Countdown a litrpg apoca.., p.16
Countdown: A Litrpg Apocalypse, page 16
Hate the Game not the Playa - +10% to effective Charisma.
Words May Hurt Me but Sticks and Stones Never Will- +10% to effective Durability, +1 Durability per level.
Energizer Bunny- +10% to effective Endurance
The Durability Title was even the rare title as I was only the second human to reach the threshold, so just like my inherited title it came with an extra stat point at every level. After that, I added the last three points to Perception and then started to look around.
The air within the crypt was thick with an ancient, musty odor, a blend of decayed wood, moist earth, and the unmistakable tang of rusted iron. Every breath I took felt heavy, laden with the weight of centuries long past. The dim light that filtered in through sporadic cracks in the ceiling barely penetrated the oppressive darkness of the corridor. It was as if the shadows themselves were alive, shifting and undulating with a life of their own. In some ways, this light felt more natural than the general ambient light without a source which had filled the outer plots.
As we advanced, the eerie silence was broken only by the soft echo of our footsteps against the stone floor. For such a massive man, Samvek certainly knew how to be quiet. The sound seemed to bounce off the walls, creating a chorus of whispers that followed us. It was disconcerting—the way our presence seemed to awaken the crypt, as though it had lain dormant—waiting for someone, or something, to stir it from its slumber.
The pillars that lined the hallway were carved with intricate bas-reliefs, depicting scenes of battles long forgotten, of heroes and monsters locked in eternal combat. The craftsmanship was exquisite, each figure rendered with such detail that they seemed almost to move in the flickering torchlight. The mere fact that the stonework was intact was in direct contrast with the way that everything had been worn and broken outside.
I couldn’t help but reach out, tracing my fingers over the cold stone, feeling the grooves and ridges of the carvings. It was a strange connection to the past. The figures in the image were Darje with their four legs and two arms, and the monsters were just as alien. It was a reminder that I didn’t belong here. I was the intruder, but I had a mission to complete.
Occasionally, we passed alcoves set into the walls, each housing a statue of a warrior or mage. I wouldn’t pretend to be able to make out the expressions of living Darje, especially since I’d only met the undead versions, but if I had to say, I’d guess that their faces were portrayed as serene. It seemed a horrid shame that their rest was undoubtedly broken when the plague of undead spread through here. Their eyes were dark and condemning, as if saying that I should leave them in peace.
The further we ventured, the more pronounced the sense of unease became. The air grew colder; the chill seeping into my bones, making me shiver despite myself. A thin layer of fog began to form at our feet, swirling around our ankles as we walked. It was an unnatural fog, tinged with a faint luminescence that did nothing to dispel the darkness, but instead, added to the macabre atmosphere of the crypt.
Samvek raised his hand for me to pause as the corridor opened up into a vast chamber, so wide that the walls disappeared into the gloom. The ceiling here was lost to shadows, giving the impression of an endless void above. In the center of the room stood a massive sarcophagus, made of a dark, veined marble. It was adorned with gold and precious stones, the opulence stark against the decay that surrounded it.
The undead, of course, had no concern for wealth, so they would have left the gold and jewels alone. It might as well have been lead to them.
It was so dark in the chamber, that if not for my radically increased Perception, I wouldn’t have been able to make out anything. As it was, I began to realize that my senses were working together to create the impression of what was in the room. It was no longer mere sight, but something beyond that.
Around the sarcophagus, arranged in a precise circle, were twelve stone pedestals. Two of them bore strange items which were difficult to make out in the dark, but I got the impression that once upon a time the others all had their own items as well.
The air here was charged with power, a palpable force that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. It was clear that this chamber held significant magical importance, a place of rituals and incantations, of bindings and other dark arts. My mind raced along and wondered if perhaps the Darje had tampered with things they shouldn’t have and it led to their fate.
