Heavy Metal: Chapter 94 – Retreat. (Patreon)

“Intruders!”

“Kill them all!”

“For the slaughter!”

With the cultists bearing down on them and their backs literally against the wall, Rusty felt a tinge of regret. The barricade groaned under the force of the fanatical attackers pressing against it. Rusty braced himself, glancing back at the stair mechanism. He could hear the blocks shifting into place bit by bit, and he noticed some of the injured trying to move as the steps unfolded beneath them. He wasn’t sure how long it would take for the entire path to form, which meant that every second counted.

He tightened his grip on his bow, his fingers moving with practiced ease as he loosed another arrow. Cultists on the other side were dropping with choked screams, but their numbers kept growing. Layla, beside him, kept her composure, pulling arrow after arrow from her quiver. Meanwhile, the burly warrior at the center of their defensive line roared, cleaving down any cultist unlucky enough to break through one of the side entrances. He fought with a wild abandon that was almost terrifying to watch, cutting down enemies as if his fury alone fueled him.

‘Considering their numbers, perhaps this plan would’ve been better… if we were going up the stairs instead’

Aburdon muttered from within Rusty’s armor. There were far more cultists than any of them had anticipated. It was clear that they would have likely been overwhelmed if they had attempted to push deeper into the lair. A small army of robed figures was advancing, and for every cultist they killed, two more seemed to take their place. Eventually, the cultists even began using the bodies of their fallen as shields, pushing forward and slamming against the barricades.

“Layla, keep shooting - here, use my arrows.” 

Rusty handed her the rest of his arrows while sprinting to the side. This wasn’t looking good. The barricade was close to breaking, and he could see cultists preparing to force their way through. Anticipating this, Rusty had set a halberd nearby for just this occasion, ready to wield it with his polearm passive. As he passed the arrows to Layla, she nodded in thanks and turned her focus back to the oncoming horde. Rusty lunged forward, driving his halberd into a cultist attempting to squeeze through a gap in the barricade.

He thrust forward with his weapon, putting every ounce of strength into the blow and forcing the cultist backward. But as soon as he pushed one enemy back, another took its place, and the barricade began to give under the relentless assault. Behind him, the rumbling stairs continued to unfold, each stone block sliding into place with agonizing slowness. Time seemed to be slipping through his fingers, but he had no intention of giving up. The cultists moved like a mindless zombie horde, and though his light-based skills wouldn’t work here, he had other options.

After driving his polearm into one of the cultists and shoving with all his might, he managed to create a small gap in the barricade. Moving quickly, he reached into his new spatial satchel and pulled out a yellowish potion he had carefully prepared for emergencies like this. He flung it through the opening he’d created, and as it collided with one of the cultists on the other side, a massive burst of flames erupted, spreading outward and igniting the hooded figures nearby.

“ARGHHhh…”

The evil god worshipers started screaming as the flames roared to life, illuminating the corridor in a blinding blaze. The potion Rusty had thrown was a middle-grade blaze potion, meant for desperate situations. Cultists writhed in agony, their robes engulfed, some dropping to the floor in a futile attempt to smother the flames. The intense heat created a temporary barrier as the burning figures fell into one another, slowing the cultists’ advance for precious moments.

“They are retreating!”

Rusty informed his allies as his potion ignited the main path, creating a wall of fire just as the alchemist had promised. Even if doused with water, the flames would keep burning for a solid few minutes. With the main path blocked, they could now focus on defending the two side passages, where the berserker warrior was holding his ground with fierce swings of his axe. 

Despite the temporary reprieve from Rusty's potion, the cultists pressed forward, relentless in their assault. The flames cast long, flickering shadows across the blood-spattered walls, the smell of burning flesh filling the air. As the cultists began to spill in from the side passages, the berserker warrior roared, cleaving down two with a single swing of his axe, and it seemed to be enough to stem the tide.

Layla and Rusty now focusing on the side passages were able to help and push back the advancing madmen. Eventually, Rusty was even able to resemble some of the barricades back into place, holding back the enemies that were trying to enter through the narrower side paths. Things were looking well for this haphazardly thrown-together party but from within the main corridor, more trouble was approaching. 

