Inhaling deeply, I steel myself for what's to come. Having positioned myself in tandem with the archers, some of us were positioned behind what few bushes managed to grow in the barren landscape. Others were taking point behind the larger rocks and holing up in small craters in the ground.
For the moment our chances look good. But I know better, it always looks like this at the beginning.
I hold off on giving the order to attack, I've got to identify the leader first. The one with all the magical powers, the one that acted as a conduit for the other Cultists to tap into magic. I'd have to keep it occupied for as long as I could, and without killing it too.
Exhaling, the tightness in my chest gives way. This wouldn't be easy, not one bit. Scanning the landscape from the ridge we'd started on gave me an aerial view with all the little heads of my allies and Cultists milling about.
Allies.
The Necromage revealed his true nature at our breakfast. The man irritates me to no end, carrying himself with that smug attitude all the time, and for what? Because he thinks he can control me? Because he thinks I need him to save me?
No, it's just the other way around. If I really wanted to, I would have killed him then and there and I'd be justified, after all, I'd be doing my civic duty to the Kingdom, protecting it from a most dangerous element as a Necromage.
Inhaling, I calm myself, but it will be all for naught. Despite his unwarranted pride, he still has his uses. As a Mage, whatever magic he has under his belt could prove useful in this assault. And I need useful, at least long enough for the Cultists to be chomped down to a nice crowd control portion.
Now I could only hope he is as competent as the letter said. But he'd have to be, killing a B-rank Mage is no easy feat.
Exhaling, I find that none of that matters now. Finally, I've found the Cultist leader. Quietly, or as quietly as I can, I hop down the ridge and head over to the nearest archer, hidden behind a bush.
"Let the others know, begin the attack."
The archer nods and obediently starts heading out to the next nearest bow wielder whilst I head over to corner their leader.
I follow the unfortunate man as closely as I can without alerting any of the other Cultists. They are a strange group, there were no activities other than walking aimlessly around the camp, sleeping or praying in groups at their totem. So, it is especially difficult going unnoticed in a camp where the tallest structure is a totem.
The tents help, there are many scattered all about. Inside some I could see some weaponry. The thought of disarming the enemy comes to me but I dismiss it, there will be no stronger weapon than the shared magic of their leader. I have to stay focused and attack him the moment they notice they've been gradually losing numbers. If I'm successful then he'd be too distracted with me to distribute magical enhancements to the many other Cultists here, thus making them easier to kill.
By my count the archers have done well enough and taken out eleven of the Cultists, that's a lot. Perhaps this will be to our favour for once.
"Rrrahhh!"
Eleven seems to be the most we can get. A lump forms in my throat as their leader screeches out a terrible call to arms. There's movement everywhere, from the militia, the Necromage and his companion and especially the Cultists.
A cold chill spills over me as I watch the battle begin to unfold. I turn my head around and I'm faced with an upset looking Cultist. The leader
"Rrrahhh!" He screams as his arm shoots out to my neck. With speed and unimaginable strength, he lifts me off of the ground only to slam me back with force enough to kill.
Only thanks to my quick application of my mana do I survive.
"Come child, be one with Lord Phien and your troubles will cease, you will know only pleasure, only peace and freedom!" His rapid speak has his saliva splashing all over my face.
"Ugh! Let me go!" I groan, slapping my hands on the ground I send a burst of mana through it, tether it to my being and mould and craft with haste.
A second later the result of my hasty use of Geomancy bursts out of the ground, slapping the leader away with its tail before presenting itself to me, a disfigured snake made of stone.
"Thanks, but you won't do." To prove my point the stone snake is blasted to smithereens from behind, showering me in rock.
"Embrace the Lord Phien and be forgiven!" he yells, hand still outstretched and glowing a bright sinister red from that blast of pure unbridled mana.
Of course, the leader is entirely unfazed by the snake's attack.
Inhaling, I prepare a proper assault. At the tip of my toes, I send mana out into the atmosphere around me. With practiced ease I split the world open and feed the untamed beings from beyond my mana in exchange for their loyalty.
