My muscles scream with exertion. Another dodge. Another swing. More warm blood splashes against me. My breaths heave from the exhaustion. Another dodge. Another swing. A screech of pain before another body hits the dirt—adding to the unbearable smell of mass death. An endless sea of them for what felt like an eternity. Getting what I can only assume is a slight taste of what Thorpe once experienced against hordes of demon spawn.
You know—just if they were rabbits.
Because jackalopes are related to rabbits, of course. They breed just as quickly and in even larger numbers. But you never really consider how large that number is until you've killed enough to fill a cottage and still not feel you've made a dent.
We've been fighting for almost an hour. And it took just about that long to thin them out enough to make the rest afraid to advance.
Every single fighter on our side is caked in a fine layer of jackalope innards. Because you try to keep yourself clean at first, but that doesn't last long. Not when you're fighting this many at once. You're lucky enough not to swallow your weight in bodily fluids halfway through it.
Suffice it to say, if I had any aversion to gore left in me, it's all gone now. But more than anything, I'm just surprised none of it has bothered me that much. After spending the last couple of days agonizing about Dreyfus and his gang, I'd think leaping into something this gruesome would trigger it again. But it hasn't happened.
I don't know what that says about me morally, but I can pick it apart later.
The flood of monsters has finally halted after hundreds have thrown themselves at us with little regard for their own lives. The hills around the village are stained red and carpeted with the bodies of the Warren Defenders. Somewhat broken up by the massive boulder-like corpses of the ten adults we've killed.
Entire sections of our crops have been trampled sadly. Which we tried to defend them the best we could, but it was impossible to avoid damage with the numbers we have. And the jackalopes gradually circumvented us and attacked from other sides of the village, so we've been constantly on the move as well.
And even though it's stopped for now, we can still see another wave poised at the edges of the forest. Their beady black eyes glinting in the brush by the light of the afternoon sun.
I spit out the bit of jackalope blood that had splattered into my mouth from my last kill. Wiping my lips with the back of my hand, but grimacing as I end up just smearing more on. I'm having a hard time judging where my sweat begins and all the blood ends. But I'm feeling it in places that confuse me.
The [Guards] and mercenaries are taking a breather or carrying our wounded back behind the village walls. We're at least lucky no one has died. But some certainly got close. I'm honestly a bit shocked at how much more durable people above level 5 are. I saw several of them take the same kind of kick from an adult jackalope that I did almost 2 weeks ago, and they just got back up afterwards.
Thorpe and Ethel are nearby when I take a seat in the cleanest spot of grass I can find. The old man has a spyglass up to his right eye, scoping out the rest of the monster horde. And he does not look pleased at all.
Old Guard folds up the spyglass, his nose thoroughly wrinkled. "They aren't moving at all anymore. That must be where she is. But the fact that she hasn't gone around us at this point is not good." The sigh that escapes from him is laced with a level of sadness I wasn't expecting. "We might be dealing with the worst-case scenario."
The gore-coated [Knight] next to him frowns deeply at that, her sallet back up and showing her sweat-slick face. "She's wounded…"
Thorpe nods solemnly. "Enough that she can't move easily."
Ethel matches the old man's sigh. "Which means they won't be moving either. She has them whipped up to defend her, and we're just unlucky enough to be in her defense radius."
Thorpe growls under his breath. "If we put her down, they'll scatter. But it won't be good for any of us long-term."
I grunt lightly to catch their attention. "If she's hurt, why not heal her?"
Thorpe nods in my direction. "It's possible. But that has multiple problems. She's constantly under guard by her eldest, who are scary by themselves. And she'd need at least more than half a bottle of my draught for it to be even close to effective. She's way too big and way too strong for anything less. And unfortunately she'd probably just spit it out…"
Ser Ethel emits a low hum. "I can send my [Scouts] to get eyes on her. At least get an idea of her status."
Old Guard nods in agreement. "Much obliged. We'll keep half of the others patrolling the treeline. Not too close, of course. And get them to clear corpses as they go, level our battleground some. The rest need to collect as many of the spent arrows as they can and ferry them back to the wall."
The [Knight] gives him a swift nod, taking it as an order before she turns to loudly shout her own across the field. I can tell she's used to this. But I'm just glad she's deferring to Thorpe as the leader here.
Old Guard kicks a few of the warren defender corpses aside and kneels next to me. His gaze is critical as he scans me over. "How you doin', kiddo?"
I purse my lips at the question, genuinely giving some thought to it. But truly, I'm feeling pretty stable other than general worries. "I'm alright. Exhausted though. And I feel gross."
