Runeblade

Kaius sat in the common room of the inn that had been chosen as a command centre. Everyone was there, from the city and guild leadership to the elites. Yet another meeting. They’d taken to having them every morning — a stubborn ritual to herald surviving yet another night of the Tyrant’s attacks.

Seven days. Seven gods-cursed days.

That’s how long it had been. How long they’d been trapped in an endless cycle of fending off maddened beasts. It was doing his damned head in.

He’d been so bloody sure that the Tyrant would have attacked by now. Maybe not on the second day, or even the third, but seven? Maybe he was wrong. Maybe there wasn’t a reason behind the Tyrant pulling back its forces right before securing a major breachhead, every damn day. For all he knew, it was insane!

It couldn’t be. The damn thing was too calculated — too bloody good at finding just the right mix of threats to occupy his team and the other elites. Even when he’d managed to convince the others that he and his team should stick together, it just threw more at them.

Kaius clenched his jaw, thinking of the massive, shaggy-furred beast that they’d dealt with last night. The thing had been infested with some sort of fly. It had taken them a better part of an hour to take the thing down — its parasites hadn’t taken kindly to their attack on their home.

He leaned on the wide table in front of him, doing his best to ignore the way his gambeson stuck to his skin. He’d been wearing it for five days straight at this point, and even with cleaning enchantments the battlegrime had grown thick.

It was a sensation he was used to, but it would never be one he enjoyed.

Across from him Fyfen, the governor's chamberlain, droned on about logistics. The man was detailed to a point, but his message was simple. They were losing too many men, and eating too much food.

It didn’t take a ledger to figure that out, it was obvious enough just looking out the window.

Kaius forced himself to focus. He might have been tired, but this was important. This was where the direction of the defence was decided — he had a duty to keep himself abreast.

The air was thick like treacle, mired in confusion and suspicion. They should have been overrun. That much was obvious.

Against an army of beasts that vastly out levelled most of the city, it was the only natural result. Somehow, they had held on. Or, perhaps, the death of the city had been drawn out in a display of dominance and cruelty.

The Tyrant was a wily thing. Every time it commanded a push, it had some new surprise for them. Some collection of undeniable threats that forced every real power in the city to react. Then, just as the walls started to buckle, as good men and women lay down their lives in droves, it pulled back — giving them time to lick their wounds.

Fyfen sighed, running his hands through his greasy hair. His green doublet, once shining and bright, was stained brown. Dirt and dried blood, no doubt.

“We’re at our limit. Our forces are exhausted and stretched thin. Every push we lose more, and greater numbers are injured. With the state of our medical camps and alchemical supplies, we’re going to take more losses. It’ll all start crumbling from there.”

The captain of the guard scowled, his jaw covered in thick grey stubble. “Surely not. My men have never gained so many levels — that strength has to mean something.”

“It’s not enough. There’s too many beasts, and the average discrepancy is still too great. The walls help, but the second we suffer a true breach…” Fyfen trailed off.

Kaius grit his teeth, unable to disagree. Even for him, the last few days had been beneficial. Skill levels had come in droves, and everyone on his team was nearing their next class skill evolution.

Not that it helped against a damn army.

Even his Refinement had barely changed anything. His Authority was sturdier — sturdy enough that he could comfortably overwhelm his teammates' influence when they’d had the opportunity to test it. That was hardly a decisive factor. Sure, he’d noticed the difference in his individual fights, but a single fight wouldn’t change the tide of the siege.

Not yet, at least. He’d hoped that his advancement would prompt the Tyrant to action, given its fascination with essence, but he hadn’t been so lucky. Not even his teammates reaching the cusp of their own refinements had tempted it.

If only the Tyrant would show its blasted face!

“It’s testing us, it has to be,” he muttered.

Hanrick shook his head. “How can we be sure? We face a slow death. I don’t fancy pinning everything on supposition.”

“The boy’s right, it’s the only thing that makes sense. We must remember this thing came with the phase change — by the system's own words it is a challenge. It’s been seeing if we can endure, I’m sure of it.” Rieker insisted.

“You’ve been saying that for days!” Hanrick yelled, leaning forward to slam his fist on the table. “We have seen nothing but fighting and death! You heard Fyfen, we’re on the edge of a total rout! We must prepare to tunnel for safety. We have the earth mages, it’s our only chance!”

“And then like foxes, they will follow and feast on our innards. A tunnel is suicide.” Porkchop growled.

“Then what would you suggest? More waiting, in the vain hope that the Tyrant will offer itself to you?”

“Yes,” Ro replied, butting in. “Even if we are wrong, trying to hold the walls is our best bet. If we are right, something will change soon — so far it has always backed off at the last moment. It has tested the rank and file, but it hasn’t pushed our elites to the limit — not truly.”

This story has been stolen from NovelFire. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

A low grumble spread through the room, and Kaius watched the guard captain’s jaw clench. The man was going to say something.

He suppressed the urge to sigh, hoping their discussion would end soon. Better the weight of his sword in hand, and the sting of wounds on his skin than more of this.

….

The boundless night shone through a gap in the trees, subtle starlight gleaming on Her carapace. Huddled low under the boughs of a tree, She paid it no more attention than the thousands of other sights that crossed through Her lidless eyes.