My little tear becomes a gaping hole, a gateway for my servants to come forth, and so they do, majestically my nine feet tall hounds step out of their home and growl at my enemy.
"Now," I start, petting both red and blue, "Let's have some fun boys."
***
Not for the first time my hastily made stone walls are torn through by the endlessly assaulting blades of wind the Cultist leader unleashed upon the Hounds and I.
I step away, barely getting my feet up in time to dodge another blade. Blue growls and barks at the man. Gritting my teeth, I relate with Blue's frustration, the Cultists leader was barely fazed by our attacks, and has had us on defence for the past ten minutes or so.
It became clear very early into the fight that my aversion to killing the leader immediately wouldn't matter a bit if I didn't survive long enough to detain him like I intend to. Right now, I'd taken the leashes off and permitted Blue and Red to run free and bare their fangs as they please.
Yet, all three of us are cornered.
Red springs up from where it laid after taking a blast of wind to the nose and gets ready to pounce again. Blue corroborates this and begins to circle our opponent as his brother Red prepares himself. Subtlety, they both look to me.
The skill to telepathically communicate with summons is beyond me at the moment, but I've spent many years summoning Red and Blue, their request is obvious.
Tapping my foot on the ground, I prepare myself for their signal. And it comes almost immediately as Red howls and I will the moulded earth to my will, shooting the encircled leader through the air with a sudden, angry bump of the very earth he stood on.
Not leaving things to chance, especially as their prey already begun to right himself mid-air, Red leaps to the height of the rising Cultist and delivers an enraged smack, lifting the fiend upwards just as Blue uses his brothers' body as a stool for a double jump over the furiously spiralling prey, delivering another vicious smack, this time downwards where my crudely formed stone spikes await him.
As he plummets, disoriented and confused from moving upwards and then suddenly downwards in speed, he barely gets his magic out in time, shooting out furious blades of wind to decapitate my stone spikes, but it's too late. He slams straight onto a particularly spiky one.
I flinch as it just nearly tears his body in two, coating the spike in blood.
Exhaling, I let myself recognize how tired I am. Merely summoning the Hounds takes me down by sixty percent, with the persistent and slithery attacks of their leader I have to have some reserves to support and defend as I have. Right now, my body aches and cries out in protest just standing, the Hounds still fed on my mana to stay up world.
"Looks like…guh…I'll have to let you guys go." My knees buckle and I collapse, Blue and Red whimper. They're so cute when they're not trying to kill someone.
"Don't let them go…" My heart stops at that voice. Our heads turn, surprised, at the now moving supposedly dead body of the Cultist, "Not if they can join Lord Phien."
"You…How?"
His body squelched and spurt with blood all over as he tries to let himself off of the near ten feet stone spike that impales him.
Red and Blue immediately jump into action, their paws raised to hammer the fiend into the ground one final time, but just as they do, a gust of wind expels everything close to the leader with force flinging them away like oversized rag dolls. The vibrations break the spike down the middle and set the leader free to float in his bubble of freak winds.
"Bahahaha!!" he lets out an insane bit of laughter as he pushes the remnant of the stone spike out of his body. It leaves a gaping hole right where his organs should be. "Lord Phien! Favour me! Favour me! Favour me! Favour me!"
"WOOF!"
Together, the Hound brothers muster their power into a bark they only use in desperate times, but now is as desperate as any. Their bark fights the winds of the fiend, it pushes back on his chanting and breaks his focus.
"WOOF!" they let out another. The wave breaks through at last and just in time for red to smack him down.
The leader stubbles to his feet, still alive yet. Blue follows his brothers' example and pounces on the man, taking his leg in its mouth and shaking him about in it like a ragdoll as he screamed.
"Lord Phien! Favour me! Phien! Phien!"
His screams pierce the rage battle. Everyone watched the spectacle as finally, after being thrown into the air, he plummets down into Red's gullet. A definite death. But it's only his first life.
