Chapter Eighty-Eight: The Battle of Wayrest, Part Seven

Chapter Eighty-Eight: The Battle of Wayrest, Part Seven

Val screamed.

It was a scream that encompassed all she was. Hatred at this orc for killing a kind woman. Hatred at seeing her protege broken on the ground. Love for the both of them. And something more. Something triggered by the selfless sacrifice his mother had made.

The Smith knew something had changed. Perhaps he had a skill for sensing mana, like Tom. Through Hunter-Gatherer, he was absolutely certain of the sudden flare of new mana in Val.

He took advantage of the Smiths distraction and rolled away from him. Then he stood, weary, defiant. His body had not fully healed, but his mothers sacrifice had ensured he could keep fighting.

His eyes flickered to his wisp.

Status Requested: Val Carver.

Ideal Manifested.

Ideal Three (Classic): Humility.

Skill One (Classic): Before the Fall (Active).

Mana cost: Moderate.

Cooldown: Moderate.

Range: Moderate.

Cleanse the target of all buffs affecting them. Passive buffs are cleansed for a low duration. Active buffs are cleansed until they are reapplied.

He had time only for the briefest of looks. Humility, Tom thought. It suits her. He remembered her quiet guidance, her unassuming nature, and her willingness to simply get things done while not riding roughshod over opposition to do it. It was a perfect fit.

His heart swelled for her. She had manifested her last Ideal. While she had never once voiced any complaint over not having her fall, he knew it must have been incredibly frustrating. It represented an incredible amount of extra power.

Tom remembered his own wisp flashing, almost certainly for skill upgrades. He could quickly choose an option, but something in him rebelled at making a hasty decision. He weighed the potential benefit of quickly choosing two uplifts against the distraction in the middle of the fight. He couldnt afford it. It would be both a bad short and long term decision for him.

The Smith was not relaxed any longer. It was watching Val warily, eyeing Tom too. Waiting for them to act.

Tom met Vals eye. She was composed again, ready. She nodded.

Tom stepped up behind the Smith, hoping to draw more of its attention. He cast Agony, then followed up with another Wild Eagle Strike, allowing him a bare moment to strike out with his axe. It bit into the Smiths hip, and he slid away just in front of the great orcs return strike.

Val pressed in from the front, spitting venom and following through with some thrusts of her sword.

The red barrier shield flashed into place again, forcing Val back. Then the Smith went on the attack for the first time in the fight.Updated from novelb(i)n.c(o)m

Seemingly realising that Tom was not fully healed, or perhaps simply not as high a tier as Val and therefore an easier target, it stepped towards him, kicking out with blinding speed. Tom only just managed to roll backwards, the kick just barely clipping the front of his armour.

He came back to his feet and immediately stepped to the side. A fist exploded through the space his head had been. He ducked, dropping into a crouch, struck a solid blow to the Smiths thigh with his axe, and then immediately leapt to the side, avoiding a knee.

Rosa stepped up to them a moment later. Sesame came thundering up too, standing over the fallen Smith and growling menacingly.

It was Rosas Immolation Mosaic that had disrupted the Smiths final attempt at stopping them. Tom smiled at her, but a weak coughing from the Smith drew his attention. All three of them pointed weapons at the beast. It gave another round of low, pained coughs. It was laughing.

I cannot believe it, It said. Count yourselves lucky, dogs. I almost It broke into a coughing fit, this time in pain. Almost No matter. You could barely defeat me. My Brethren, my brothers and sisters, are scattered the length and breadth of this stinking continent. They will continue our work. You cannot defeat all of us. You have not the strength for it.

Tom and Val and Rosa shared a glance. The Smith grimaced, its body clenching in agony.

You will not cast us out a third time. The World will bow before us.

The Smith, titanic, foul, unspeakably evil, lapsed into unconsciousness with a weak, mewling snarl. Val stabbed it through the forehead with her sword.

She glanced at Tom, and he nodded confirmation of its death to her when he saw the last of its lifeforce pass from its body.

Tom took a moment to collect himself. Then he drew air into his lungs, and gave the loudest shout he could.

THE SMITH IS DEAD! THE SMITH IS DEAD! FOR WAYREST! FOR WAYREST!

Val and Rosa took up the call, and soon all the Hunters whod fought to the centre were shouting it too. The Idealist orcs looked confused, their beady, piranha-like eyes flicking to their wisps.

Somehow, word got out. A few of the Idealists orcs screamed and shouted. The regular orcs caught wind. Ripples passed through the army. The spark became a flame. Panic began burning through the orc ranks.

Rosa fired her fire lance directly into the air. Several other Hunters began shooting flashy skills upwards as well. It was the agreed upon signal to the wall if they were successful.

Tom watched through the owls as hundreds of defenders began dropping from the wall amongst the orcs. Guardsmen and Watchmen, those with the skills to see them down safely, began slaughtering with abandon.

The news of the Smiths passing had not reached the front ranks, but the reckless assault still made an impression. Pockets began to open up all along the front as the rank and file tried to get away from the carnage.

The four chieftains that the Smith had sent to direct the front lines began to struggle to hold the line. Watchmen picked them out with ease due to their size and began to harry them.

Then a single figure stepped over the battlements and plummeted to the earth. Clad head to toe in thick steel plate, the man made a thunderous impact when he landed, blasting orcs away from him with the force of his fall.

It was Lord General Steel. And he was out for blood.

He summoned an enormous hammer, and made a casual swipe. A blast of force swept from his weapon. A hundred orcs were flattened, crushed unceremoniously into the dirt.

Steel advanced, and orcs died in swathes. Every swing of his hammer laid scores of orcs low. Every step pushed hundreds more back. The man was truly a behemoth.

The rest of the battle was a blur. Tom and Rosa and Val, and the rest of the Hunters grouped up and fought side by side, quickly overcoming the last of the Idealist resistance in the centre. Then they began the systematic destruction of the regular orcs nearby.

News of their generals death spread through the army like wildfire. Many of the orcs, too overcome with battlelust, or too stupid to realise the tide had turned, fought to the bloody end. Many others fled in all directions. Those they let go. They had enough on their plates cleaning up those with fight still in them. Fifty thousand orcs, even with the Smith dead, was still a tough ask.

Jubilation at having killed the Smith lent itself to a zealous extermination at first, but it quickly dropped into a workmanlike chore. Eventually, even the most foolhardy or savage orcs broke and ran.

The battle for Wayrest was done. They had won. Wayrest was saved.