Goblin summoner a deckbu.., p.39
Goblin Summoner: A Deckbuilding LitRPG, page 39
There was a rumble in the distance, like thunder but constant. It was growing louder by the second. Motes of light began to appear, growing into raging stars as the carried torches grew closer. Riders were approaching, and as they became clearer Gareth could see they were carrying banners emblazoned with a green sea serpent emerging from azure blue waves set against pure white. The armour they wore matched the same style as the guards defending the walls. It was reinforcements, a force of advance cavalry sent by Seahaven from the south.
The riders ran past, flowing around Gareth and Magda like a river as they rushed towards the walls. The remnants of the enemy army were still trying to clamber up the walls or push through the breach. They were exposed, the wall serving to pin them in place. Gareth was no master tactician but even he knew the charge by the small group of cavalry would be devastating.
A drop of rain landed on Gareth’s face, the first signs of the weather changing. It felt almost like a tear as if Acamida was crying over the carnage its children had wrought on each other.
“We need to get back!” Gareth said. He was shouting, the sound of the horses galloping around him forcing the increase in volume. The whoops and cheers of the riders weren’t helping the soldiers excited by the destruction they were going to unleash. It was hard to blame them, they were arriving as heroes, a much-needed respite for a besieged city.
“I can send my cherub over with me feat and we can teleport back,” Magda said, the last of the cavalry racing past her. “That’s going to be the quickest way.”
“It would waste the other charge though.”
“You would rather walk into what’s about to happen down there?”
“We use the portal,” Gareth said, realising that Magda was right. Gareth had seen enough death and carnage for one day. All he wanted most of all right now was a bath, to wash the dirt and blood from his skin. More raindrops fell onto his head, wiping away some of the grime on his cheeks. It wasn’t the same.
Magda nodded and activated her feat with a thought. The wings sprouting from the back of her cherub stretching their tiny frames wide as gusts of magical wind began to swirl around it. Magda gestured to the wall and the cherub raced off into the night.
“Give it a moment to get there,” she said, fishing the runic disc from her trouser pocket. “You think the others are ok?”
“They should be. I can still see them in the corner of my vision. They’ve been using cards, so they must be fighting. Imelda is as tough as anything, and Sarkuran is probably in his element. I’d be surprised if he wasn’t giving the orders when we get back or something like that.”
“A great start to his new evil empire.”
“You ever going to let up on him?” Gareth said. He had turned his back on Varius’s corpse, not wanting to look at it any longer. “He’s here fighting for a people he barely knows. Not exactly the kind of behaviour I would expect from a demon.”
“Unless it benefits them in the long run. Look, it’s hard. I’ve got a lifetime of hating the adversary, of working to stop them. It’s not something I can just toss away in a week.” Magda sighed and activated the disc. The portal she and Gareth had exited from closed, replaced by a fresh aperture of swirling green. “I’ll try harder, but I’m not going to take my eyes off him. Just in case.”
“That’s better than nothing. Come on, there’s still work to be done here.” Gareth stepped through the swirling portal, vanishing in an instant.
***
A shadow swooped down from above, claws raking across a soldier unfortunate enough to find himself in its path. Claudian’s men were running out of steam. They had followed the swarm of monsters as it had fallen back to the breach, using the momentum to cut as many down as they could. Some of the conscripts had joined in, reinforcing his men despite no order to do so. Seeing their comrades struggle to make it atop the walls had provided all the impetus they required. Claudian wasn’t going to turn down the support. Things had reached a stalemate, for now, the monsters holding them back from the other side of the wall.
The massive angelic being leading the way had been slain. No further magical aide had replaced it, not a good sign for the chances of victory. The enemy still had plenty of arcane clout on their side, the shadowy beast picking off his men from above was proof of that.
Claudian thrust with his sword, the blade sinking into the soft exposed torso flesh of a gorgon. The creature shrieked red blood contrasting against its pale green skin. Claudian turned away from the monster, pulling his sword free and looking for his next opponent. His eyes darted about, looking for the flying monster that was killing his men with impunity. It was circling above getting ready to strike again.
