QuiteTheSlacker
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[The Distinguished Mr. Rose] Chapter 43: Life We Sow
🕑 Added 2025-05-03 16:26:59 +0000 UTCThe paladins gathered in front of the fortress by the masses, and so too did the players. Sir Ogier had brought them the occasional demon to practice on; however, this was far different. They could hear the rumbling, pounding, stampede of their foes far out in the mountains. Their bodies felt tight—every little breath was smothered by a heavy dread. The players were covered in light platemail, courtesy of the armory, but such protection did little to ease their minds.
Lucius’s party all stood beside him toward the back of the Frankish formation. The players were closest to the walls, and also the most likely to escape should the situation turn dire. None of the paladins spoke against it. On the contrary, they were still uneasy about letting the inexperienced take up arms.
But the players hadn’t slacked off this past week. They were not capable of replicating the complex tactics of this land, yes, but they had one advantage over their otherworldly allies: the ability to Level Up.
As long as they survived this battle, they would continue to grow stronger, and stronger—unbound by the physical limitations of their mortal frames.
In a way, the players could be considered a species best suited for war. What could be more terrifying than an enemy without limit?
But to do so, they needed to personally risk their lives, and slaughter all that stood in their way.
“... I’m kinda jealous of those crafting guys,” Mili said, fidgeting with her guitar. “They get experience just by makin’ stuff.”
Harper shrugged, her own hands constantly checking and rechecking her equipment for even the slightest vulnerability. “We all have our roles to play. Doesn’t really seem fair to give an axe to folks without a single combat skill. Besides, these potions are pretty handy.”
She motioned to a few colorful vials attached to her belt. The support-orientated players had expended all their coins in order to purchase ingredients for their strange healing salves. Some were able to manifest various supplies naturally, similar to how Lucius’s tea skill worked, but they were limited to only a few a day. The rest would have to be made by hand.
“Speakin’ of non-combatants…” Marco said, turning to the gentleman and regarding him with a worried eye. “Aren’t you technically one yourself, Lucius?”
“No need to worry, Mister Bernard,” Lucius replied, elegantly leaning on his cane. “I am both, yet I am neither. I suppose it would be more fitting to call myself… an ‘aesthetic’ class. I obtain greater power the more distinguished I portray myself. Such meager things like the demons will pose no threat to me.”
It was technically a lie, but not really. Lucius really did gain greater power—mentally at least. He ever so loved to stroke his own ego. His companions also seemed to be comforted by it as well, so what was the harm?
But the time for casual conversation was over. The war horns of the Franks sounded high overhead. Sir Ogier, with his jutted belly and simmering rage, waited atop the walls as the demons encroached ever closer.
“Have you prepared yourselves, everyone?” Lucius addressed his companions. It wouldn’t do to coddle them, but the gentleman couldn’t have them dying either. He had to make sure they were in tip-top condition.
Marco, Mili, and Harper confidently nodded their heads. Good, he saw no hesitation.
Then it was time for the opening performance.
Ogier sucked in his breath - his skin turned a steaming red once more - and he roared out with a bellow, shaking the very air.
The man charged in like a meteor and crashed into the center of the demonic legion. The battle commenced with his entrance; a symphony of carnage had begun. The paladins surged forth with the same furor of the prior invasion. This time, though, they had some extra help.
“All revved up, kid?” Marco and Harper guarded the musician's side as she charged up her guitar. Static crackled around her. A musical melody was strummed forth, accompanied by a deluge of loud bombastic vocals.
Mili broke out into a sneer. “Operation Thunderstruck is a go!”
She stepped back, flaunted her electrical might, and then unleashed a surge of lightning that razed through the demons with the might of a thunderous god.
“I was caught,
“In the middle of a railroad track~”
The priests had their own incantations, but not to this extent. Not with the sheer devastation she wrought within her lyrical mayhem.
“I looked ‘round,
“And I knew there was no turning back~”
Lucius could not count how many she annihilated then. Hundreds? A thousand, perhaps? The numbers torn apart by the good Ogier began to pale in comparison.
“And I was shaking at the knees,
“And could I come again, please?
“Yeah, them ladies were too kind,
“You’ve been… thunderstruck!”
Her prowess was already frightening back in the maze. But now, Mili had been trained. Her stamina increased. For the next ten minutes straight, she terrorized the battlefield until every corner fizzled with the smoldering aftermath of thunder and crash.
And she was not alone.
Other players, albeit lesser in destruction, also hurled their own fantastical powers. Lucius saw someone bring down hail; another created a large sand pit; there was even a fellow who launched a makeshift bomb. The gentleman couldn’t possibly fathom what sort of class would have led to that, but there was no denying its usefulness.
