Runeblade-Chapter 214B2 : Siege, Finale

Kaius watched a rage of outrage and despair roll through the back ranks of the bogglings, the loss of the shaman hitting those who had seen its smoking body fall like a hammer blow.

A blow to their morale—a small victory, but one he was unsure on how effective it would be at turning the tide in their favour. Afterall, it was still what felt like an unending tide. The rough cavern floor was a veritable mire of blood and viscera, yet still there seemed to be no end to them.

Fortunately—though he had to admit it was strange to think of that way—the noxious gas the shaman unleashed continued to persist through its death. It stung, aggravating the lungs and eyes as it constantly tried to reinfect him with its miasma.

Yet Rapid Adaptation fought it off handedly—a steady stream of skill levels dinging in the back of his mind every few minutes. Resisting the toxin had granted him a significant advantage, the bogglings that constantly assaulted his position were weakened and brittle—all the easier to cut his way through their formation.

Porkchop was less lucky, moving sluggish and slow. Thankfully, his impressive Vitality still meant he was far less impacted than their opponents. Still, listening to his brother splutter and sneeze as he crushed another bugbear’s skull made him sympathetic to Porkchop’s plight.

Three bugbears converged on him, trying to skewer him with their spears in a coordinated assault. It was a good move—hemmed as he was, the only way he could dodge would be by giving ground. Something he would not do.

His Glass Mind pushed him towards a solution, digesting the chaotic flow of battle in moments.

Inner fire streamed through the crystalline power of his sword, Kaius’s Stamina dropping as he tapped into a rare use of his Bladerite. Empowered by the energy of his body, the enchantments on his sword honed its edge to an impossibly fine point.

**Ding! Initiate's Bladerite has reached level 32!**

The simple wooden hafts of the bugbear’s spears stood no chance, his blade cleaving clean through and leaving the trio holding little more than sticks.

A step brought him in close, sword blurring as he cut the bugbears down where they stood.

Three more dings sounded in his mind, more tallies for the counter.

He didn’t get off scot free—focused as he was, a boggart had managed to slip under his guard, planting a knife in his side. Kaius winced, tensing around the rough blade as he dispatched its wielder.

**Ding! level 53 Boggart - Primitive Fighter slain - Experience Gained! Experience Reduced due to Level Disparity.**

It was one gash amongst many—a collection of cut flesh and cracked bone that wore away at his health with grinding regularity. He was pushing through—avoiding anything that would truly impair him, but he would fail eventually.

It was just a question of how many they could put in the ground first.

….

The bright well of satisfaction at slaying the shaman didn’t stay lit for long, the constant gnawing anxiety of their impending flight overshadowing it.

He’d burnt too many spells against that single adversary. No matter how necessary it had been, they had no way of knowing how many more shamans were bearing down on them—nor had they seen any sign of the warchief.

Preventing himself from unleashing fully on the bogglings was an exercise in frustration. He could have killed far more if he’d simply been willing to take a few more wounds. The rabble arrayed in front of him had plenty of openings, and it would only cost him a few scratches to take more lives. Unfortunately, even scratches would lead to death in great enough quantities

For what felt like the thousandth time, he checked his resources—monitoring it so that he knew when it was time to leave.

Resources:

Health - 2489/3360 (18.4/min)

Stamina - 1520/3230 (24.8/min)

Mana - 4300/4300 (28.3/min)

Free Mana - 2230/4300

Reserved Mana - 2080

Kaius grimaced. It wasn’t great. His mana—thanks to their protracted battle and his inability to use it without his glyph—was full. It didn’t mean much when he only had twomore casts of Slip Step and sixteen of Stormlash. Stamina was low enough he’d have to be wary of using his Bladerite too—though his health was doing fine thanks to Ianmus’s efforts.

“Sound off your resources!” he called—knowing how his team was faring was the only way they’d get through this.

“Health’s mostly full! Mana is two thirds, Stamina is at a third!” Porkchop replied quickly, barely breaking stride as he lunged forwards to lock his jaws around an unlucky boggart’s head. He bit down with a crunch, blood gushing from his maw.

“Mana’s down to a third—out of potions. Rest is full!” Ianmus called, voice carrying through the fading remnants of miasma that separated them.

Wincing, Kaius looked out at the swarm that still pushed forwards in a seemingly unending wave. They were approaching the danger zone—leaving their flight until they were almost empty was a fool’s play. They needed enough stamina to keep up a healthy sprint, and enough of their other Resources to fight.

The time was coming.

They’d failed. Ro and the guildmaster had entrusted him with something important, and he’d fumbled it due to a lack of care.

He’d had plenty of time to think about it during the battle, and it felt like every sweep of his sword brought another thought of what they could have done differently.

They could have watched the plague—picking off raiding teams as they slowly whittled down the tribe. They could have brought explosives, trapped them inside the cave and starved them out. Hells, they could have poisoned their food supply—weakened them before they engaged.