"You have done it again. You reject Phien yet the Lord is the only saviour you shall know." A voice calls out, the red mist of revival is easy to follow to the new Cultist leader, the new face of it at least. "I will not deny you the privilege. Now join US!"
The Cultists feel their new leaders' vigour and screech out yet another battle cry. Collapsed on the floor, I let the Hounds go lest they turn on me for owed mana. I've done all I can, now I leave it up to the dumbstruck Necromage standing in a circle of militia and dead Cultists.
"He had better not fuck this up."
***
The two-fancy furred giant Hounds began to shrink back into something. A silent glow of white behind each sucks them back into it and snaps shut before I can take note of anything else.
Disappointing. They were doing fine against the Cultists, and the leader at that, the one I'd now have to face and kill if I'm to receive anything equivalent of a boon.
I don't think Death Grip will cut it though. Standing here I am awestricken by the colourful and vibrant rain of destruction their leader wroth on the militia. The militia, now beset by magic wielding maniacs began to retreat en masse.
Not that I blame them, I desperately want out of here too. But before I make that decision. Leriva.
I spotted her leaning against a large rock when the Hounds made themselves known with that vicious display of violence. Quickly, I head over to her. But it's not as easy as before, the Cultists now wielded magic, their attempts to block my path aren't as feeble as they once were.
Angry, tired and very anxious, I slapped my hand on the first one swiping at me with a visible blade of wind.
"Soul Drain!" having been careful not to get hurt all this time, the extra HP does nothing for my capped bars. However, I really wish I could recover some MP instead.
Huffing, I pull out my dagger and go on power saving mode. The second comes at me with a sword in hand, undeterred by his comrades shrivelled up body. A quick parry to her swing reveals that it isn't just any type of sword, but one coated in fire. The blade bursts out in searing flames and I barely swerve out of range in time, winning burnt clothes and a reddened skin.
"Kyahhahah!" she swings again, the lack of skill with the weapon causes the maniac to over reach, granting me an opening at last, one I use to place to quick well-placed jabs to the kidney and a violent slash outward, veritably splitting her guts open.
The next got the jump on me. A white glowing shield with insignias and circular patterns- I'm not sure, I only get the one glance before being bashed in the head with it.
The strike sends me reeling to the ground, vertigo immensely prevalent, disorienting me for a moment, a moment that served my assailant well. Their follow up is even more brutal, striking at my confused self with the ends of the glowing shield. Its end finds itself embedded in my thigh.
"Aghhh!!" The shield burns with a heat I've never felt before. Searing hot. Perhaps this is the famous white hot I've heard off. It cauterizes and burns open the wound several times in the few seconds I spend screaming.
"Kyah! Ha! Kyahahahahah!" the maniac revels over me. His laughter brings me out of it at last.
In a swift motion or as urgently as one can move to get a shield burning through their leg is. I grab the shield and make yet another mistake; my hands burn, lighting up in flames as soon as I touch it. Every part of it is just as hot it seemed.
"Death Grip!" Desperate, I push the maniac away as it made another attempt to attack me. And just as quickly I use the same Death Grip to pull out the shield from my thigh.
With it out and clattering on the floor I now hear my heart pounding in my chest. My leg isn't looking so pretty. It smells of burning flesh and is pooled with black, boiling blood.
Fuck. Suddenly I'm surrounded. The field is empty now, only the collapsed Leriva and I are in sight. All other militia have fled or have been killed. Anselm alone held off the Cultist leader and he isn't faring well.
There's manic laughter all around me as they approached me, some chanting to join Phien and others simply revelling in their absolute victory over us. Summersaulting and dancing a crooked, disturbing dance as they approach.
My hands are burned, I'm down one limb and in intense pain. Anselm is being flung all about the place, unable to get a foothold in the battle, his immortality the only thing keeping him going.
What now?
"Taserman!"
My head jerks up at the call of my name. It's Leriva, stuck in the same situation I am; encroaching foes and helpless.