Sight beyond sight, knowledge beyond knowledge. The smallest of the bounties that the highest of powers had granted Her.

All around Her, the agents of Her duty wandered. Directed to Purpose, their alms were welcome. Bone crunched, coming with a rush of sweet power.

Her mandibles quivered with joy, beautifully melded carapace and scales grinding sonorously as needle-fangs were bared. Such joy, to see her sacred duty enacted! It had always been clear that it would bring Her a wholeness otherwise unfathomable, but to experience it in truth!

Under Her will and capability had unshaped stone been knapped into killing spears. Weakness cast off, sloth banished, cursed illusions of safety forgotten. No longer would those meandering dreamers dare to profane the right way of things.

She was close. Not much more. Those closest to the Truth had already been tested. Now only one barrier stood between Her and the holy fulfilment of her being.

A single pocket of rot. A dense seed of unworked ore, in need of the refining purity of fire. They thought it hidden — closed off behind barriers of steel and artifice. Soon they would know of their folly. All would learn to savour the lordly gifts they had been granted. No longer would they languish in mediocrity, no longer would they flounder.

They would strive! Or they would die.

Only then would she relish in sacred Challenge, and whet her appetite with youthful embers.

She chittered, listening to the soft grind of crushed stone through three sets of distant ears.

….

Niles hated the strange stone of the tunnels. Harder than granite, it pulled at the heat of his core like it possessed malevolent will.

They were deep beneath the earth — too deep. He didn’t like thinking about the sheer volume of stone above his head. It wasn't right, people were meant for the open air.

At least he wasn’t in the main chamber. That central dome was packed. As enormous as it was, there were still too many seeking shelter for it to fit all of them. At least, while maintaining enough room for their defenders to move around. He was in one of the many tunnels that ran off of it, with thick steel doors sealing them into separate sections.

Walking through that dome had been odd. Even in the middle of the scrum, he’d been able to tell how barren it was. Other than a large, faint circle etched into its centre, there had been nothing. Why build to that scale, just for an empty room?

Maybe the ancients had used it for the same purpose they were. He hoped the cold stone wouldn’t end up becoming his tomb as well.

Pressing his back up tight to the wall, Niles pulled his cloak in tight around him. He felt like a pig in a slaughter house. Penned in. Restrained. Unable to escape.

A bare handspan in front of him, an old man coughed. The jerk of the motion startled the oversized cat the man had with him. The beast sat up, letting out a questioning yowl that drew nervous looks from all who sat nearby.

“Shhh, Yan, I’m alright — just a bit of dust in the air.” the man muttered, soothing his beast.

Niles bit back the urge to scowl. Who brought a pet with them to an emergency shelter, let alone a beast? Who knew if the madness that had infected the creatures above would spread. Gods, he wished that he didn’t have to sit right next to the thing. He knew the man had some sort of bond skill, but still.

He settled for eying it warily while he focused on the comforting weight at his hip. There was no way he’d let that beast catch him by surprise.

Not that he had anywhere to go. With the solid steel doors of the tunnels shut, their section was half-packed with bodies. They’d clustered in tight — trying to give as much room to their defenders as they could.

It felt unlikely that they’d be much help if his section was breached. Two Bronze teams? Against Steel beasts? They’d be nothing more than an appetiser before the main course. Besides, if they were down here, and not up there where the real fighting was, they couldn’t be all that skilled.

Hells, they’d probably volunteered.

His gut clenched tight — old instincts alert and weary. Something was going to go wrong, he knew it. It was an itch in his bones. There was no way in all of the forsaken hells that he would be caught lacking. Not after his fate had so suddenly turned.

Under his cloak, Niles reached for the hilt of the sword digging into his hip. His sword. An honest to the gods artefact. His.

It didn’t feel real. Nor did the skill that pulsed through his body as he wrapped his hand around its leather hilt. Vesryn Blade Drills.

He couldn’t even remember why he’d been in that alley. All he knew was that it had been the moment his life changed. Gifts beyond imagination thrown at his feet, followed by a job? One that came with training — one that had led to him getting a bloody legacy?

It was quite literally almost impossible to believe.

Niles refused to waste it. He refused to die in these tunnels — no cost was too much to secure himself an edge.

Leather squeaked under the force of his grip as he drew his blade slowly. Not by much, just enough to bare a handspan of gleaming, quality steel.

Ever so slowly, he reached down. There was no point in alerting anyone, they’d only panic. Cold steel stung his palm.

It bloomed hot and loud as he gripped tighter, skin splitting as his blade kissed the bones in his palm.

He released, gritting his teeth to stop himself from gasping. Not too deep, that was good. He couldn’t waste his health, not when he needed it so dearly. A tenth, nothing more.

Feeling the blood drip from his palm, Niles grabbed a hidden edge of his cloak — letting the thick wool soak away the blood.

Health roared into the wound, a raging torrent compared to the trickle he’d known only weeks ago. The wound sealed quickly, bringing with it the much welcome chimes of system notifications.

**Ding! Lesser Regeneration has reached level 3!**

**Ding! Constitution has grown to 20!**

Niles smiled. Finally.

He needed every advantage, every bit of safety he could get. He’d already lost everything once, he refused to let it happen again.

Breathing slowly to ease his racing heart, he leaned back into the cold stone of the tunnel.

And felt a soft thump resonate through the wall.