PW Chapter 281: Ambush Prepared (Patreon)

“We really need to spend more time in the Dungeon proper,” Astrid thought out loud as she patrolled near the edge of the inner magic circle that Saul was inscribing on the ground. “We only really stuck in one place because we were too weak to go any further, stuck with the shimmerbugs, and then we just did whatever Gabriel wanted after that. Now that we’re Mithril, we could probably wander further inside without being afraid.”

“You could probably do it even back around level 80 or so,” Skandr chuckled. “It might have taken the rest of us until about now to get on that same level, though.”

“Speak for yourself,” Muti jumped in, her grin wide. “I could move safely through the Dungeon a long time ago, if I so desired.”

“But it’s not really going to happen, is it?” Benedict said, his words a heavy punch that landed in Astrid’s gut. “Wandering around here all together, that is. This war is about to end. Once it does, we’re each going to be going our separate ways.”

“Did you really think that now is the best time to say that?” Skandr demanded as Astrid stood, unable to talk past the lump in her throat.

“I mean, yeah,” Benedict shrugged. “I don’t think there’s any need to lie to ourselves about what reality is.”

“You’re right,” Astrid said, the words fighting to refuse to leave her mouth. “I won’t bring it up again.”

A damper fell over the party at that, the casual conversations drifting away to be replaced by uncomfortable silence. Astrid forced herself to refocus on the immediate future, not on the heartbreaking truth that was coming before long. With that in mind, she smiled and looked at the rest of her party.

“What food are you going to eat when we win this all? What’re you going to have as a celebration?”

The answers came quickly, though, funnily enough, just about everybody referenced something from Michel as at least the base of what they would like to have. Benedict especially mentioned wanting to eat a particular meat pie with Vera, and he didn’t care to have even the slightest embarrassment as he talked about going to meet up once again with the older Greenthumb.

“I think I can try some of that strong alcohol he gave you,” the Bard finished, looking at Astrid. “Honestly, my Fortitude isn’t that much higher now, but I figure making it through a civil war means that I deserve to get drunk out of my mind at least once, even if I regret it in a big way afterwards.”

The five of them continued joking back and forth from there, but it wasn’t long before it was obvious that Saul was finishing what he was doing. His careful carving of the massive circle was drawing to a close. Near him, Isana was going into some sort of a fit. She was twitching and twisting, her eyes rolling around unnaturally as something within the Dungeon seemed to take hold of her. Even as she did so, she kept a steady countdown. She’d started at 6,000, and was now just over 600.

“Time for the first summons,” Saul said, even as the mana from his preparations continued to smash into Astrid’s face.

Nobody said anything else as he then walked to the edge of the circle, placed both hands on it, and began chanting. It was only the work of a handful of seconds before mana, black as shadow and thick as syrup, started to fill the twisting inscription on the ground. Not long after that, the spell seemed to drain all of the mana, and just the inscription was left once again, though it glowed with a faint inner light.

“Thirty seconds until they arrive,” Saul said. He didn’t say anything more as he walked to the second circle farther away from the teleportation circle. The second one kept the mana from what he was doing from giving any warnings to the watchmen the Marchioness was sure to have posted nearby, and as the seconds ticked away, he just made sure that everything he’d done to make sure this was unnoticeable to the enemies on the other side of the swamp was successful.

Then, a group of 150 or so people appeared in the center of the circle. Astrid recognized many of them as people from Stahlstadt. She was surprised to see her mother there, but before anybody could say anything, Aleksandr started to shout.

“Everybody out of the circle! Gotta move before we can get the next ones in. The faster this is, the more successful we’ll be.”

Nobody disagreed, and they all rushed out of the spell. Astrid wondered how Saul had hidden these circles in each of these towns, but it wasn’t the time for conversations. Instead, she nodded seriously to her mother, who didn’t say anything as she took her taller daughter into her arms.

