Chapter 50 - A Lich's Curse: Part 4

“Eric, over here!”

Eric's run became a flat-out sprint when he triangulated the source of the cry, racing past a handful of panicked townsfolk darting out of the buildings closest to the gates and fleeing for imagined safety deeper within the cavern.

“Monica!”

Alex’s eyes snapped in the direction of the desperate plea, seeing a woman stumble out the door of a clapboard building that had yet to be renovated, ignoring the blood running down her own arm as she desperately tried to pull a shrieking child along with her.

Eric felt his blood run cold, knowing he had no time to spare at all.

But it didn’t stop him from twisting around and darting past the desperately struggling mother and child into the chamber beyond as an emaciated zombie lacking all armaments besides a bronze helm revealed a hideously fanged maw poised to rip out the child’s throat.

Before it lurched back with a silent scream when Eric's blazing saber plunged through its left eye socket. It began to spasm and shake for long moments before its skull exploded, spattering mother, child, and Eric, with sizzling brain as the body itself immediately erupted into flame.

But Eric had no time to waste on recriminating himself as a trio of walkers came marching down the stairs, slowly, clumsily, with shields and swords and sickly brains that clearly had trouble navigating the environment. Though the hands holding the swords looked competent enough before Eric helped them join their friend in final repose as the entire clapboard structure, which clearly hadn’t leveled up like the hotel, began to merrily burn, Eric easily dodging their awkward thrusts on the stairs, heater shield knocking weapons aside as his blazing sword plunged through eye sockets or tore open throats, his blows every bit as pitiless as the blackened claws that had almost taken an innocent child’s life, seconds ago.

You have successfully slain 16 Undead Legionnaires!

Saber is now Rank 12!

Maximum level 9 experience surpassed!

Core Infusion has reached 0.07%!

And Eric dared waste no more time, pausing only to crack open a cold brew from storage and pour it on the still shrieking child’s blistering wounds before screaming for the mother to get the fuck out of dodge as he raced towards the barracks, in the direction of Alice’s panicked cry, just seconds ago.

Why hadn’t he moved faster?

He castigated himself as he finished off the ale, killing his thirst without daring to stop until he turned the corner and stopped cold, heart lurching with dread.

Because where he had last heard Alice's cries, the town barracks before the gate, was now swarming with undead.

His blood ran cold at the sight of dozens of emaciated legionnaires with ash-grey skin and glowing green eyes pouring through a massive rent the once imposing timber barrier reinforced with sheet metal that so much time and effort had been put into, protecting their community from the horrors to be found in the tunnels beyond.

Yet it hadn't been enough.

Clearly it hadn’t been enough, as a massive hand made of twisted flesh and bone slammed into the gate once more, enlarging the hole that the undead legion of shambling horrors was pouring through.

Eric’s heart quailed when he saw not a single survivor by the gate.

But he did see more than a dozen bodies wearing the uniforms of the town guard splayed across the ground. All of them had been violently mangled, their spears shattered or otherwise missing, their armor gouged by numerous blows, skulls caved in by blade, pommel, or inhumanly strong fists.

Eric instinctively turned his eyes away from the grizzly scene of death before catching the vacant-eyed stare of one of a pair of young men, hardly more than boys, who had shared some banter with Eric, just the other day. And never would again, Eric thought, surprised that the face closest to him had an expression of simple confusion, without a trace of blood or bile. Such a stark contrast to the mangled bloody mess that the neck was, as if some unthinkably strong abomination had torn the boy’s head completely off, before tossing it aside like it was nothing.

Eric’s heart began to pound with something besides sheer horror when he caught sight of half a dozen or so ghoulish walkers ravaging the remains of one of the fallen guardsmen, tearing into him like jackals pouncing on a kill. His nostrils flared as blade and shield disappeared from his hands. Replaced by a blood-bound bone bow quickly drawn to armored cheek as he transformed his hot fury into ice-cold killing intent.

Ruthlessly suppressing the horrific realization that he might already be too late.

