going to die,” he chuckled, watching his blood ooze down his arm. “I was going to kill you quick, Ethryn, but now? No. It’ll be slow, painful. I’m going to enjoy watching the life fade in those fucking eyes.”
18
Reading through the scrolls brought comfort, the act stealing his thoughts from those lost. Some numbers drew surprise, as though he hadn’t recalled the slaughter he just committed.
The skills were the biggest note. Dodge and Parry had swelled, and Blink was nearing the second ranking. He hadn’t a clue what that meant, but he hoped the mana cost of the spell would decrease upon the second ranking.
Twenty-one points were waiting on him, and he didn’t bother wasting much thought on it. The injury to his arm, and now his shoulder, were both handicaps he could no longer afford. All twenty-one went into Recovery, lifting the attribute from 30 to 51. His arm tingled the moment he confirmed the decision, and stowing the scrolls sent a wave of pain through the right side of his nearly broken body.
“Better work, huh?” he grumbled to Perry before climbing to his feet. “No more of his one-armed fighting bullshit.”
The plan was simple at this point. He’d find Kisha and Lildrith, then return to the Nagarian Temple where he would break one foot off in Lahwanta’s ass, saving the other for Komorda. With the chalice returned to inventory, and his dagger wiped clean, he broke toward the hall in search of his friends.
He’d just made the turn when Perry let out a ‘Bwarp.’
“What is it now?” he sighed, finding the dragon looking toward the tunnel entrance through the corner of his yellow eyes. “You’re probably starved. I’m a terrible dragon trainer, in case you hadn’t figured that out by now.”
“Bwarp.”
“I’ll get you some food, promise. I’ll snag a fish on our way to the surface. Huge one. Bigger than you.”
“Bwarp!”
“What the hell are you prattling. . .oh, fuck me.”
It took but a glance to realize it wasn’t the dragon’s stomach that was the issue, but rather the shadows that rose above the stairwell to the tunnels. The shadows were large, and far too rounded at the top to be Naga. His eyes bulged when he caught sight of the first Sharkala, and the other two to each side. He was injured, had less than half his mana, and his health was barely above half. Given how he’d fared with just one Sharkala, he didn’t dare take on three, or more, alone.
“Let’s go see what the ladies are doing, shall we?” he hissed and picked up his pace to a jog. Each time a foot struck the floor, pain throbbed through his right side, likely hindering the healing process.
But slowing down wasn’t an option, so he bit down and opened up his stride until he was nearing a full run. Some time since leaving the Nagarian Temple for here, he’d placed a handful of points in Speed, and now the spending spree was paying off. The stone blocks of the walls blurred by him as he sped past the archways, praying he wasn’t stirring up trouble of the undead kind. However, the rumbling steps behind him said the loud running was necessary, and he continued on while only giving the shadows to his left an occasional glance.
A breath of relief mixed in with the heavy breaths from his run, and a weak smile found his lips. Two sets of footprints lit up in his vision, and he took the turn down the hall when he reached the ‘T’ junction.
He paused long enough to look back down the hall, thankful that the Sharkala weren’t as light on their feet as they likely were in the water. But the relief was short-lived when he happened a glance to the floor.
“Fuck my stupidity,” he grumbled.
Drops of blood led down the hall, some from his ritual of cutting the tick marks into his arm. Cursing at his foolishness, he picked up the dimly lit trail and hurried on to find the others.
With his stride opened, he came upon a wide room with a white marble floor, and stone pillars that held up the ceiling. There were doors to either side, but the one straight ahead lessened his worries.
“DeVante!” Kisha called out, jumped down the handful of marble steps, and rushed to meet him on the other side. Her small frame slammed into his chest, her shoulder catching Perry’s tail, rewarded with a ‘Bwarp’ of anger. “Sorry, Perry. DeVante, what in the nether happened to you?”
“The Naga,” he groaned, his eyes looming past her to see where Lildrith was standing. “I hope there’s a reason why you were both leaning on that door.”
The door behind Lildrith was two wide, and a heavy beam braced them together. With a bang, the two doors lurched forward and pressed against the beam, pushing the Harvester a few steps toward them.
“We managed to round up a few dozen undead,” Kisha sighed with a proud smile. “Okay, maybe Lildrith did most of the rounding, but. . .”
