Chapter 314 – Last Stands (Part 1)

Chapter 314 – Last Stands (Part 1)

Kea gripped her dagger and retreated on the mossy ground. Her figure Camouflaged with the shadows of the cavern. She couldn’t hide from the gazes already on her, but it made her movements harder to track.

“You should have just surrendered if you were going to run.” Caeli swung her rapier in a taunting arc. “You always act without thinking, then let others fix your messes. No one is going to help you now. Even that nosy kid is being dealt with.”

Liar.

The seas would dry before the likes of them captured Kai.

“Can’t we talk about this?” Derrell said, scrambling backwards. “Violence isn’t the answer!”

“What’s this?” Caeli sneered at the man, studying the grouped escapees. “Are you going to confront us with this band of beggars?”

“At least I don’t talk big and hide behind others.” Kea glared at the cultists and prayed Flynn managed to organize a resistance—she couldn’t spare the attention to check with Mana Sense. “You could never beat me alone.”

“Ugh! Spare me your pathetic provocations,” Caeli muttered through gritted teeth. “I had to hide my skills when I sparred with you.”

“Sure…” Kea laughed mirthlessly. “You were always good with excuses, too.”

Caeli pressed her mouth shut. “You— I tried to give you an easy way out. These deaths are on you!”

Always excuses.

Kea smirked at the small victory. Hunter’s Talent and Wild Strength heightened her reaction and agility, though she felt awfully underequipped.

Four masked cultists flanked Caeli. Jagged runes gleamed darkly on the blades of their weapons. Most worrying was the woman wielding a wooden staff with an onyx focus crystal.

A damned caster.

Hopefully, she was only a half-mage, but she never had Kai’s luck.

The cultists advanced without hurry, closing them against the rock wall. It’d be a massacre if they charged, though their methodical approach was perhaps more worrying.

There are no openings.

“What are you waiting for?” Kea channeled Sharpen into her daggers. They were losing the initiative, and she couldn’t find a way to respond that wasn’t suicidal.

The single upside was that Caeden hadn’t moved from his spot, staring at her with a sad gaze that filled her with fury.

What an asshole! At least he’s too far to intervene now.

Panicked shouts sounded at her back. The prisoners scampered toward the craggy tunnel in the cavern wall. The tight passage could only allow one person through, and more cultists likely lay in wait.

Running back is pointless.

The only salvation was through Caeli and her cronies.

“Now!” Flynn shouted.

Dozens of rocks flew. Some whizzed dangerously close to her head, aimed at the cultists.

Flicking her staff as if to swat a bug, the caster conjured a shield of inky water to intercept the projectiles while the three melee cultists dashed forward.

A spear lunged at Kea’s heart, Danger Sense blaring in her head. She twisted and raised her dagger to deflect. The strength of the blow almost threw the weapon out of her hand.

Damn—

Two dark swords joined the spear. Blades slashed at the escapees who joined the fight. Rocks clashed against enchanted steel, eleven men, women, and… Niel?

What’s he doing?

Pale-faced, Niel held a knife with both hands as if that was the only thing keeping him standing. Thank the spirits, he stood a little behind the others.

Kea could just spare him a thought. Screams and death swept the cavern. The spearman looked for easier targets while a sword flashed at her neck.

Cursed gods.

Skills flared with the brightness found only between life and death. Thoughts quickened, senses sharpened and muscles brimmed with power—all joined to survive an overwhelming foe.

Too close to dodge, Kea arched her body and raised her daggers to parry.

The strength of the blow was too strong to shoulder and threw her back. She barely kept her feet, arms numb with pain.

Did I break a bone?

Death danced too close to dally on such details. The masked swordsman attacked with effortless momentum, blade angled at her chest.

Kea bent beneath the sword, pushing the edge of her speed and flexibility. The swing brushed her hair but missed the scalp.

“Die!” A man in ragged clothing charged the cultist from her right, a boulder half his height in his hands and muscles glowing with mana.

Kea grasped the chance to balance her stance and scuttle back.

The swordsman held his ground. A wispy Darkness coated his blade from the hilt. Eyes lit with cold amusement, he drew a lazy arc. The charge fell short. With a squelch, the prisoner’s severed body slumped to the ground, crushed beneath the two halves of the boulder.

A yellow adventurer. Dead just like that.

He’s playing with us.