He snorts at that and smirks. "Yeah, me too. It's funny. We're definitely gonna have an abundance of meat after this. But alas, I'm not sure I'll ever want jackalope again."
I nod along to that statement in full agreement. "What do you need me to do?"
Thorpe scratches his blood-soaked goatee. "I need you to go check on your mama and the others. Let them know we've thinned them out, but to stay inside until told otherwise by me. Let Lord Felix know what we're dealing with as well." He says lightly, aiming a brief pensive glance towards the treeline. "And get that bottle of draught I opened from my house while you're at it. Just in case."
I try not to show the relief on my face, but he can probably already tell anyway. Rising to a stand and only wobbling just a little bit. "Understood. I'll come running if I hear shouting. Otherwise, I'll be back."
The old man smiles and gives me a pat on the back. "I'll scream very loudly if anything happens. Wouldn't want you to miss your second coat of rabbit red."
I can't help but roll my eyes, shaking my head as he laughs. Pushing myself into a brisk jog towards the barn built into the north wall. I should probably check my status for injuries as well since we have a quiet period. "May the blinded see."
______________________________________
[[LEVEL-01]]
//Name: Liore Perro
//Age: 12
//Class: [Farmer] -> [Knight]
//Status: Fatigued [Bruised] [Minor Lacerations]
[[STATS]]
//Strength: 2
//Dexterity: 3
//Intelligence: 2
//Perception: 2
//Stamina: 3
//Resilience: 3
//Magic: 1
[[PASSIVE]]
[??????????]
[Slayers Aspect]
[Favored]
[Battle Theory] -> [Sword Theory]
[Threat Detection]
[Mana Sense] = [Weak]
[Mana Storage] = [Minor]
[Secrets] = 5 Charges
[[SKILLS]]
[??????-??????]
[Leap Stride] + [Spring Kick]
[[CLASS QUESTS]]
[Plant A Seed]
______________________________________
After a quick scan of my window, I'm already noticing several changes. Not only have my dexterity and stamina both gone up in the last hour, but it seems my [Leap Stride] was given a sub-skill. But now that I think about it, I'm pretty sure it was already there when I checked this morning. I just wasn't paying attention to it.
I guess when I kicked that [Bandit] really far it was significant enough to save. Which will definitely be useful.
____________________________
[Spring Kick]: A sub-skill of Leap Stride, this offensive skill allows one to perform powerful kicks with a high knock-back capability. The force and distance of the attack is multiplied by ones Strength stat. Using this attack while in the midst of a Leap Stride doubles the attack force at the cost of extra stamina reserve.
_____________________________
I can't help but smile at the description. I'm excited to see what kind of damage I can do with it. But for now, I'm going to keep it in my back pocket. My use of [Leap Stride] has already drawn a lot of attention to me judging by the 3 charges I'm missing from [Secrets].
Approaching the barn doors, I give a few knocks against the rough wood surface. "It's Liore."
The sounds of shuffling feet on the other side before the latch is flipped and the door swings open. An arm instantly snatching me up before I can even react. My mother squeezes me to her chest and nearly strangles me with how tight her grip is. But I just have to take it. I must be a frightening sight for her.
I hear whispered conversations going on around us. Mostly the village folk gossiping to one another. Over half of the village have been hiding in here since the attack started.
"Mrs. Perro, I do not fault you for such a reaction. But I assume your daughter has news to share." The posh and leveled tone of Lord Felix hushes the whispers. I can feel Mama flinch, finally loosening up to let me go.
My heart pangs at the somewhat haunted look on her face. "I'm fine, Mama. None of this is mine." I assure her a bit awkwardly. But there is only so much you can say when your daughter shows up caked in the blood of her enemies, I suppose.
Mama grimaces fiercely, her hands firmly gripped on her hips while she visually assesses me. She certainly doesn't look at all happy, but sighs with agitated acceptance. "Apologies, my lord. Just overcome with emotion briefly."
The nobleman today wears a stylish forest-green waistcoat, a layered vest, and a silk shirt underneath. His legs are well protected from the dirt by some shiny knee-high riding boots over his dark trousers. And his hair is as perfectly shaped and quaffed as it was yesterday. That piercing gaze of his settles on me as Mama steps aside for him. Ser Steppen standing close by.
Lord Felix gives my mother another glance, an unmistakable flash of empathy across his features. "Apologies unneeded. I can hardly blame a mother's concern for her child. And she certainly is a grizzly sight to behold." He admits before returning his attention to me. "Miss Liore. Do you have news?" The nobleman asks with his heavily painted brow arching upward.
