Ser Patrick Pent
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058 Death is Just a Choice
🕑 Added 2024-04-03 23:44:35 +0000 UTCI’d experienced Byron’s [Frost Aura] enough times to recognize it. But, he wasn’t supposed to find us this fast!
Hey! It seems you are afraid.
+1 has been added to all stats.
The message repeated as if a single [Fear] stack was nowhere near enough.
Three more figures appeared behind Byron, including a large four-legged creature which soon outpaced him.
A howl resounded across the corridor, compounding the chill in my veins. There was only one person on Red Wyrm who could mimic the beasts.
Beelith.
“Nicola,” I barked, grabbing the ashen-faced Mage by the shoulder. “Use [Ecstasy] or something! Anything!”
Nicola blinked. Her golden eyes flashed with life, roused from her stupor. She casted a spell even as I pulled her into a run.
“Where are you going?” Paz asked, lagging behind us. “We can’t outrun them. We should stay and fight.”
“Do you have a death wish?!”
Red Wyrm answered in his stead. The ground lit up with a gargantuan sigil and broke apart. An [Earthquake], judging by its effect.
The [Earthquake] threw us into the walls—headfirst in my case. My composure plummeted together with my health meter, which fell by over thirty percent.
All from one hit.
Fuck.
Paz unwrapped himself from Nicola, whom he had been thoughtful enough to shield with his body. Defiance flashed in his expression, but it died the next second as a gigantic [Fireball] roared down the corridor.
The four-legged beast howled in joy and crossed another twenty meters in the blink of an eye.
I didn’t even think. I sprang up the wall and flipped out of the way of the zooming ball of fire which proceeded to explode in our midst. The resulting wave of heat and flame stole another portion of my health.
But, I lived. Like always.
Paz and Nicola weren’t so lucky. They hadn’t managed to move out of the way in time, though Nicola had summoned a tentacle to absorb the worst of the blast.
We were going to die here if we ended up standing our ground. We had all of the guts and a hint of tenacity, but Red Wyrm had proven to be the better team in the opening salvo. The fact that we had just finished a major fight worsened our odds, and . . . Beelith’s wolf form drew closer, followed tightly by Byron.
The corridor in front of us stretched off into the darkness. We could try to outrun them, but Paz had hit the mark when he said it would all be for naught.
We had to take a stand. Right here. Right now. This was the prime reason we had entered the Labyrinth.
But, it was happening too soon . . . Our chances of victory had sailed past zero and entered into minus five.
Beelith howled in laughter. In a few seconds, she would reach the T-junction in front of the item room, which left one path open to us now that a direct escape was no longer an option . . .
A hard left into the corridor of runes.
I activated [Stealth] and charged for our pursuers.
“D-Damien?” Nicola sputtered.
Paz laughed and followed after me.
“Damien, we can’t take them—”
“I know!” I hissed at Nicola. “But, we have to do this. This is our only chance!”
Paz kept laughing without a care. “You absolute madlad. You think this is a better choice than fighting to the death?”
I didn’t reply to him, but Nicola caught on, regardless, if the way her breath hitched was any indication.
“You can’t be serious,” she said in a high pitch. “You’re just asking to die!”
“Shut up and follow!”
Our sudden about turn must have thrown off the enemy casters because they missed their next shots—a rock ball and a second [Fireball]—by scant inches.
We had traveled a short distance away from the junction at the start, but we were closer to it than Beelith, at least, who yipped as we returned, pleased that we had abandoned escape.
Oh, we aren’t trying to fight you, you ugly bitch.
We just needed a few more seconds to reach the junction. A few more . . .
Beelith crouched low to the ground, increasing her speed for the final lap. I arrived at the T-junction at the same moment she did, and—
[Dark Stalker]!
I blended into the shadows. She lunged in tandem, teeth poised to bite, and sailed past my former position.
The dreaded corridor stood just out of reach.
Gosh–freaking–darn it. This was the worst plan I’d ever enacted. It was based on the slim chance that the teleport traps wouldn't result in certain deaths. But, I couldn’t go yet, not until I'd ensured the safety of my teammates.
