Taste of Battle
The world was in utter chaos. Hearthglen, once a city of peace and prosperity, was now turning into a battleground—creatures of the Blight, horrifying beings that fell from the sky and emerged from the earth. The Titan, known as Orderbreaker, was wreaking havoc as the otherworldly presence of the status magic known as The System came into view for everyone.
The dragon riders, fearless and determined, took to the sky. They unleashed all forms of dragon magic at the horrifying beings that descended from the sky as the two forces collided. Even the Blight riders and their blighted dragons dived at the riders, letting loose gut-wrenching roars. The black sky was a spectacle of light as some of the riders transformed into Dragon Knights, their forms a testament to their bravery.
Yet, amidst the chaos, many of the soldiers and riders found themselves in a state of bewildered shock. The elite guard, known as Wardens, usually a beacon of strength, stood frozen in disbelief with their dragons under the mountain, perched onto the spiral pillars.
"What the hell is going on?!?"
"What are we supposed to do? We can't fight a titan!"
"You saying we leave the people?"
The soldiers and riders were engulfed in a maelstrom of confusion and doubt, their hearts and minds flooded with fear. Even their dragons raised their voices alongside their riders in an outcry of dissent. Each snapped violently at each other, making their riders more restless and scared. The situation was dire, and the air was thick with tension and uncertainty.
The disoriented riders morphed into deafening clamors of protest. The air soon filled with death and dread from the unorganized resistance fought back at the rampant wave of undead monsters. Many riders even took the battle to the ground, swinging their weapons at each abomination as their dragons had their backs, chomping, stomping, or flinging their corpses away.
But all in all, no one knew what to do.
"WHAT ARE YOU ALL DOING!?"
Every dragon rider immediately turned their heads as the loud, irritated voice echoed throughout the mountain. There, they saw Lord Guimar, his face etched with annoyance. His arrival sparked a wave of renewed determination in the eyes of the riders gathered near, a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.
Guimar's arrival sparked a wave of renewed hope in the eyes of the riders gathered nearby. He furrowed his brows, and his nose scrunched up as his anger radiated outward in a palpable aura. Flecks of fire rained down from the sky, bouncing harmlessly off his face, the heat brushed aside by his inherent immunity. His once-crimson cloak now draped regally over sleek, brick-red-scaled armor that hugged his formidable frame, gleaming and burnished like a mythical warrior's.
His angular chest plate and bracers had a commanding presence, their wicked points complemented by a massive draconic pauldron crafting dramatic shadows. Scale-patterned greaves encased powerful legs, while ornate knee and shin guards added an aura of regal protection. As Guimar moved, the intricate detailing and burnished accents seemed to crackle with life, his presence evoking the majesty of an age-old champion.
"Lord Guimar, sir!" The Wardens, the other Dragon Knights, Lances, and many more high-ranking members shouted out in surprise.
"We all have our duties! Protect the people of Hearthglen!" Lord Guimar's voice boomed, filled with aggression but also unwavering determination. "Have all the Dragon Knights and riders evacuate everyone to the south gate immediately! Lances, Wardens, and Lords will take to the sky and hold back that Titan." His words were a beacon of hope, instilling a sense of purpose and courage in the hearts of his followers.
"But Lord Guimar, we can't beat a Titan!" the lowest-ranking Rider said as he sat upon his smaller brown dragon.
"We aren't going to beat it; we will stall it. Go to the top of the mountain, where the nobles live! They have a Teleportation Crystal, found only in dungeons. Use it to teleport to Franwood City. Titan Rider Narric is stationed there currently! Get him here immediately!" Everyone stared at Lord Guimar's words. The nobles stood at the top among all the civilians. They manage all the laws and even the riders themselves. Such actions would bring misfortune to Lord Guimar.
But he knew that. Did he care?
No. The people of Drakelene come first. It is even written in the very Order he is part of. To lay down one's life for the people.
"If they don't give it to you, then take it by force! This isn't the time or place for nobles or politics! The rest of you! You all have your duty!"
