God class, p.44
God Class, page 44
One mighty cudgel raised, moonlight lose on its dark wrought iron, and it fell like a meteor. Tulk lunged to the side then fell into a roll just as the club smashed the earth. With a force that threatened to spile the continent in two, the residual quake sent Tulk off of his feet just as he recovered, and he barely missed the swipe of the other massive weapon.
Tulk felt just under the horizontal swing, feeling the air of the club passing just over him, and countered with the first of his quick strikes. They sliced against a small, unarmored portion of the monsters hand leaving fine bleeding lines in their wake. Mirgeonth screamed as the blood oozed like hot tar, sliding down and falling to the earth with more of the fiery crackle.
“Even the blood is hot…” Tulk muttered as Mirgeonth pulled back from the cuts.
Stealing the opportunity, Tulk once more held his blades parallel and spun his body to form the powerful energy arcs. The [Twin Aero Fang Slash] burst from the sword edges, rippling power waves cut forward to split the creature in two. They were moments from colliding with their target, when the air suddenly grew humid and hot.
The air around Mirgeonth crackled and popped. He wept harder, his tears cascading like waterfalls of magma, and his cries breaking the silence of the night. The waves drew close, they were mere inches, then they were dissipated as intense heat exploded from Mirgeonth with one massive scream.
Tulk felt his skin burn as he was flung back. The smell of his own singed hair filled the air, and he smashed into the earth several feet behind him, nearly dropping his blades. Tulk shook off the fiery pain and tucked into a roll again, getting back to his feet and shaking the daze away from his eyes.
This was battle, and he would not be ended by mere air.
“No!” The larger human shouted from behind Tulk. “We must flee, young Reimond. We must leave this hellish place! Look above us! The stars themselves retreat!”
Tulk spared an upward glance and noted that they were not lying, as Humans tended to do. The sky had, somehow, grown even darker. Stars had begun to vanish, as if something in the endless void had swallowed them one by one. It sent a shiver down his spine.
“Get off of me! Get off!” The young human screamed. “We cannot just leave them here to face that unholy thing! Silas! Silas! Wake up!”
“He is right, boy,” Tulk snarled without turning back. He clutched his swords tightly as he stared down his opponent. “You are no good here. You can stay and you can die. Or, you can go. The battlefield is no place for a coward.”
“I am… I am not a coward,” the young human answered almost as if he were reassuring himself. “I will stay… I will stay! I will fight!”
Tulk almost smiled at the ignorance of the young. The boy was a fool, he thought. Fleeing was the only safe option, coward or not.
Mirgeonth seemed to be enveloped in an aura of red-tinged, tendrilled smoke. Lines of the spiraling red mist wiggled all around him, burning the ground with every step forward he took.
Tulk muttered angrily to himself again, and then leapt to engage the being head on. He darted forward with a charge before pushing one blade forward for a [Sentinel’s Piercing Aero]. The energy burst forward, a piercing shade of a sward carved from the air, and it threatened to run Mirgeonth through. The strike connected with the thin layer of tendrils around the being, barely breaking through it and connecting on the other side.
The energy carved into the armor of the beasts massive gut, entering just enough to meet flesh. Without warning, the strike cut into the flesh which released a fountain spray of the molten blood forward. Tulk dodged backward, desperate to get away from the oncoming torrent of liquid fire that was Mirgeonth’s insides.
He was too late.
The blood splashed onto him, droplets of melting flame connecting with his guard uniform and searing holes through as if it were mere paper. The thick substance met his own skin and he erupted with the burning pain. Tulk screamed. Before he could even wrap his mind around the blood geyser that had hit him, he was met with a new, more forceful pain. One that felt like he was being smashed by a mountain.
Tulk barely had time to howl in pain before he was sent skidding over the earth, leaving a line of drawn, churned dirt in his wake. Agony, white hot and roaring, bellowed from inside of him. The burning pain of the scorching blood was almost muted by the cudgel that had surely just shattered his right arm and some of his ribs. Tulk caught his rattling breath, trying to mentally clear the fog that now clouded his mind. Every single time he blinked he could see the strange golden words in the dark of his eyelids warning him of things he still did not fully understand.