"You're a Necromage in a field of dead men! Do something!"
The first thought that intrudes my mind is 'How the hell does she know that!' Fortunately, the second proves more useful to my predicament.
Leriva is right. I am a Necromancer and currently I'm fuelled with all the resources I need to be terrifying. Anselm's limp flying body reminds me of my first try summoning an undead. Last I tried, my Necromancy proficiency stopped me from achieving anything tangible.
But it's been months now, and according to my character information, in this battle alone, I've somehow managed to gain another five levels. I have grown. It seems that all I needed for growth, rapid growth was rapid and successive use of my powers.
Grinding.
If I survive this, I'll have to look for safer and controlled opportunities to grind these levels. I can't help but snort at myself, finally, I'm thinking like an RPG gamer.
I put aside the thoughts and questions of things in the system that just didn't work like they do in RPG games for later and hurriedly pull up the spell I hope will give me a fighting chance.
Create Undead. The spell would allow me to create a ghoul out of corpses. Tentatively, I reach out to the nearest corpse, a militia and resign myself to chance.
"Create Undead." I utter, the last of my swirling blue mana goes cold, shifting to a deep ethereal green that bores through the skin and bone of the dead militia. His bones crack and split through his thinning and thickening skin, skin that now bears a deep hue of pale bloodless blue.
His back bends and breaks in sickening and rapid crunches, turning him hunched as he pulls himself off the ground with thin, elongated arms equipped with sharpened nails at the end of all digits.
In the silence of my power, my creation turns to face me, no longer the militia from before. Instead, it stood hunched and bow-legged with arms that fell down to its knees and a broken, dislodged jaw that drools with hunger its reddened eyes glow with pain and anger. Anger at the living, anger at being a monster.
"Wraghh!" It screams in my face.
"Attack." My command is absolute. Immediately it jumps, summersaulting and vaulting to my nearest enemy; the Cultist with the shield.
The other Cultists yell in protest and bid their time no more. The rush is instant.
"Anselm!" I yell, time to get out of here. My eyes fall on Leriva, she too is about to be slaughtered. The stone walls she erects does nothing to favour her chances.
My first Ghoul, however, is doing well. The shield cultist of course raises its weapon in defence, unfortunately that doesn't matter to the grossly contorted creature I've created. Its legs give way on command and it falls flat on the ground or rather, behind the defence of a raised shield.
Furiously it slashes at the cultist's ankles, shearing it in a single strike. My ghouls prey falls and it descends on it with the grotesque teeth, ripping the throat of the shield cultist out.
"Asher!" Anselm calls out as he lands, swiftly spearing my would-be killers. "Good Goddess! You're a cripple."
"Thanks for noticing, I'm working on a new style, just thought my legs weren't cool anymore."
"You done?" He snorts, shaking his head.
"Get me out of here!"
He groans, moans and tells me so in so many ways as he picks me up. "Are you sure you don't want to fix that?" he asks, tossing a worried and disgusted look at my torn and burnt limb hanging so limply.
"Of course I do! I just need a break; I need to recover some mana." I grunt, him talking about it just made it hurt even more.
He shrugs and takes off, a few seconds later he lands me on the ridge from before. Not the safest place seeing as the Cultists weren't crippled like I am and could climb out of the decline, but he needed to go back for Leriva, and fast. He too was running low on mana.
Meanwhile my Ghoul persists, slicing and dicing away at the Cultists undeterred by their attacks. Over on the ridge I see things clearly, the Cultist horde had thinned. Despite the absolute slaughter on our side, we'd made a dent of sorts. If Leriva could make it out of there I'd count this as a victory.
With my new ability to create undead, I most certainly unlocked many of the other abilities I was limited to before. Necromancy proficiency it seems is now a thing of the past.
In spite of the pain of my leg, I grin. Finally, I'd made some progress. Looking through my list of spells again I grew anxious for a rematch at the Cult, with all of this and my increased mana reserves, I'd get Lotar's boon for sure.
