Ch 199 – Stalwart Protector
Along with the sound of the horn blaring off in the distance behind them from somewhere beyond the Eastern Gate's walls, the Quest Panels belonging to both Deacon and Bonehead suddenly materialized in front of their faces without any prompting.
Floor Eleven – The Eastern Gate:
You have arrived at the Eastern Gate, a frontier fortress standing alone at the edge of contested territory between the Human Kingdom of Eld and the Lizardkiin Tribes. It is the last stronghold remaining on the Eastern Front capable of preventing the Lizardkiin Tribes from breaching deep into Eld's territory.
Two days ago, the Eastern Gate was struck by a devastating ambush that caught the garrison almost entirely unaware, with the fortress alarm going off a full ten minutes after Lizardkiin assassins had already slipped through the magical barriers protecting the Eastern Gate and entered the fortress proper.
Of the original two hundred and twenty-three soldiers stationed at the Eastern Gate, only thirty-one survived the ambush. However, all of the Lizardkiin assassins involved in the attack were killed during the defense. Even so, the survivors knew that this ambush was merely the beginning of something far worse.
Mornings before a raven arrived from the Duchy of Von Dilling carrying urgent news: every major gate protecting the Kingdom of Eld faces the same crisis, as all the non-human races have declared war simultaneously against humanity. Reinforcements and supplies are en route to the Eastern Gate, but they are still four days and three nights away from arrival.
Desperate to prevent the Eastern Gate from falling before reinforcements could arrive, General Corvin declared Martial Law across all neighboring villages and towns within a day's march, conscripting every able-bodied man and woman to bolster the fortress's defenses, bringing the total number of defenders to eighty-nine souls.
You and your Party are among the conscripted soldiers who must defend the Eastern Gate until reinforcements arrive.
Floor Completion Criteria:
▸ Assist the garrison in repelling the forces threatening the Eastern Gate. ✔
Time Remaining: COMPLETED
Reward: Access to Floor Twelve, Knowledge of Floor Twelve's Waystone Location, & Cloak of the Stalwart Protector.
Finishing reading through the updated Quest Panel, Deacon barely had time to process that he had received a reward from the Floor before a burgundy colored cloak dropped out of thin air and landed on his chest with a light thud.
Just above him, he heard a much louder ringing thud, followed immediately by what sounded distinctly like pasta snapping and a choking noise from Bonehead.
Lifting his head to look over at his friend, Deacon was greeted with the sight of a large, dark iron cauldron that had apparently formed out of thin air and fallen on top of Bonehead, covering his body almost entirely, with the only visible parts of him being his lower robes from the shins down to his leather boots.
"A little help here," Bonehead's voice called out from underneath the cauldron, the words coming out muffled and strained.
"Looks like we got items tailored specifically to us then," Deacon muttered as he pushed himself up into a sitting position and reached over to grab the rim of the cauldron with one hand, lifting it off Bonehead's lap and setting it down beside them.
Deacon couldn't help but let out a chuckle as he caught sight of Bonehead's skull, which the skeleton had apparently just barely managed to harden using his Bone Manipulation in the split second before the cauldron had landed directly on top of his head. “You look like a rejected Tower Ranger.”
"Piss off," Bonehead grunted as his skull reverted back to its normal bone density and he brought both hands up to rub at the top of his head where his core was stored, the spot apparently stinging with a dull ache. "I managed to avoid getting hit even once during this entire Floor, and as a reward from the System, I get my lap and face nearly crushed by a fucking cauldron. Great."
"Is it any good at least?" Deacon asked as he turned his focus onto his own reward, casting Identify on the burgundy cloak still resting on his chest.
Item Name:Cloak of the Stalwart Protector
Type: Armor – Cloak
Rarity: Rare
Description: A dark burgundy cloak sewn by a conscripted seamstress on the Eastern Gate's walls who found herself in awe at the sight of a young man holding back an army during the Eastern Gate’s darkest hour. When the Eastern Gate stood on the brink of collapse beneath the might of the Lizardkiin Tribes, he stood as a stalwart protector and held the unending horde at bay until reinforcements arrived. Pouring all of her hope and gratitude into the cloak with her needle and thread, giving the cloak the ability to assist the Stalwart Protector in his journey in life.