“H-Health… critical?” He muttered to no one at all, staring into the words.
There was also the constant barrage of information that swept him throughout every battle. Things about experience or damage. Useless information as far as he was concerned. All that mattered were tactics, execution, and death.
He inhaled another breath as he contemplated those, feeling the slow thunder of Mirgeonth approaching him.
Tactics? Tulk had tactics for almost all situations. He felt it necessary during the war in his younger years, and it proved even more valuable during his time with the Charred Bone. As for execution, he had no doubt that his was as flawless as could be. His strikes landed, though they did far less against the foul, demonic thing than he had hoped. No, it was the death part that had eluded him on this day. He was simply outmatched, and he could live with that. Live for the next minute or so until Mirgeonth brought one of his oak-sized cudgels down on him, that is.
Tulk drew in one last breath and resigned himself to his fate.
Until he heard a shout, and the squelch of something sharp piercing flesh.
“Bring it down!” A voice came from just outside of the comfort of Tulk’s eyelids. He opened them only to find the strange new human mounted on the back of the gargantuan enemy, a long dagger in hand being plunged over and over into the nape of the giant’s back. “Together!”
“TOGETHER!” The crab responded in its bubbling watery way, skittering up the massive shoulder of Mirgeonth and snipping at the fleshy neck with toxin-coated claws.
A rifle blast echoed, overtaking the nonsensical grunting and hollering of Mirgeonth. The bullet pinged off of the enclosed metal helmet, and Tulk could see the young human boy already readying his rifle for another shot. The larger human ran forward, spear in hand and a battle snarl on his face. Metal met the narrowly exposed underbelly of the beast, drawing more of the sizzling, thick blood.
Tulk looked at them, barely finding a word to say. Were those humans fighting for him? Were they regarding him, a Goblin, as their brethren? They were nice enough within the confines of their human town, but Tulk had merely brushed this off as them trying to get on the Forest Guardian’s good side. Yet this was so much more than that. They risked their lives for him, disobeyed their human captain for him.
Tulk felt a chain within himself snap. It was a chain that he had created himself, one that existed only to wrap his former self who wished to coexist with humans. As the imaginary chain broke and fell to the ground like a dying, coiled snake, Tulk found it in himself to accept that they truly wanted him to live with no ulterior motive.
Burk, the odd human who had said little and participated even less. Ingran, the large, grandfatherly man who drank like a goblin and fought like a soldier. And Reimond, the boy with the smile. The one who had always prepared a joke, who had always tried to look at the light in the darkness. These humans were more than just humans, they were companions. He said their names to himself one last time, then shoved himself up off the ground.
“Tulk!” Reimond screamed just before firing another shot that only managed to graze the monster’s arm. “You’re alive!”
Tulk chuckled as he stood, wobbling in place and clutching a sword in his only usable hand. “C-Can’t… Kill me that easily… Human.”
Spitting out a mouthful of blood and showing his crimson soaked teeth, Tulk smiled at the flailing, stumbling giant.
“Ka’Tik Ga H’Atrun, Tuk Atu,” he said, twirling is sword and taking a step forward. “Bastard.”
Before Silas even knew it the sounds of clashing steel and the roar of battle had ended. The darkness was a void, and his eyes felt far too heavy to open. He struggled to maintain his consciousness as things began to feel cold and damp; it was like the feeling of death itself embrace him. Silas fought internally with all he had to wake up, he pleaded for his body to just move already. For the first time since the Charred Bone clan’s caverns, Silas felt weak and afraid.
“My my, what a display of power…” A voice rattled from somewhere in the shadows that surrounded him, and he fought even harder to just open his eyes. “I find that it is a good day when rumors manifest themselves as reality.”
“Who are you?” Silas managed to say, feeling like he was choking on every word as it came out. “What is happening? Where is Tulk?”
“Who?” The voice said again. “Is that one of the guardsmen in my service? No… No, it must be the Goblin. Is that who this Tulk is?”
“Where the fuck is he!” Silas barked, struggling and feeling some measure of warmth return to his body.
