V2Ch59-The Fallen

“Well, that’s annoying,” James said mildly.

The sword had been stopped from chopping through Cliff’s neck by a black shield that levitated out from Cliff’s bag to defend him.

“Another sentient weapon,” Hester said. “I was starting to think only you had them here.”

“Cliff just got lucky,” James replied dismissively.

And I don’t have time for this, he thought. If the others had any easy time fighting the Ghouls,  they could return at any moment. I really don’t want to have to explain to Damien why I’m executing Cliff.

He let go of the Egosword, then reached out and grabbed the shield. It resisted his grip, but he was much stronger.

“It’s a shame you belonged to Cliff,” James said to the shield. He had considered smashing it over his knee, though he wasn’t sure he was strong enough to break it so easily. But now he rejected that idea. Once Cliff was gone, he would give it to some other, worthier wielder. Breaking a sentient weapon like this was just wasteful. He still felt a twinge of regret that he’d broken his spear in the process of killing the Wolf King, though at least he’d obtained what he was sure was some pretty good loot as a result of that. He hadn’t taken the time to analyze the materials yet, but there was a big fur coat and a wicked looking sentient dagger sitting in his bag, awaiting his consideration for future use.

“Kill him,” he ordered the sword. He noticed the lights floating in the distant air had disappeared. That could only mean the Ghouls had been dealt with, so Damien and Luna would surely return shortly.

The Spidersword swung down under its own power, and this time, it severed Cliff’s neck. The blade was so sharp, it barely made a sound as it decapitated him. The head thumped lightly to the ground. A surprisingly light impact. I’m sure anyone who ever met Cliff would agree he had a big head on him, but it turns out that was mostly hot air.

[You killed Cliffton Rogers, Lv. 9! You gained 360 exp!]

Damn it, Cliff. You weren’t even worth a level? Actually, not even close… He shook his head. Pillage. There, that should get rid of the evidence.

James decided to steal Stat points, because he suspected Cliff’s Talents and Skills would be redundant to his own, and he didn’t want the kinds of Titles he imagined Cliff would have acquired: “Traitor to Humanity” or “Chosen One of Hel,” maybe.

Two more in Charisma, he thought. That’s always useful.

After Cliff’s body had disappeared, he turned his attention to the wolf pack. The wolves were milling about, relaxed. A few were play-wrestling, which made James raise an eyebrow. They didn’t seem to care what had happened to Cliff at all.

But just in case… He sent out a non-verbal mental command, just calling for their attention. The wolves all suddenly stopped what they were doing, turned, and looked at him. James had to fight a grin from spreading across his face. I could get used to this.

Cliff, one of the humans who came with us, is dead, James sent. If any of you happen to be asked what happens to him by anyone in the future, you will recall that he was killed by a Ghoul surprise attack. Sure, none of the wolves but Luna could talk right now, but James knew that was just a matter of time and experience. And he intended to bury the truth about Cliff forever.

Then he had another idea to better cover up the crime.

Also, here’s some food! He took the Cliff meat out of his bag, opened the System-wrapped parcels up, and threw the chunks of meat to the wolves, which tore into them. Then he turned back to face the direction Damien and Luna had run off in. It was fortunate they were taking their time getting back.

Wait, shouldn’t they be back now? Maybe the Ghouls were giving them more trouble than he’d realized. It had been a small group of them, though. Or maybe Damien and Luna were fighting each other? But he couldn’t hear any sounds of combat, despite his superior senses.

The wolves finished their snack quickly, and James led them off to find the missing wolf and Werewolf. As he and the pack drew close, James could hear the sounds of ragged breathing. At least they’re still alive. As he pushed through the mist, Damien and Luna came into view.

They were both lying on their backs on a little island that stood a foot above the swamp muck. Luna was unconscious, while Damien barely maintained alertness. His eyes opened and closed woozily. He’d positioned himself beside her, one of his limbs protectively draped over the female wolf.

All around them lay pieces of dismembered Ghouls, around a half dozen by the looks of them. James ordered one of the wolves to take a headcount to make sure.

“James!” Damien groaned. “So glad you made it here.” His body instantly began reverting to human form. “Now I can finally relax.”

