B2 Chapter 213: Siege, pt. 3

The shaman sneered at him from deep within the press of bogglings. Standing head and shoulders above the lesser boggarts, its nature was obvious. Even if he excluded the sickly mana that hung around it like a cloak, its grisly skull-topped staff and bone-charm woven hair were dead giveaways.

It wasn’t alone—flanked by two more empowered bugbears. Much like their predecessors, they were hulking things fueled by primitive magic—mana burning in their eyes and wafting from their skin.

The shaman would be the first opponent that the plague would feel keenly upon their death. Kaius bared his teeth, hunger flaring within him. After so long of an endless grind of monsters, the weight of knowing that they could not complete their mission, he hungered for something that felt impactful. A token, that their stand here had lead to real losses—ones that wouldn’t be so easily replaced like the common rabble.

Still, with its status within the plague, Kaius wondered how strong it would be. The empowered bugbears had been tough. Even if they each would have been easy to dispatch on an individual basis, they’d been a tougher nut to crack with a literal army of bogglings at their back.

Kaius used his True Sight, seeking to learn more of the spell-caster’s power.

Bugbear – Level 77:

Lower Race, Mage, Elite

Kaius roved over the monster’s description. Much like he’d expected, it was significantly more developed than the average boggling in the plague. Low enough that it was definitely killable, but it was also a caster solidly entrenched in a nigh unreachable position.

Things could get a little dicey.

A boggart on the front line howled—leaping towards him with a crude knife held ready, moving with an unnaturally lurching speed. A skill, no doubt—but not a very effective one.

Kaius sidestepped, bringing his blade up to open its belly, before pivoting into a heavy chop that cleaved through its skull.

**Ding! level 52 Boggart – Stalker slain – Experience Gained! Reduced Experience for slaying a foe of Insignificant Strength!**

Kaius shook his head—the creatures had uncommon classes at best, even with their relative parity in levels, he was by far their superior in all respects.

Unfortunately, it was replaced instantly. As much as he wanted to give the slowly approaching shaman his full attention, there was a constant stream of bogglings for him to slay.

He felt like his bones were made of lead—his very essence weighed down as he danced through the storming assault, dealing out retributive punishment with every opportunity.

It was tough. In the tight confines of the tunnel he was only just able to move enough to beat the boggarts back, and stop his brother from getting flanked. Even with his Toolkit and Glass Mind pouring over the openings in the boggling’s formation, he had little of the room he needed to outmanoeuvre his enemies.

Hells, even his arsenal was limited. Each of his spells was an unrecoverable cost—one he was saving for when they were absolutely needed. He was already glad he’d saved so many in reserve now that a shaman would soon enter into the range of his engagement.

He couldn’t even use his Bladerite with impunity—though thankfully it at least passively bolstered his blade until it cut through boggarts like a sharpened scythe through wheat. Every active use represented a significant drain on his stamina, one that would be almost impossible to recover with the constant exertion of battle.

Sure, he wasn’t fighting with the full weight of his strength and speed—slowing the natural drain of the resource—but it was still limited, and he’d need at least some in reserve for their eventual retreat.

He wasn’t made for this—wasn’t well suited for the slow and inevitable grind against his resources. This whole exercise was a terrible match up for his capabilities—one that had proven itself to be far more of a weakness that he had anticipated.

Sure, he’d always known that the nature of his spell-hymns was best aligned for dueling—a sudden outpour of power that could overwhelm small groups and singular foes of great strength—but he’d always assumed that he’d be able to lean on his bladework for extended engagements. After all, it had worked in the Depths.

Now he realised that without skills to deal with such numbers quickly, the crushing grind of expenditure would be the death of him. The Depths was a false equivalence—its groups of enemies dispersed and separated, he’d always had the chance to fall back and recover when he took a little care.

A weakness of his class—one that seemed to similarly impact his team, albeit to a lesser degree.

If he’d been a pure warrior, capable of cleaving through a half dozen boggarts in a single swing. If Ianmus had been a mage of mass damage, thinning and weakening the horde with persistent spells. If Porkchop had the means to prevent damage, not just reduce and withstand it.

Any of those being true would have changed their circumstances—if all were, they would be in a radically different position.

