Chapter 625: Learning
Mason summoned his bow as he watched the undead army approach. His people had moved into the safety of the city, the new defences minutes from arrival. He could sense the power of the Endless inside, some ancient knight of his patron’s rival.
This was another game between gods. Move and counter-move. The Endless had risked another divine artifact, probably thinking Mason didn’t have the strength to destroy it.
But he’d lost that gamble, and seemed goaded into committing even more. He was going to lose that, too.
Mason ran out and sprayed the walking corpses with a Crippling Strike, picking at the few remaining cavalry (because it was satisfying), and snake constructs (because they were gross).
He tossed out all his traps, then used most of his remaining mana drawing Freezing Grasp runes, knowing his Ender of the Endless title would transform the spell into an undead burning inferno.
He looked at the timer on the wall count down, smiling as the army approached.
The ‘avatar’, or whatever it was, stepped out of the line. It was in the shape of a tall, thin man, all red and white like a bone fresh from a kill. The same red eyes from the sky glowed on its featureless face. It held up an arm, which grew and thinned until it looked exactly like the weapon Jeong had used. A long, bone spike.
Mason sighed. He had a feeling that was either the exact same divine artifact that had nearly killed him, or would have comparable properties. So melee wasn’t looking like the wisest option. He snapped off a Power Shot at the thing’s face for science.
The arrow exploded off another one of those annoying golden shields. He had a feeing it didn’t do ‘nothing’, it just didn’t do much. Still, if he had the time to run the thing around, he could pick it apart.
The creature hissed, and the whole army advanced.
Mason was still tempted to get in there and grab its spike arm, beating it down just like Jeong. Call it arrogance or pride, but he imagined himself dodging the weapon and taking apart that shield, howling at the sky after his kill.
He had a feeling how he won made a difference to the gods. It wasn’t just about winning with these overpowered children, it was about dunking in the other guy’s face.
Was the creature fast enough to catch him on open ground? He seriously doubted it. On the other hand, it could just attack the city and try to kill as many of his friends as possible. They had his back to a literal wall.
He could still take apart the army, delay them, use his challenge on the avatar at the wall and keep it off the others. But everyone was here watching. His players, the gods. It was a bit like Achilles and Hector outside the walls of Troy.
“OK, you win,” he muttered, growing his new claws into their sword forms for the added range. The claws on his hands receded but didn’t totally fade. The blades looked much the same, still not flashy, but the material was more like Cerebus’ dark fingernails than steel.
It didn’t look like much, but he had a feeling it was a vast improvement. And the truth was, he just wanted to fight. If only as a test. But he knew there were no more flower necklaces if he fucked this up.
The avatar hunched and ran to meet his charge, spike-arm raised as it moved with surprising speed. His goal was simple enough, if not ‘easy’—beat it down, avoid taking a single hit with superior speed and skill.
No problem, right?
The rest of the advancing army was meaningless distraction. Mason and the avatar closed far ahead of them, their footsteps thumping like pistons as the world focused to the movement of the tall creature’s limbs.
Mason assumed nothing—he expected magic, or that the spike could change limbs or that it could grow more. His senses were on fire, his eyes relaxed, his body ready to adapt and react instantly.
The spike dove towards his chest, and he resisted the urge to deflect and ram his head into the thing’s chest. He dropped his weight and jerked to the side faster than physics would have allowed.
The spike missed, and he slashed his longer blade at the avatar’s other arm with a Predator’s Strike. It sparked off golden shield with a hit, and he and his enemy both twisted with inhuman speed, slicing and jabbing as they swirled to strike again.
So the thing was fast. Surprisingly fast. In fact, it felt almost identical to Mason’s speed. They backed off and circled, and again for science he activated Aspect of the Cheetah and went to attack.
The creature surged almost exactly at the same moment. Again they spun and carefully struck at each other, then backed off to stare and assess. Those red eyes crackled with power, and Mason knew there was some kind of divine ability leeching off his stats.
Neat trick, he thought with a kind of professional respect.
Match your opponent’s speed. Put up a massive shield. Strike with a long, dangerous weapon that allowed almost no defense. The perfect duelist.
But then this wasn’t a duel. It was a war, and wars had no rules or honor. And Mason had no intention of just playing along.
The world blinked with messages as the holy city’s new defences finally arrived. They blared in warning, then started to transform the wall. Towers formed along the ramparts with ballistas growing and shaping, then pointing down. Grasping vines just like the ones in Nassau dangled like ropes, just waiting for victims to try and climb.
The gates grew wooden faces, then arms, as massive tree creatures formed as living defenders. Murder holes appeared everywhere along the stone. Mason smiled as he saw his players rushing to the wall on his Wayfinder map.