As we stood at the threshold of the chamber, I felt a pull, an inexplicable draw, towards the sarcophagus. It was as if the very air was thick with whispers, voices from the past urging me forward, promising knowledge and power, but also warning of the dangers that lay ahead. The sense of being watched intensified, the feeling of unseen eyes upon us more oppressive than ever.
I shook my head as I resisted the urge to step into the room. When I glanced at Samvek, he was watching me, rather than the room.
“Probably a good idea that I didn’t just step out there isn’t it?”
He chuckled softly. “I imagine so. Those items may have value, but they also seem to be part of a trap.”
“Well, the hallway ends here. So we have to go through that chamber. Maybe there’s something on the backside, but I can’t tell from here.”
Samvek didn’t say anything. I assumed his Perception was higher than mine, but if he wasn’t going to be forthcoming, it must be for a reason. After a few seconds, I said, “Let me guess, This is my puzzle to solve, right?”
He nodded. “Remember, a trap isn’t always bad, as long as you know it’s there.”
With that, I sat down. I re-summoned my eidolon, Urg who appeared in his plant creature form and then waited the two and a half minutes that were required for my mana to refill. It was so much easier now. Then I cast my buffs, Rapid Flight, Boon-Bane and Mass Enhanced. I felt my body swell with the strength of the last spell. It boosted all my physical stats.
My polearm was already in my hands, so there wasn’t much point in putting it off any further. I decided to walk the perimeter of the room before heading to the middle. That way, I could get a better sense of just what I was dealing with.
Cautiously, I began my circuit of the vast chamber, floating a few inches off the ground to avoid any floor traps that might have been laid for the unwary. At the same time, though, I made sure to check every inch of the floor, or rather had Urg do so. His method of moving allowed him far more freedom than a human body would have. As far as we could tell though, the floor was simply well made stones tightly locked together.
The air felt thicker here, as if charged with anticipation of my next move. Each breath was a cold whisper against my face, the lingering chill a constant reminder of the undead presence that saturated this place. My chest felt constricted as though I were being squeezed by a pressure that was all around me. Yet, I couldn’t sense anything yet.
The perimeter of the room or as much of it as I had explored so far was an unbroken stone wall. In contrast with the hallway which led here, there were no decorations or ornamentation, which of course only made the pedestals in the middle of the room stand out all that much more.
My heightened senses strained to pierce the gloom, detecting the faintest movements, the subtlest shifts in the air that suggested I was not alone. I braced myself, grasping my weapon in the firm but relaxed hold, which would allow me to move it as need be. I was glad to see that even in moments of stress all the training was showing through.
The stench of decay was stronger here, a pungent aroma that filled the chamber with the unmistakable odor of death. It was a smell that I had become all too familiar with in my travels through the dungeon, yet it never failed to evoke a sense of revulsion, a primal urge to flee from the corruption that it represented.
As I moved, my eyes caught glimpses of the items on the pedestals. One appeared to be a dagger, its blade black as night, absorbing the scant light rather than reflecting it. Another was a book, its cover bound in some unidentifiable leather, with runes etched deeply into its surface. I could feel the power emanating from these objects, a pulsing energy that beckoned, yet also warned of danger.
The silence of the chamber was oppressive, the stillness unbroken save for the soft sound of my movements. It was a silence that seemed to wait, to listen, to anticipate. It was in this silence that I first heard the soft scrape of bone on stone, so faint that I might have dismissed it as my imagination, had I not been so attuned to my surroundings.
Turning slowly, I scanned the chamber with my enhanced senses, searching for the source of the sound. It was then that I saw it—a skeletal figure, draped in the tattered remnants of what might once have been leather armor. It wielded a pair of kama; the blades gleaming dully in the dim light. It was nearly a duplicate of the undead Darje reaver, its eye sockets glowing with a malevolent red light, its presence an affront to the living. The only difference was that this one was closer to my height than the other. Smaller didn’t necessarily mean less dangerous though.
The reaver moved with a speed that belied its decrepit appearance, closing the distance between us with alarming rapidity. Its movements were fluid, a deadly dance of death honed through countless battles. I raised my polearm; the electricity crackling along its length, ready to meet its charge.
