CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
?-|—WAVE SEVENTY-TWO—|-?
?[Enemies Slain: 0/9,600]?
Richard made it to the ramparts just as the countdown for the seventy second wave reached zero. Taking his customary place behind the central cannon, he wasn’t immediately bombarded with all manner of questions and congratulatory backslapping, for which he was eternally grateful. Grateful, though unsurprised. Apart from general competence, it was what he’d screened for when appointing his fellow cannoneers, after all.
“Light ‘em up, same thing as usual boss?” came the soft spoken voice of the brown haired woman sitting next to him
He gave her a so so gesture with his hand, followed it up with a tap to his chest, then an arm fully extended towards the enemy. A series of gestures he was absolutely making up on the spot, which she correctly interpreted as…
“It depends,” she began hesitantly. “But if we’re unsure, follow your lead until you say otherwise?”
He beamed.
And that, my dear, is why I pay you the big bucks. Or I would, at any rate, if you and everyone you’ve ever known or loved weren’t doomed to die an ignominious death at the hands of plague ridden abominations. Still, second in command ain’t half bad! I have to say, unsanctioned authority looks remarkably becoming on you.
The woman, nodded her understanding, serious green eyes holding his for but a moment, before she turned to the other cannoneers and relayed his orders. The teams of soldiers began the rather involved process—first, double, and triple checking the munitions and equipment—they went through before each sustained volley. While Richard, meanwhile facilitated their preparations by activating and deactivating paper constructs as they laid their hands upon them. Feeling more than a little like the older brother giving his younger an unplugged controller.
No really! You’re controlling the enemies! See? Look! That was you! C’mon. Would I lie to you?
It wasn’t that they were completely useless. Extra hands were always helpful. It was just that he had to do a lot of the processes manually. Things like unlatching the breach so they could load the ammunition. Re-latching said breach when they were finished. Materializing ammo. Oh! And let us not forget, actually firing the weapons. In fact the only things he couldn’t do mentally was load the guns and aim them, which was, ultimately, all these brave men and women were good for.
Not that they needed to know that.
His fourteen points in control allowing him to micromanage all of these little inputs simultaneously, if just barely, leaving his minions to trundle along in blissful ignorance.
I mean, I almost don’t want them to find out at this point.
Their scrunched up faces, so filled with determination.
There just so darn cute! They really think they’re self sufficient, the poor things.
It was adorable!
The whole entire process was plenty mentally taxing, to be sure, but, if he was honest, he almost preferred it this way. It effectively reduced the chances of his toys being used against him to zero, after all. A major deciding factor in his loaning them out in the first place.
Having finished with their checks, the appointed gunners swung their cannons toward the oncoming enemy. Fingers hovering over non-functional triggers, waiting for the go ahead to fire. After their first cleared wave, they no longer looked at the horde with trepidation. No, the gunners especially looked at the swath of enemies eagerly. Almost hungrily. And considering they were gaining a portion of the experience with each kill, he honestly couldn’t blame them.
+—|-Nancy Cobbler-|—+
?[Class: City Guard]?
?[Lvl 47]?
+—|-James Carter-|—+
?[Class: City Guard]?
?[Lvl 45]?
They’d each hovered somewhere around the late teens, in terms of levels, when first he’d seen them. Since then, their growth had been nothing short of phenomenal. Richard did his best not to hold it against them.
Talented sons of-!
As they continued to salivate over the onrushing bags of experience, Richard, on the other hand, was focused on one Plague-Touched individual in particular.
THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!
The bone rattling tremors of its steady approach somehow traveling up through the soles of their feet from several kilometers away. Still hidden by the wall of shifting particles, it’s grand entrance was somewhat spoiled by the heavy tread of its footsteps. A master of stealth, this thing was not.
Like it were shoving aside a bothersome curtain, out from the swirling cloud of dust and debris, emerged a titan—ripped straight out from Greek mythology. It was huge, twenty stories tall at least, with calcified growths covering its skin like some crude sort of exoskeleton. Humanoid, sporting a featureless bone mask with massive rams horns, not to mention bulging arms that hung low enough to brush it’s knees, it was a skyscraper on two legs. A wrecking ball without the ball and an emphasis on the wrecking.
A very bad time, in other words.
+—|-Plague-Touched Gargantuan-|—+
?[Lvl 64]?
Richard clicked his tongue.
So this one’s not an elite either? Seriously what gives? Is that infernal ball really the sole elite of this entire trial? Surely not, right?
Not even bothering with the fragmentation shells, he could already tell this guy would prove himself an especially tough customer, Richard began switching out his current munitions, for one’s of a more volatile variety.
