DB Lazarus
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53. The Depth’s Wrath - II
🕑 Added 2025-03-06 01:00:05 +0000 UTCSome things are better left unseen. The monstrosity in front of me was one of them. Worse, if we survived this, I had no doubts that Dorian would explain this thing’s average tier, range of levels, and powers in excruciating detail. But I didn’t need him to tell me one thing—you did not trifle with this monster.
I missed home. Nature should not be able to produce creatures the length of a bus that could create shotgun blasts out of stone and levitate dust as camouflage. Yet here I was, staring at a snake-like creature as it slithered effortlessly across the floor despite having a carapace made of thick stone plates. As if that wasn’t enough nightmare fuel, denied its cover, it reared up and opened its maw to showcase its three rows of razor-sharp teeth and barbed tongue, glowing with a familiar burgundy color.
So, not a snake. A lamprey?
The maw pulsed with crimson light as the monstrosity roared. The dust forced to a ground by Dorian’s skill kicked up in a wave, moving toward us. No one had time to prepare. Despite yards of distance between them, the sound wave slammed into the frontline of Ættir, bowling everyone over. Even shielded by them, the blast knocked me onto my ass.
We’re so going to die.
Yet none attempted to flee. Even those knocked back just rolled to their feet and ran forward to reinforce the line. No one called for a retreat, and as power flared from both sides of the cavern, I found out why.
Using the opening from its shockwave, the burrower blurred as it struck. It lunged forward, extending its long, barbed tongue to spear the closest of the fallen Ættar. A red streak met its advance. It slammed into the side of the monster’s mouth, stopping—not slowing but stopping—it dead in its tracks. The tongue continued forward but denied its momentum, it managed to only graze the ground right in front of a downed Ættar. Even then, it left a small trough in the stone floor.
If the monster had enough intelligence to be surprised, it had no chance to show it. The crimson energy, which hadn’t vanished immediately after striking the burrower, flickered, revealing an object embedded in the burrower’s side. Before I had time to examine it, a boom ripped through the cavern, and the object disappeared in a storm of debris. I ducked, bracing against another shockwave, but only a soft breeze struck me, a pittance as compared to what it did to our foe.
The serpentine horror screeched in pain as the blast violently twisted its front half away from the Ættarsk line. Instead of whipping its head back, it rolled with the blow. As it spun, a red hue bled from the cracks between the stone plates. It slammed into the back wall—or I thought it did. The wall around its mass rippled as it encompassed the back half of the monster without a sound.
I blinked in disbelief, first at the burrower apparently sinking into solid stone and then at the item that had blown the burrower into the wall. It sailed towards us, gravity working on it slower than Dorian’s skill on the dust. It tumbled in the air slow enough for me to recognize the object. Though I had rarely used one, we had plenty here. A chisel?
The chisel’s thrower hadn’t waited. In a surge of crimson, a hulking Ættar broke from the line, charging toward the staggered burrower.
The Verndari…
My mind tried to grapple with the interplay. The Verndari had brought a bus-sized lamprey to a standstill with a wooden mining chisel.
Is this what a Tier IV can do?
Another flare of crimson light escaped from joints in the burrower’s armor. Energy surged, and the wall beside it took on a hazy sheen. The rock face started to fracture. With a loud crack, the wall splintered, and the burrower exploded forward in a shallow arc as if it had just jumped out of the stone…which in a way, it had. It turned its serrated maw towards its attacker, ready to swallow him whole. However, the Verndari managed to apply another burst of speed, and he rolled below the head, slicing its underside with Energy-infused weapons.
The pickaxes must have struck something because the cavern rumbled as the burrower let out a low roar. However, the Verndari gave it no time to recover. Both pickaxes shone with a crimson so bright I had to squint. I held my breath as he slammed them into the beast’s flank, each blow packed with enough Energy to shatter feet of stone. Yet, the monster barely staggered. The strike hardly wounded it—but they registered. The burrower’s mouth pulsed with a surge of crimson light—then a shockwave exploded outward. It threw the Ættir just starting to stand back to their knees. The force swept across the battlefield, knocking everything back—everything except the Verndari.