Our weapons clashed, the sound echoing through the chamber like the tolling of a funeral bell. Sparks flew as metal met my crystal forged blade, the electric energy of my polearm meeting the cold steel of the reaver's kama. The force of the impact reverberated through my arms. Looks like I was right, this reaver was at least as strong as the one we’d faced outside despite being only two-thirds of its size.
We broke apart, each assessing the other, circling slowly. I could feel the reaver's gaze upon me, a weight that pressed down, seeking to intimidate, to dominate. It was more unnerving than the mindless attacks of the drones. This abomination was filled with a tormented soul just like all the other undead, but there was also dark intelligence in it.
The reaver attacked again, a flurry of blows that I parried with my polearm, each block and counterstrike left my arms a bit more numb. Urg sought to get between us to protect me, but I commanded him to leave it to me. He was here as my safety net, but I needed to push a skill up to one hundred and that meant real combat.
In the midst of our duel, I could sense other bodies moving in the distance. They didn’t seem to be in any hurry, but suddenly I was. One reaver was hard enough, especially fighting it in melee. Two or three… well, I hoped not to have to find out as I redoubled my efforts to finish off my current foe.
Chapter 22- A Lot to Bite Off
The battle intensified as I matched the reaver's ferocity with my own determination. I pushed my body to its limits as the sound of approaching bodies grew louder.
A quick mental command sent Urg to delay whatever was headed our way, while I tried to finish the reaver as quickly as possible. The eerie light from the weapons’ impact briefly illuminated our faces, revealing the reaver's skull, a grotesque grin fixed upon its visage. I mumbled, “You sure are ugly, but that seems to be going around here.”
Its jaw clacked like it wanted to retort, but then I noticed that part of it was hanging loose.
“What’s the matter? Did your mother get tired of hearing your back talk and slapped you across the face?”
The banter was stupid. This was an undead killing thing, but I found that rather than distracting, it helped me focus more. I redoubled my efforts with each taunt I uttered.
I was painfully aware of the other undead drawing nearer. From the sound of it, Urg was already engaging with them. It was hard to make out in the dark, but it looked like three more reavers. Things had just gone from manageable to ‘oh shit,’ in a single moment. My eidolon was a decent tank, but he couldn’t hold back that many and bladed weapons were much harder on him than blunt.
I kicked out, landing a blow against the chest of the reaver, and sent it stumbling backward. In exchange, I took a slice from its kama, or rather my Mage Shield did. Dang, I loved this ability. I couldn’t imagine why I hadn’t used it more. So far, it had deflected every blow which got past my guard. There wasn’t so much as a scratch on me and the shield was still holding strong, which suggested that most of the attacks would have only been glancing blows. I probably could have used one of these when I was trying to learn to shave.
That kick bought me the second that I needed. The evolution I’d gained from the feathered-bears would have been good for a group, but not against undead which were undoubtedly immune to its affect. But I did have another option. First, I fired off a trio of Mage Missiles, dividing them so that one hit each of the reavers facing off against Urg. It wasn’t that I wanted their attention as much as that I wanted to give my eidolon a fighting chance.
With my next breath I braced myself and then surged the spined fox evolution as both my forearms erupted with razor sharp spines. The pain was sharp, but gone as soon as it began. Then, with a strained push, I blasted out the barbs, pelting the monsters who were attacking my ally.
I started to cast a spell then, but my reaver was back on me with renewed frenzy. Its jaw clacked as it tried to say something to me, but I ignored it. Instead, using the haft of my polearm to sweep its arms and weapon to the side. I exerted myself, pinning his kama to the ground and then split my focus for long enough to cast Barbs of Slowing on one of the other three reavers. Hopefully, that would allow Urg to keep them busy.
It cost me though as I felt a good chunk of my mana drain away when the reaver twisted and brought its kama upward in an attack which would have disemboweled me if not for the shield.
