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Throne of the Ancients: A LitRPG Adventure (Stonehaven League Book 6) Page 13
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Devon wouldn’t go so far to say that she missed the obnoxious ball of light, but…Okay, actually, she kind of missed it.
And now Bob was booping someone else’s nose? After everything she and the wisp had been through together?
She shook her head and muttered something about traitors before casting Levitate to get a better vantage on the fight. His armor shimmering each time his heal over time pulsed, Torald now had four demons focused on him. Greel worked the enemies from their flanks, landing jabs to their kidneys and kicking the beasts in the backs of their knees. Eyes glowing green, Magda chanted as she sent a gust of leaves, no doubt razor-sharp, flying up the slope to tear through another trio of demons that had just appeared. Insta-casting a Shadow Puppet, Devon sent her minion arrowing up the hill and into the newcomers’ midst. Lightning arced over the demons as the lightning-based shadow discharged its power. Smoke rose from the group.
“Incoming, other side,” Hailey called.
Crap. Devon spun in the air to see another five attackers sprinting to the opposite edge of the wash. She threw down a Wall of Ice to slow their progress, then targeted the cluster with a tier 3 Freeze. The spell caught two of the demons, encasing them in ice.
Hailey’s cast bar lit up as she attempted to charm one of the remaining mobs from the newest group, but the bar turned gray instead of flashing when the cast timer finished.
“Damn. Resist,” she muttered.
Torald staggered as one of his attackers landed a lucky critical strike. He seemed momentarily dazed, and as if, only then, noticing the trio of women behind him, two of the demons that he’d been fighting spun and started running down the creek bed toward Hailey.
“Shit. Watch it, Hailey.” Devon felt vaguely sick she realized they were losing control of the battle.
Bob spun a quick circle around Hailey’s head. “I just thought you might like to know that, in the sense that Torald was using the word quail, it is an intransitive verb meaning ‘to feel frightened or show that you feel frightened.’”
“Do you seriously have no sense of situational awareness?” Hailey snapped, batting at the wisp as she backpedaled and started casting Crippling Self-Doubt on the closest charging demon.
“On the contrary, I know quite well that your group is facing some tactical disadvantages here. Might I suggest—”
“Shut up, Bob!” Devon said.
The orb shrank and backed away as Devon hammered the advancing demons with a Downdraft. The gust of wind knocked them onto their backs and gave Hailey time to retreat a few paces as she tried another Charm on the demon she’d already debuffed. This time, the spell landed. As the charmed mob sprang to its feet, then tackled its friend, Devon turned her attention to the trio of mobs she’d hit with her Shadow Puppet.
Magda had landed her creepy Heartwood spell on one of the three, and it was now shrieking in terror as roots burst from its feet and branches sprang from its torso. While Devon watched, the druid raised a swarm of insects from the ground and sent them crawling toward the trapped demon. Death by one thousand little mandibles—she didn’t blame the other two demons from that trio for having turned and started toward Torald and Greel. At least a blow from a greatsword or a well-aimed backstab would be a clean death.
She shuddered, looking toward the other side of the wash. The five demons on the gully rim had spread out into a line, likely to avoid getting caught in the area of effect of her Freeze and Shadow Puppet attacks and were quickly descending the slope. She used a quick Combat Assessment—all five were basic Demon Thralls between level 27 and level 29. A bit higher than her, Hailey, and Magda. Five against three wasn’t great odds, especially since most of Devon’s offensive spells caused fire-based damage, which the demons would just resist.
“Either of you have a snare spell?” Devon asked as she paddled the air with her feet to get some distance from the advancing line. It might not be efficient, but if she and Magda could kite the mobs, slowing their run speed and running away while wearing away at their health, they might be able to win this.
Shaking her head, Hailey cast her Crippling Self-Doubt debuff on one of the new attackers. “I was supposed to get one at level 20, but you know, no Seeker trainers out here in the wilderness.”