He weathered the blast as one would a gentle breeze and punished the burrower for its attacks. He took the opening. His improvised weapons managed to carve another deep gash in the burrower’s side. The monstrosity channeled Energy as it whipped its head back around to bash its attacker. The Verndari didn’t jump back. With a thunderous crack, he met the charge, but this time, the burrower pushed him back. It followed, trying to spear him with its barbed tongue. The Verndari dodged only for the burrower to whip its tail around into a wall. The Ættar flared with power, vaulting the massive stone tail in a single jump. The hardened tail continued, slamming into the cavern wall. Cracks splintered outward from the impact crater, and shards of stone flew into the air. Both almost hid a surge of Energy that spread along the cavern’s wall until it pooled at a spot close to where the Verndari had landed.
The stone face next to him exploded in a spray of shrapnel. The stone bullets that didn’t hit the Verndari flew across the battlefield. More injuries exploded in my expanded awareness as some of the bullets hit Ættir, though the angle spared most of them. However, the terrorvoles, many still just rising from the ground after the burrower’s last sonic shockwave, dropped in sprays of blood and gore.
The only thing going well right now.
The Verndari weathered the missiles as if they were nothing more than drops of rain. However, the surprise slowed him down, and the burrower took advantage. My breath caught as the burrower’s tail blurred as it whipped back around to smash the Verndari. The Ættar’s Marks ignited. A crimson-wreathed arm came up in time to intercept the attack. The Marks on his legs flared with the impact. A dull thud filled the room, but when the dust settled, the Verndari stood tall.
He stopped a blow that had shattered an entire stone wall with a single arm…
“[Piercing strikes] on the tail,” he yelled as he brought a pickaxe down on the target he had called out. The pickaxe glowed with Energy, and this time, his strike went deep. The burrower jackknifed its body and tried to spear him with its tongue. The Verndari left the pickaxe embedded in the monster’s tail, but he moved as if he had expected the attack. He casually sidestepped the spiked tongue. His arm blurred, and the burrower released a teeth-rattling whine as dark blood sprayed from the muscular proboscis.
“Lock it down,” he yelled, moving to a better position.
With that command, the burrower lost any initiative it had gained. Despite having just witnessed what this monster could do, three Ættir rushed forward without a hint of hesitation. They brought down their picks coated with fiery energy in near-simultaneous strikes, piercing the armored skin. Their Marks exploded with light as the burrower tried to whip it tail. It unleashed another concussive blast when it realized they had pinned its tail, but the Ættir weathered the shockwave, holding it fast. All the while, the Verndari took advantage of the distraction to land blow after blow.
The four Ættir had not given me their names, but I still knew the next highest-leveled Ættir after the Verndari. Gauging by the complexity of their Marks, the Verndari’s level exceeded theirs, but their strength was nothing to sneer at. Each led a group of the company, and they fought like they had worked together in the past. The four moved like a well-oiled machine, shifting and flaring Energy in a complex dance that kept the burrower from attacking with its tail. However, the writing was on the wall. The burrower hadn’t slowed, but with each passing second, the Marks of the four assisting Ættir flared with less intensity, the tail shifted more each time the monster flexed its tail to unpin itself.
Finally, it happened. The burrower bucked and ripped a pickaxe from an Ættar’s grip. He raced back to grab ahold of the pick, but the burrower managed another swish of its tail. The remaining three were insufficient to hold it back, and the burrower succeeded in dislodging a pickaxe. Even though the first Ættar regained hold of his pickaxe, three Ættir didn’t suffice. Just before the displaced Ættar could once again slam his pickaxe into the stony carapace, the burrower whipped its tail. Imbued with a [Piercing Strike]-like skill, the pick sank deep, but the movement prevented the pin. The Ættar somehow held on, at least until the burrower turned its head and unleashed another shockwave. The scream broke the grips of the displaced Ættar and two others.
“We are losing it!” yelled the last Ættar.
The Verndari just grunted, speeding up his assault. However, the damage he had inflicted showed no signs of slowing the monster down.
We aren’t going to win this.
Rægnor must have come to the same conclusion. “Ready yourself. If I am called, you will be on your own.”
I swallowed at the implication. The terrorvoles’ numbers had dropped, but their fear made them just as dangerous.