“I hate that we’re here. I hate that I’m grateful you’re here. Be safe. Also, your father gave me this, now that he’s Steel.”

Brighid held up a talisman, and Astrid took it before cocking her head at her mother. She didn’t need to say anything before Brighid shrugged and explained, “He decided he was more afraid of losing either of us than of getting more levels.”

“Fear is why he hasn’t been leveling?” Astrid asked, disbelieving.

“He escaped from slavery and wanted nothing more than to be able to live a life of peace. Gaining levels, getting stronger, and the attention that would come with it are all something that will undoubtedly interrupt his ability to continue to live the way that he wants. Even so, he is now grateful that he’s finally confronted that fear. You’ll have to ask him about it after the battle is won.”

Astrid realized in that moment how little she truly understood about her father. In her opinion, growing up, Iron was strong. Almost unbelievably so. Now, he was pitifully weak compared to her, and she had known that none of his Skills would be able to do anything for her. The thought that her parents were both just people shouldn’t have been as much of a paradigm shift as it was, but it was. And, her mother was right. Now was no time to be thinking and worrying about what kinds of weaknesses her father might have. Instead, she placed the talisman in her spatial pouch and asked, “What does it do?”

“It will boost your Power and Alacrity, but only for maybe twenty seconds,” Brighid said, maintaining firm eye contact. “He’s much lower level than you, and this took everything from him to be able to complete in time. We thought we would have weeks to get everything sorted out, but here we are.”

Astrid didn’t say anything more, but took her mother into another tight hug as she smiled and grounded herself in that embrace.

A handful of seconds passed, then Brighid pulled back and stared into Astrid’s eyes. “Now, more than ever, you cannot show mercy. Our enemy will be fighting as desperately as they can. The people you will be facing might not want to be there. Even so, make sure you live. This is war.”

Again, there were no words to say to that, so Astrid just nodded and stepped back as her mother hurried to the squad she was in charge of. There was something that they started to talk about, but they weren’t assigned to confront weaker Adamantium tiers, so Brighid’s responsibility was significantly different from Astrid’s own. She didn’t give any ominous goodbyes to her mother, just gritting her teeth as she looked at the people who were her “comrades.”

Two had arrived with this teleportation, a man wearing a full suit of armor and another man wearing a breastplate and holding a massive bow. The assignments had been clear, the Wanderers would be working with the rest of the Adamantium tiers to fight the strongest enemies. 

These two men introduced themselves as Philip and Diego, and other names passed in a blur as each teleportation brought another set of Adamantium tiers to join the army. All the others knew each other and gave short greetings while the Wanderers made introductions. Just as soon as each new introduction was complete, the next group was teleported in until, other than the Wanderers, eighteen Adamantium tier people stood there. The Duchess had said, when talking to Astrid about the strongest people on both sides, that her side had nineteen Adamantium tier people in total. With Pauline’s death, that meant that this was the entirety of the highest tier fighters that the Duchess could field.

Reports of Pauline’s death were given to each of the others who would work at her side, and consolations and curses were both had in great supply after that. Regardless, plans of who would go where and would prioritize what went up, with one squad of five going to focus on remaining hidden for a short time before trying to immediately strike a killing blow on the Marchioness. They were, as far as they knew, completely unknown to the enemy.

“Anything you all can do to help with that, we’ll gladly accept,” Arden, the Assassin leader of the five, said. “There’s only going to be a single opportunity to seize for this, so don’t reveal our position.”

A chorus of “of course we won’t”s filled the air at that, and Isaiah specifically made firm eye contact and nodded slowly before looking back up at them.

“We will give you that opportunity,” he said solemnly.

“Whoever around here survives the day,” Philip, the highest level of all the fighters and the de facto leader, spoke up, “I’ll treat you to whatever you want in the capital. The victory feast will have to be big enough to remember everybody who died for our freedom.”