“Blasted thing,” Claudian said. He sheathed his sword and bent down, scooping up a spear that had been dropped by a slain conscript. “Hope you don’t mind if I borrow this.” He bent his arm back, getting ready to throw the weapon. In times past, Republic soldiers would carry quivers of pilum, thing bronze javelins designed to be thrown at short ranges. The spear wasn’t that, a simple shaft of wood with a metal tip meant to allow its user to keep someone at arm’s length or strike out from behind a shield wall. For now, it would have to do.
The monster went into a dive, singling out a conscript who was struggling to keep a gremlin at bay. Its taloned hands were held out ready to slice into the man, lifting him into the air and then dropping his mangled corpse. The conscript hadn’t seen the creature above, too focused on making desperate jabs at the gremlin.
Claudian threw the spear, putting all the strength he could muster behind it. The weapon careened through the air, its course wobbling and erratic. Claudian was in luck, the creatures dive crossed with the off-kilter angle of the spear, the weapon striking the beast’s side and knocking it from the air. It melted away into shadow, the spear clattering against the ground as the monster faded away.
Drawing his blade again, Claudian looked about for another suitable target. That was when he heard it, a familiar rumble overpowering the sound of battle around him. He ran towards a nearby chunk of wall, clambering to the top and delivering a swift kick to a zombie that tried to grab his legs. He turned towards the fields behind his forces and saw exactly what he expected.
Cavalry, hundreds of them, riding across the fields towards what remained of the republic army. They were carrying kite shields with one hand and wielded long lances with the other. Claudian couldn’t see them from here, but he knew each rider would have a longsword on their hip, perfect for stabbing down at people once their charge had delivered its impact. It would be brutal, the Republic forces had nowhere to run, the new arrivals pinning them against the same walls they were trying to attack.
“Fall back! Retreat!” Claudian was screaming at the top of his lungs, trying desperately to get his people to flee. He knew it wouldn’t matter, not really, but he at least had to try. His words went unheard, the cacophony drowning him out.
The cavalry struck. It was horrific, lances piercing through flesh like it was nothing, skewering people with terrifying ease. The horses kept going, trampling people beneath their powerful hooves, and smashing them aside like an oncoming avalanche. Bones broke, flesh tore, and screaming filled the air as the Republic army crumbled.
With their momentum slowed, the riders dropped their lances and drew their blades, slicing downwards at those around them. As they slashed their horses kicked and bit, the creatures beasts of muscle and fury bred for combat. Their hooves became slick with blood as they slew soldiers with a single blow.
The Republic army broke, fleeing as best they could away from the city. Hundreds died as they tried to race past the cavalry, easy pickings for the enemy. Dozens more were pulled down by the monsters surging out from the breach in the wall.
Claudian stood upon a broken chunk of wall, using its height to avoid the worst the cavalry could throw at him. The tip of his sword caught the throat of one even as he blocked another with his shield. He knew he couldn’t keep it up, surrounded on all sides as he was, but he had no intention of letting Wildermount take him alive. Being thrown into a dungeon and left to rot seemed like a worse fate than dying in glorious battle.
A swift kick knocked a rider from his mount, Claudian’s boot crashing against their armour. He turned, swinging his shield arm about and smashing the thin edge into a silt in an enemy’s visor, blood spurting across the emblem painted on the front. A pain shot through Claudian’s body, a sharp jabbing in his back.
One of the monsters had fired an arrow at him, a slithering gorgon clutching a bow to her chest. The magical projectile had punctured his armour and dug deep into his flesh before vanishing. It was worse than being hit by a mundane arrow, blood flowing freely from the wound now it was unimpeded. Claudian could feel his strength faded as he bled, his life force escaping with the crimson liquid.