Paz intercepted Beelith’s wild lunge, buying Nicola the time she needed to run ahead.
The shapeshifter was smarter than I gave her credit for.
She bounded off the shaft of Paz’s half-pike with a force that sent him tumbling and snapped at Nicola’s back.
My [Decoy] got between them before she could connect, but it died the next second beneath an onslaught of claws and teeth. Paz righted himself in record time and joined the fray. The twin distractions allowed Nicola to slip past my hidden self and into the booby-trapped corridor.
To Nicola’s credit, she didn’t so much as blink. She ran across the guess trap without sparing a single glance over her shoulder.
The tiles lit up beneath her, and then she was gone, leaving motes of blue light floating in her wake.
“Byron,” Beelith cried in a guttural voice. “They’re getting away!”
Paz swung at her with his half-pike. Seeing as he was confident enough to engage her in this form, she had to be using a lesser skill and not the terrifying [Shapeshift] he had warned about.
Despite that, he only intended to feint, and he ducked around Beelith the first chance he got.
A bright light erupted from out of nowhere, stealing my vision for a fraction of a second. It left Paz as an indent in the wall. His half-pike clattered to the ground.
Oh no.
Byron strode into the melee, dressed in heavy armor with a horned helmet on his head. He held a short axe in one hand and a thick slab of iron in the other that . . . oh god, was that meant to be a shield?
Bright light dimmed into nothing on the shield’s surface, revealing it to be the source of the earlier skill.
“[Shield Bash], huh?” Paz said with a cough. “Dragon’s breath, that fucking hurt.” His health bar slipped into the final fifth, while our enemies stood around in perfect condition.
Byron raised his axe. “The elf. Where is he?”
“Did you have nothing better to ask?” Paz wheezed. “Or were you hoping I’d answer?”
“He used some kind of disappearing trick,” Beelith growled. “Not [Stealth] or I’d have sniffed him out. Something more potent. I don’t think he walked onto the runes—”
Byron glanced at the trap-filled corridor. “He didn’t. After all, what is the point in avoiding death in order to choose a worse fate?”
My breathing faltered.
“Then again,” Byron continued. “The runes are a coward’s way out. And, the way of cowards, though amusing, is difficult to decipher.”
Beelith chuckled. A horrible sound worsened by the fact that it emerged from a wolf’s throat. “He might have given us the slip. But, without his teammates, he’d die in the Labyrinth anyway.”
“Gods, what a bootlicker,” Paz said with a groan. “Are you sure you’re a wolf? Because you sound like a bottom feeder right now.” He pried himself out of the wall. “I’m sure it hurts to lose your main enemy, but you’d just have to settle for me. One out of three. Not a bad result, yeah?”
The Mage and Warlock remained a safe distance away. The latter sneered at Paz and raised a hand to silence him, though he stopped with a single look from Byron.
Paz settled into a boxing stance. “There’s nothing cowardly about dying the way you choose. They’ve chosen their way. This is mine.” [Draconic Aura] flooded the corridor, deepening the red of his eyes. “Come at me if—”
Byron slammed his fist into his gut. Paz gasped and lost his lunch. His eyeballs rolled up in their sockets.
Byron grabbed him by the hair before he could fall and watched his health bar empty in disinterest. “You’re the one, aren’t you? The one who can cheat death. What kind of tricks do you use to achieve this?”
Paz groaned. “It’s a very common affinity. I call it, Go to hell.”
Byron punched him again.
“I wonder how long that grin of yours would last,” Byron said. “I’m going to kill you and drag your body along with us to see what makes you tick.”
He hooked his axe to his belt and raised a small knife to Paz’s chin.
Oh, screw that.
I threw two monster cores at both pairs of rankers and appeared behind Paz the moment they flinched.
Paz’s eyes widened in surprise, and then they went lifeless as I lobbed off his head.
Byron froze. Enough time for me to punt the decapitated head into the corridor.
It bounced twice and rolled to a stop. Then, it disappeared in a flash of white.