"Yes, sir!"
Every Rider heard Lord Guimar as they all climbed their dragons. Lord Guimar approached his dragon, Firewing, grabbing his horn to pull him up as he mounted the saddle. Unlike regular saddles, his was meant for both sitting and standing.
Lord Guimar stood tall, calling upon his mystical bond with his draconic partner, Firewing. Shimmering lights began flickering around his head as scales emerged from the armor near his neck. The scales rippled upward, wrapping around his head and transforming his helmet. His helmet took on the fearsome visage of Firewing itself—horns jutted forth where Guimar's eyebrows would be, mirroring the dragon's visage. Silver streaks arced over the crest, meeting at several pointed horns reminiscent of Firewing's spinal ridges.
Lord Guimar seemed to become an avatar of any fire dragon. His armor now bearing the terrifying regalia of his symbiotic bond with Firewing, he prepared to unleash the scorching fury of dragon and knight as one.
The same power that all Dragon Riders have.
The activation of his armor signaled to all the other riders. Their bodies were enveloped in magic akin to that of their dragon, and armor now covered them head to toe.
Lord Guimar and Firewing dove off the pillar, and the rest of the riders followed, guided by them to the battle that raged on the ground and in the sky—flying towards the Order-breaking Titan.
William's perspective
My breathing was heavy as the sky lit up like tiny suns, and all sorts of magic popped in and out, colliding with whatever they hit.
The Blight is here. In Hearthglen, this seems wrong.
I remembered moments when I saw a blighted monster for the first time—the dog back at Knights Square.
Is that going to happen to everyone here?
My heart pounded violently as I started to hyperventilate, unable to control my breathing—the ground near me erupted in a spray of dirt and rocks. A large, jagged hole tore open, and from its depths, bony, desiccated hands clawed their way into the light. The gnarled fingers were nothing but reformed bones fused, gripping crudely fashioned blades whose rusted edges gleamed with a sickly menace.
A mutated horror dragged itself with those gnarled arms—little more than a shambling amalgam of rot and exposed bone. Tattered flesh clung to its twisted body, contorting with each movement. Crude augmentations of flesh and bone grotesquely enhanced its jerking limbs. The creature's mutilated torso gaped open, organs never meant for open-air visibly pulsating within the nightmarish cavity.
Everything in me froze as I stared at its grotesque body—the same fear that I felt when looking at the man who killed the Matriarch.
Fear filled my body as I started to tremble.
The only thing I could focus on was this until my father shook my shoulder.
"Focus, Will!" my father yelled as he turned to face the blighted creature, his bow in hand, as more blighted creatures appeared.
Greedily sucking in air, I miraculously got my breath back as I looked around to see everything on fire. My very city, where I grew up, erupts in screams and pain.
Looking back at the blighted monstrosities. That's when I noticed it above their heads.
[Blightfiend]
[Level 17]
Blightfiend? Levels? What is this?
"Will!" My father snapped me out of whatever I was focusing on as I sloppily drew my long blade, gripping its handle tightly as sweat dripped down my brow.
The blighted creatures, Blightfiends, charged at us, making a loud screech as their arms flayed wildly. More Blightfiends crawled out of the hole as the first two charged me and my father.
I watched my father easily deflect the Blightfiend's sword, slamming a magic arrow into its gut. I turned to see as the other blightfiend ran at me. Its eerie movements sent chills down my back, and I brought my sword up and closed my eyes.
I heard a loud cling as I was face-to-face with the wretched thing. It pushed me back as my feet slid across the ground. Adrenaline kicked in as I pushed its sword upward, giving me time to kick the undead abomination back. It stumbles backward, trying to get its footing. I charged in a state of panic as I swung my sword at its head.
[Blightfiend Slain]
The words from the status magic appeared in my vision once more as I watched the monster's head roll onto the ground. I felt relieved at how easy it was to kill it—much easier than the bear. The flesh was more squishy.