“I’d say the work was even,” Lildrith interrupted. “You look terrible, my master.”
“And your eyes are swollen,” Kisha pointed out, raising a webbed hand to stroke his bearded cheek.
“Have you been crying? I felt something, even from afar.”
“I’ll explain later,” he sighed, forcing a weak smile to his lips. “We’ve got bigger problems for now.”
“Just how big are we talking here?” Kisha asked, slowly backing away from him. “Like, more Naga big, or. . .”
The thundering footsteps provided the answer, and her tiny black eyes widened as she looked over his shoulder. He cocked his head to one side, sucked in his lips in a smile, then shrugged his good shoulder.
“Literally big. Now, where do those two doors lead?” he asked, pointing to the left with his hand, nodding to the right.
“Left leads to another tunnel, my master,” Lildrith replied, lifting her scythe as her helmeted head leaned to his right.
“The other leads down another hallway, and Lildrith sensed more undead from it,” Kisha offered.
“What’s the plan?”
“How many you think you’ve trapped in the middle one?” he asked, nodding behind Lildrith.
“Few dozen, and dozens more are coming from the other hall, before you ask, my master.”
“Okay, get the beam off that door to the hall, then both you start heading down the tunnel,” he announced, stealing a glance over his shoulder to make sure he wasn’t seeing a bunch of black eyes and huge teeth.
“You want what?!” Kisha snapped.
“I see where you are going with this, my master,” Lildrith replied, already moving toward the other door. “The undead should reach this room within the minute.”
“Good, get the beam off, and head on out,” he ordered. “Don’t run without thinking though. There could be more coming down that tunnel. At least that’s what I’d do if I were wanting me dead. Kisha,
go, now. If you find water, try to summon another elemental. We may need all the help we can get if we’re going to get out of here.”
DeVante handed off Perry, then leaned against the double doors that remained barred. The rumbling of the ground grew louder as the two women hurried toward the tunnel doorway. The little dragon gave a sad little noise when Kisha turned to leave, but he refused to believe it was the last time he’d see either of them. With a sigh to still his pounding heart, he drew his pistol, placed his injured hand against the beam, and waited.
The pounding in his chest grew stronger against his wishes, though he doubted anyone would think him a coward. The hall across the recessed section of the room found several, perhaps a dozen Sharkala staggering throughout the confined space. Those in front had the same lifeless eyes as the first he’d encountered, clutching a variety of weapons that ranged from tridents to massive clubs. Their height varied by just inches, but the width and faces altered from one to the next. Not all their heads were shaped as the first he’d dealt with, and some were far thinner than the massive brute he killed.
One thing they all had in common though; they were sniffing the air, tracing the source of blood he’d foolishly left for them.
“Hey. . .boys?” he guessed, shrugging one good shoulder while aiming the pistol to keep them at bay. “Don’t suppose any of you would mind telling me why you’re here? More fish in the water than here, I’d wager?”
“That the one,” the Sharkala in the front grunted, its face wider and flatter than the first he’d dealt with. “Ethryn want that one.”
“Guess that answers that,” he sighed. “I highly doubt I taste good. Bitter! Yeah, I’ve been told I’m bitter.”
“Enough talk,” one spoke from the right as the others pushed their way into the room. This one had a very, very flat head, and its eyeballs were fixed to the sides of the strange protrusion. Hammerhead?
Maybe. “Kill him. Take body to her.”
“Why doesn’t anyone try diplomacy first?” he mumbled to himself.
There was a standoff of sorts playing out before him. The Sharkala were all in the room now, spreading wide in a line with none daring a toe over the steps. Some of the thinner ones were crouched, their heads turned to one side to keep an eye on him. The larger ones merely stood tall, weapons at the ready, their massive jaws tightening to expose blood-stained teeth. Muscles were flexing, blunt weapons were tapping against massive hands, and it was about to turn into a frenzy the moment one of them was brave enough to charge forward.
A quest has been offered from an unknown source.
Kill the Sharkala!
Rewards:
1 golden coffer
7 golden coffer coins
500 gold
500 ranking
5 skill points per kill
“Don’t need to tell me twice,” he chuckled and clicked the hammer of the pistol while channeling a wise amount of mana into it. “So, which of you are in charge?”