Would’ve preferred to hold onto these a bit longer, in all honesty, but it doesn’t seem like I’ve been left with much of a choice.
THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!
?—|-Layered Talismanic Munition: Explosive-|—?
?[Uncommon]?
A layered ball of top quality talismans which function as long range munition, this item possesses a frightening degree of destructive power. Once activated, this item detonates within a very localized area. The damage this item has the capacity to inflict more than enough to transcend yawning level disparities.
The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement.
Seeing this, the others quickly followed suit. Unlatching breaches and loading in ammunition from the crates labeled “EXTREMELY UNSTABLE (Handle With Care).” The wary soldiers slotting each paper ball into its breach like they might go off at any moment.
Richard didn’t have the heart to tell them the entire thing had been meant as a joke.
Although? Now that he thought of it, he really couldn’t have, even if he’d wanted to, now could he? Convenient. Especially since he found the exaggerated game of hot potato they were playing extremely funny to watch. Choking back a snort of laughter—what came out as a less than manly giggle, much to his chagrin—Richard swiveled his cannon toward the largest target available. The giant’s bony torso.
He fired.
The sudden bang accompanied by the sharp kick of recoil—breach lines yanking taught before once more going slack. The three missiles whizzed through the air—gray streaks against an evening sky. His shots were swiftly followed up by four more explosive volleys—the others quickly tracing his trajectory, then aiming their shots accordingly. Ten interminable seconds passed as the airborne munitions ate up the intervening distance. Then, the angry fusillade finally made contact. Detonating with a satisfying succession of reports.
Explosions rocked the titan’s beefy exoskeleton, causing hairline fractures to race across the bony plates protecting its chest. It was shoved back imperceptibly with the first blast, though by the fifteenth, it’s center of gravity was too far off center for it to have any hope of recovering. Like the toppling of a redwood giant, the titan fell. Tilting backward, it looked like it fell in slow motion, though Richard knew better. It was merely an illusion owing to it’s size and the distance. A hunch that was confirmed when it’s prodigious bulk landed with all the force of a falling meteor.
Smearing the array of creatures carpeting the ground to gray-green paste.
BOOM!!!
The tremors reached them moments before the shockwave did. Like an earthquake, earthen waves rippled throughout the medieval city. Causing buildings to rise and fall, screams and shrieks to rebound, and not a small number of unlucky individuals to lose their lives. The soldiers on the wall feeling like the stone beneath their feet might lose cohesion any second, before they were very nearly catapulted from the wobbling structure altogether—the shockwave dragging tears from Richard’s eyes and ballooning his cheeks out comically.
It was all he could do to hold on. For the life of him, he tried, but those four points into strength didn’t exactly make him Hercules. He’d nearly lost his grip, when a warm hand reached out to steady him.
Richard looked over at his second in command, Nancy Cobbler, and shot her a grateful smile. She returned the expression, before shifting her gaze back to the toppled Gargantuan. It seemed she suspected the same thing he did. And so, even before the thing shifted, began the arduous, drawn out process of rising to its feet. Richard and the others were reloading.
Readying themselves for the desperate fight ahead.
Because, apart from a few new cracks leaking phosphorescent ooze, the Plague-Touched Gargantuan looked none the worse for wear. And, in fact, was already once more lumbering their way.
THOOM! THOOM! THOOM!
Their only saving grace the fact it’s little trip and fall routine had decimated nearly half of the ten thousand odd horde.
It meant they could focus the whole of their attention on the titan, relying on the field pit traps to keep the others at bay.
Which was good, since it was looking like they’d need all the fire power they could get their hands on to take down this lumbering behemoth. After a moments hesitation, Richard rose from his high chai- er, that is to say, tactically elevated securing station—yes, that had a suitably nice ring to it—skipped his conveyance over to a loitering crowd of idle hands, and promptly plopped down three more paper cannons. Along with several crates of ammunition. Effectively letting them sort themselves out from there.
They were all big boys and gals. He was sure they’d manage.
Ignoring the way their faces lit up, or how they tried to express their gratitude, he turned about face and swiftly retook his customary position. Docking his conveyance, he once more trained his sights on the chest of the titan, the others quickly following suit.
Yet again he fired.
Five deafening bangs sounding in such rapid succession, that they might have been simultaneous. Before the streaks had traveled even a quarter of the distance, however, Richard, along with the squads of soldiers, were already beginning the practiced routine of reloading.
It didn’t take a boy genius to realize that this Plague-Touched Gargantuan was going to be a devilishly hard nut to crack. He just hoped he didn’t waste all his ammo on this endeavor. He wasn’t anywhere near finished with this trial just yet.
