Harbinger of destruction.., p.16
Harbinger of Destruction: A LitRPG Adventure, page 16
Perhaps he had underestimated himself.
“I can keep trying,” Alric said, “but it’s going to be slow going. They didn’t leave a lot of pathways to find them in-game, but I can look online when I log out.”
Hirrus didn’t understand half of what Alric said, as usual, but nodded along with it.
Alric motioned with his fork as he spoke. “I think that means they don’t know what you are yet. If they knew you were just an NPC, they wouldn’t be hiding from potential recruits. They might think you’re a player or, like GM Dave said, a hacker.”
“That’s good news, then,” Dahlia said with a thin smile. “If you have them on the defensive, then they won’t be out destroying anyone else’s lives.”
“Including ours.” Hirrus nodded and looked down at his meal. “With them trying to hide from me, all I have to do is catch up with Barin in the morning.”
“Mixed blessing,” Alric said around a mouthful of food. “When you get there, they’re going to be turtled up and ready for you.”
“Let them.” Hirrus’s appetite shriveled as anger filled his belly. “Let them gather their forces in one place for me.” He grinned, and he knew it wasn’t a pleasant thing. “The only thing I’m afraid of is them running from me.”
Dahlia touched his arm gently. Her fingers were cold, nearly ice, even though the room was quite warm. “Don’t be overconfident,” she warned. “Carelessness will be your undoing.”
“Carelessness is their sin,” Hirrus said, “not mine.” He shook his head and then paused to breathe. To quell his rage. “They think of us as less than them. That we aren’t people.” Alric winced at that, but Hirrus pressed on. “I will show them that we don’t have to be like them to matter. We’re real, and we will not be treated this way.”
“So what’s the plan, then?” Dahlia asked, her tone shifting from careful and calming to a noblewoman discussing her daily routine. She removed her hand from Hirrus’s arm, even though he could feel the lingering cold. “Do you plan on just charging in blindly and hoping for the best?”
“She’s right,” Alric said, even though he didn’t look over at either of them. “Running in face-first doesn’t sound smart. That shouldn’t be the plan. You should, um, have a better plan than that one.”
“That isn’t the plan,” Hirrus grumbled. He set his fork aside and started to gesture, speaking with his hands. “Let me start at the beginning, then. In the morning, Barin will give me the information I need. That will allow me to find where Last of the Strong are centered. Once I have that information, I can go there and investigate. I will take my time appraising the defenses, carefully measure their forces, and determine the ideal time, place, and method of attack.”
“See, that sounds good,” Alric said, nodding as he went back to shoveling food in his mouth. “Much better than your other plan.”
Hirrus narrowed his eyes at the adventurer. “Running in blind was never my plan.”
“Whatever,” Alric mumbled. “I just know what sounds good.”
“I won’t deny that I wish I knew more,” Hirrus said, addressing Dahlia instead of the adventurer. “If I knew the names and faces of the ones who were behind the attack against Yenon, I could wait to see if they leave their guild hall and isolate themselves. If I knew more of their temperament, I could determine if they might grow tired of taking a defensive stance and drop their guard if I delay my attack.”
Alric made a low, uncertain sound in his throat. “That seems unlikely. If they weren’t enthusiastic about going into hiding, their recruiters would still be out there working instead of on lockdown.”
“Thank you,” Hirrus said. “At this point, any information is useful.”
“If you want my advice, the sooner you hit them, the better,” Alric continued, staring at the bottom of his bowl. “Once a guild gets big enough, the most dangerous tool they have is gathering information of their own. Dataminers or dev contacts or even getting directly in touch with GM Dave, they might figure out what you are. And once they do, it’s only a matter of time before they learn the best way of stopping you.”
Many of the words Alric said made little sense. But the context was clear.
The Last of the Strong would have allies. And allies would be dangerous for Hirrus. They would be more people to uncover what he was and what he was capable of doing.
