Chapter 623: idiots
Mason bashed and hacked his way blind towards the banner of his enemy. He’d given up protecting himself in the blinding light, just advancing with violent motion and swiping claws. If anything, the undead came apart even easier than before.
He didn’t know why. He didn’t care why. That altar was going to break. The banner would fall. And whatever strength this unliving, undying god had left would come for him, or slink back where it came from.
He couldn’t see what was happening, but he knew he was getting closer. He tried to direct Transformation towards his senses—to improve his hearing and maybe even grow himself something new.
But there was no need to adapt to the light if he just broke its creator to pieces.
They tried to stop him. He heard the army truly swarming him now, felt the mass of bodies and constructs moving in to clog his path with sheer mass. There were horns blaring and hissing voices. The army was moving and not just at him, but he didn’t care.
He jumped blind, smashing against something hard and stone. He thrashed and fought off strong arms, growled as a huge, sharp object drove into his side. He snapped it off, and felt his claws dig into the construct like it was made of flesh when he attacked.
There was a voice in his head. Something trying to get his attention. Little bits of floating words in the brightness. He didn’t care. There was only his target.
Another stone beast fell with a thud. He raced around it, roaring as something else blocked his path. Then died. Two more steps, another jangle of metal and bones that came apart in his hands. He despised these creatures and their stink. Their lack of fear.
How dare they, came the thought again and again. How dare they oppose me!
The angle of the light was changing, shining down instead of sideways, and he knew he was close. He jumped again, bouncing off some construct with a furious growl and a mouth full of blood. His ears rung from the collision, and he rose slashing and fumbling for a way around.
They were grabbing at his legs, his arms, just trying to hold him. He laughed and threw them off, twisting and breaking anything that didn’t let go. Then he was on it—face to face again with the altar, the light so blinding it pierced his eyelids until they seemed to get thicker with Transformation.
He leapt at the divine object and clawed at that shield. It was like the sound of nails down a chalkboard this time. A shiver shook his spine, but he only doubled his efforts. He tried to dig his fingers in, then pulled back to slam the hooked daggers on his fingers like an eagle’s dive.
Sparks flared in the whiteness, and Mason howled. It was working. He spun and cleared his enemies, then turned back and tried with Exploiting Strike on cooldown, beating the shield down just as he had with Jeong’s.
This one lasted longer. He heard another sound like a bell. Pulses of force tried to knock him away. The undead bathed him in magic and acid and poison. They couldn’t stop him. Nothing could.
The shield broke.
It wasn’t like some arcane burst. Everything just stopped. In one moment he was blind and fighting in the burning light, in the next he could see. The golden altar sat exposed, and he blinked again and again trying to clear the dark spots as he approached.
He tapped his claws against the smooth surface, looking back at the undead surrounding him. They all stopped, and stared. Even the red eyes above seemed to watch like they couldn’t believe. Like they were all holding their breath. He smiled, and dug his hand into the soft metal.
With his monstrous hands and strength, he ripped the golden altar in half, then seized the four-fingered standard and snapped it, tossing the pieces before holding out his arms.
There is your earthly power, he hoped those eyes understood. There is what’s left of your legacy on this plane.
The silent sky cracked. The red eyes drooped and dripped like acid rain made of blood, falling down around the altar. Mason laughed as he watched, even as the blood started to pool and grow.
He somehow understood instantly what it was—the physical manifestation of the Endless’ power. Some kind of non-human champion or avatar from an ancient age. It was a final act of desperation, the last move for the god in this round of the game.
“Come,” he growled. “I’ll end you too, just like I ended your little emperor.”
He stood waiting, and now that he could see, he finally noticed the text about his claws, his title, and some kind of prompt. It was asking if he would accept a mind power effect from some other player. His instinct was an immediate no, and a snarl of anger at the attempt.
But as he watched his enemy form, he tried to think through the primal need. Why would it ask? The effect must have been neutral, or at least not hostile.
Blake. That was the name. His brother’s name. He accepted the prompt with as little thought as he did everything else, and a cool wind seemed to blow through his mind.
[Mental Influence: Calm. High magnitude.]
The raw anger in his heart felt good, but so did that lovely breeze. He closed his eyes and inhaled. Then he remembered he was protecting others. His people. He looked around to see most of the undead army had given up trying to kill him. They were charging at the city.