“What happened?” James asked. He had been vaguely listening to the conduct of the battle in the distance, hoping it would last long enough for him to deal with Cliff. But he hadn’t heard anything that alarmed him. The fight had sounded like a fairly one-sided affair.

Witnessing the aftermath in person gave a slightly different impression.

Looking carefully, he could see that both Damien and Luna were wounded, although none of their injuries seemed especially serious. The two were covered in shallow cuts. A lot of them. Still, they shouldn’t have been enough to put a Command Forest Wolf and a Werewolf out of commission.

But even before Damien began to explain, James’s other senses told a fuller story than his sight. Luna and Damien’s heartbeats were erratic. And there was a smell coming from their bodies. Something like corruption. Not the same as what he’d observed when Camila was poisoned. Their wounds didn’t look or smell particularly foul. But something wasn’t right.

“I think we were poisoned or something,” Damien said. “We killed the Ghouls easily enough. There were some other things, dead things, in the water—” He gestured weakly at the marsh all around them—“and that was where we had the trouble. It was like Night of the Living Dead. They were all trying to bite us, claw us, make whatever little wound they could. They were a lot weaker than the Ghouls, but there were at least a dozen of them hiding. By the time we’d killed them, we took a lot of cuts.” He looked anxious for a moment. “James, if I turn into a Zombie, you have to kill me, okay? I don’t want to go on a rampage, trying to infect people. That was what I was scared becoming a Werewolf would mean—”

“Save your energy,” James said, placing a hand on Damien’s shoulder. “I won’t let that happen.”

I really don’t want to have to kill him. How he could prevent some kind of involuntary transformation, he wasn’t sure. He tried Laying On Hands first, and although it quickly closed their wounds, he could tell that their bodies remained contaminated. Luna and Damien’s heart rates remained high, and their body temperatures were noticeably elevated. Damien’s forehead glistened with a sweat that smelled sickly sweet.

“It didn’t work, huh?” Damien asked.

James thought he’d controlled his expression, but it seemed Damien could tell from his own body that James hadn’t fixed him.

“It’ll be fine,” James promised. “Sierra has a Skill for expelling foreign contaminants. I just have to rescue her and the other people the Ghouls captured, and we’ll get you guys healed in a jiffy.”

“Mm hm,” Damien said, closing his eyes. “Don’t let them get you, man. Keep your armor on. I’m just gonna take a quick nap.”

James didn’t try to keep him awake. Damien needed his energy to fight this.

“I’ll come back for you, man. You and my wolf here.”

“Yeah, I believe it.” Damien spoke the words groggily but with no trace of doubt or irony. James felt a surge of pride at realizing that he had genuinely earned Damien’s trust over the last few days. There had been no Skills involved, no lying. Just good honest leadership and fighting. Plenty of fighting. He could get used to this.

And, of course, Damien would be a valuable asset moving forward. If James could cure him. If he wasn’t forced to slay the Werewolf. But he would burn that bridge when he came to it, as Mina sometimes said.

The wolf that had taken the headcount of the dead reported back to James.

A half-dozen Ghouls’ heads present. James used Mass Pillage to acquire Stat points from every dead thing within range. He didn’t bother putting the meat from the dead bodies into his bag. The wolves weren’t going to want a bunch of undead meat, and he didn’t intend to eat it either.

I want six of you to stay back here and guard Luna and Damien, James sent to the wolfpack. Whichever is the strongest of you besides Luna should be among them. The rest of us will go on and find the people who were captured by the Ghouls earlier.

The wolves sent back a chorus of, Yes, my King. He let them sort themselves out.

Then he ordered the tracker wolves to lead him to where the human prisoners were being kept as quickly as possible.

“Hester, do you or Anansi have any idea what this health issue might be?” James asked quietly as the wolves looked for the scent.

“Sorry,” she replied in a subdued tone. “If I knew, I would have said something.” Suddenly, her body grew hot against his skin, and James recognized that she was receiving a divine transmission.

She was quiet for a long few seconds after it arrived, and James began following the wolves, who had picked up the trail of the kidnapped humans.

“I’m guessing Anansi didn’t have any useful information about this problem?” James murmured.

“He didn’t have an immediate solution, no,” Hester replied. “He did say that undead infections are the product of a Skill, though. If you destroy the one controlling or creating the undead that infected them, that will probably cure them.”