A sword plunged into his gut, the blade sliding through the bands in his armour and punching through his chainmail. The agony was overwhelming, pain racing through his body. A blow came from behind, a slam against the back of his head from a rider wielding a mace rather than a sword. Claudian blacked out, tumbling from his rock onto the ground. A few spots of rain began to fall from the sky and cast ripples across the pool of blood spreading out from Claudian’s body.
***
Gareth stepped out from the portal and was glad to feel the familiar cobblestones of Wildermount beneath his feet. The clash of battle still filled the air, but the sound was different. It had gone from the battle cries to two evenly matched forces to screams of agony. The portal had deposited him behind the army of monsters in the breach, and Gareth turned to see the results of the cavalry charge. It was a gruesome thing to look at, a brutal massacre rather than the heroic intervention movies had trained him to expect. The Republic army was fleeing, and the Seahaven forces were giving them no quarter.
“Gareth!” Imelda was sitting on a piece of rubble near a crushed building, a makeshift splint tied to her leg. Sarkuran was stood next to her, but he looked different. His hair had turned ashen white, his horn a pallid grey.
“What happened to you two?” Gareth said as he walked towards his friends. Behind him, Magda popped through the portal.
“Oh wow, you pair look rough,” she said, pocketing the runic disc. It had lost its lustre, almost as if it had aged a hundred years in a moment, the metal scuffed and marked.
“Give it to us straight why don’t you?” Imelda said. She adjusted her leg, wincing as she did. A single golden card floated before her chest, all that was left of her shield.
“No point lying,” Magda said with a shrug. “What happened?”
“That great angelic beast happened. Caused quite a commotion, though I fear you might have missed it, seeing as you can apparently open portals now.” Sarkuran had put his cards away. His Reality Stalker had been slain with what he had to admit was an impressive spear throw, but there was no need to summon anything else. Sarkuran’s experience told him that the battle was over, the enemy either fleeing or dead. All that was left now was mopping up what remained.
“Ah yeah, that’s a gift from, well Jack of all people. We managed to get clear when the wall came down. We used the portal to go and deal with the enemy duellist that had summoned that thing. They won’t be bothering us anymore,” Gareth said. He had left the spear back on the battlefield, tossing it to the ground. He put more of his weight onto his staff. He was exhausted, the adrenaline rush of battle beginning to wear off. “Someone managed to kill the monster during the fight though, made things a bit tricker on us.”
“Ah, yeah, that was us. We used my new card to take it out. It was Sarkuran’s idea, using its acidic touch to get around that things no doubt massive hit points and spell immunity. Honestly, without him, I would probably be dead,” Imelda said. She gestured to the splint on her leg. “We got knocked off the wall when it went down. I was trapped under a bit of rubble.”
“You could have run,” Magda said, her eyes locked on her demonic rival. “You could have fled into the city and escaped from Imelda forever.”
“Perhaps, but then how would I torment you? I must admit, rescuing Imelda was tough on me. Turns out I had a tiny reserve of demonic power left, much like how you had those last scraps of divinity I was able to free myself with. Using it up to lift the rubble from her is what caused this.” Sarkuran grabbed a lock of his hair, sneering at its new colour. “I suppose I will get used to it with time. Truth be told I’m still not used to this form, so it’s probably best it changed now. If you put your decks away you should get your experience points from the battle, if my estimation of its progress is correct.”
Gareth did as Sarkuran said. In a way, he was the most experienced of any of them, even if his knowledge was drastically out of date.
Battle Complete: Siege of Wildermount.
412 enemy combatants killed. 2,472 experience gained.
Two enemy monsters slain. 592 experience gained.
Enemy duellist defeated. 352 experience gained.
Battle survival bonus 400 experience points.
Total experience gained 3,816
Level up – level 14 reached.
Three Skill points gained.
Level up – level 15 reached.
Four skill points gained.
One feat unlocked.
Level up – Level 16 gained.
Current Exp 498/1266
Four skill points gained.
The rush of notifications was something to behold. Gareth had leapt up three levels, unlocked eleven total skill points and another feat. It was something to look at later, there was still fighting going on and he didn’t want to be distracted in case something happened.