Nods went up around at that, before the elite fighters all around started to confer with each other about what each might be able to do to come to the assistance of another. They spoke openly of their Skills and limitations, and Astrid couldn’t help but feel intimidated. As far as she could tell, Isaiah was the youngest of all of these men and women, and he’d been her level or higher for as long as she’s been alive.

“How about you?” Eve, an Elementmage, asked. “I know you all are lower level than us, but you’ve got something to offer. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be here.”

“We’re strong enough to take on a low-level Adamantium as a party,” Astrid answered, a flash of pride going through her. “Any buffs we can get to make sure that we do that cleanly would be appreciated. Otherwise, I’d say we fit pretty neatly into our roles. There is one thing I’ve been working on that might help break through the Marchioness’s defenses if I take her by surprise, but I wouldn’t count on it.”

“And that is?” Eve pressed. “In case you couldn’t tell, we aren’t hiding anything from each other here.”

Astrid nodded and looked at Philip, whose Armored Knight Class made him a quintessential frontliner. He nodded encouragingly, and she shrugged.

“I figure I might as well try it against you, because you’ll be a better judge than I am on if it’s a waste of my resources. Would you back off to where there aren’t any other people around? I don’t want to scare off the lowest levels.”

He nodded and turned to jog out of the circle. He glanced at Aleksandr, who stood nearby. “We’ll be back in just a minute. Doing some quick coordination.”

“You’ve got three minutes before you need to be back with everybody,” the leader of the Golden Fist answered. Neither said anything more, and all of the Adamantium tiers followed Astrid and filed out of the circle. 

They quickly made their way further along, and in just a few short seconds, everybody was a good hundred meters or so away from the rest of the army. The lower-level Commanders were getting people in line, getting them all ready to make their charge. Faces turned towards the leaving allies, but commanding officers quickly forced everybody’s attention back where they needed it.

“It’s kinda complicated and I won’t be  showing it all off right now,” Astrid explained, loosening her sling from around her right wrist. “I won’t be using the specific ammunition that I would when I do this, that will be a good 25% stronger. It’s a single-use enchanted item, though, so I’m not going to waste it for a display.”

“Makes sense. Now, what are you going to hit me with?”

“In Steel, I got the Smite Skill. When I evolved, the Skill did as well, and I thought it was just a more powerful Smite,” Astrid explained as she whipped the stone in a circle a few times. The steady hum of the cords filled the air, but even a hundred meters apart from each other, she and Philip could communicate openly.

“With just a little bit more thought, however, I realize that nothing in the Skill said specifically that I had to use Smite only on a weapon I was actively holding. Instead, I could designate something as the weapon and then send it towards my enemies. With Blunt Weapon’s Mastery, that list gets longer. Over the past couple of days, I did a bit of practice with this, and I got Meteoric Smite to work at range.”

“This is an evolution of Smite,” a voice called out from behind Astrid. “Does that mean that you can pump this with more mana to make it stronger or give it elemental mana?”

“Yes and yes. I’ll just go with a lower output for now, so it’ll be the weakest it can possibly be.So, if I exhausted myself and put everything I had into it, the attack could, potentially, do probably six or seven times as much damage as it will right now. Then, the way that Smite interacts with my Burst Skill, that would increase the output further by another 300%, and that’s multiplicative, so far as I can tell.”

“Your Skills work together that well?” another voice asked from behind.

“How old was she?”

“I’m gonna be so disappointed if this is underwhelming because this sounds amazing.”

“She’s not even level 100, don’t get your hopes too high.”

“Hey!” Philip called out, shutting everybody up. “We’re testing something. It makes sense she’s holding back on her resources to make sure that she’s as near to perfect condition as possible when we start this battle in less than half an hour. Now, we’ve only got maybe one more minute. So do it.”