“You are a strange one, aren’t you?” The stranger laughed amongst the sounds of gentle, cool winds rustling branches.
Good, Silas thought. We are outside. We must be close to the battle then.
“Relax, boy,” the voice said. “Your Goblin ally still lives. For now, that is. The Voiceless Hollow wasn’t prepared for such a battle after all, especially against a single Goblin. Still, I have little doubt of your Goblin friend or the guards of Autumnrun surviving this encounter.”
“The guards… Are they fighting that thing too?! Are they fighting Mirgeonth? Let me go! Let me fucking go! I have to help them!”
“Mirgeonth… Interesting…” Footsteps sounded as whoever it was began to take steps, seemingly pacing back and forth. The sound of stones and leaves under heel gave Silas confirmation that they were outside. “Where did you hear that name?”
Alright Helper, Silas thought. Who is this? Where am I?”
[Request Error]
What? What does that mean? Who is speaking?
[Request Error]
God damn it!
[Request Error; Ability not found]
“How about you tell me who you are first?” Silas answered boldly, continued to fight his way free of whatever invisible, dark force trapped him. It was like battling and squirming his way out of nearly-hardened concrete.
“Hmm… No,” they answered. “Most know me just by the tambour of my voice. Others simply by my presence. Yet you… Now, you are a mystery. The way you speak, the way you act, it is all… foreign. Foreign in a way I have not seen for a lifetime.”
Silas paused at that. He swallowed hard and calmed himself.
“Rainier… You’re Rainier, aren’t you?”
Even without seeing the man, Silas could feel the squirm of a wide smile crack the man’s face.
“So, you have heard of them then I see. Splendid…” Rainier answered. “And you are Silas, yes? Unless my sources have mistaken me.”
“I… I am.” Silas was a bit deflated, feeling like whatever mystery he had left was slowly sailing away without him.
He needed a plan. According to Rae, Tulk, and even the people of Autumnrun, this Rainier person had a power similar to that of his own. If he truly had conquered most of this planet and amassed a colossal army while doing so, Silas had little doubt in his abilities against the man. On top of that, Silas had barely even been a part of this world. Rainier would have had decades to master his craft and his power, while Silas could barely hold his own against raging elk or some big slugs. However, if Silas could just get out of this situation, he knew he could overwhelm this emperor with whatever he had left, and then hopefully it would be a window to escape.
With a thought, Silas brought up his abilities and filtered out anything on a cooldown. The swirling golden text gave him a rundown on what he had left to work with.
[Ability: Twin Sun Morning Star. No cooldown timer active]
[Ability: Obliteration. No cooldown timer active]
[Ability: Acid Lash. No cooldown timer active]
[Ability: Slug Storm. No cooldown timer active]
[Ability: Thrusting Strike. No cooldown timer active]
[Ability: Spirit Gun. No cooldown timer active]
[Ability: Sparring Shadow. No cooldown timer active]
[Ability: Consecrated Ground. No cooldown timer active]
Shit, Silas thought to himself.
His heavy hitters were available, and a number of the skills he had not used yet like [Slug Storm] and [Acid Lash], however when he tried to prompt them nothing happened. He could feel the Mana hear his call, and it even seemed like it wanted to obey the command, but nothing came to be. Silas remembered that with [Morning Star] he had to do a quick hand signal to get into position before the Mana would flow freely enough to create the blast. Being completely confined and unable to even see made that extraordinarily tough.
Rainier continued to pace and continued his questioning. He asked more about how Silas knew Mirgeonth’s name and about the lights from the Forest of Hiisi. He asked about the flaming bird shot against the elk, or about Tulk’s abilities. Silas remained quiet, breathing steadily and contemplating what he could do.
Then, it came to him. Finally, something in his golden interface was shown to him that was not a total waste of time. Even better, there were two things and if he played his cards right, he would be able to mount quite the counter assault.
Silas almost pat himself on the back. Almost.
[Ability Activated: Summon Familiar]
OceanofPDF.com
Twenty Four
Those Born Of The Stars
Tulk hammered down with his blade, casting a rippling blast of sharpened force forward at Mirgeonth.
