9/0/0
[
[Stats][Magic][Inventory][Help]
Class: Adventurer 9
Strength: 10
Body: 8
Agility: 9
Dexterity: 6
Intelligence: 30
Willpower: 9
Charisma: 8
Stat points: 0
XP: 3/100
]
[
[Stats][Magic][Inventory][Help]
Mana: 150/150
Spells:
Magic Missile: 10 Mana
Mana Fist: 50 Mana
Fireball: 120 Mana
]
I had spent more or less every waking moment training, and my days had become painfully repetitive outside of the time I spent with the group.
There was a lingering anticipation in the air now. Everyone knew they were going to have to fight for this, and that the risk of dying was higher than it had ever been.
And yet people seemed happier than they had since we arrived.
Maybe it was the better food. Maybe it was the better equipment. Maybe it was just that fear could not stay at its peak forever. Whatever the reason, the tension that had followed everyone around in those first few days had started to fade.
In its place was hope.
Everyone wanted this done. Wanted the tutorial over with. Wanted the chance to contact the people they had left behind and find out who made it, and who did not.
"Alright," I call, standing on top of a fallen tree a short distance from the hill. "Everyone ready?"
A murmur runs through the gathered group, then a scattering of nods, raised weapons, and muttered agreements.
Most people had spread their stats around so they would not end up too weak in one area. Since I had dumped every single point into Intelligence like a lunatic, that somehow got me elected as the one in charge of battle strategy.
The plan sounded simple when I explained it.
Attack fast. Stay flexible. Do not bunch up.
By now everyone who had fought knew how zombies and ghouls behaved. They rushed in, flailed wildly, and cared so little about damage that they would happily break themselves trying to get at you.
The necromancer was the real concern.
For the main group, I explained the idea of area attacks, using my fireball as the example. A projectile spell, decent speed, decent blast radius, dangerous if you were too close when it landed.
"If he has anything like that," I told them, "scattering matters more than formation. Do not stay grouped if he starts casting something big."
That part seemed to stick well.
We also went over a few other possibilities.
If he summoned anything, the hunter and Sheral would focus on taking it out.
If he stayed behind the undead while casting, I would try to break the line with a fireball.
If things turned bad enough, we even had a few molotovs made up as a last resort, though I was not exactly confident in their usefulness against magic or undead.
Still, people looked hopeful.
More than hopeful, really. Ready.
A loud cheer rises from the group of fifteen in front of me, rough and uneven and very alive, and then they start marching toward the hill.
I hop down from the tree and fall in with them, taking a place near the center beside Sheral and the hunter.
Jake is out in front, shield raised, sword in hand.
Off to our left and right are smaller groups of four, with another group ahead of us. The idea is that they handle the outer undead packs while our main strike group pushes for the necromancer. Then they leapfrog up the hill behind us once their targets are down.
It is the kind of plan that sounds decent when you say it aloud.
The kind that starts falling apart the moment people have to actually do it.
"Charge!" Jake bellows.
And then we run.
The hill erupts into motion.
Arrows cut overhead. Mana bolts flash past in white streaks. Boots pound into dirt and dead grass. The undead ahead start turning toward us in ragged, jerking waves.
At the top of the rise, the necromancer is already watching.
Unlike the normal enemies here, he does not stand there blankly waiting for us to get close. He moves back half a step. Tightens his grip on the staff in his hand. Tilts his skull-like face in a way that makes it clear he is thinking.
That alone tells me everything I need to know.
This is someone.
Maybe not powerful because he is some legendary monster. Maybe not dangerous because he is a genius. But he is aware, calculating, reacting.
Smart enough.
My suspicion is confirmed in the next second.
The ground in front of us bursts open and pale, rotting hands claw their way up from the dirt.
Not under the groups on the edges.
Under us.
Right after we pass the point where the others can easily cover us.
It is a smart move. The hands grab at ankles, calves, boots. They do not have to hold us long, just enough to break formation and ruin momentum. Nails rake into my legs, sharp enough to sting, and someone behind me shouts in pain.
For half a second panic tries to climb up my throat.
I shove it back down and start building a fireball.
"Ignore it! Keep charging!" I yell, even as I fight to hold the spell together.
The pain makes it harder.
So does the movement.
So does the fact that everyone around me is stumbling and swearing and trying not to fall while dead fingers tear at their legs.
My spell circle begins to wobble.