And if his friends had perished…

No! He froze the awful slithering thoughts with a predator’s killing intent, burning away gut-twisting dread with unshakable resolve.

The past was already written, and nothing he could say or do would ever change it.

But the future?

His to carve upon the bedrock of fate, dyed with the blood of all his foes.

One endless second became two before the walkers finally lifted their warped heads, glaring his way as they scented the air. At that moment, his bone weapon, taught with a tension beyond even a 200-pound draw-weight, became but a projection of his will. Such that when he released his bowstring an eyeblink after summoning a superheated longshaft, the arms of his weapon sprung forward with a speed beyond what any yew wood bow could hope to replicate, beyond even what the fiberglass limbs of his composite bow was capable of.

Combined Strength and Finesse check modified by weapon familiarity made!

The weapon unleashed so much pent of force that any yew bow would have splintered, and it was only by dint of Strength cresting the limits of non-enhanced mortals that he could hold onto it at all.

But the payoff was damn well worth it, he thought, as the air shrieked with the sound of the arrow's passage as it plunged clear through one walker before blasting through the skull of a second hunched over behind it, the broken fragments of the arrow blazing like a meteor as by some miracle it plunged into the milling mass squeezing through the hole in the reinforced gates ripped by the titan even now trying to smash through.

The first undead struck gazed down in confusion at the fiery hole in its chest before it screamed in alarm and began to madly pirouette as the blaze only grew hotter. The second one had already collapsed, its skull exploding in blazing hot shrapnel of brain and bone.

In the time it took the zombies to collect themselves, Eric had drawn his bow a second time, and released the same arrow yet again, instantly restored via dint of his soul-binding and will. And a single experience point a price he would gladly pay a thousand times over for the look on his enemy's undead faces as the arrow shot forth at a speed beyond even his Gladiator-XL reverse draws.

And this time the kick at the end was only a fraction as bad as the first, no matter that the limbs snapped forward faster than ever. Because his soul-bound weapon was more than just a bow. It was a necromantic artifact he would do whatever it took to master, physics and necromancy both responsible for the shocking speed of the projectiles unleashed.

His lips stretched wide in a fierce grin as the instantly restored arrow tore through the centermost cluster of zombies, this time striking the walkers he had intended, all three of them stumbling in confusion as they were punctured in their abdomens via wounds that would have done them no more damage than the guards’ hapless spear thrusts, so good for taking out any living target, but doing nothing against the undead.

But now as they stumbled forward, they did so as pyres of living flame.

Congratulations! Bow is now Rank 12!

You have achieved Rank 7 in Flesh Sculptor!

You have achieved Rank 8 in Spirit Mastery!

Rituals of Summoning and Binding is now Rank 10!

You have achieved Journeyman status in Rituals of Summoning and Binding!

Willpower has increased by 1 point and Soul Reserves have increased by 2 points as mankind’s most primal path increasingly becomes your own!

By which path will you shape your calling?

1. Path of Dominion – This path will increase your ability to better master the spirits and vessels of those who have already slipped free of Death’s slumber!

2. Path of Summoning – This path will increase your ability to call forth the most powerful and secretive of eldritch spirits and the greatest of undead to forge pacts and bargains with, regardless of your ability to force their service! - The greater your skill, the more enticing your bargains will be!

3. Path of Consumption – This path will allow you to learn the art of feeding off the life force of your enemies directly! Not only will their ailments, weaknesses, and injuries strengthen you, but when they eventually fall to your arts, they will be effortless to compel into your eternal service!

4. Path of Abjuration – Your necromantic affinity will transform to an abjurer’s mastery! Though you will never be able to summon or manipulate any form of undead, your ability to abjure them or ward buildings, individuals, or territories will be nothing short of legendary!