One weakness plagued all of them, however (Mili included): They exhausted themselves quite quickly. Against a single foe, this wasn’t as much of a problem, but the players were at war. Tens of thousands of demons descended upon them without care nor concern for their own well being. Barrages weren’t enough; they needed something more solid to protect the fortress.
That was where the frontliners came in.
"Oh dear, now I am even beginning to think like the good Mister Thames," Lucius mused to himself. "Perhaps his rants stuck with me more than I thought."
Mili collapsed onto her knees and hacked out a cough. “This gal’s all spent. It’s your guys’ turn.”
Harper picked Mili up and then dropped her off to safety back behind the fortress. “Why didn’t you just shoot them from up on the walls? You have the range, unlike that bomb-throwing guy.”
The musician blushed and turned away. “I, um, wanted to stay with everyone. Just in case, y’know? It’s really darn hard to spot anyone from up there—someone’s gotta watch and make sure you guys don’t kick the bucket.”
“Aw, being shy now, huh?”
Mili scowled and thrashed her way out of Harper’s hold. “I’m not shy. It’s the truth.”
“If you say so.” The firefighter laughed and returned to the battlefield. Lucius and Marco were waiting for her, weapons honed and bodies ready to brawl.
“We’re not stayin’ here, right?” Marco said, cracking his neck.
Harper lifted her axe and grinned. “Only if you two got my back.”
“But of course, Miss Brooks. I can think of no better company.”
The three of them gave each other an acknowledging look, and then ran out toward the frontlines. Staying in the rear would be safer, but reward came not without adversity. They needed to become stronger for the trials to come.
Lucius and his fellows faced the demonic spawn directly, crushing and slashing their way through in a seamless, efficient rhythm. Their blind spots were carefully covered by the other. Lucius crippled the limbs of those who drew near; Marco crushed through their defense with a pound of his fiery gauntlet; and Harper followed up to deliver the finishing blow.
*EXP + 5!
*EXP + 5!
*EXP + 5!
Lucius leveled up at an astounding rate: six, seven, eight and nine. The battle had just begun and yet the gentleman was already level ten. No games this time—he put the points into strength for a little extra oomph. Now it was at twenty-two before all his blessings and equipment.
Soon, the party was surrounded on all sides. The paladins tried to get them to come back, but Lucius’s party continued to advance deeper. One would assume them to have a death wish, but it was nothing like that: They simply had full trust in their companions. Adrenaline pumped in their veins and set aflame their blood. Any wounds that arose were rapidly healed by the potions.
After what seemed like an eternity, the demons began to thin. No longer did their mocking cries sully their ears.
The battle was over. The Franks had achieved an overwhelming victory.
*Congratulations! You have advanced to Level 14
* + 44 contribution points
The remaining stats were put into strength again. Twenty-six—not bad.
Marco and Harper fell onto their rears and heaved a long, blissful sigh. No sooner did the war horns blare out, marking their triumph, did they crumble, utterly spent.
“Good lord, that was tough,” Marco said, taking a moment to fully comprehend what he had just accomplished. “I’m gonna need to lay around for a week after this.”
“I hear ya, old timer,” Harper groaned, letting her head thud onto the scorched dirt. “My muscles are sore. My head’s pounding. But, we’re alive, aren’t we? That’s what counts.”
Lucius was perfectly fit unlike them, so he rolled up his sleeves and attended to them like a gentleman would. He dusted their clothes, wiped their heads, and even provided some refreshments: two sweet lemon iced teas—a southern specialty.
Just as they began to recover, Sir Ogier emerged from under a mound of his fallen foes. He looked around the battlefield with surprise. The mood wasn’t dark; players and paladins both celebrated with a joy unlike any he had seen the prior nights.
“... How many have we lost?” he said, trudging over to his officers.
They hesitated for a moment, examining the casually list in disbelief, before replying, “Seven paladins and five of the otherworlders. There are but twenty others who can no longer serve.”
Ogier stood silent for a moment. Of course, it was terrible that some had perished, but Lucius could see it in the man’s eyes. "Only twelve?" He no doubt wished to say.
It was a mere third from the victims of the prior invasion. Even less were permanently crippled.
The Peer clenched his fist and raised his head up to the heavens. For the first time, a new emotion swelled inside him.
That emotion was hope.
“Mm. I… see,” he replied, once again donning his apathetic front. “Let us hold the funeral rites as usual. We will include the fallen otherworlders among them.”
The suns began to set once more, but their light no longer shone above a mournful mass. Roncevaux Fortress was beginning to heal.
Comments
Jonas
Nope just used the wrong word lol I’ll fix it
forgetfulposum
“My muscles are soul -> sore. My head’s pounding." (maybe also style)