The members of Red Wyrm gaped with priceless looks, which gifted me a life-saving second to slip out of reach.
Byron reacted first. His [Shield Bash] brushed past my arm and splayed me across the ground. I had avoided a direct hit, yet every bone in my body lit up like I’d been shot with a gun.
I gritted my teeth to quell the sensation and rolled away from a wild pounce by Beelith. An earthen wall rose to arrest my movements. However, Beelith had switched back to human form at the same time, and she punted me into the air and through the half-formed wall via a brutal kick.
I wheezed as my HP flatlined from the blow, though it held up just enough to protect me from severe injuries.
[Dark Stalker] had less than five seconds to come off cooldown which was all I needed to survive.
Beelith scaled the crumbling debris.
I would not die here.
Not to Byron.
Or his cronies.
Or even the fucking Labyrinth.
I would not die here!
The Sticky Bomb I had attached to Paz’s corpse detonated, dousing Byron and Beelith in a spray of guts.
Beelith screamed.
I took the moment to slip into [Dark Stalker], narrowly avoiding an axe slash from Byron.
The caster brothers refused to cast any spells, what with their teammates caught in the crossfire. They, however, moved toward the entrance of the rune-trap corridor to block off my escape.
I had been forced away from the T-junction during the fight. But, I didn’t care, I could just flee the other way—
Two abrupt walls of earth and fire rubbished that notion. They rose from the ground, reaching a height close to the ceiling, many times longer than I was tall.
“Beelith,” Byron said. “Use [Bestial Shape].”
The blond woman shifted back into her grey wolf form. An evil glint persisted in her eye due to the earlier shower of blood.
“You fight dirty, elf,” Byron said, peeling entrails off his shoulder. “But, I suppose that much comes with your race. Nothing good ever waits at the end of a dungeon trap. So, I’ll say it just this once: Give up.”
The wall of flames roared behind me. With my HP gone, I wouldn’t survive the passage. And, even with it, I had a feeling that those flames could roast a man with the slightest of touches.
Byron strode away in the opposite direction. His [Frost Aura] rose, catching me by surprise. I clasped a hand around my mouth to prevent the misting of my breath. It turned out to be futile. [Dark Stalker] handled it just fine.
“You have three seconds,” Byron said, “to accept my offer of an honorable death. Three seconds, or I would kill you in the worst way possible.”
He came to a stop, but his message was clear. I could surrender on his terms, or try to brave the walls . . . or him . . . or his teammates who blocked the corridor.
And yet, all of those were a diversion.
Byron was a vicious man. But, he wasn’t stupid and didn't care much for mercy. All of his posturing had to be a ploy, to distract me from his actual plan.
“He’s still here,” Beelith said and growled low in her throat. “I can smell him.”
You just admitted earlier that you can’t, lady. Not while [Dark Stalker] was active, at least. Nice try.
“What does his affinity do anyway?” the Warlock asked, keeping his eyes peeled on the corridor.
“Something to do with illusions,” Beelith answered. “Confusion, perhaps.”
“No,” Byron said, and he frowned at the space between his teammates. “It is Fear.”
The Warlock did a double take. “Fear? Isn’t that kinda stupid?”
“Let him contend with Hope,” the Mage said, and he thumped his staff against the ground.
I had expected a magic spell, yet nothing prepared me for the gargantuan sigil that appeared without the slightest hint of magical accumulation.
The ground between Red Wyrm and the twin walls broke apart, and then it surged in a field of gigantic spikes.
“That had to do it,” the Warlock said with a laugh and slapped his teammate over the back.
Beelith shifted to support the Mage who leaned now on his staff. “No one can survive this—”
“No one?” Byron said. His [Frost Aura] intensified. “He’s not there!”
I landed behind the casters, Chain Nail in hand. Byron’s group had prevented me from going through the obstacles, but they’d said nothing about going above. “Of course not.”
The casters turned around in shock.
Beelith’s lupine features contorted in rage. “You fucking—”
I raised my middle finger in a quiet salute. And then, without looking, I hopped backward into the runes and evaporated across time and space.