“Well, that is useful,” James replied. “Thanks, Hester! Please extend my thanks to Anansi.” Maybe I won’t need Sierra’s help after all.

“It’s my pleasure to be of service, sir,” she replied. She sounded very gratified at being thanked. James wondered, not for the first time, what her life had been like before Anansi gave her to him. A question for another day.

He followed close on the heels of the tightly packed wolves and kept his eyes peeled. He’d instructed them to move in a close formation to make ambush more difficult, but with Luna, the other Command Forest Wolves, and the Wolf King dead, he knew that realistically, he was the only one who could adequately defend them against a forceful surprise attack.

For half an hour, he followed silently, wondering when and if he would see his captured comrades again. Contemplating whether he would actually be able to do something for Damien and Luna.

He was only half aware of it when he crossed an invisible line somewhere in the swamp. There was a different feeling in the air. The Mana was denser all around him.

We’re in the inner sanctum, aren’t we? he thought.

As the idea percolated in the back of James’s mind, the swamp water around five feet away to either side of him began to bubble slightly. He pretended not to notice the water, but he sent a message to the wolves.

Scouts, I need you to give me the direction I need to head in to get to my lost allies. Once that’s done, I want the rest of you to return to where we left Luna and Damien. I intended for you to accompany me the rest of the way to the enemy stronghold, but it looks like there will be a lot of sneak attacks. I don’t think it would be as effective for us to fight together in this water, and I can travel more quickly alone.

This was his polite way of saying, I don’t want any more of you getting injured like Luna, or worse, when I know you won’t be much use in this fight.

He kept moving forward with the wolf pack until the scouts gave him the directions he’d asked for. Then the pack changed directions and ran back the way they’d come.

There, I’m all alone. James stared at the places in the water where there was bubbling. The swamp bottom felt like a lake bed, soft and uneven with squishy mud and reeds. He was knee deep in the swamp right now, but he was ready to leap out and into a nearby tree at any moment. Mostly, he wanted to see exactly what he was dealing with. The creatures that had probably gotten Damien and Luna.

The bubbles, he thought, were probably from decomposition. He was fighting undead, after all. He remembered from the Central Florida Prosecutor Training Program that corpses released gasses as they decomposed, which traditionally made them bob up to the surface. In this case, the corpses were still animated, so they were probably holding onto reeds on the marsh floor.

But some corpses wouldn’t be at the same stage of decomposition, and wouldn’t release any gasses at all. It was tricky to know just when to strike. If he attacked now and destroyed the undead that were producing bubbles, he’d eliminate some of the enemy, but probably not all. And he’d have no way of tracking the enemies that remained.

He moved cautiously,  placing his feet carefully, while he considered a plan.

After a few minutes of thought, he began Silent Spellcasting, gathering water Mana around his body.

He advanced another few yards, drawing close to where his scouts had indicated the humans should be. He wanted to avoid fighting around them as much as he could. The more enemies James faced when he rescued the kidnapped humans, the more likely one of them would start using his allies as hostages. So best to get rid of these enemies now if he could.

With that in mind, he unleashed the gathered water Mana, willing the water to move aside and reveal the hidden enemies.

To James’s slight surprise, the water actively resisted him. It felt like he was pushing a boulder uphill. The water seemed to simply absorb his Mana and almost fully ignore his directions, until he stopped pouring Mana in.

Not worth whatever it would cost me to make the water move, he thought, panting slightly. He’d only used up around 5 percent of his total Mana reserves, but that would have been a staggering quantity for anyone else.

So, the swamp is under the boss monster’s control? It was the only explanation he could come up with. Given that…

He leaped into the nearest tree.

Then he began Silent Spellcasting again. Gathering gravity Mana this time.

As he did so, he looked around for the thickest and heaviest tree branches he could find. There was more than one way to deal with zombies.

—

“It’s the strangest thing,” Roscuro muttered, more to himself than to his eager listeners.

His Ghouls knew better than to ask for clarification. If he wanted Kurt and the others to know why he was talking to himself or what he meant, he’d come right out and tell them.