“That’s a reasonable concern,” Hirrus said. “But considering how many times they’ve demanded of me what I am and how I’m doing the things I do, I’m not sure if information will help them too much.”
“Don’t underestimate an adventurer,” Alric warned. “I’m not saying, I’m just saying. Even gods who make that mistake die horribly at our hands.”
Hirrus steepled his fingers, leaning his elbows against the table. “I won’t delay overmuch, then. Just long enough to appraise their defense. Once I’m sure I won’t be biting off more than I can chew, I’ll take the opportunity to strike.”
“And what if you are?” Dahlia asked. Hirrus looked her way, but she was looking at the small window, towards the night sky. “What if they’re too much for you? I know you won’t cry off on your cause.”
“I won’t cry off,” Hirrus confirmed, “but I will bring them to justice. I can’t do that by breaking myself against their defenses.” He frowned and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “If fighting them in their base of power is impossible, I will find another way. I promise.”
“Thank you,” Dahlia said with a nod, looking down at the last few spoonfuls of curry in her bowl.
The trio finished their dinner in near silence. Alric had secured his own room—explaining something about needing proper ownership of a bed in order to leave his body in it while logged out—and Hirrus helped Dahlia into bed after he was gone. It took a few minutes to make sure she had the right number and arrangement of pillows to support her body where she needed it, but after all she’d been through, it was the least he could do to ensure an acceptable level of comfort for a good night’s sleep.
Once Dahlia was taken care of, Hirrus readied himself for sleep as well. He doused the lights, changed his gear out to sleepwear, and climbed into the room’s second bed.
As soon as he was lying there in the dark, he realized how unlikely it was that he would get any proper sleep.
The bed beside him felt cold and empty. While it had made his heart ache eating a poor substitute for her cooking, he’d had other things to occupy his mind then. He had been talking to Alric and Dahlia and thinking of his plans for Last of the Strong.
But now?
It was dark and quiet. The only distraction he had from Julissa’s absence was the distant sound of reveling in the tavern downstairs.
He wondered what she would think about his quest. Would she be with him, encouraging him to bring justice to Last of the Strong? Would she be quietly supportive like Dahlia, encouraging him to stay safe rather than plunging headlong into the fray? Or would she be too pure of heart to accept him seeking to collect a debt of blood?
Hirrus feared it would be that last one.
He feared he was disappointing her by turning to violence.
Regardless of where her heart would lie, she wasn’t here. No amount of hoping or wondering would provide him with an answer.
He had failed to protect her.
And what good was a guard who couldn’t protect people?
Hirrus considered the fall of Yenon a failure on his part. The death of almost every person there was a damning indictment of his inability to execute that duty. But none of it hurt as much as his failure to protect Julissa. She was the love of his life, and he’d let her die right in front of him.
Why hadn’t he been able to throw off his decision tree before her death? Why had her death been necessary?
He very much doubted that he would be getting any sleep tonight.
Hirrus stared up at the darkened ceiling. He resigned himself to memorizing the swirls and loops in the faded paint until daybreak.
Others, however, had different plans.
Barely an hour later, the wall behind his bed blew apart in a blast of flames.
There was no warning.
The sudden brightness and heat overwhelmed Hirrus’s senses, and he hurled himself out of bed before any of the wooden shards of the broken wall could hurt him.
“Jesus Christ, Cary,” a voice shouted from outside. “What part of ‘clean and efficient’ was that?”
“That was the room, right?”
“Well, yeah, but—”
“Then maybe I just solved our problem? Sounds clean and efficient to me!”
Hirrus accessed his inventory and got his gear back on quickly. He wondered how badly he might have been hurt if this “Cary” had aimed his attack slightly lower on the wall. Whatever blast that was, the bottom edge of the hole in the wall was barely more than eight inches above where his head had been a moment before.
“Who’s out there?” Hirrus yelled out the hole, ducking low beside the opening to avoid presenting an easy target. “Who are you, and what are you doing?”