Before I could even blink, a massive, blighted dragon burst through the torn-up building, its grotesque, mutated form shattering stone and timber alike. The shockwave slammed into me, violently plucking me off my feet. The world spun around me sickeningly as I was sent flying backward, debris and dust engulfing me in a suffocating vortex.
I crashed onto the ground in a boneless heap. My breath driven from my lungs, dazed and gasping, I forced my eyes open, only to be met with a swirling vortex of pulverized brick and impenetrable clouds of dirt. Instinct took over as I staggered upright, arms wheeling desperately in an attempt to disperse the choking air surrounding me.
Racking coughs tore through my chest as I blinked back stinging tears, but there was no respite. Another thunderous crash echoed through the haze; a massive section of the ruined structure began its inexorable descent towards me. Adrenaline flooded my veins as I sprinted blindly, legs churning as I narrowly evaded the deadly rubble, smashing down mere feet away.
Another horrific scream howled out, making me turn back around to see more Blightfiends approaching my father.
"We got company, Will!"
"Right," I replied; my voice was hoarse and quivering, and my throat itched with dust and debris as I coughed slightly. My head throbbed from the adrenaline coursing through me.
I approached the Blightfiends with my father. After the last battle, I felt more confident but could clearly sense my nervousness.
All my training with my father was paying off, however.
I regripped my handle the way my father once told me, repositioning it to get the best leverage with each swing as I ran up to him. My breathing started to calm down as I felt sweat go down my face.
The Blightfiends charged us as I intercepted two of them, ducking under one as I blocked the other. My father had my back as he fired magic arrows at their feet, keeping them still. I battled the two as I trusted in my training, blocking their blows as they pushed me back. Each time one attempted to keep our blades locked together, the other would try to grab me. I struggled to keep them from getting that chance as I dodged their attacks and countered.
One of the fiends decided to swing straight down at me. I was lucky enough to slide past its attack, swinging my sword up to its neck and cleaving its head off. The other fiend roared at me as it charged itself again. Taking a note from my father's book, I shoved the dead fiend's body at the other one, making it trip over before me, where I finished it off.
[Blightfiend slain]
[Blightfiend slain]
[Sword Skill increased from Level 12 to Level 13]
[New Skill Acquired]
Wow! I did it! I killed them! Without a dragon, either! I can do this!
My smile cracked as I let out deep, big breaths. My adrenaline subsides slightly as I look back at the words displayed before me.
Wait? Sword skill level 13? New skill acquired?
"We got a new guy!" My father yelled out as he held a fiend in a chokehold as he kicked another back. He proceeded to push the fiend he held away and decapitate it with the sharp edge of his bow.
I turned my attention to the hole before I could dwell on the strange words before me, only for a new fiend to appear with a strange-looking limb. What remained of the limb was fused with a cobbled-together assault rifle.
Black and yellow tendrils running along the arm's length seem to attach the rifle grotesquely. The barrel protruded just past the wrist. While flesh and bone had been restructured to accommodate the armament, much of the original arm anatomy remained somewhat intact to hold the rifle. The weapon's main chassis was a heavily modified casing that encapsulated and secured the creature's forearm.
What I could only guess to be the magazine emerged from a slit just below the forearm, as the stock hangs onto the upper arm as the elbow piece is wholly gone. The firing mechanism connected to the trigger area appeared to be entangled by razor-tipped tendrils that moved with even the slightest muscular twitch.
[Rifleman Blightfiend]
My eyes widened as it lifted its arm with the rifle in it, aiming at us.
"Shit!" I yelled out as I dove out of the way. Bullets started to rain down on us, as I assumed it to be something akin to small fireworks just going off rapidly.
I turned my head to see my father using the fiend he held as cover as he moved his way behind the cover. I tried to stand up to see where the fiend was, only to feel a bullet smack my shoulder. I fell over immediately as a sharp, stinging pain throbbed throughout my shoulder. Clutching it tightly, I realized there was no wound, to my surprise.
A gun doesn't hurt me?