Note! Should you be willing to forgo the Necromantic Path entirely and dare an orthodox configuration, this Interface has just been empowered to offer you a FREE UPGRADE to your combat class! You may immediately ascend to ABJURER! This ADVANCED Combat Class will grant you a boon of 7 character points to spend on characteristics, skills, OR spells, per level, as you choose! All basic Warrior Combat Feats will be available for Nodal Infusion! All Advanced Warrior Combat Feats will be available for Nodal Infusion! All Basic Elemental Arcanist Disciplines will be available for Nodal Infusion! All Basic and Advanced Abjuration-specialist Disciplines will be available for Nodal Infusion!

Time seemed to stretch and slow for long heartbeats as the messages flashed across his mind's eye, though in the heat of combat, didn't so much make a choice, as confirm what he already knew his choice would be. What it all but had to be, with the necromantic weapon trembling with the promise of so much power in his hands. A weapon that would be worthless, did he dare immediately embrace an Abjurer’s potential, for which he had had absolutely no training at all. Meaning that all he’d do is surrender the one weapon he knew could kill his foes, fearing that that trap of a path would curtail even his use of blood magics, paradoxically crippling him against the very foes that the Abjurer’s path should be most suited to overcoming.

Worst of all, the soul-bound weapons his life now depended upon would suddenly be utterly worthless to him.

He flashed a cold smile in that endless moment, having no doubt that a System that only tolerated the unorthodox would be willing to bend the rules with an enticement that curtailed the unorthodox. An enticement that somehow, so conveniently, required no Pod at all.

But even if his paranoid cynicism was totally unwarranted, even if the thought of immediately advancing from a Basic class to an Advanced one with over twice the level-up points he was currently receiving, one that allowed him to grow as both a wizard and as a warrior had tremendous appeal, he still knew better than to choose such a path.

Because it didn't even matter if the Abjurer really was a kickass class. Without the soul-bound weapons he could now summon at will, without the blood-infused armor protecting his entire body, he was as good as dead. And if that Advanced class would also entail him sacrificing his unorthodox essence affinities… well then that choice was right out.

As for the other options... he had absolutely no desire to summon forth even more dangerous beings as a specialized Summoner, beings so perilous he wouldn't even be able to master them, counting instead on Faustian bargains to secure his fate, which was perhaps the most foolish path of all. And as deadly as the Path of Consumption sounded, he wasn't a monster. His targets weren't the living. Right now, they were the dead, and he needed a path that would serve him will in any situation.

Thus, the choice was easy. So easy that his acknowledgment of it was all it took to make it absolutely manifest. Because it had already happened, Eric claiming the only path resonating so well with his newly unlocked essence, and Fire and Wrath as well.

You have chosen to embrace the Path of Dominion!

All Masteries have gained 1 free rank!

Blood Mastery is now Rank 13!

Spirit Mastery is now Rank 9!

Flesh Sculptor is now Rank 8!

You will find your ability to master the undead who already walk this world growing by leaps and bounds. The artifacts you craft from the bones and blood of your enemies now have the potential to become stronger than you can imagine, and will obey your will like never before!

Yet there is a penalty to be paid for your specialization. You will find your ability to summon forth naked spirits, or animate any cadaver whose death you are not personally responsible for, significantly impaired.

Note. This impairment has no effect on your ability to summon forth undead revenants or other apparitions derived from those you have slain, or making full use of killing fields you yourself have forged into being!

Major Synergism Detected! Your soul is infused with the very Essence of Dominion!

All Masteries have gained 1 additional rank!

Blood Mastery is now Rank 14!

Spirit Mastery is now Rank 10!

Flesh Sculptor is now Rank 9!

All those who dare stride past Death’s door are doomed to one day fall before you!

Lesser Synergism Detected! You have an affinity with the Essence of Wrath!

Let your passion and fury guide you to new heights of mastery!

Eric shuddered as the interface messages flashed across his mind’s eye in an eyeblink, yet echoed in his head as if he had spent long minutes pouring over it all. Absorbing all the nuances of the path before him, and the choices he had made.

Even if no more time had passed than the blink of an eye.

More than enought time for the remaining hoard of shrieking undead had stumbled to their feet, now charging at Eric on all fours, moving more like jackals with their oddly elongated jaws snapping for blood than they did legionnaires of any sort. Yet Eric was more than ready, eager to sublimate some of his horror and grief that he had come too late so save the guard made up of too young kids who could have been his classmates once upon a time, with the furious application of flame.