I swallow the giggle that nearly escapes my mouth and clear my throat while offering a light bow. "Yes, my lord. We managed to start thinning them out about a half-hour ago and they've now stopped their advance. Thorpe and Ser Ethel believe their Den Mother is nearby and might be heavily wounded. Likely chased out of their Warren by a larger predator."
The nobleman's expression becomes quite complicated. "Then I suppose killing this Den Mother is a priority?"
I quickly shake my head. "Not at all. Thorpe and Ser Ethel want to avoid harming her. She's a big part of the ecosystem out here. So they're trying to see if they can get her to move past us."
Lord Felix raises his arch of a brow again. "Is this den mother truly that important to risk the village even further?"
Before I can answer, Ser Steppan leans in next to the nobleman. "Aye, my lord. Jackelope Den Mothers are considered high-tier monsters on the same level as wyverns. They're essentially minor guardian deities. Most of the jackalope burrows for half of Camden likely stem from her warren. She emits an aura that boosts their reproduction cycle. Gives their litters higher survival rates and better chances of unique variants. Without her, the brood mothers lose her protection and benefits. Which would harm their population for likely decades until a new one is born. Limiting the largest food source for the local predators as well."
Lord Felix's eyes widen at that, reaching up to stroke the curl of his mustache. "I see. That would be severely devastating indeed." He agrees, entering a contemplative silence for a moment before returning his attention to me. "You say she may be wounded?"
I nod slowly, still mulling over the information Steppan gave as well. I knew Jackalopes had stronger variants, but not that strong. "Ser Ethel is sending her scouts to locate her and check her status. My suggestion was to heal her if we can, but Thorpe says that might be pretty hard. But he told me to go get one of his bottles of draught, just in case."
Ser Steppan grimaces. "I doubt she'd stomach that even if we did get it in her. But I suppose it's an option."
The nobleman nods in agreement, his eyes still framed with hard lines from likely troubling theories. "I'm afraid I am out of my depth with this situation. So I will defer it to Sir Thorpe and my associates' expertise. I thank you for the report, young lady." He states calmly, offering a polite nod that surprises me.
Mama places a hand on my shoulder, giving me a somewhat complicated look. "Do we—do we have any casualties?" She asks quietly, her shoulders tensing up.
But she relaxes as I shake my head in response. "No casualties so far. But we have several who are wounded pretty badly. They're being moved behind the walls."
She sighs in relief and nods. "Good. All the money we put into the [Guards] equipment has paid off in droves."
Steppan chuckles, folding his arms across his chest. "And having an old spearhead captain four steps from sainthood training them surely doesn't hurt either."
Mama scoffs, her mood lightening up a bit. "Aye. Though sometimes I wonder if he's worth the headaches he gives me. But he always proves himself useful when I'm annoyed with him the most."
A smile forms across my lips. "I should go get that bottle. We don't know if or when another wave will hit."
Mama definitely doesn't look ready to let me go, but nods anyway. "Alright dove. While you're at it, I sent Arno out there to check on all the folk staying in their homes. If you run into him, let him know what's going on as well."
"I'll fill him in if I spot him." I assure before passing by them towards the inner side of the barn and out into the village.
I don't see Mr. Wyatt down the west road where I'm heading. So he must be on the other side. Which I could run over there, but I've got my priorities. I'll try to look for him before I head back out.
With just a couple strides, I skid to a stop in front of Thorpe's house and push my way inside. My nose wrinkling at the acrid stench from the freshly opened bottle of draught that has continued to cling to the air in here. But I don't spot the bottle on the kitchen counter where Thorpe set it last. Although he could have easily moved it after I had left in such a hurry.
So I spend a few minutes searching through the conjoined kitchen and den areas. Coming up empty-handed as well. So he must have stowed it back in his room. But he didn't exactly tell me where the hiding spot was either.
Hopefully, it isn't too difficult to find.
I sigh, turning away from the kitchen and move across the den towards Thorpe's bedroom. The door was already open when I came in, so it should have been obvious he put it back. But I was just hoping it would be in a more convenient place.
The old man's room is a lot less spartan than the rest of the house. In fact, it's a complete mess. His personal effects are strewn all over the floor. His bed frame is crooked and all of his bedding has been torn away. Even a section of his floor has been removed in the corner.
My brows furrow at the obvious hidden space. The wood floor panel that covered it is leaning against the wall nearby. And in the space beneath the floor is an old wooden chest. Which must be where Thorpe keeps his old stuff, like the draught. But why would he leave it out in the open like this?
A chill rolls down my spine as I spot the answer. The state of the room starting to make a lot more sense. My heart thumping loudly in my ears.
My answer being a thin piece of sharp metal still jammed into the lock on the front of the chest.
That—and the sharp prickling sensation on the back of my neck.