Effect: +10% Strength, +5% Endurance.
Requirements: Humanoid Race, Lv 20+
"Not bad actually," Bonehead admitted with a look that managed to convey both slight bewilderment and grudging acknowledgment despite being a skull. "I've actually been looking for a good quality dark iron cauldron for a while now."
"What about your towel?" Bonehead asked as he stuffed the large cauldron into his Spatial Satchel, the bag's enchantments allowing it to swallow the oversized cooking vessel without any visible bulge.
"Cloak," Deacon corrected as he reached up to unclasp his old Cloak of the Iron Shade that he'd found inside a loot chest he'd fished up from the river back on Floor Seven. "And it's a solid upgrade over the one I'm wearing right now; 5% upgrade to Strength compared to my Cloak of the Iron Shade."
After carefully folding his old cloak and putting it away inside his Spatial Sling Bag, Deacon reached back into the bag and fished around until his fingers closed around a cylindrical stamp with a bright red inked sigil on its bottom.
It was a Soulbound Rune Stamp, an item that would permanently bind equipment to his soul, prevent it from being used by others, and strengthen his connection to the item so he could better understand its abilities once it was bound.
During the wait for Murdren to install, for lack of a better word, the Devour Enhancement into Echoform Reliquary, the smith had asked Deacon why he had not been Soulbinding his equipment to himself, since doing so provided many benefits. If Deacon was being completely honest with himself, he had simply forgotten due to how hectic the past eight months had been.
After receiving a solid cuff to the back of his neck for that particular oversight, Deacon had been given a Soulbound Rune Stamp by Murdren and had immediately begun the process of applying the binding rune to all of his most important equipment pieces.
Popping off the top of the stamp which revealed a hollow straw roughly the size of a thumbtack built into the cap, Deacon took off his enchanted leather glove from his right hand, the same glove he still hadn't replaced with a higher-level one that provided better stats because he couldn't find any new ones that had quite the same flexibility his current Level 5 gloves provided for him to be able to utilize throwing daggers and wires.
Bringing his bare thumb up to his mouth, Deacon placed the digit between two of his canine teeth and bit down harshly, applying just enough pressure to create a small cut that produced a single bead of blood welling up from the puncture.
Using the Blood Manipulation ability he gained from his second Innate Skill, Deacon grabbed hold of the bead of blood along with a few additional drops before the small nick on his thumb scabbed over with that distinctive molten rock texture his Skin of Jötunheim Racial Trait produced before healing back to completely normal skin within seconds.
After accidentally breaking the needle at the top of the Soulbound Rune Stamp that Murdren had handed him due to Skin of Jötunheim making his skin too tough for the needle to pierce, Murdren could only sigh in exasperation.
He hadn't brought any extra stamps with him or the proper materials needed to forge a replacement since he'd only come to Floor Ten to enhance Deacon’s Echoform Reliquary, so instead he'd modified the existing stamp by molding the solid needle into a thin hollow straw that Deacon could manually fill with his own blood.
It was tedious, but it did its job.
Manipulating the small floating globule of blood through the air until it traveled into the straw opening at the top of the stamp, Deacon clicked the cap back into place and watched as the bottom of the rune stamp began glowing red. Immediately, right after he pressed the glowing sigil firmly against the burgundy cloak's fabric.
After holding it there for a few seconds to ensure the binding took properly, Deacon pulled the stamp away and tucked it back into his Spatial Sling Bag before picking up the now-Soulbound cloak and fastening it around his shoulders with the clasp.
"If everything goes according to plan and I manage to get accepted into the Alchemy Tower on Floor Fifteen, then I can look into gaining access to their library and use this cauldron for concocting stat flasks for both of us," Bonehead said as Deacon, who had already gotten to his feet, offered him a hand and helped pull him upright before the skeleton began dusting off his robes. "Which means I can concoct us infinite free permanent stats, baby."