“Is that the guy?” someone asked.
“Fuck if I know,” another voice answered. “Sounds like just a guy and not a monster.”
“Are you the bitch looking for the Last of the Strong?” the second voice—Cary—yelled up at Hirrus. “Because in Kingdom of Hari, the Last of the Strong find you!”
Hirrus grimaced. Assassins.
He took a quick peek out the hole, ducking back in just as a small orb of fire hurtled at his head. It wasn’t the same blast that destroyed the wall—it only splashed against the ceiling above Hirrus, leaving a fist-sized scorch mark there.
But it hadn’t come fast enough. He saw what he was up against.
There were only four of them. What adventurers called a party. Hirrus didn’t believe that to be sufficient numbers to threaten him, but he didn’t want to underestimate them. One of them was wearing a flowing robe decked out with a shimmering metallic lining that caught the moonlight. That was the one throwing fire. On that man’s flanks were two warriors in spiked platemail, one in black and the other in a foggy gray hue. One wielded a huge two-handed club of spiked black metal to match his armor, while the other held a sword and shield.
The man in front was obviously the leader. He was wearing lighter armor made from hundreds of studded leather lamellae, but each piece was decorated with a gold foil filigree that ran around the edge of each individual piece. His weapon was an impractically large two-handed axe that appeared to be made of glowing blue ice, the bulk of the head formed of jagged points that would throw off the weapon’s weight, but gave the weapon an impressively imposing look.
It seemed that expecting the adventurers to go on the defensive had been incorrect.
26
ONLY BEAT THEM HALF TO DEATH
Hirrus was pinned down. There was nowhere to retreat to without putting himself or someone else in danger. If he tried to cross the room, they would know.
One of his foes-to-be had just blasted the entire wall apart. Bricks still tumbled from the hole, crumbling to the floor with an audible thud.
He didn’t want another attack like that.
Hirrus tried to think about his options. Taking an explosion of that kind directly to the face would likely be fatal. Hirrus knew it was probably the work of a powerful Arcana, and it would not be ready for use for a while. But he didn’t know if such powerful adventurers could have more than one like that prepared for him.
On the other hand, they’d just blasted the building open. If he stayed where he was, they were going to bring the whole building down, possibly killing everyone inside.
Doomed to stay, and doomed to go.
“What’s happening?” Dahlia yelled in a whispered tone from across the room, having been awakened by the blast. In the light that spilled through the hole in the wall, Hirrus could see she was unharmed. She clutched at her sheets, pulling them to her chest as if they would protect her.
“Don’t worry,” Hirrus whisper-shouted. “Stay where you are. I’ve got this under control.”
The most pressing need was to draw this attack away from the inn. Even if he stepped outside to fight the group of adventurers, he had to make sure the inn wouldn’t be a casualty of any wayward attacks—especially if those attacks might catch a load-bearing wall.
It might cost him taking a few hits during the run, but it was necessary. He had to get out there, secure their attention, and run to a safer place to stage a proper fight.
“Come out,” one of the adventurers demanded, as if they knew his mind. “We’ll make this quick. I’ve got an early Zoom call.”
Hirrus looked to Dahlia, motioned for her to stay put.
With a deep breath, and in absence of any other option, Hirrus took a running leap out of the hole in the wall.
The room was only on the second floor. His drop to the street wasn’t dangerous, but was far enough that when he hit the ground, he had to land in a crouch, absorbing the impact with his knees.
“There he is!” the robed adventurer yelled. “Get him! Get him!”
The two heavily armored adventurers charged forward. Hirrus turned and broke into a run.
There was a crackling sound, and Hirrus quickly juked to the left. Another little orb of flames sailed past him. The robed adventurer said something Hirrus couldn’t quite make out, but he didn’t focus on it. It was likely just another weird curse in that strange tongue.
As soon as he could, Hirrus ducked around the next corner and started running. He activated Split Second to get a big head start.
