B4 Chapter 486: Plight of the Living, pt. 4

It only took twenty minutes before the cracks started to show.

Kaius moved like a whirlwind, surrounded by a heaving carpet of fur, scale and carapace. His hand slipped from his hilt, the burning light of Stormlash surrounding his hand as thunder cracked through the Frontier.

Three beasts fell smoking; and hundreds more were ready and waiting to take their place.

The crush fell back in. A Father’s Gift proved the potency that had come with its ascension to Heroic. Kaius cut, cleaving through a beast. He cut again. Then again. Forced to continuously move to keep pace with the Pegleg, he flowed from stance to stance.

A high guard caught a goat-like creature that leapt with its horn lowered. Kaius caught it with the edge of his blade, cutting deep as blood fell like rain. Slamming the creature to the earth, he spun through his hips — transitioning into a wide swipe that cut a devastating path through the legs of the beasts in front of him.

Their pained screams were silenced as they were trampled by an endless stampede of claws, hooves, and insectile limbs.

It wasn’t enough, more surged around him — heading straight for the Pegleg. Kaius grit his teeth, redoubling his pace as beast after beast fell. He was swift and strong — nothing required more than two strikes at most to down. There were just so damned many of them.

Even Porkchop was struggling. As large as he was, he could use his simple power and bulk to crush many of the beasts under foot — and bowl them over with continuous uses of his charge skill. Shardwall after Shardwall ripped through the crowd — opening just enough space for the two of them to move. Yet there were always more waiting to fill the gaps.

They couldn’t let the creatures reach the landyacht. It had happened twice already, and both times had almost been disastrous.

The first time, beasts had leapt onto their landyachts top deck — nearly killing a hunter before Kenva had gutted the creature with her knife. They’d sent the remaining archers below deck after that.

Worse had been the second time. Only five minutes before, when more scattered groups running ahead of the main army had converged on their position. He and Porkchop had been too far from the landyacht — beasts had swept past them with almost casual ease. They might have been strong, but they couldn’t be everywhere.

A rampaging herbivorous creature with a head that was more horn than anything else had charged the landyacht — headbutting one of its legs. Kaius remembered the sickening crack. Even if the limb was only slightly dented, it was a reminder that their vessel was not unbreakable.

Without it, every survivor would die.

They had to hold on — Ophelia would already be on her way back from Deadacre, ready to ferry another group to safety. One more after that, and their charges would be safe.

He just had to beat the creatures back until then. The knowledge they’d already evacuated half of the survivors spurred him on.

Kaius stared down the teeming mass of beasts that surged towards him. He was alone — with their man power spread thin, Porkchop was needed to defend the other side of the landyacht. Each beast was weak — he could kill them just fine, and his armour was tough enough that any injuries he’d suffered healed quickly.

As long as he didn’t drown in the crush, he’d be fine.

What he needed was speed. His spells worked, but they were limited — needed to strike the beasts in critical moments whenever they broke through his and Porkchop’s defense.

Largely reliant on his blade, Kaius felt the sting of his specialisation. Blast the gods’, and their insistence that he constantly feel his weakness against hordes. Give him a hundred more levels, and enough mana that he could make the stars fall like rain, and a trifling army like this would matter little.

Alas, he was not Gold — he’d have to rely on his oldest and most faithful companion: his skill with the blade.

As the layered calls of beasts surrounded him, Kaius stoked his Bloodsong. Raising his blade into an aggressive high guard, he kicked forward, charging to meet the approaching horde. Mana burst from his feet as he cast Slip Step. He didn’t care that it might help him avoid a blow or two, what he needed now was speed.

It had been nearly two hundred levels since he had first gained Aelina; every spell cast from the glyph was nigh-unrecognisable in its potency. Kaius flashed across the battle line like a ghost, the world warping as he dipped into the strange spatial dimension his spell used to fuel his movement. Space contracted, and he cleaved horizontally.

Rabid snarls turned to screams of agony as A Father’s Gift spilt the blood of dozens. It wasn’t enough. More beasts surged, every fallen replaced by another.

His dash had taken him far from the Pegleg, and the horde raced in — uncaring of the losses as Ianmus and Kenva tore into their ranks with arrow and spell.

One of Kenva’s arrows shattered into a hail of deadly shrapnel, breaking the charge. Atop Ianmus’s staff, his Keyseal of the Rising Dawn pulsed. An overwhelming burst of mana rippled outwards, heralding the arrival of a Preeminent Halo.

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The second tier spell shot into the massed beasts — incinerating them in a blink.

Kaius capitalised on the opportunity, dashing back into the gap. More beasts fell in his wake. They just didn’t bloody stop. He grit his teeth, frustration building as beasts slipped past him — throwing themselves at the armoured landyacht.

Most were cut down before they made it, but not all. Dents lined its sides, and blood washed its deck as the Tyrant’s army desperately tried to reach the mage and archer that stood atop it.

It wasn’t just him. Porkchop was struggling too.

Even with his focus on his own battle, Kaius could feel his brother’s building frustration as he struggled to hold back the rising tide. Even with his Warden’s Challenge, there were simply so damn many of the beasts that Porkchop couldn’t affect all of them with his skill.

“This isn’t working,” Kaius said, leaping high to amputate the front legs of a stag that bounded for the Pegleg.

He scowled — he’d been aiming to take off its head. Damned prosthetic kept throwing him off.