He was growing to suspect he knew the reason behind this mission of theirs. Levels were one thing, but they were doing…too poorly. In a way that would have been no doubt immediately evident to Ro and Rieker—experienced as they were.

A lesson. That even with all their might, match-ups were king. An embarrassing one to have to learn, considering he’d used it to great effect against their enemies.

An important one to have highlighted now all the same.

Keeping track of the shaman out of the corner of his eye, Kaius was halfway through gutting a bugbear when he noticed the hazy glow of mana surrounding the shaman start to churn. Clearly, it had grown close enough to target them with a spell.

**Ding! Truesight has reached level 50!**

Sickly and boiling, it moved in tune with a foul chant that fell from the spell-slinging bugbear’s mouth in a steady stream of hisses and growls—somehow audible over the cacophonous din of battle. Its hands weaved the mystical energy, directing it to condense into a compact ball at its front.

Kaius reacted instantly. With the range of Stormlash having increased substantially since his initial selection of the spell, the shaman had brought itself into his reach.

Stamping his foot with a choked up chop of his blade, Kaius finished off a boggart that was currently shoveling its intestines back into its chest. His left hand dropped from the hilt of his sword—stance shifting to free up the motion of bladed hand, he swept his sword up, flowing into a smooth stream of biting stabs and forceful parries that kept the weight of the crushing bodies from overwhelming him.

Porkchop felt his intentions, shifting closer to guard his right.

His off hand swept out as baleful orange sparks showered from his Drakthar glyph, a howling bolt of electricity appearing in his hand.

Light and thunder blinded the bogglings, sending them into a momentary disarray as arcing plasma shot over their heads.

It crashed against the shaman…only for a shimmering field to substantiate a hairsbreadth from its skin. Stormlash poured its might into the barrier, straining to overwhelm it as two streamers impotently crackled against the magical defenses of the shaman’s entourage.

Biting frustration welled up—prickling the back of his neck as the first worthy opponent to use his spell against stymied his attack. Another boom shook dust from the cavern’s ceiling, his ears ringing as he hurled another spell directly at the shaman, hoping to overwhelm its defenses with pure power.

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It didn’t work. Even with the controlled might of the Stormlord his to command, the shaman’s barrier stood unyielding.

The monstrosity smirked, revealing brown and yellow fangs as its lips twinged upwards—its chanting continuing unbroken.

Kaius clenched his teeth so hard that they groaned—on the verge of shattering. It dared to feel smug?! The second he was through that barrier, it was dead.

Rising to a fever pitch, the chanting grew fast—agressive—before the shaman cut its hands through the air. The ball of roiling mana erupted, hosing the ranks in front of the mystical bugbear in a visible fog of noxious yellow.

Bogglings gasped and spluttered, hacking as the cloud rolled over them towards where Kaius and Porkchop were waiting.

The shaman had sacrificed its tribe members as disposable pawns. Treacherous bastard.

An affliction, no doubt. Slow moving, but one that left them nowhere to hide. They couldn’t pull back—retreat in the hopes of it dissipating—for if they allowed the ranks of the bogglings to leave the chokehold they would swarm over them. They’d be overwhelmed in seconds.

Unfortunately it had made one mistake—it assumed the spell would weaken them and the front line equally. With Rapid Adaptation at his side, Kaius was certain he could persevere.

“Stay out of the fog, Ianmus. We fight on.” Kaius called back, less confident in the mage’s own ability to withstand whatever was coming. Afterall, he had none of Porkchop’s prodigious vitality or Kaius’s resistance.

Taking the care to watch the affected bogglings closely as he spun out of the way of a spear thrust, Kaius noticed that they didn’t seem to be too worse for wear. They choked and hacked, and moved with a notable clumsy weakness—but they weren’t ailing.

Thank the gods for that, because the noxious yellow fogbank was seconds from rolling over them.

A second later it hit. It was a heavy gas. One that clung to the skin—seeking out the tender membranes of his eyes and nose.

Reeking of sulfur and some unnamable acrid bite, it stung to high heaven, his vision obscured further as tears welled up.

He breathed it in.

Cloying contagion sunk its fangs into his throat—ripping at the delicate flesh with vicious persistence. It was like inhaling a whole smokehouse, every fibre of his being urging him to cough.