Then, a small shape sprinted across the battlefield, sliding to a stop near the tail.
Dorian? What the hell are you doing? You don’t have the levels for that.
“I can give you a twenty count,” he yelled.
All his Marks flared, and the ground in front of him rippled. Short, broad waves sped through the stone toward the burrower. Each one slammed into the burrower’s stony carapace with a small wave rebounding as the only effect. However, Dorian didn’t stop. As waves crashed into waves, the floor began to warp. Peaks rose. Depressions deepened. On the cavern’s floor, a standing wave came into being. Dorian’s Marks flared again, and the waves blurred, changing configuration. The amplitude of the waves shifted, shrinking next to their source and spiking around the burrower.
The effect became apparent as soon as the burrower tried to fling another Ættar off its tail. It flexed its tail with no effect. When it tried again, a crack resounded through the cavern as it fractured its armored skin. It shrieked and twisted in pain, but the burrower only worsened the damage. Dorian had managed to fuse the stone-shod skin with the stone floor.
The Verndari didn’t let the opportunity pass. He laid into the burrower, blowing off chunks of its monster’s armor. Gashes riddled the dark-granite jaws, and crimson light leaked from them.
Rægnor grabbed me, pulling me backward. “You, we, are too close for our levels. Who knows what the monster will do near death? Better to pull back and clear the area of the lesser threats.“
After facing that shockwave, I took his word for it. Plus, while the stream of terrorvoles had stopped, many still remained in the cavern. With the burrower’s wounds multiplying, far too many had also shaken off their instinctual fear to return to the original prey.
A roar, then a blast hit me from behind. I stumbled but didn’t fall. I stole a glance and just caught sight of the Verndari’s leap and subsequent downward strike on the head of the burrower. The ground trembled as the Verndari drove the monster into the ground. Yet the monster still moved.
“Daniel, watch yourself.”
I whipped my head back just in time to catch the crimson arc and Energy-coated spike of Rægnor’s pick slamming into the flank of a terrorvole that had attacked from my right. The dark terror spasmed then fell onto the floor, limp.
Idiot. Gawking is dangerous on a highway, and this is a battlefield.
“Thanks,” I muttered, trying to ignore the sudden heat in my cheeks.
I followed Rægnor as he raced to reconvene with the rest of the company. Eschewing the defensive structures now wrecked and far too close to the battle with the burrower, they had pulled back to form a new perimeter near the entrance of the cavern.
How many seconds had it been? At least ten? But twenty?
I resisted the urge to steal one more glance. None of the other Ættir in the line paid any attention to the battle with the burrower. Their focus remained locked on the midnight-black fiends charging the new defensive line.
Is this how it goes when high-tiered people battle? Everyone else flees, leaving the upper-tiered warriors to duke it out?
I slotted into the formation in time to catch the burrower breaking free from it binding. Its movements had lost their fluidity. Crimson light spilled from the shattered stone plates surrounding the jaws and head and tail. If it didn’t free itself, it wouldn’t survive, and it knew it.
Even from this distance, I could detect the power welling up inside it. The stone around its body trembled, rippling like water. Then, in a single violent surge, it flexed—no shockwave, no explosion, just a dark blur streaked with crimson lights. One second it was trapped. The next, it was free.
Tail unshackled, it threw off the four Ættir pinning it and swept around until it struck the small form still squatting on the floor. Dorian flew through the air. His path took him towards the new defensive line. He skipped across the ground in a tumble. Through the throng of green bodies, I saw him come to an abrupt stop against a cavern wall. The din of battle hid the thud of his impact, but the sound still resounded in my head.
“Dorian,” I whispered. I strained my awareness to try to pick up something, anything.
Would it work if some died?
I banished that thought. While that would have killed a person on Earth, things were different here. Right?
My vision started to blur as I stood frozen in shock. It took me a second to realize why. I broke ranks, wiping my eyes as I sprinted towards my fallen friend. Behind me came an earth-shattering roar followed, by a large thump that reverberated through the cavern floor. Cheers resounded, and I didn’t need to look to know why. The Verndari had slain the burrower. Mopping up the rest of the terrorvoles would be easy.
We had won. But at what cost?