Astrid didn’t say anything further as she whipped the sling in a circle two more times before throwing the stone towards Philip. Just before the stone left the pouch of her sling, she designated it as the meteor and Philip as the crater. The stone screamed from her sling, and, contrary to how any ordinary thrown object could travel, sped up as it flew towards him. He raised his shield and the stone exploded against it. Dust covered him for a second, and Astrid couldn’t help but feel a flicker of disappointment and embarrassment at how easily he blocked the attack. As the disintegrated remains of her attack cleared out of the air, Astrid could see that, along the ground in front of him, her attack had made a trench some fifteen centimeters deep, even though it was just the shrapnel from her blocked attack.

“We’ll talk about the specifics of when to use this in just a moment, after the Dungeon settles down,” Philip said as he nearly teleported to be in front of Astrid. “Suffice to say, though, that’s going to be a great addition to our crippling salvo against the Marchioness.”

The rest of the Adamantium tiers surrounding her made noises of agreement as they all turned and ran back into the protected area, where the rest of the army was just waiting for the Dungeon proper to shift and give them a direct path to the capital.

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Philip said, maintaining a steady pace beside Astrid, “but if you do that with your enchanted piece of ammunition and under the influence of your Burst Skill, we’re looking at something that’s six or seven times as strong as that? Without spending any more mana or stamina?”

Astrid just nodded, surprised at his interest.

“You’re going to be an absolute monster when you reach my level,” Philip said, looking at the others. “I already knew I’m probably never going to be able to evolve again, but this one makes me feel bad!”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, if you’re under the influence of your Burst Skill and put a bit more power into that attack, that’ll help destroy her defenses,” Philip answered. “I built to hold steady against that, and there’s a 100-level difference between us, almost. You do something like that against her, taking her by surprise? You’re absolutely going to help break through whatever wards she’ll have.”

Astrid smiled, and as Philip backed away from her, it seemed like an invitation to the rest of the strongest people around to start bombarding her with questions. Most of them were idle curiosity, and, despite how pleased she was, Astrid wasn’t going to just share all of her deepest secrets because they asked for them. There was, however, one person standing in the circle who did know all of her secrets and wasn’t a member of her party.

“I would imagine that a large portion of this strength comes from the fact that she has gained an extraordinary rarity Class at Iron, Steel, and now Mithril.”

Seventeen pairs of eyes turned towards Isaiah and then to Astrid. The looks of disbelief were something she absolutely hadn’t prepared for, and she could only shrug while shooting a glare towards the older man. He simply cocked his head as if he didn’t understand why she was upset, though she did see the faintest twist of a smile under his mask that didn’t quite cover his lips.

“That’s true,” she said, shaking her head in frustration. “I didn’t think that Isaiah would reveal information that I shared with him in confidence, though.”

“You’re right,” Eve said, stepping forward and flicking a finger towards the man who had committed the faux pas. A tendril of wind followed her movement and smacked him in the head. He didn’t try to dodge the “attack” and took the good-natured ribbing the rest of the Adamantium tiers levelled at him.

“But nobody needs to pry into these young ones’ Statuses,” Philip said, drawing everyone’s attention as they stood near the edge of the magical circle. “If they care to share anything else, then they’ll do so. Otherwise, we’ll point them towards the enemies who they can deal with and protect them against those outside of their league. We’re fighting today for the future they will preserve, after all.”

A dozen voices agreed, but before any further conversation could occur, Isana’s raving spiked and she screamed once. The sound carried over the area and, with it came an earthquake. The ground shuddered, and where they stood, along the edge of a massive swamp, suddenly became hilly. The swamplands sucked into the ground and the trees and greenery there melted into golden plains filled with wheat. Astrid thought of the Dungeon branch in Kznietch with its red grain, but there was no time to continue thinking about it, because, as soon as the Dungeon settled, Charles, a General, shouted.

“Charge! For victory! For freedom!”

And the Duchess’s army followed behind him as his aura swept over the one thousand soldiers going to see if their sneak attack would end in victory or slavery.