The strange thing wasn’t that Robard had tried to use his Mana to move the swamp water and check for nearby enemies. That was clever, but within expectations, and it was kind of him to contribute so much Mana to Roscuro’s Dominion. The strange thing wasn’t that he disappeared from the area in which Roscuro could sense his presence. That too was a wise move. And perhaps this human could fly. Wind magic was just as common as water magic in Mages, Roscuro had observed.

No, what surprised him was what happened next. Roscuro lost all contact with the Zombies pursuing James through the swamp. Over a dozen of them disappeared in an instant. Snuffed out like candles. How did he do it?

Zombies weren’t the hardiest of his minions, far from it, but they were more durable than Skeleton Soldiers. Their destruction, so quickly and without any apparent explanation, gave him pause.

Roscuro had believed he had ample forces with which to face this enemy. He had staked his life on this belief, by choosing to stay where he was and fight, albeit from the rear rather than beside his troops.

But what if I’m wrong? Should I leave? There’s probably still time, if I use the Ghouls as sacrificial lambs and the humans as distractions. The human clearly cared a great deal for these companions of his, who Roscuro had ordered tied to trees behind him. Maybe he cares enough to make a mistake.

Suddenly he sensed Robard moving through the water again. He’s so close!

Roscuro decided to run. He began considering which supplies and Ghouls, if any, he needed to take with him.

It was then that he noticed the way his Ghouls were looking at him. Their expressions, quite worshipful in better times, had taken on his own worried cast. And the sight of it made him irrationally angry!

I used to be a brave man, he thought. Before I was a monster. What happened to that man? Did he really become the sort of creature that skitters away from an enemy like a cockroach running from a light?

He began reconsidering. Did he want to stand and fight? Was it worth possible death to uphold his pride? A moment’s thought. No. Of course not. I need to get out of here.

Then he heard Robard’s footsteps crashing through nearby tree roots. He could certainly run with great force. Wait, why do I still sense him elsewhere in the marsh?

But then the man himself emerged from the trees not twenty feet from Roscuro. The time for second thoughts was over.

All Ghouls, kill this intruder! Roscuro transmitted, quickly deciding that he shouldn’t bother sending the Zombies or Skeleton Soldiers after this enemy. At least not yet. They wouldn’t slow Robard down as much by charging him as they would by going after the other humans and serving as a distraction. All non-Ghouls who are not committed to other roles already, go and consume the humans we bound to those trees. First come, first served. All you can eat!

Then he activated Territorial Control and began pulling at Robard’s legs with his hold over the swamp water. Roscuro hadn’t used it before, because he’d never been in such desperate straits, but now that he was cornered, he would use everything at his disposal.

This would be the anti-Robard strategy. Bind his legs, distract him with attacks on his friends, let the Ghouls tear into him while he’s immobilized. Some of the Ghouls were bound to die in the attack, but the man only had two arms. The ones who didn’t die were certain to land blows to vital areas. And in the meantime, Roscuro would gather his Mana and prepare his strongest offensive Skill.

He began chanting quietly.

The Ghouls reached Robard’s body, and he made first contact with them, landing attacks on the nearest Ghouls’ neck and head. But his flailing arms did surprisingly little damage. As far as Roscuro could see, he’d landed glancing blows on the Ghouls at best. This was perfect. Robard was panicking, failing to properly use his power!

Perhaps the Soul Eater wouldn’t need to use Soul Magic after all. He kept chanting just in case.

In the next moment, he saw something that astonished him.

The Ghouls placed hands and weapons respectively on Robard’s body and ripped into him. That would have been ideal—except that they’d literally ripped him apart with their attacks. And Roscuro didn’t think human bodies typically contained leaves and sticks, but this one did.

An illusion?

There was a sudden breeze from behind Roscuro. He turned and looked, and saw half of the undead behind him fall into the swamp, bisected by some form of wind attack. The other half of the lesser undead collapsed in another identical strike. Roscuro ignored those losses, searching the tree canopy with his eyes for any sign of Robard.

From the trajectory of the attack, he’d realized the human had to be in the trees somewhere. Clever of him to avoid the direct approach. I should have known someone who’s survived this long, become this strong, wouldn’t come charging in like that. Now where is he?

After a moment, Roscuro realized it didn’t matter. He didn’t need to pinpoint Robard’s location; he would simply flush him out.

Kurt, go over and kill a few humans! he commanded.