Hurt isn't the right word to use. It hurt a lot, like getting punched hard, which would leave a big bruise.
"Will? Are you good?" My father yelled as he shot the fiend with his bow. He fired another arrow, and I heard the ground rumble quietly.
[Rifleman Blightfiend slain]
Still clutching my shoulder, I stood up, my breath still shaking. "Ya, I'm fine, Dad," I sighed exaggeratedly.
"Good! Come over here quickly before more show up!" Curious about what my father had planned, I quickly fled my position and went to where he was, standing on the dead rifleman fiend. "Check this out."
I watched my father start to poke at the dead rifleman's arm as I heard the sound of flesh being cut apart. I almost felt sick.
"Dad, is this necessary?" I looked away, using my free arm to cover the view. "We have more issues to deal with."
"If we head back home, we need some extra firepower."
Firepower? How is he going to acquire more firepower?
I hear lastly a loud crack, almost gagging from the sheer thought of what my father was doing. "What did you do?"
I decided to turn to my father when I realized he was holding the rifle in the fiend. The rifle's frame was covered in moss and dirt, chipped all over, and covered in strange fluids.
"It's a magic weapon from Perin," my father explained as he cleaned off the grime, tossing it to me as I caught it with one arm. "If you remove the magazine and channel magic into it, it will restock itself with bullets."
[Acquired Old Homemade Magic Rifle]
I looked at him in shock.
Is he serious? Is he giving me this? It's gross but still incredible.
I put the long sword back into its sheath on my back, took the rifle into my hands, grasped the cold, wet metal of the unfamiliar gun, and felt its solid weight.
It feels weird to have another weapon in my hand that isn't a sword.
Moving cautiously, I raised the rifle and braced the stock against his shoulder. The unfamiliar shape and balance made this basic firing stance rigid and uncomfortable.
My finger hovered hesitantly over the trigger mechanism as my other hand approached the forestock. My father suddenly jerked the gun upward.
"It's going to be weird at first, but if you're going to hold it with your finger on the trigger, aim it at your target." I listened to my father's words, nodding as I understood what he meant. This wasn't a toy, nor was it a sword. "I'll get you something so you can switch rifle and sword on the fly, so don't worry."
"Yes, Father," I replied as a few Blightfiends appeared.
"Target practice!"
I nodded as I aimed the fiends, looking down the makeshift scope and seeing what appeared to be a trident down the site. I tried to line it all up with one of the fiends. Unfortunately, I kept swaying back and forth until I just gave up, pulled the trigger, and fired.
I almost fell backward from the sudden recoil of the rifle. A thunderous boom erupted from the rifle's barrel. After adjusting my stature and footing, I attempted to aim again and fired as best as possible.
Thunderous cracks rang out as I fired—wild, panicked stray shots kicked up dirt every so often. The nearest fiend's ropey sinews flexed as it pulled itself another lurching step closer, unholy shrieks reverberating in my skull. I forced myself to breathe slower, my sights wavering until finally finding their mark on the horror's gaping maw. The rifle's strong buck pushed back against me; this time, I was ready—putrid matter exploded outward as the thing's jaw distended grotesquely. It dropped like a stringless puppet.
[Blightfiend slain]
[Basic Rifle Skill Level 1 Acquired]
Did I acquire another skill?
I stared at the words for a moment, trying to understand them. I saw it as a flat ocean-blue board with white letters. I had no idea what it was.
"Are you ready to continue?" My father said to me. Looking over at him, I see that same concerned look he's been giving me all day.
As my father said earlier, I took the magazine out, giving off a loud click, and pulled out the rectangular object, channeling my mana into it.
[Channeling Skill increased from Level 41 to Level 42]
Level 42? That high?
After looking back at the magazine, I noticed its contents seemed filled with a glowing blue light. I slammed the magazine back into the rifle, where another click went off. I saw one of the handles on the side of the rifle was now forward when it wasn't before. I instinctively pulled it back as a magic bullet flew out of the rifle's side, startling me.
"Ready."