None of it had occurred to him—even knowing the numbers they’d face, he’d assumed that simple personal power would be enough to overwhelm all challenges they might face. He’d grown overconfident in his strength—his ability to cut through those weaker than him.

“Ianmus! Ready yourself to flee!” Kaius cried, spinning to sweep aside a bugbear’s glowing club.

“I…I can’t!” Ianmus replied, his voice haltering. There was no fear in it, no anxiety over his fate—just a simple gritty determination and conviction.

Kaius frowned, booting a boggart back as he turned and hacked at another that was harassing Porkchop’s side.

**Ding! Runeblade Initiate has reached class level 59!**

**+3 End, Str, & Int, +2 Dex, Wil, +1 Vit, Free - from Class & Racial Traits!**

Reflexively placing his spare point in Vitality like he had since level fifty-one, Kaius brooded over Ianmus’s refusal.

What was the man thinking? They’d laid out their plans before they’d engaged—Kaius said the word, and Ianmus would leave while they covered his retreat. Every second they stayed increased the risk of them being too fatigued to escape safely.

“Why?!” he replied, desperate to understand.

“Mentis!” Ianmus called back, quick and desperate. “I’m on the cusp of it, I can feel it. Just a final spell, then I'll go!”

Kaius groaned—of course it had to happen now. Why wouldn’t it? The system itself had told them that intense battle made the revelations come quicker.

Porkchop was less distracted by the change in plans, sending another Shardwall smashing into the bogglings front line with a growl. As the battle had progressed, they’d come less and less frequently, the ability too expensive to use consistently.

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“I can’t believe I’m going to be beaten by an elf!” he cried in mock outrage. “The Matriarchs are going to have my tail.”

Regardless of the poor timing, they’d have to make do—an Honour could be on the line, and he and Porkchop could hold out for a few more minutes.

“Just be quick about it!” he yelled, leaping back to avoid a heavy chop of a boggart’s axe.

“I will, just be ready! I’ve been working on something—I've had far too much time to think, but I might be able to clear the cave! Can you get me to the front line when I’m ready?” Ianmus replied, the mana in the cave already rushing towards him in reaction to the magic he was weaving. Whatever it was, it was dense—complex. Kaius could feel it like a storm on the horizon, pricking against the back of his neck.

“You want to do what?!” Kaius yelled back, thinking he’d misheard—both that the man thought he could put dozens of bogglings to death with a single blow, and that he had to be right next to them to do it.

“Come to the front!”

Now Kaius knew the man was mad.

“Kind of asking for a lot!”

“Not for long, I promise—just enough time to cast! One of Porkchop’s Shardwall’s and a few of your Stormlashes would be enough!”

“Just do it.”

Kaius shot his brother a scowl.

“Fine!” he called, deciding to agree against his better instincts. Whatever Ianmus planned, he hoped it would work.

….

Ianmus felt the sweet burn of Solar mana burning its way through the ethereal pathways that wormed their way through his all too physical flesh.

The meat of his body was a limitation, one he would do away with if he could. He’d sat through a dozen lectures, dreaming of the wonders of elementals and spirits—the connection they had to the vitality of the world.

Mana.

It was truly everything.

Doubling his focus, Ianmus felt his jaw move, mumbling words with an automaticity that forgeod conscious thought.

A tool, one he had learned in his first year at Sunspire. When the fire of mana’s demands grew too strong, too wrothfull, the liturgy of the learned soothed its passions.

Everything was bent to his work.

He’d had a realisation, in the press of battle. There was more he could take from Kaius’s presence than the simple refinement of using sacred geometry in his casting.

The way that his friend had described bending destabilisation to his will. The way he leashed mana to inexorable whims.

There was a path to salvation there.

Pulling on the mana of his core with the stalwart mind of a lord, Ianmus wove his work. Solar mana streamed around him in knots and weaves of great complexity. Despite his focus, his mind wandered.

He’d left Sunspire for a reason.

The ossification he’d seen there disgusted him.

The way his tutors—the whole institution—revelled in their glacial movement was revolting.

Sitting in towers. Reading books. Planning.

Always planning.

But never acting.

It had rubbed off on him, and it was his gravest mistake.

Mana was dynamic, and in this moment of direst pressure, Ianmus realised he had forgotten that.

It demanded movement.

Precise and controlled movement, but action all the same.

There would be changes in the future—that he was certain of. Given the opportunity, he knew that he would bring others what he lacked. A place to learn. One that fostered curiosity, discovery, and exploration, not one that clung desperately to the illusion of safety that existed in a cloistered tower of gold.

Surrounded by an aurora of sun's fury, Ianmus realised he had faltered, and Mentis screamed to new heights in response.

….

Kaius heard Ianmus mumbling a constant mutter. While a chant wasn’t required for free casting, he knew it was a commonly used mnemonic to focus the mind—whatever the mage was doing was stretching him to his limits.