But Hirrus’s plan wasn’t to lead them on a long chase.
He just wanted to get somewhere safe to fight.
The Temple Village district was next to the city’s outer wall, and a few of the larger buildings closer to the main gate were made of solid stone. Hirrus was bold enough to hope that whatever blast had taken a chunk out of the brick-and-wood wall of the inn wouldn’t be sufficient to destroy a stone-slab structure or the reinforced stone of the city wall.
He drew up short and whirled, ready to make his stand.
Hirrus was shocked to see that one of the adventurers was already on top of him. The man’s enormous glowing blue axe was sweeping in at him before Hirrus could even set his feet.
With no other options, Hirrus swept his own axe out. He aimed to turn the unexpected surprise attack into a trade. His axe scraped across the leather lamellae of the adventurer’s chest piece as the greataxe slammed into his own dark metal pauldron.
Empowered by Juri’s gear, Hirrus’s strike did a surprisingly solid 5,112 damage. For a moment, he thought the upgrades might have rendered him indomitable.
But the adventurer’s attack did 5,411 damage.
Just slightly higher. And this was when the man was alone.
Hirrus likely had significantly more hit points than even this seasoned adventurer, but with three more of them rounding the corner to join the fight, this was going to be a rough encounter.
As he moved to ready another attack, the enormous blue ice axe came around again with overwhelming swiftness. Hirrus barely had time to meet it with his own weapon and parry the glowing edge upwards, letting it pass over his head. It bought him enough time to activate Iron Typhoon, giving himself the speed to keep up as the enormous weapon whirled around a third time.
Hirrus was unable to avoid the next swing of the axe before it slammed into his gut, but he was able to land another attack of his own on the adventurer’s upper arm. Hirrus’s attack dealt 5,212 damage, while the adventurer dealt 5,399 damage.
Instead of swinging again, the adventurer darted back, clearly possessing unnatural speed born of whatever Arcana. Hirrus was about to move in order to pursue and try to deny his retreat, but the adventurer in black spiked armor rushed up to check Hirrus’s advance.
This adventurer’s spiked metal club swept out in a clumsy strike, and Hirrus easily ducked under the blow before slamming his axe into the newcomer’s ribs. This man’s armor was much hardier, so Hirrus’s blow only did nearly a thousand points of damage less, but the impact of the blow still sent the man stumbling back.
“Healing,” the adventurer with the greataxe shouted in a demanding tone. “Now!”
“Jesus,” the man in spiked armor said. “He hits like a fucking truck!”
The man with the greataxe grinned. “Nah. I’ve been hit by a truck. He hits like Orlina. Much worse.”
The other two adventurers caught up, and the one with the sword and shield made a gesture at the fellow with the greataxe. There was a golden glow that erupted from the ground beneath him, coating him in radiant energy that faded quickly.
“Fuck, is that it? Just this fucking slow-ass HoT?”
“I’m not a fucking healer,” the adventurer with the shield shot back. “I only have that spell equipped for the attack speed passive, not to carry some dumbass floor tank. And the flavor, I guess.” She motioned at herself. “You know, paladin vibes.”
The man in the robes puffed, leaning down to rest his hands on his knees so he could catch his breath. “Why don’t we have a fucking healer, then? Who the fuck arranged this?”
“Fucking Clive,” the adventurer in black armor muttered.
Despite the distraction of the nearby conversation, the man in black armor pressed the attack as viciously as possible.
The weapon swept straight down at Hirrus, and all he could do was turn to make it a glancing blow. He was successful, but it still dealt 2,265 damage, sending him staggering to the left.
Hirrus came back with a backhand. The counterstrike would definitely have been a glancing blow, but the decorative spikes in the armor caught Hirrus’s weapon and made it land solidly instead, dishing out 5,198 damage in return.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” the black-armored man shouted. “I’m out! I’m out! Trade in!”