The mana is there, the shape is there, but the structure keeps threatening to collapse under the strain.
Ahead of us, Jake tears free and keeps going.
The hunter plants his feet just long enough to loose an arrow. It flies straight and buries itself in the necromancer's thigh.
For a moment I think, good.
Then the necromancer barely reacts.
He just lifts one hand and traces a circle in the air with practiced speed. The symbols are unfamiliar, but the intent is obvious even before the spell finishes.
Bone.
A jagged spike forms in front of him and launches.
It punches into the hunter's chest hard enough to spin him halfway around before he crashes to the ground.
Everything in me drops at once.
I know that at a meager level ten. Two spells not cast from a wand would be the end of his mana
But for him, it was worth it.
One cast to take our ranged support out of the fight.
My fireball collapses.
[Mana: 70/150]
Eighty mana gone.
Nothing to show for it.
For a second I feel sick.
Then Sheral swears beside me and fires her wand.
That pulls me back into myself.
Fine.
No fireball.
I switch to what works.
I raise my wand and fire a mana bolt at the necromancer while scrambling free of one last grasping hand. Sheral fires another a heartbeat later. Our shots hit almost together, slamming into him hard enough to knock him back a step.
Not damaging, but just raw force
Thankfully Jake reaches him in the next moment.
A zombie lunges from the side and Jake smashes it away with his shield so hard it tumbles downhill into one of the flanking groups. Then he closes the last few feet and brings his sword down in a brutal diagonal cut.
The necromancer twists, trying to avoid the worst of it, but the blade still tears through his robe and bites deep.
That is when we see it.
Under the cloth, his body is wrapped in a twisted lattice of bone, rib-like plates and sharpened joints layered over him like natural armor.
That explains the wand hits not doing much.
The good news is that Jake is armored too, and his armor is actual metal.
So when the necromancer snaps his staff up and fires a bolt of mana point-blank, Jake barely even stumbles. The blast scorches across his chest, but the chainmail and heavy padding underneath take most of it.
Jake answers by slamming his shield into the necromancer's face.
Teeth and bone crack loud enough for me to hear it from several paces away.
"Good fucking hit!" I shout, more because the moment needs it than because anyone needs the encouragement.
I lift my wand and fire at the necromancer's head.
He jerks sideways at the last second and my bolt sails past, close enough to blast his hood off, revealing the face of a already dead man, but the eyes were alive.
It was something I know even from 40ft away
Sheral fires too, catching him in the shoulder.
Jake presses in again, giving him no room to breathe.
For a moment it actually looks like we have him.
Then the necromancer slams the butt of his staff into the ground.
A pulse of pale light runs through the dirt.
Two corpses nearby convulse and drag themselves half-upright, not fully restored, just enough to crawl and clutch at legs. One catches Jake at the ankle. Another grabs at Sheral's boot.
Not dangerous by themselves.
Just enough to create hesitation.
And hesitation is deadly.
I drop the wand for a second, grab my spear, and drive the tip down through the skull of the thing reaching for Sheral.
She glances at me once, quick and sharp. "About time."
Then she fires another bolt straight into the necromancer's chest.
Jake takes advantage of the opening and hacks into his side again, blade lodging deep between the bone plates.
The necromancer makes a sound then, the first real sound out of him. Not a scream. More like dry air forced through a broken throat.
He staggers.
Before any of us can finish him, an arrow comes out of the treeline and buries itself in his skull.
The necromancer drops instantly.
For a second I just stare.
The shot came from one of the earlier groups, someone who must have broken through their pack and gotten a line on him before I did.
It is hard not to feel at least a little annoyed.
I had spent all that time training, all that time thinking through spells and plans and mana costs, and in the actual boss fight I was mostly scrambling not to fall apart while some random level four or five from the treeline got the final hit.
Not my best thought.
Probably not a healthy one either.
But it is there.
Around me, nobody else seems to care.
The second the necromancer falls, the rest of the undead collapse with him. Zombies crumple mid-charge. Ghouls drop into the dirt like their strings were cut.
Then the whole hillside erupts in cheers.
Real cheers.
Sheral grabs my shoulder and shakes me once. Jake lifts his sword and shouts something I do not catch. Even the people farther down the hill are yelling now.
A blue window appears in front of me.
[Quest Complete!]
[Keep the Village Safe]
[Reward: Groups, Raid Groups, Chat Access, Friending, Leaving the Tutorial Area]