Five minutes had passed since the man had started, and only now did it seem like he was reaching a crescendo. The distinct tang of sweet sunlight hung heavy in the air, Ianmus’s mana overpowering the final remnant traces of the shaman’s gaseous spell.

The stink of solar affinity wasn’t the only thing that had changed.

It had been slow at first—unnoticable—but now he was certain. The bogglings were slowing. More still streamed around the corner, but they were loosely packed, with none of the dense crush of bodies that they’d been for the better part of the last hour.

The tide seemed to be stemming.

It was an impossibility. It churned his stomach, igniting a blazing suspicion in his belly.

There was no way they’d started to exhaust the plague. Sure, they’d killed what had to be over a hundred of the freaks, but he’d seen enough bodies in that cavern to triple the number of dead easily. Where was the head shaman? The warchief? He’d seen neither hide nor hair of them.

Had they held back? Kept some of their forces in reserve?

He doubted it. Everything he’d seen today, knew about boggarts, suggested that the plague should have thrown themselves at them in an unending wave. Hells, they had. No way they had the smarts—the acumen—to consider a tactical ploy like that.

What if they’d fled? He’d never gotten a full look at the main chamber of the nest. There could have easily been another cave. Perhaps they were circling around, moving to pincer them from behind. Or worse, had decided to flee from the threat, and were already en route to the plains.

This horde could have easily been a distraction. Something meant to keep them occupied while the warchief led his host to the east.

He shoved the dark feelings deep, letting himself feel the soothing flow of bloodshed and the rapid beat of his heart.

Regardless of the reasoning, the slowing tide buoyed him. He felt far more confident now—that they might be able to cull this lesser group.

It pushed back their need to flee, judging by the rate of their approach, there might only be a few dozen left hidden around the bend of the cave.

Suddenly the roiling mana in the air stilled.

“I’m…ready.” Ianmus called, each word sounding like it had been forced through clenched teeth.

Kaius breathed, sharing a glance with Porkchop, who nodded.

Picking up the pace of his assault, Kaius burnt a charge of Slip Step. With the mortal boundaries of distance loosening their grip on him, he lurched across the front line in a constant flicker. Blows that would have landed phased right through him, leaving the attackers wide open for his counterattack—his form growing insubstantial with unnatural timing more than once.

**Ding! Uncanny Dodge has reached level 57!**

From behind, he heard Ianmus make his way forward. Each step was slow—weighed down by the burden of his consumed focus.

As soon as it sounded like the man was a bare few strides behind him, Kaius unleashed a trio of Stormlashes. The spells activated at the speed of thought, three writhing vines of shocking power washing over the front line of bogglings. Arcs split, catching more bodies in the lethal net.

Two expired directly—the rest seized, falling back into the row behind them. The sudden dead weight of their allies staggered the rest, a rolling disorientation that moved through the crowd of monsters like a wave.

Porkchop capitalised on the moment, a Shardwall rocketing forwards, sending the mass sprawling back.

Then Ianmus was there next to him. Brow furrowed and jaw tensed, he looked like he was battling for his life—more focused than Kaius had ever seen him.

A point of mana glowed at the tip of his staff, so potent that it warped the air—casting off a visible light.

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The mage’s staff dipped down, wavering as Ianmus pointed it forwards.

Everything went white.

**Ding! Truesight has reached level 52!**

His ocular skill might have protected him from the worst of it, but even then, Kaius could just barely make out a hazy view of the devastation.

A hair thin beam erupted from Ianmus’s staff, so bright and hot that Kaius could feel his skin cooking from simple proximity.

Like all of the man's spells, it substantiated instantly—a gossamer thin thread linking his focus to the far wall of the cave.

Then the air screamed, and the thread was suddenly a sheet—bisecting the cave at chest height before it vanished a moment later.

Staring at Ianmus in shock, Kaius cursed as his friend’s eyes rolled back into his head and he started to keel over.

Whipping back to the front without bothering to catch the man—Ianmus could deal with losing a bit of his health—he readied himself to defend his friend’s prone body.

Only to find nothing but a field of severed corpses, a slow trickle of new foes warily rounding the corner to step onto the field of the dead. It was a bare few—maybe two dozen, boggarts one and all—who entered the cave.

They looked at them in abject terror—eyes wide as they waded through the lake of blood and viscera that drenched the cave. More than one looked back the way they had come, only to flinch and march on.

No matter the certainty of death, something behind them drove them forwards to certain death.

“They’re afraid.” Porkchop said, his chest heaving as they waited for the final bogglings to approach. It was the first chance either of them had had to rest since the siege had begun.

“They are—but of what?”

Kaius’s words seemed to break the boggarts out of their fugue. They screamed, taking final fearful glances at the tunnel they left, before racing forwards with maddened abandon.

“Hopefully we never find out.” Porkchop replied, stepping forwards to meet their charge.