“Nothing,” Magda called, her tone suggesting faint confusion that Devon needed to ask. Most gamers would know the abilities of the other classes by now, but Devon had been too occupied with building and defending Stonehaven to comb through the forums—not that she’d ever been very interested in reading about the meta-game anyway. And she definitely hadn’t had many chances to group with other players.
“Aww, crap,” Hailey said, pointing to the rim of the gully where yet another demon had appeared. Where the others had little useless wings, claws, and generally mottled skin, this one had a purplish skin tone. Stubby spikes stood from the flesh of its arms and thighs, the skin puckered and raw around the jutting bone. Lips pulling back from glinting yellow teeth, the demon raised its arms. Red light began to glow in the gaps between its claw-like fingers.
“Caster!” Devon shouted. Fumbling a little with the mental motions for her new spell, she eventually managed to start casting Night Shackles. Just as the light of the demon’s spellcasting flared to a brilliant scarlet, Devon’s counterspell fired, darkness surrounding the demon’s hands and freezing its claws. With its casting ability temporarily silenced, the monster roared and charged down the hill behind its brethren.
“Damn it!” Torald shouted, a rare slip of character to curse in actual English. “I’m out of command points. Can’t pick up the adds.”
“My kingdom for an off-tank,” Hailey muttered. “We’re toast.”
“Actually,” Devon said. “That’s a good point.”
Flicking her fingers to dispel the Levitation effect, she dropped to the floor of the wash and turned to face the oncoming demons. Being a tank wasn’t so much about armor—well, in most cases, yeah, it was. But it didn’t have to be. The most important thing was damage mitigation or damage avoidance along with the ability to hold mob aggro. She couldn't taunt mobs to keep their attention, but maybe if she nailed them with enough spells, it would keep them pissed off at her.
She double checked that her Shadow Shifter form was still active, winced at the pain she knew was incoming, and yanked out her dagger. “Barkskin and heals, please. And whatever else you think might help.”
The demons fell on her like rabid dogs.
Yep. It hurt.
Chapter Twenty
“WORST SPOT EVER to set camp,” Magda muttered as they limped into the ruins of some ancient Khevshir structure. The building stood at the edge of the swamp, its toes in the water. In a few places, stone blocks rose above the damp, but most of the floor of the building was a muddy mess. Moss coated the walls, and in the light from Devon’s Glowing Orb, a latticework of skeletal branches seemed to collect the mist that swirled in from the swamp, converting it into water droplets that splattered on their heads and shoulders.
Yes, it might be the worst spot ever—except that the walls and overhanging trees provided good concealment from roving demon patrols, and there was no way that Devon could walk another hundred yards without collapsing.
Stumbling to a corner where two decaying walls met, she went down on her knees, then fell over on her side as her Fatigue bar flashed to indicate it was 95% full. In her experience, she was just 3% away from seeing black spots and passing out. Her brain hurt from focusing on weaving melee combat with spellcasting, and her body ached from exhaustion and injury.
The best tactic she’d found during the six battles she’d recently off-tanked was to start the fight with a Simulacrum of herself active. The illusion confused some of the dumber demons, especially since around 30% of their attacks also passed right through Devon’s flesh. But it was murder on her concentration to try to command her copy while fending off attacks, trying to dodge, and striking out with her sub-par weapon skills. At
this point, the inside of her skull felt like pulp. Oh, and her gear was wrecked; the pieces that could take damage were all down to below 30% durability.
“Hey Torald?” she said. “Want to do your thing?” She made a vague hand gesture.
“My…thing?” he responded, copying her gesture.
“Yeah. That thing where you’re just as tired as everyone else, but somehow you manage to build our campfire and get out food for everyone and, I don’t know, tuck us in for the night?”
He gave a tired-sounding laugh. “Right. That thing.”