The line parted down the middle to permit the largest of the group to enter. It looked nothing like a shark. It was pure black, with white around its eyes and down its stomach. A massive ax rested in its huge hands, and it opened its mouth to show rows of teeth far smaller than those surrounding it.
“Me, Elf!” the brute bellowed. “Die.”
“You first,” he offered, squeezed the trigger, and carried out the plan.
You shoot Orcana for +92 damage!
Blink +1!
82/100!
No sooner had the shot blasted from the pistol than he performed the Blink spell. The bracing beam came along for the ride, clanking on the floor beyond the doorway to the tunnel as he turned tail to run.
The door he’d leaned against burst open, permitting the dozens of undead to pour out from it. Snarls, growls, and thunderous steps sounded behind him as he charged down the tunnel, not affording himself a second to see how the plan fared. He didn’t need to look to know that the undead were taking the blunt of the damage, gathered by the words flashing before his eyes.
The updates came so quickly that he could barely see where he was going, which proved costly as chunks of the floor had been broken, leaving entire blocks of stone resting where they shouldn’t. He tripped over one when his toe caught a broken lip, sending him sprawling. DeVante had the foresight to keep his injured armed tucked with the other out before him, but struck the ground with his elbow, then his chin, just before the pistol kicked down the dark path. Pain shot through his jaw as the ringing returned to his ears, and the rumble of the floor demanded he get off his ass and find his gun.
You struck the floor for +9 damage!
Health 168/275!
“I fucking know,” he grumbled, clawing at the ground with his good hand while keeping the injured one tight against his chest. Stars still flashed in his eyes, and the updates continued rolling in his vision while panic set in. The combination of the two made looking for a black and silver weapon impossible, and he broke his gaze long enough to see several thick shadows rumbling his way.
“Shit, shit, shit,” he hissed, stumbling forward and batting at the words as though they were gnats.
There was a short break in the update, just enough time to offer the glint of the pistol’s silver barrel. He lunged forward as the thundering steps drew near. His outstretched fingers wrapped around the handle, mana already channeling, and he turned in hopes of catching the closest brute. But his actions were futile. His yellow eyes went wide as a massive club was held high above his head. Black, lifeless eyes looked down upon him. Long, stained teeth lay exposed to curling lips, and the monster grunted as the club thrust down toward his face.
Blink +1!
83/100!
His stomach felt gravity’s effect first as the ceiling was but inches from his face. With a grunt, he twisted his body, along with the gun, and tried to aim at the back of the Sharkala while he fell to the floor. The blast fired, the mana shot slammed into the shoulder of the brute, but he hadn’t a clue where to Blink with his body traveling so quickly.
Blink +1!
84/100!
DeVante stumbled forward thanks to his momentum, right into the side of the now injured Sharkala.
He slammed face-first into the scorched arm, staggered back, and channeled another shot while he found his balance. While he staggered, the Sharkala had shifted the club from the injured arm to the other, turned his wide, ugly head, and started a long, arcing swing. The pistol erupted with an unmeasured amount of mana, forcing the barrel upward toward the head, rather than the injured arm he hoped to penetrate. The blast lit up the tunnel, glistening off the splatter of blood and flesh that sprayed against the wall. By the time he quit staggering backward, a large chunk of the brute’s head was gone, and the body slumped toward him in a heap.
Blink +1!
85/100!
He managed to teleport from the spot before the massive body could crush him, only to wind up on the lip of the water channel. With only his toes finding purchase, he fell into the water with a splash.
Instantly the gills and webbed fingers took form, bringing air to his lungs as his eyes struggled to make sense of what he was seeing. He figured he could only see the last time because the pool contained clear water. However, he now realized it was another effect of the ability. Even with the sediment from the sea floating by, he could see within the channel just as well as he could on land, which offered him the horrid glance of several huge figures crashing into the channel. With the pistol in one hand, and the other clamped to his side, he’d no ability to swim away. Three of the Sharkala sped his way at an alarming speed, and a panicked bubble escaped his mouth as he tried to scream.
His stomach tightened as his body shot upward, though he’d no recollection of performing a spell.
The water was forming beneath him, seeing the Sharkala grow smaller in his vision as he looked down upon the channel. Two massive arms formed from the sides of the body of water, and he felt himself thrown forward as one arm raised above his head, then slammed down on the closest Sharkala.