I stumbled backward only to barely dodge an attack from a second reaver. I now had two of them coming at me. If I fell, I could only imagine that they would have loved to play a game of Whack a Mole but with the kama. I couldn’t be too mad though, Urg was at least keeping two of them busy.
I danced back, swinging my polearm wide to buy myself another second before I remembered that the buff on me was Rapid Flight, not Levitation. I had much more mobility. I floated up and out of range. This wouldn’t solve my need to increase my skill level, but it would keep me from being cut to shreds.
The aerial maneuver granted me a brief reprieve, a moment to assess and plan my next attack. From this vantage point, I could see Urg's form writhing and lashing out, his plant-like limbs entangling one reaver while batting away another. The barbs I'd launched had found their marks, embedding themselves in the undead flesh, their placement slowing the reaver's movements as they pierced ligaments and joints but not halting them entirely. It was a desperate, chaotic dance of life and undeath below me.
I channeled mana into my polearm and conjured a shield. Then I looked at it, reshaping it quickly. I didn’t want my foes to grow bored and gang up on Urg. I turned it in the air, pushing my ability to shape it harder until it formed sharp edges. Then I dove back into the battle, facing off against one reaver myself while using the shield to keep the other one off my back, so to speak.
Concentrating on the shield and fighting at the same time pushed me in ways I didn’t know were possible and likely wouldn’t have been before my Mind stat grew so much.
The first reaver, the one I'd been trading blows with, lunged forward, its movements predictably aggressive but with an unpredictable speed. This time, however, I was ready. Anticipating its strike, I sidestepped, bringing my electrified polearm down in a powerful arc aimed at its neck. The blade sang through the air, a deadly conductor of my will and mana. I could definitely get used to this lightning power.
The electrified blade met the reaver's neck, the resistance palpable for only a moment before giving way. The head was severed, tumbling to the ground in a grotesque ballet, its spine glowing faintly with residual electricity. The body stood momentarily, a headless monument to the reaver's tenacity, before collapsing in a heap of decaying armor and bone.
I had little time to savor the victory. The second reaver, momentarily deterred by the shield, regained its focus and launched itself at me with renewed vigor. I pushed with the shield and then conjured a second one to assist Urg. I didn’t know why I hadn’t thought of it before. Probably because I always conjured shields from a safe distance, whereas now I was in the thick of things.
That shield bought Urg the opportunity to do something unexpected. He plunged into the center mass of his undead opponent. Helped partially by the restricted vines from the Barbs of Slowing spell. His body filled its insides, slithering into the empty spaces where organs would have been on a living creature. Then the undead seemed to strain as it was being pushed apart from the inside.
I couldn’t continue to watch to see how that turned out because the second reaver was pushing me too hard. With the shield now between me and the second reaver, I used it as both a weapon and defense, battering the creature back with forceful thrusts while keeping it at bay. Each impact of the shield against the reaver felt like striking stone, the undead's unnatural fortitude rendering it impervious to pain or fatigue.
It took me several tries, but I began to form a rhythm between my polearm and the shield. I weaved the shield in and out, around my attacks, creating openings and blocking the reaver’s strikes. Once I felt in control of the battle again, I activated Mage Missiles. The ability produced three missiles, and I launched them all at the reaver in front of me.
They struck in quick succession, staggering it, its form momentarily enveloped in the glow of the impact. This provided me with an opening, which I took advantage of. One of its arms was out of place, so I removed it with a heavy downward strike of my polearm. Then pushed it back with the force shield before spinning to take its head off with a sweeping strike.
In that whirlwind of combat, I’d felt my abilities stretching, growing. It reminded of the time when I created that ramp in the race against other Forerunners. My mind and body felt stretched, and strained. But it felt invigorating. I surged across the space between me and the third reaver who was currently trying to get to Urg by cutting his fellow reaver open. Mage Shield absorbed the majority of the impact as I pushed lightning mana into it, not only battering the reaver but also scorching its limited flesh.