+++
?-|—WAVE SEVENTY-FOUR—|-?
?[Enemies Slain: 6681/10,200]?
Richard flit around the Plague-Touched Gargantuan’s head like a buzzing mosquito. The fading twilight less of a hindrance than he’d been expecting, what with all the blue light his glowing conveyance was putting off. Bobbing through the air at nearly suicidal speeds, he was nearly frozen stiff from the whipping winds and icy chill, yet he knew he couldn’t afford to slow down for even an instant.
A calcified hand the size of a small building grew to eclipse the entirety of his vision in seconds—his death looming large as the monster made to swat him from the sky.
It closed the distance far faster than anything that size had a right to, gale force winds picked up in the wake of its passage.
By all rights, he should’ve found his inglorious demise in that bone sheathed protuberance, and yet, taking a page out of the maddening mosquitos handbook, Richard beat the big guy to the punch. All across his ramshackle conveyance, acceleration runes flashed. In the next instant, Richard fell from the sky like a stone—narrowly evading the sweeping hand as he did so. The resulting winds did take him for something of a joyride thereafter—an uncontrolled tuck and tumble that put certain carnival rides to shame—but, eventually, he was able to steady his flight.
Finding himself, at the end of it all, bobbing at around shoulder height for the massive creature.
Feeling somewhat dizzy, and very much nauseous, Richard drunkenly fumbled for an Aquatic Lance scroll—a good chunk of his control solely focused on making sure he didn’t hurl. Raising the ability scroll, he wasted no time in activating it. The scroll burning away to ash in a flare of blue flames, even as a spiraling lance of water coalesced above his left shoulder.
About as long as a grown man was tall, it spun, it’s revolutions growing faster and faster by the second, before, with a slap of oceanic spray, it shot forward. Colliding with the collarbone of the Plague-Touched Gargantuan, leaving a patch of dampness behind, and, ultimately, doing aught else.
Not that he’d really expected it to. Although the rather poor showing for all that mana expenditure did sting just the tiniest bit. The fact that the mana had been free, his only consolation.
Should be more than enough. Right? You know what? Screw it. His gums chattered. If it isn’t enough, it’s not as if I’ll be forced to start all over again, but if I don’t do something soon, there’s a good chance my nose will fall off.
And so saying, Richard reached across the kilometers separating them, straining his control stat to its absolute limit, and fired the series of pre-primed cannons he’d directed his minions to aim in the Gargantuan’s general direction. At which point he made a hasty retreat. Giving the firing lines a wide birth as he did so. Sharp reports cracked from across the intervening distance. The fading light obscuring the projectiles in shadow.
I’ll need to do something about this lighting predicament. Considering the waves don’t seem to be ending anytime soon, despite the late hour.
The burning fields may serve for a time, but the flaming oil he doused the battlefield in after every wave tended to burn out before the next wave was defeated. It was an issue he’d previously planned for, but couldn’t currently implement without more points in control.
Speaking of which…
Fifteen whistling projectiles impacted the Gargantuan with the sounds of shattering glass. Immediately, the frost talismans that made up the munition went to work. Swirling patterns of frost winding their way across the waterlogged titan. The exorbitant number of Aquatic Lance scrolls he’d wasted on the task—on giving the big guy a much needed bath—meaning that the icy energy had plenty of little cracks and tight crevices in which to spread, invade, expand.
Unfortunately, the giant didn’t freeze on the spot, so much as hesitate momentarily. More out of confusion than anything. The ice and frost now coating it’s upper body less an actual impediment, than it was an interesting fashion statement. Again, Richard was unconcerned. The cracking reports that followed on the heels of the initial volley the main reason for his confidence. The next missiles to impact the giant’s chest detonating with luminous flares of scorching heat—the backdraft thankfully serving to warm his chilly fingers.
Several incendiary flashes were followed by a deafening crack—as if a glacier sheered in two. And much like that glacier, a titanic avalanche soon followed, only instead of spray and ice—splinters, chips, and massive slabs of bone crashed to the ground. It’s plates of bone armor having been blown apart from the inside.
Frost wedging, I believe it’s called. 7th grade Earth Sciences, unlike so many things in my life, you have yet to lead me astray.
With the pulsating gray flesh of its torso now on full display, the next volley of fragmentation munitions were enough to pulp its chest cavity, and take it down for good.
*DING!*
?-|—You Have Gained A Level. You Are Now [Lvl 13]—|-?
[+2 free points]
Phew! Now then…
Richard turned his gaze from the now fallen titan, toward the two others that’d just pushed their way through the swirling cloud of dust. He slumped over in his seat. He plucked another Aquatic Lance scroll from his ring.
Oh joy.