Kea spat blood on the ground, wishing anger could grant her power—five meters packed with terrified people stood between her and the cavern wall. A rock whizzed past her ear. More stones flew overhead, bouncing like pebbles on the curtain of inky water.

Justice and courage didn’t triumph like in the ballads; they bent beneath the tyranny of cruel realities. This was a desperate, ugly fight without a chance of victory.

We were so close…

Blood and bodies pooled among luminescent moss, feeding the ground with their hopes of freedom. The faceless swordsman walked around the adventurer’s innards as if worried about dirtying the soles of his boots.

The people she vowed to save were dying.

Kea wanted to scream, but found her throat dry. She was powerless. No amount of grit and sweat could bridge the gap between grades.

“Rabble never listens to reason,” Caeli observed the massacre with a smile and cut down a bleeding woman who slipped past the vanguard. “If you want to be spared, get on your knees and beg.”

That traitorous bitch wouldn’t even engage on the frontline.

Kea adjusted the sweaty grip on her daggers. “Why…?” Her murmur was too quiet to be heard above the screams of the dying.

Why are you doing this? Did the time spent together mean nothing? How—

The realization finally hit her. Caeli, the fiery and righteous adventurer, the person she’d thought was a friend, had never existed. It was a fiction, an act from start to finish. And still, Kea mourned her loss.

I must do something.

The masked swordsman advanced unhurried, blade raised to reap lives.

I can’t keep retreating.

In the tunnels at her back waited a slow death, on the battlefield before her a quick one. Either way ended in death.

Back at home, Moui always reprimanded her for fighting as if she were immortal—an odd, unintentional compliment. Kea was proud to be fearless where most faltered, but she didn’t want to die.

Facing the black swordsman with her puny daggers, she wavered for the first time in her life.

Of course, it wasn’t fear. Or recklessness—leave that to her little brother. She simply had too much left to do. She had seen but a corner of the mainland, and had yet to achieve most of her goals.

Spirits help me, I don’t want to die.

The prayers faded in the ether, the cultist ever closer.

I’ll die on my feet.

“Come at me, bastard!” Kea shouted, raising her daggers, skills blazing without regard for the backlash.

If this were her end, she’d meet the ancestors standing proud—the people of the archipelago didn’t kneel.

“So eager to die.” The mirth in the cultist’s gaze turned to irritation. Darkness coated the sword as his arm pulled back to strike. “Suit your—”

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The cavern groaned and shook as if an ancient monster had awakened. A shadow—a massive boulder—flew overhead.

The swordsman ducked with a cry despite not being the target.

Wind whipped her hair and neck. Kea crouched to steady herself, thoughts frozen, mouth gaping.

Further up the cavern, every drop of inky water rushed to the masked caster. With a thunderous splash, the boulder crashed into the inky cocoon, spraying acid water and pebbles across the cavern.

Kea woke from her stupor when an acid droplet burned her nose. She hastily wiped her face.

Glancing back, she noticed a massive hollow where the cavern wall had been flat. Beneath it, a figure fell to the ground.

Mari?

Rock Throw was one of her profession skills—usually flinging a fist-sized stone. That sneaky girl must have specialized it, and dumped her whole mana pool into the wall.

Why did no one notice the channeling? Did Flynn hide her with a Shadow spell?

They had theorized potential combinations a lazy afternoon weeks ago, though—

A flash and rumbling crackle jolted her brain back to the ongoing battle.

Embarrassed by her amateur mistake, Kea turned to the fading light. Escapees and cultists shielded their eyes, stalling the fighting—her distraction had saved her from being blinded.

Behind the frontline, the masked caster stood amidst the broken pieces of the boulder. Inky water pooled in the crater of destruction, lightning crackled over its surface, and steam rose from her clothes. The woman held onto the burnt husk of her staff, the crystal focus missing, though her black garb and featureless mask hid her exact condition.

Out of nowhere, a dagger stuck deep into her eye socket. Her body splashed into the pool, eliminating any doubts about her state.

The cultist—a fully fledged yellow mage—was dead.

Banishing her hesitation, Kea dashed at the faceless swordsman while he still crouched on one knee and squinted to recover his eyesight.

Let’s make them two.

With thumping strides, two adventurers sprinted past her, daggers aimed at the same goal—probably another part of Flynn’s plan.