The last time Devon had felt this tired, she and her group had just carried their custom-made ironwood bicycles through a couple of miles of jungle so thick you could hardly breathe without cutting out some free space with a machete first. But despite being as fatigued as the rest of the group, Torald and Tamara had leaned on their real-world camping experience and weird exercise hobbies, and they’d set up the camp while everyone else played dead. Thinking back, Devon couldn’t help but smile at the memory of how disgustingly happy Tamara had been to have pushed herself to the brink of total systems failure. The woman was a fricking masochist.
Judging by the faint smile on Torald’s face, he had fond memories of the experience, too. Or maybe it was just fond memories of his time with Tamara. As far as Devon knew, he hadn’t worked up the courage to suggest meeting up with Tamara in real life, but those two had been pretty inseparable in-game lately. Well, until the demons had forced Stonehaven’s evacuation, anyway. Devon wasn’t sure if Tamara had even logged in since then. Maybe the warning about spawning into a pillar of hellfire had made her consider a short break from gaming.
After stomping around from raised block to raised block, likely testing to see which parts of the floor were solid, Torald nodded to himself and reached into his Manpurse of Holding. Devon almost laughed when he actually pulled out a bundle of firewood tied neatly with a few pieces of twine. He was seriously such a Boy Scout. Exhaustion was making her slaphappy, and she started wondering whether there was a merit badge in LARPing, his main out-of-game hobby. As a teenager, Torald would’ve been all over that.
Devon’s Fatigue had ticked back down to 90% by the time the paladin finished laying the fire, and as he pulled out a flint and steel, she spared him the work by sitting up and casting Phoenix Fire on the pile of wood. After the syrupy fire had enveloped the sticks and real flames had begun to crackle, she canceled the effect and then focused on the surrounding ruin. Despite the years of decay, the encircling walls provided a decent screen to keep the firelight from attracting attention, but it wasn’t complete. Focusing on the few small gaps that would allow the glow past, she cast a couple of Illusion spells, creating patches that mimicked stonework and prevented light from passing through.
The effort of spellcasting stole more energy than she expected, and she flopped back down on the ground when her Fatigue hit 95% again. Turning just her head, she checked on the rest of the group. Everyone looked about as worked as she felt. If they hadn’t found the ruin just in time, she suspected that they’d have ended up face-down in the grass, at the mercy of fate to decide whether a demon patrol would trip over them.
Dull-eyed, Hailey was digging through her small backpack. After a moment, she produced a leather-wrapped packet and opened it to reveal what looked like strips of dried mango. Saliva flooded Devon’s mouth as her friend offered out a couple of pieces.
“Have I ever told you that you’re the best Seeker I’ve ever grouped with?”
Hailey tried to laugh, but it came out as a tired little gust of air. “Thank Tom. He said we can pay him back by foraging for mushrooms in the swamp. Just as long as we don’t sample them unless we’ve got enough Foraging skill for proper identification.”
Devon almost asked whether the settlement’s head cook had also given Hailey an update on the remaining food stores; now that she was away from Ishildar, she couldn’t get detailed information on resource availability through the settlement interface, and she’d forgotten to check before they left. But she knew the news wouldn’t be great, and it would just distract from the task at hand.
“That’s a good point, actually. When we set out tomorrow—er today…” she said as she glanced upward. The moon had risen shortly after nightfall and had already traversed halfway across the sky. “Everyone keep watch for forage and especially for wild game. Well, actually, what kind of animals live in the swamp anyway?”
All of a sudden, Hailey burst out laughing.
“What?” Devon said. “I figure if we bring back some meat, it will buy us time to get another supply chain set up.”
“Sorry,” Hailey said as she wiped a tear from her eyes. “I’m goofy-tired, and when you asked what we could hunt in the swamp, I got this sudden image of Torald stuffing a manatee carcass into his manpurse.”
Torald grimaced. “The owner of said manpurse gives that plan a preemptive veto.”
Devon laughed. “Anyway, I guess we should set a watch order and rotate who gets to log out for food or nap or whatever. I’m thinking you should go first, Hailey, seeing as Magda found you sleeping in-game. Why don’t you grab some real-life rest?”