They heard it - a deep, guttural chanting from somewhere within the cultists’ ranks. The High Priest emerged, his robes billowing like shadows, and in his hand, he wielded an ancient staff carved with runes that glowed an unnatural crimson. His eyes, dark as the void, swept across the burning corridor with calm, calculating malice.

The priest raised his staff high, his voice booming with a harsh incantation. The flames from Rusty's potion seemed to flicker and warp as if affected by some unseen force. The cultists around him writhed in ecstasy as he chanted, and an unsettling energy pulsed outward, rolling over the barricades like a dark tide. Suddenly, the flames dimmed and died, leaving only smoldering embers in their wake. The High Priest had somehow quelled the blaze, and with the last flicker of flame extinguished, he pointed his staff toward Rusty and his companions.

"Enough games, bring the sacrifices back, the lord of blood demands it!"

The priest shouted, his voice dripping with disdain, and with a swift motion, slammed his staff to the ground. A crimson wave of energy surged forward, crashing into the barricades and blasting debris across the room. To make matters worse, the red energy that seeped from the spell enveloped the other cultists, triggering an eerie transformation. Despite their wounds - from cuts, arrows, or burns - they staggered to their feet once more. Their eyes turned cloudy, blood seeping from their sockets, and dark veins bulged across their skin as they advanced with unnatural vigor.

The eerie transformation of the cultists sent a chill down Rusty's nonexistent spine. Their bodies began mutating into grotesque, inhuman forms, covered in cancerous-looking lesions. Blood dripped from their open wounds, yet somehow they continued to move forward. The wounds seemed to pulse with a strange, crimson energy, as if it were sustaining them despite the damage.

‘That’s a blood frenzy curse! We need to retreat! Those things are much worse than regular zombies.’

Aburdon warned Rusty and he took it to heart. It was clear that he was out of his league if he tried to face them head-on. The cursed cultists were in a state that defied reason - stumbling forward with twisted limbs and blood-seeped eyes, oblivious to pain or fear. Layla’s face paled as she saw the horrific transformation, but she didn’t falter; she raised her bow, and lodged one of her arrows right into one of those bloodshot eyes.

“...”

To her surprise, the transformed cultist didn’t even flinch as if his body was unable to register the pain. Instead, he roared out in annoyance and started charging forward. The High Priest remained in the back as if he was waiting for them to fall into despair, his dark eyes glinting with satisfaction as he watched the scene unfold

“We need to retreat. Gleam do it now!”

“( ง '̀ - '́ ) ง”

Rusty wasn’t about to die here. What time they had bought for the prisoners would have to be enough as he needed to retreat to save himself. He’d learned long ago that a backup plan was essential, and he had two: an expensive incendiary potion and his partner. Although she had used up her magic energy earlier, Gleam could recharge it quickly. He had told her to gather her mana and prepare a powerful spell. Mages could make spells stronger by chanting longer and steadily adding more mana to them. Rusty had learned of this trick’s existence since coming to the city, and now he wanted to see just how powerful Gleam’s mana bolt could get.

Instead of targeting the advancing monsters, Gleam aimed her spell at the ceiling near the chamber entrance. Her antennae glowed with a fierce blue light as she gathered mana, forming a pulsating orb of energy above her head. With a deep breath, she braced her tiny form, aimed, and launched the spell. The force of the recoil was too much for her small ant body, and she was flung back against a nearby wall. Fortunately, Rusty was ready as he quickly scooped her up onto his shoulder, and together, they began their escape.

The mana bolt surged forward, crackling as it collided with the stone ceiling, erupting in a flash of light and sound that shook the entire chamber. With a thunderous boom, the ceiling above the cultists shattered, sending massive chunks of stone crashing down. Dust and debris filled the air, obscuring their enemies from view, and for a brief moment, everything went silent. When the dust began to settle, Rusty could see that several of the transformed cultists had been crushed or pinned beneath the heavy stones. Their twisted, bloodshot eyes glared up at him, still filled with a frenzied hatred even as they struggled to free themselves from the rubble.