The beast tanked the hit, accepting the damage willingly as he swung his cudgel down. The wrought iron only narrowly missed Tulk as he dropped to the ground then shoved his battered body back up. Ingran also dodged, though it was apparent that he was never the intended target to begin with. Orland Burk had already gone through two daggers, with each eventually melting and corroding from the beast’s blood and becoming useless hunks of metal. Reimond continued to miss far more shots than he hit, and Burbles had managed a spot at the top of Mirgeonth’s helmet where she continuously attempted to poke the monster’s eyes out.
“Do you-” Ingran said, yanking his now nearly dissolved spear free and tossing it aside. “Think we are doing a damned thing, Sir Goblin?”
Tulk slammed the blade down, activating [Rain of Blades] and calling down a flurry of small swords made of hardened energy that pummeled Mirgeonth from up high. The Goblin panted heavily, crushing pain radiating through his body and broken bones.
“Hard to tell,” he responded. “Not doing nothing. Not doing something.”
“I am not fond of those odds, Sir Goblin…” Ingran deflated a bit, then fell back to prepare for Mirgeonth’s next attack. Ingran drew the arming sword from his hip and got into a defensive stance.
The Voiceless Hollow bellowed loud enough to shatter the night sky; an odd juxtaposition to his name, Tulk thought. He stepped back and flailed again, attempting to knock Burk loose from his back along with shake off Burbles. Tulk took advantage of the distraction and launched another shockwave of force from his blade to collide with the massive Mirgeonth once more. It carved into the thick metal of the armor again, just breaking through enough to ooze more of the thick, tar blood. Tulk’s shoulders dropped, and he breathed heavily, still fighting just to remain on his feet.
Tulk could feel the Mana in his body slow to a trickle, and even without closing his eyes to check he knew he had nearly depleted his full reserve. He damned whatever cruel Gods looked down on him this day, and he cursed them for matching him against such a monster.
“Atun’ka Akh,” he muttered, watching Mirgeonth lash out again and succeeding in tossing Orland Burk off like a wolf with a flea. Burbles managed to hang on, claws desperately clutching the odd horns on top of Mirgeonth’s head and flailing about like a sailor on rough tides.
“Hm?” Ingran raised a brow and looked at Tulk. “What does it mean, Sir Goblin? Your words?”
Tulk audibly sighed as he gazed at the gargantuan who would soon end their lives. He did not enjoy being called ‘Sir Goblin’ by this man, though he supposed there could be worse names to have right before death. Tulk watched Orland Burk scramble back to his feet, clearly dazed from the hard impact of the fall yet pulling out another dagger. Ingran stood firm, sword ready and a battle scowl plastered on his face. Even Reimond, who had run low on his ammunition and now wielded Pawlin’s spear, had prepared to charge into the battle.
They would all die. Tulk was sure of it. The beast before them bled its corrosive blood and screamed in anguish yet did not back down an inch. They were too weak, too disarmed, to overcome Mirgeonth’s overwhelming strength. Whatever this twisted, ogre-like thing was, he had bested them.
These human guards were fools. All of them. Tulk heaved another sigh, suddenly feeling his age again and letting the weariness of decades of battle sink on his shoulders. Battle did not change, and there were fools like these on every battlefield. A warrior should know when a battle is lost, and they should flee to fight another day. Tulk? No, Tulk would remain. He would be the straggler to distract the beast with the melting tears and searing blood.
Before Tulk could scream at the others to retreat, a roar emanated from Mirgeonth that sent a shiver down his spine. A large crustacean claw had sunken into the soft tissue of Mirgeonth’s eye and steaming trickles of fresh blood rolled down the helmet, burning deep gashes into the metal.
The group stepped back, all but Tulk moving to a safe yet poised position. As the monstrous thing called out wordlessly in agony the sounds of melting metal and sizzling blood began to deepen and grow until it surrounded them entirely. Tulk could only watch in speculation and horror as the thick plate armor of the torso began to melt in holes and pockets all over. Even the shoulder armor began to burn into molten steel, and the iron gauntlets dripped down to the earth below. An outpour of steam surrounded Mirgeonth, thin enough to see through but thick enough to ripple the air in waves of heat.