“This is a lot,” Magda said. “Like, an incredible amount of experience points. It’s a wonder people aren’t fighting each other constantly if this is what it’s like.”
“Well, most people don’t have the same kind of boost we do as duellists,” Imelda said. “Even then, they basically do, right? Every race has a long bloody history I reckon.”
“Very true. Still, most people don’t have the stomach for battle, not really.” Sarkuran stared at Gareth, his eyes narrowing. “You had to kill him, didn’t you? The enemy duellist. I can see it in your face. There’s a look people get.”
“I did, yes,” Gareth said. “It had to be done.”
“You’ll get no arguments from me. Since I’ve had the pleasure of meeting you, you’ve claimed that you wish to be a hero. Now you know what it takes, what it really takes. Sometimes acting on behalf of the greater good means getting blood on your hands,” Sarkuran said, leaning back on the piece of rubble he was sitting on.
“That sounds like saying the ends justify the means,” Imelda said, shooting Sarkuran a look. “I don’t think I agree with that.”
“Neither do I my dear warden. You see, the trick is to know where the line is. That’s what makes you a true hero. Being able to walk that path. That’s what the gods won’t tell you. All they care about is the end result, defeating their much-vaunted Adversary. I wonder how many of their chosen ones have lost their humanity in the process?” The demon shrugged, his cloak rustling as he moved. “I think you’re different, Gareth. You want to prove yourself a hero out of spite. Petty maybe, but very human. You’ve killed today, not just that duellist but those you sent your monsters against, and it’ll weigh heavily on you for a while. That’s good. You’ve still got your, for lack of a better word, soul.”
Chapter Thirty-One
The muscles in Gareth’s arm ached as he lifted the heavy chunk of stone. He turned and dropped it on the floor behind him, stacking it against a growing pile of rubble. With the last of the Republic forces dead or captured, attention had turned to trying to search the devastated areas of the city for survivors. It wasn’t looking good, the buildings crushed beneath the weight of the giant trampling onwards towards the next set of walls. A handful of people had been dug alive out of buildings hit by the shrapnel of the outer wall cracking open, but for the crews working on the others it was just digging out body after body.
The birds. That was the one thing Gareth hadn’t expected. The sights, the smells, the sickening feeling of being surrounded by the dead, in one way or the other he had prepared himself mentally for those. The endless swarms of birds was something else, beaks pecking at eyes or tearing away at wounds. Some guards were shooing them away from where the bodies of Wildermount’s citizens and soldiers were, but no such dignity was being given to the bodies of those from the Republic. It wasn’t meant as an insult, there simply wasn’t enough free hands to keep the flocks away.
The Seahaven cavalry had split up into small groups, scouring the countryside for the enemy. Gareth had overheard a group of them talking, and there was genuine embarrassment amongst the Seahaven soldiers that the Republic had managed to slip past them in the first place. They were desperate to right that wrong,
Gareth took a seat on a chunk of stone, allowing himself a moment to rest. He was exhausted, all the energy drained from his body. He was certain he would sleep for a week. Using his deck took a physical toll on him, one that was hard for Gareth to describe. It was like every monster summoned, every spell cast, each took a tiny portion of himself with them out into the world. It made sense to Gareth. According to Magda, his level represented his connection to the magic that flowed through Acamida, the bond between Gareth and the energy around him. The mana used to power his deck had to be flowing through him, using his body as a conduit. That had to come with a price.
Focusing his mind, Gareth opened his menu. He hadn’t had a chance to review his new options since gaining the flood of experience points from the battle. He wondered if his experience was typical, gaining fifteen levels in such a short space of time. He had noticed that the experience required for each new level was fairly consistent, requiring the experience of the level before plus a small increase. More powerful monsters had definitely given more experience points when defeated, but he imagined that for most people there was a point where monsters in a given area simply didn’t give enough to level in an expedient fashion.