You have dodged and parried 7 undead attacks and kept your balance!

Ankles have been hit for zero damage! (Enhanced armor absorbs all impact.)

Doom Slice has successfully decapitated three of your opponents!

Nine Additional zombies have fallen to your blows!

And with jerk and twist of his hips at the end of a final slicing draw-cut, the last of the pack was dismembered and left to writhe and howl on the grounds as they were consumed by his saber’s white-hot flame.

“Eric! Where the fuck are you?”

Alice’s voice from the top of the barracks tore Eric completely through his furious haze. So afraid that he had already lost them, not even wanting to think that he might be too late.

"Coming!" he screamed, fighting back a queazy mixture of anxiety and hope as he dashed straight for the front entrance of the barracks, not giving a flying fuck that he was charging right into the lion's den.

“Eric, be careful, man, their everywh —" Louie's voice, instantly cut off.

“Louie!” Alice screamed.

But Eric was already charging through the entrance, no longer caring if the devil himself dared to meet his charge.

Because one way or another, he was coming through.

Perception check spots far staircase in the blink of an eye!

You have spotted 17 Undead Legionnaires between you and your target.

“Die, motherfuckers!”

You have embraced Burst of Strength!

You have successfully knocked 8 Walkers off their feet!

Five Walkers have surrounded you!

Iado skillcheck made!

Messages flashed across his interface in the blink of an eye. Instantly processed, instantly absorbed, yet not affecting his focus or concentration at all. He paid them no mind as he embraced the storm roaring through his body and soul, weaving and twisting past his foes as his shield parried swords, hammered skulls, and forced his opponents back before being set ablaze with a saber now embracing the essences of Wrath and Flame both.

“Burn in hell, motherfuckers!”

His scream of defiance poured from his throat with such fierce intensity he coughed out a caustic mouthful of blood that shimmered like impossibly brilliant rubies, suddenly fighting just to keep his feet as he stumbled to one knee, realizing he had pushed himself too hard. Again. Hitting the very limit of what he was capable of, while being forced to fight for his life against overwhelming odds.

But he refused to fear the twisted visages of the living dead even as they glared with hate near the equal to his own.

Before lurching back and screeching with their desiccated vocal cords, the entire cluster of undead about to pounce on him abruptly bursting into white-hot flame.

Saving Throw versus oblivion made!

You have dared to forge yourself in the crucible of combat, and your madness has paid off!

Spirit Mastery has already hit Journeyman Status! +1 to Willpower & +2 to Soul Reserves shows your potential like never before!

Deferred Spirit Mastery Perk chosen: You have elected to Enhance your Path of Dominion! (And you have refused to even consider any other options!)

You have had a breakthrough!

S-Tier Necromantic aptitude and growing affinities with the essences of Fire, Wrath, and Dominion has allowed you to forge an Elite Tier abjuration!

You now dare to walk Dominion’s Path twice over!

You enjoy added affinity against those who have already risen! This affinity allows you to master the undead better than all others who have refused the far SUPERIOR Abjurer’s Path!

Your Unorthodox Abjuration spell is as expensive to cast as it is potent, requiring Journeyman Status in both Rituals of Summoning and Binding and Spirit Mastery, affinity with 3 distinct essences, 300 experience points, 50 temporary health points, 100 Mana Points, and one half of your present Soul Reserve Capacity!

Damage inflicted upon undead: EXTREME.

NOTE! This attack WILL affect Bronze tier targets!

It was a flame so hot, it transcended even his arrowheads. A heat Eric was only peripherally aware of, now fighting with every last ounce of his will just to keep himself from collapsing in a faint he knew could only have one ending as he stumbled past furiously burning revenants crumpling into heaps of white-hot ash, Eric already dizzy with the desperate need to breathe clean air. Because even if his blood-treated armor was inured to this extreme heat, his lungs certainly weren't.