"Free my ass," Deacon scoffed as he reached over to take back the Soul Bottle containing Esmerelda's soul from Bonehead, latching it securely to a belt strap on his hip. "You're only saying that because the cost of all those rare ingredients is going to come straight out of our Guild Bank and not your personal funds."
He fixed Bonehead with a knowing look. "And I know for a fact that you're going to buy all the ingredients in bulk quantities as you’ll claim that you need extra materials to experiment with the formulas just to make absolutely sure the final products are perfect, and then somehow seventy-five percent of that experimental batch will turn out to be perfectly usable stat flasks while unfortunately the remaining twenty-five percent will be deemed complete “shit”, and when I offer to help you dispose of the failed batches you'll say 'oh no need, I've got this,' and calmly walk out the door before immediately sprinting toward your alchemy room where you'll lock yourself inside for a solid week and emerge with dozens of high-quality potions that just so happen to use the exact same materials those stat flasks require."
Deacon finished his monologue by giving Bonehead the driest stare he could possibly muster.
Bonehead remained completely silent for several long seconds after Deacon had finished laying out his entire scheme, and then he slowly began squinting his shadowflame eyes at Deacon, before slowly turning and walking toward the wooden hatch that led back down into the watchtower that both of them stood on the roof of.
Lifting the hatch open, Bonehead slowly began climbing down the metal ladder's rungs while deliberately maintaining eye contact with Deacon.
"And you ain't gonna do shit about it," Bonehead retorted with a swaggerous shake of his skull as he descended.
Just as Bonehead finished saying his piece and slammed the hatch above him, he barely managed to avoid a swipe from Deacon's fist that would have caught him right in the face.
"Dickhead," Deacon called down with a smirk as he walked over to the edge of the watchtower's roof and simply leaped over the battlements, allowing himself to fall freely past four separate window openings before he kicked off the air itself and launched himself horizontally through the fifth window where he could see Bonehead frantically sliding down the ladder in a desperate rush to get away from him.
Bonehead's skull snapped in Deacon's direction the moment he heard the sound of shattering glass and found himself staring at his friend, who was now inside the tower with him.
"Ah, fuck!" was all Bonehead managed to say before Deacon closed the distance and tackled him clean off the ladder, hoisting the skeleton up into a fireman's carry over his shoulder before turning and kicking off the air to launch both of them out through the window on the opposite side of the tower from the one he'd entered through.
They were now in free fall on the exterior side of the watchtower, and Deacon began using rapid Air Steps to slow their descent while completely ignoring the approximately four hundred soldiers from the Duchy of Von Dilling's reinforcement army and the soldier conscripts who were staring up at them in confusion from the courtyard below, having been drawn by the sounds of shattering glass and Bonehead's high-pitched screeching.
Completely unbothered by all the staring and shouting coming from the soldiers below, Deacon Air Stepped his way across the fortress grounds toward the building that housed General Corvin's quarters, and he burst through one of the windows in a shower of glass to find himself standing in a large room that contained the Floor's Waystone sitting in its center, just waiting for both of them to use it and proceed forward.
Landing inside General Corvin's quarters, both Deacon and Bonehead walked over to the Waystone and placed their hands on its smooth surface.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
You are eligible to enter Floor Twelve. Confirm transfer?
[YES] [NO]
"[Yes]," both Deacon and Bonehead confirmed simultaneously, and they were immediately enveloped in twin columns of bright white light.
Moments later, after blinking away the brightness and the disorientation that always accompanied Floor transfers, Deacon and Bonehead found themselves standing in some kind of pitch-black space with the only light source being the soft glow emanating from Esmerelda's Soul Bottle attached to Deacon's hip.
Even with that faint illumination spreading out in a small radius around them, they couldn't make out anything that was more than two feet away in any direction.
"Deacon? Bonehead?" a feminine voice called out from somewhere off to their left, the sound cutting through the silence.
Both of them immediately snapped their focus in that direction, with Deacon's left hand already wrapped around the hilt of one of the throwing daggers strapped to his back and having nudged the blade slightly out of its sheath in preparation to draw and throw it at whoever had just spoken their names.