The High Priest, unharmed and standing behind the fallen stones, looked up, his expression no longer calm and composed. His eyes narrowed, clearly annoyed by the disruption, but he quickly raised his staff, a surge of crimson energy gathering at its tip. He was preparing another spell, one that the group on the other side wasn’t willing to wait for.

"Back, we need to go back!”

This time it was Layla who shouted in panic, fear tightening her voice as she pulled Rusty back with her. Rusty glanced at the High Priest one last time, realizing they’d bought themselves only seconds. The priest’s crimson energy gathered and crackled ominously, casting blood-red shadows along the walls. However, between them and the High Priest stood that man Rusty had saved, his eyes unwavering.

“There you are, you damn bastard, I will tear you apart!”

Rusty wasn’t entirely sure what was happening, as he knew it was possible to fall back to the stairs and use the narrow entrance as a defense. If they could, they could even try to collapse the doorway behind them to buy more time. Yet, for some reason, the man beside them refused to retreat. Instead, he charged at the High Priest, hurling the iron axe Rusty had crafted just as the priest was about to finish his spell. Instead of trying to retreat, the man decided to face the man alone.

‘This is our chance, Rusty! We have to flee!’

Aburdon called to him. Rusty took one last look at the berserker before turning away, ready to make his escape. Both he and Layla sprinted without looking back. He wasn’t sure what the man was doing but it didn’t seem to be a noble sacrifice but instead a grudge he had with that High Priest. Layla’s breathing was ragged beside him, she didn’t seem to have much more stamina left, something he didn’t need to worry about.

Gleam clung tightly to Rusty’s shoulder, her silvery exoskeleton still faintly glowing from the magic she’d just unleashed, though her energy reserves were clearly low. Rusty could feel her tiny body tremble against his neck, exhausted but still alert, antennae twitching as if sensing the danger that loomed just behind them.

They reached the stairway just as the final blocks locked into place, a soft glow signaling that the mechanism had completed its cycle. Many of the prisoners were already partway up the stairs, having climbed in desperation even before they were fully formed. Now, with the High Priest having turned every cultist into a bloodthirsty beast, panic was setting in, and they scrambled upward in sheer terror.

“Up, quickly!”

Rusty urged the injured forward, pushing them up the steps. Layla assisted as well, steadying the weaker prisoners as they limped upward. He didn’t really care to aid anyone as he wasn’t even part of any of their races. If his true form was discovered, it was more than possible that these people would treat him as if he were part of those cultists. In truth, his only real friend here was Gleam, and his primary goal was reaching the top.

“Mr. Albert, there are probably going to be some guards waiting up ahead, I’ll leave them to you!”

It seemed that his temporary acquaintance Layla misinterpreted his actions but his only care was to get up and finally, escape this predicament together with Gleam.

"Understood" 

Rusty replied with a curt nod, though he had no idea how he’d handle any guards waiting above. His skills were best suited to dark, confined spaces - not open battlegrounds where he’d likely be outnumbered. But he had little choice and moved forward, though a strange feeling of conflict nagged at him. The smart move would be to leave these people behind, use them as shields against the guards, and make his escape. He didn’t owe them anything, and he certainly didn’t expect any of them to risk their lives for his.

His metallic steps echoed against the rocky stairs that wound in a spiraling ascent. The injured people clung to the side walls, allowing him to move quickly through the middle. When he glanced up, he could see a faint light shining through, and it appeared that the cultist guards stationed above had been alerted to their presence. Ahead, he spotted one of the former prisoners, now armed with one of his weapons, charging forward with a few others following close behind.

‘That’s the exit. I’m almost there, but what now?’

He was nearly free, Gleam perched alertly on his shoulder. The exit to this underground lair of madmen lay just ahead - just a few more steps, and he’d be free. But would it really end so easily? He was unsure but either way, today he and his friend would be free and would be able to face this strange word together.