Desperate to stay focused, he forced himself up those winding steps to the rooftop entrance, lurching out to take a desperate gasp of sweet, sweet air, before his eyes widened at a scene of horror as he forced his weary soul to fight past all limits.

Because this, he thought, witnessing an entire flood of lurching zombies and scrabbling revenants absolutely surrounding a shimmering orb of translucent crimson on a fortified rooftop that had clearly benefited from multiple building level-ups or damn fine engineering to support the absurd weight of scores of so many shambling walkers and a desperate band of soon to-be-overwhelmed humans, truly was the final hour.

All furious thoughts of a corrupt Interface that had tried to entice him with a class whose very requirements would have prevented him from unleashing the most kickass abjuration he could think of, burning his undead foes in flame, immediately fled his mind.

His friends were in trouble. And he didn’t need to be a master blood mage to know that Morlekai had only seconds before his shimmering red force field collapsed, and all the panicked-looking guards and his friends sheltering within were slaughtered.

Worse, he could feel how utterly depleted he was, at least in terms of whatever arcane pools of energy he had somehow tapped into, in casting his Unorthodox Abjuration. Because now, when that spell would truly have been a lifesaver, his numbed mental fingers couldn't even grasp the tiniest filament of the spell that had come to him in such a visceral rush of understanding, less than a minute ago.

He flashed a desperate smile, instantly summoning his bone-forged killing tool.

So what if he had already shot his load way too early as a magus? He had been forged in the fires of conflict, not magicka, and it was the tools of war that had been his bread and butter until about two minutes ago.

Tools of war he’d damn well show the world how well he’d mastered, even if he’d only be able to manage a few shots before the undead hoard of fuckers daring to attack his friends focused on the new prey in their midst.

Prey without any defensive blood shields at all.

Eric, taking ragged gasps of oxygen-rich air, didn't hesitate to line up a shot with his soul-bound bow straight for the heart of the largest revenant looking so much like the horror that had nearly killed him back at the house.

Never mind the massive undead titan slowly forcing itself within their sanctuary.

Because with the way Eric was feeling right now, the minute he unleashed his arrow, he was as good as dead.

“Morlekai!”

Eric’s gut clenched, seeing the look of terror on Alice’s exhausted features, clutching a bleeding Louie to his chest.

Drake, wild-eyed, was clearly doing his best, lashing out at the swarm of undead now piling onto the shimmering dome. But it was all he could do just to wrench his bardiche back, unable even to get a good swing past the barrier without his weapon nearly being torn from his grasp, with so many undead fiends biting, clawing, and tearing at his weapon.

Then Eric got his first good look at Morlekai since this battle had begun.

It chilled Eric to the quick to see the look of dread upon the suavest, most assured member of all of them. To see him squeezing down bloody tears as if he could taste the end… to see the lead revenant cackling with glee, trying to rupture the forcefield with twisted black magics Eric had no hope of understanding.

Even though he knew he was signing his death warrant, it was more than Eric could bear.

The twisted demon of a man with brilliant yellow eyes howled his laughter down at Morlekai, chalky grey lips smiling inhumanly wide, showing off far too many dagger-like teeth. “Soon you will be mine, fool! Imagine that! A royal Scion of the House Dracul, doomed to be my master’s eternal puppet!”

It cackled with glee, savoring its triumph. “But not before we feast upon your pawns, and drain your succubus—“

Alice screamed at those words, though whether it was because of the implicit threat, her impending doom, or the brilliant flash of exploding brains and skull, was hard to say.

You have fatally struck a second Revenant belonging to the great King Olzgoth of A Thousand Eyes! Even in his weakened state, you may rest assured that your death will be his highest priority, assuming you survive the surge of undead eager for your head even now!”

Yet Eric already had his bone bow fully drawn once more, a bead on the second arcane-using threat he could somehow sense among the gathering he had gambled so many precious seconds on hunting for, somehow tasting the scent of foul arcane magic it gave off like rotting meat, in the desperate hope he could take out both before Morlekai’s blood ward ruptured.