He stepped back, and the avatar again mirrored him. Its glowing red eyes followed him, not seeming concerned about his army, just as he wasn’t concerned with its.
But then mine isn’t walking corpses, he thought, pushing the button on his message to Haley and to every player in his house.
Everyone who can, target what I’m fighting. Bring it down with range. Disrupt its movement.
A hundred players stepped up along the ramparts and newly made towers. There was a brief moment of stillness as they inspected and prepared. Mason saw the creature’s eyes flick up, then back to him.
It hissed, looking ready to fall back into the ranks of its army. He activated his Essence of the Stag, and the world faded and shrunk. For a few critical seconds, his enemy was trapped against him. But not protected from his allies.
“You see?” he said with a smile. “I learn.”
A hundred players lit the world in destruction. Mason grinned and fell back dropping snares.
The avatar charged him, golden shield flickering with a constant barrage. Mason fell back, and sideways, dropping traps and running in a loop. Some of the effects were splashing him too but he didn’t care, his resistances absorbing it all.
The undead army was closing now and he was forced to plow straight into it, claws back out, Sleeves up as he smashed and ran, leading the avatar on a merry chase through its own army as the players and defences shot them all to hell.
The dead army went for the wall, fighting the vines and using their own soldiers like ladders. Mason couldn’t see much, but he trusted his people. He smashed all the way back, feeling his enemy close on his heels.
He turned as if to face him, then jumped, wings spread as he flew right over its head.
“How’s the shield?” he yelled, grinning as he flew over the army, ignoring arrows and javelins and acid, circling all the way back to the wall.
He landed beside a blinking Phuong. The man looked at his wings and shook his head, but said nothing.
“They look busy,” Mason said in the growling voice of his Shapeshifted form. “Think the melee are getting bored?”
It was Phuong’s turn to grin.
“The sally team is ready, Patron. We have more than enough on the wall.”
Mason nodded. “Wait for me to land and get on their leader. Then charge.”
He jumped off and flew again, doing a lazy circle before drawing his bow as a test. When he dropped his weight, it wasn’t even that hard. He could just sort of float there and use his arms with the ‘short’ bow, his wings outstretched. This was getting kind of unfair.
He loosed a Power Shot, intuition pinging about force and weight too late as the power literally spun him out. He swore and gave himself more weight, which forced him to dive to get himself ‘flying’ instead of just ‘falling’ again.
The avatar hissed and raced towards him, still flickering with shielded damage. He was too low, and the thing was too close. He dropped to the ground and grew his Claws, knowing Phuong would be coming now.
A stupid mistake, but he could adapt. Again that deadly spike came for his heart, and again he deflected and slashed an Exploiting Strike. The bastard didn’t pick up speed with that, and every strike was getting harder and faster.
He backed up deflecting, fighting the urge to rush in close and just hold the thing to keep that spike away. He didn’t trust it. The paranoid part of his brain told him it might grow another, might be waiting for him to try and kill it like he killed Jeong.
He kept away, and kept it stabbing, bouncing the occasional Exploiting off that dimming shield. The avatar didn’t look concerned, excited, or anything else. It just followed him relentlessly, eyes unblinking, as if waiting for a mistake.
Phuong and the others emerged from the gate, roaring as they smashed into the undead attackers from the flank. Mason didn’t look away, didn’t pay any attention. He just deflected and withdrew, slashing every time that spike came too far.
The casters were raining death again. Waves of fire, ice, force and acid were roiling over the ‘siegers’ in a brutal rhythm. Mason was pretty sure he heard Seamus laughing over it all.
The sounds of violence had moved, gotten quieter. Huge, tree-men were slapping undead away. Vines were crushing them. Towers and ballista were loosing bolts and some kind of fiery projectiles in a constant stream.
The battle was clearly turning into slaughter. Hundreds of players were now hitting the undead from two directions, all boosted with a good hundred thousand points of defense, their teams well-coordinated by Phuong and the others.
Mason stopped because the avatar had stopped chasing him. He finally glanced back to see Becky, Carl, Demi and a dozen others fanning out behind him.
He felt the protective bubble of Becky’s Aegis grow over his skin, followed quickly by Demi’s spores. Then he shivered as maybe a dozen other support players apparently covered him in powers from the wall. He glanced up at the red eyes staring down with pure hatred.
Thank you, he thought, you’ve united us faster than anything I could have done.
“Fuck it,” he said, thinking it would be more offensive to die to a horde of weaker players than a god’s champion. “Just finish him,” he called to the others.
A hundred players blasted everything they had. There was so much light and force Mason literally staggered back a step before dropping his weight. When he could see again, he saw the half-shattered remnants of the Endless’ ancient avatar, its golden shield popped somewhere in the chaos, body broken in half.
“Everything ends,” he muttered, watching the text scroll.