He felt fear. Palpable. Not his own. He blinked and turned with frantic eyes and felt his lover. He heard her voice. She was calling his name.
His enemy forgotten, he turned and jumped straight in Demi’s direction.
**
Things were definitely not going as planned. Blake’s shield flashed again as a javelin struck him harmlessly in the chest. Demi’s spores and his constructs were still holding back the undead, but they were now surrounded and getting attacked at range in nearly every direction.
A little while after Mason had jumped into the light, the creatures went fucking crazy. Most ran off, but an extremely determined minority came charging.
Blake was maybe only two thirds of the way through the aura when it popped. So that was a total loss. Now he and Demi were back in his chariot, rising up on the lift to get as much distance between themselves and clawing, dead hands as possible.
Sooner or later, those spores were going to wear off. The undead would come pouring in. They’d probably figure out to break the pillar, too. Or maybe just break it with sheer weight as they mindlessly tried to climb.
Blake’s mana was…not great. He’d had enough to take them back to the others. Except the others had fucking moved.
Phuong had apparently decided to do the exact opposite of what Blake told him to do. The idiot. And not only had he taken every player and run further away, he’d also pulled Seul-ki out of range to use for mana regeneration, or as a battery.
A paranoid little piece of him wondered if the cunning old soldier was trying to get rid of him. That it might mean Demi’s death, too, made it unlikely. But you never could know with people…
“Where…where’s everyone going?” Demi’s green eyes were going wide. She looked between the players moving off in the distance, then the surrounding horde of undead. “You have to get us out of here. Mason’s…he’s busy. He’s not thinking about us! We’re alone!”
Blake winced, doing his best to stay calm. He had his mana gem, and was pretty confident he could at least get himself far enough to escape. The best thing to do was ask Demi if she had some ability to get away. It didn’t seem likely, but if she could they could both get themselves out. The problem was mostly that he’d look bad.
Demi would absolutely be talking to Mason later, and under current circumstances it would be pretty clear he’d put the girl in real danger without much thought. Unless she believed he knew about her power already…
“Don’t worry,” he said, giving her a confident smile. “We can fly back out if needed. Though it’s a lot of mana. We can wait and keep you near Mason a little longer, if you prefer. Or…what are you thinking?”
She was looking at him like he was crazy again.
“Just get us out of here!”
A few more javelins and arrows flew by. They both ducked behind the chariot, and Blake took a small breath of calm when he saw Streak come racing over and crash into more of the skeletons. They had a little time. Probably. Though if he waited the distance would just get worse…
Nothing for it, he decided. Better to fly off now. He’d leave the chariot and just take himself and the girl.
But Christ, the idea of not making it far enough and requiring saving in front of all those other players…
Even just flopping down and fighting a mana drained headache, then running back to the city like all the other frightened little nothings while Mason was out here saving the day. That was bad enough.
Fucking idiot Phuong.
“Mason might need our help,” he said, giving Demi a brave face. “I’ll get him back here. Together, we can handle the whole army if we have to.”
She was probably giving him that crazy look again, but he focused on his brother and activated a healthy dose of Mental Influence. Just the attempt would hopefully make it clear they needed him back. And later, it would even seem like ‘help’.
The spell triggered, but maybe didn’t work. Like Mason had resisted it or hadn’t noticed the prompt. A few more javelins flew. Some of the undead giants came lumbering into the spores, melting and collapsing as they reached for the pillar. Blake winced. Apparently they weren’t so stupid after all.
“My spell won’t last much longer,” Demi said. Was she really frightened? He couldn’t tell. If she had her own way to escape she shouldn’t be, right?
Mostly she looked ready to jump out of the chariot. But that could mean she was crazy, had an escape power, or was just so afraid she was getting stupid. Blake clenched his jaw and tried to be patient. This was so embarrassing. How the hell had he got himself into this situation?
Demi came forward and looked out towards the fighting where Mason was. She didn’t look afraid anymore. In fact she looked calm and in control, like maybe the woman he’d been watching was more act than anything.
She met his eyes, and just stared. He felt a bit like he had earlier. Seen, somehow. Spotted. But this time judged. Like she’d seen enough now and knew exactly what he was about, and didn’t much like it.
He opened his mouth to say something clever, maybe a joke. But the words dried up on his tongue. Demi put her hands to her mouth and called for his brother, and for a moment he felt like he was six years old.