And much to Eric’s horror, the ward chose that very instant to collapse.

But not before his second fire arrow had blasted through the stomach of the second Revenant glowing with eldritch power, now gazing at Eric with a look of surprised disbelief as it collapsed to the hardwood roof of the building, shrieking its fury, snarling and scrabbling for Eric with its claws, its spine and most of its torso obliterated by flame.

“Kill it! Kill the Roundear who would dare interfere with our—“

But Eric was already charging forward, roaring his defiance and seeking to distract his foes as bow was traded for white-hot saber in the blink of an eye.

Just in time to cleave the head off a third revenant radiating power beyond the common rabble and assure a certain Olzgoth asshole’s eternal enmity over all future lives, before he was among the hoard of berserking zombies.

A hoard that would have inevitably shoved him off-balance and probably head-first off the massive rooftop to the hard flagstones below while tearing free his weapons and clawing and biting at the exposed areas of his face, even if nothing else could penetrate his enchanted scale armor. A grisly end to his tale that would be both slow and painful. That is, if he didn’t have the Finesse to keep his balance, the Strength to shield bash his foes back in broken heaps, and a white-hot sword that could transform the zombies before him into blazing pyres within seconds. To say nothing of countless hours spent mastering the art of the draw cut, allowing him to twist and spin about, ripping through his close-packed foes like a bandsaw as torsos were shredded, limbs sliced clean off, and bodies transformed into spasming pyres.

But it was only when Alice’s cries became shrieks, lightning tearing through countless foes before Morlekai screamed “Alice!” and the air filled with crimson crows that Eric committed the last of his soul reserves into slamming through the zombies before him like tackling dummies, knowing the final seconds of his friend’s lives, at least those of Drake and Louie's, were rapidly coming to an end.

And how he could sense his friend's position and state so well when they had been surrounded by a swarm of undead, he neither knew nor cared. All that mattered was putting everything he had into smashing aside a pair of revenants desperately trying to yank off an inert Drake's helm before grabbing him and a bleeding Louie, sprinting right for the building’s ledge, and doing the only thing he could.

Jumping off.

You have successfully slain 12 additional Undead Walkers!

Burst of Strength in effect!

You have saved versus shattering multiple bones after jumping from a two-story building while bracing your friends against critical injury!

75 damage suffered! 3 Light Wounds (torn muscles) suffered.

Exhaustion and collapse are imminent!

You are now sprinting back the way you came!

“Eric!”

It was a caw Eric recognized all too well, a blood crow landing on his scalp while a dozen others took on Drake’s weight, leaving him carrying Louie alone as he frantically sprinted toward their home.

The only sanctuary left as the undead continued to flood in.

He was beyond relieved to see another dozen crows carrying an utterly exhausted-looking Alice, who looked far more like a girl who had lived too hard battling her demons and well into her twenties than the indescribably luscious forbidden fruit of sixteen she had been just an hour ago.

But at least she was alive.

At least there was a chance she would make it.

An exhausted Eric, sensing his imminent collapse, wasn’t sure he could say the same.

“Morlekai...”

“Just try to make it back to the house, Eric. It’s only a few hundred yards away. You can do this!”

Eric whimpered as his legs burned as bad as they ever had, forced to run hundred-yard sprints on an incline, just last summer. A torment that had left him trembling with exhaustion, sometimes painfully close to sobs he tried never to show, knowing just how cold his mother’s mocking smile would be, if he ever dared give in to tears.

But now, with his mother maybe dead, or who knew how many miles away, there was no one to see him sob as he forced himself past even Soul-depleted exhaustion, with half a legion of undead literally at their backs, before they finally made it to sanctuary.

Whereupon Eric collapsed in a heap, trembling on the ground and slipping into a daze, his last sight being Morlekai’s concerned gaze and a solemn squeeze of his shoulders as he roared incantations Eric didn’t understand while all the hoards of hell hissed and clamored outside their tiny sanctuary.

Eric could only pray he could get up in time before it was too late… before surrendering to the darkness at last.