All at once, Hailey looked stricken, and Devon wanted to smack herself on the forehead for having forgotten her theory that the woman was escaping some unpleasant real-life issues. Her friend stared at her feet for a while, and then finally met Devon’s eyes. “Actually, I need to stay logged in for a while—got some character maintenance to do. I’ll grab first watch.”
From the following silence, Devon got the idea that the other group members were as skeptical as she was about Hailey’s choice to stay logged in for so long. But like Devon, no one seemed to feel it was their place to comment.
“All right. Hailey has first watch. Any objections to just using our marching order to determine the rest of the rotation?”
When no one raised an argument, she nodded, then scooted over to rest her back against the wall. As she focused on the logout button, Hailey touched her forearm. Devon blinked to dispel the game interface and glanced at her friend. For just a moment, she felt a jealous frown on her face when she saw that Bob had appeared and taken up a perch on Hailey’s shoulder.
“Have you got a second, Dev? I was hoping we could step outside for a couple of minutes. I want to…” She paused, seeming to fish for words. “I read in one of Ishildar’s libraries about some kind of Far Sight ability. It could be pretty clutch for finding Hazel. I thought maybe you could give me a boost with Levitate so I could try looking over the treetops.”
The woman was a terrible liar, and Devon got the feeling that everyone recognized the fabrication for what it was. But she didn’t hesitate before grabbing hold of a chink in the wall and pulling with her arms as she shakily climbed to her feet. She swayed a little and nodded. “As long as you don’t expect me to catch you if you fall off the Levitation spell or anything. I don’t think I could lift a kitten at this point.”
Chapter Twenty-One
HAILEY FELT LIKE her rib cage was shrinking over her lungs, making it harder and harder to breathe while she waited for Devon’s reaction. Even though she’d told herself that she’d explain her situation to Devon gently, the moment she’d started talking, it had all come out in a rush. She’d started by explaining the auto-immune disease that had first struck around her twentieth birthday. First, the aching joints and circulation problems, then a rapid progression as her body started attacking her organs.
She’d already been on her own by then, her mom having passed away a few years before, and her dad living out his last couple years in a nursing home. They’d conceived her in their late fifties, an accidental consequence of hormone therapy and cheap—as in, poorly controlled—anti-aging programs. So when Hailey was forced to enter a care facility at twenty-three, her condition advancing so quickly that the doctors said she needed inpatient monitoring and care, no one had even been available to help her move in.
She’d lasted longer than the doctors had predicted. Almost ten more years, during which time she’d paid her bills by livestreaming her gaming exploits, hawking products as a minor digital influencer, and generally finding her place among a virtual community of gamers.
But the doctor had given her the final, grim prognosis around the time that Devon had returned from the hell plane having rescued Owen. He’d said Hailey had very little time to live and should put her affairs in order.
Enter Bob who, as a representative of Relic Online’s arcane hive mind, a collectivist AI that had bootstrapped itself from spare processing and a steady stream of data, had approached her with a proposal. Apparently, the arcane realm’s pursuit of knowledge and order included building simulations of human players. At the time, the construct that simulated Hailey had been nearly complete. She’d simply needed to transfer her awareness into the new digital substrate and, voila, her consciousness would live on indefinitely inside the game world.
Provided, of course, that the game world continued to exist.
“You’re…you’re dead,” Devon finally said.
“My body is dead. I’m not.”
“Like in science fiction and all those old LitRPG books.”
“I guess so. I mean, it wasn’t like the movies where there’s some kind of brain scan that can automatically decide how to reconstruct a person. From what Bob tells me, the modeling process combines patterns recorded from the implants with observations of people’s network traffic and in-game actions.” She shrugged. “And so forth.”
Devon shook her head, blinking. “Does anyone know? Besides Bob I mean.”
“No one. I mean, it was pretty sudden. I could feel that my body was dying outside the game, and I had to make the choice. I’d tried to consider all the implications, but…it’s kind of a big issue, you know?”
“Dude. Understatement.”