Grand Game 434: Ritual Combat (Patreon)

Note from Tom: I know some of you have been anxiously awaiting the next few chapters, but I didn't want to post the fight until I'd written it in full. It's taken three chapters, all of which I'll post in the next few hours after some clean up. Happy reading!

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By the time I reached the dais, everything was set up.

The Ritual Combat Circle had been made to expand by whatever magic it employed, and now, the immense ring of tarnished gold encircled the courtyard. The Skull of Souls had been placed inside, atop the fountain’s broken statue.

The six hundred non-combatants—eager spectators waiting for the show to begin—stood outside the gold border, their feet brushing against its edges. Avery and his four hundred were already inside the Circle, deployed in orderly squads of ten around the western half.

According to Ceruvax, the Circle’s magic would prevent either group of contenders from straying into the other’s half before the combat began.

So, I’ll have the entire eastern hemisphere to myself, I thought wryly.

“Are you sure about this Prime?” Ghost asked, concern threading her voice. She, Nyra, Ceruvax, Regus, the New Havener captains, and the lichs were waiting for me on the dais.

“I am,” I said, as I shook the hands of everyone, genially accepting their well wishes. Reaching Ghost at the end of the line, I went down on one knee and ruffled her fur. “This must be done.”

She exhaled heavily. “Show them no mercy then.”

“I won’t,” I promised. Rising to my feet, I turned to face Ceruvax. “I’m ready.”

He clasped my hand. “You remember what I told you?”

I nodded.

“Then go forth and wreak havoc, Prime,” he said softly. “And may darkness always shelter you.”

I smiled crookedly. This was one battle where I feared the shadows would do me little good. Other than for the fountain itself—which was miserably small—there was nowhere to hide inside the Circle. But I understood Ceruvax’s sentiment, and I inclined my head in acknowledgment.

A moment later, a Game message unfurled in my mind.

Ceruvax, the custodian of the Ritual Combat Circle, has assigned you to team Wolf. Do you accept?

Willing my response to the Adjudicator, I shot the former envoy an inquisitive glance. “What did you name the second team?”

“Scum,” he replied blandly.

Chuckling, I jumped off the dais and approached the circle. I had nearly no preparations to make. The Circle would allow no precast buffs and would prevent any spells or abilities from being used until the battle officially commenced. All my equipment would work normally inside the circle, but I could not fortify myself with enchantments or potions beforehand.

Which suited me more than it did my foes.

All two hundred mages inside the circle were without protective shields, and I could see how nervous they were about that. If I had to guess, the mages—and not just them, everyone else too—would be spending the first few seconds of the battle frantically seeing to their buffs and defenses.

I didn’t intend on bothering with any of that, at least not straight away.

Standing on the outer edge of the circle, I ran my gaze over the aptly named Scum and analyzed them one by one, identifying my targets.

“What’s wrong, Wolf?” someone yelled. “Afraid to enter?”

Not about to be rushed, I paid the heckler no heed. I wasn’t entering the battle blind, of course.

Courtesy of Adriel, Regus, and Farren, I had detailed information on every possessed they deemed a threat, their capabilities, and their weaknesses. Adriel and I had gone over everything extensively during our two-day journey to get here. Of course, we’d not known which particular possessed I’d be facing, nor had we bothered going over the possessed’s physical descriptions, only their names.

Which was why I was standing here now, putting faces to names with analyze.

The Scum, on the other hand, knew far less about my capabilities, and if I knew Avery, he’d probably overstated the extent of his knowledge about me to the two elites.

They would be unprepared. I wouldn’t be.

Completing my analysis, I turned my attention inward. There was one last thing I needed to do—spend my remaining attribute points.

Deception was the key to winning the battle.

There was no way I could go toe-to-toe with four hundred possessed. And my usual strategy of lurking in the shadows would not work either. There were damn few hiding spots in the courtyard.

That, though, did not mean there was nowhere to hide.

Four hundred people made for a sizable group, after all. One big enough to hide in—especially if I was not wearing my own face. All I would need to do was resist detection.

Which is why I threw my thirty new attribute points into Perception.

Your Perception has increased to rank 90. Other modifiers: +4 from items.

I didn’t especially need the added Perception to deceive the Scum. My rank nineteen deception was good enough to defeat the senses of all but a few key individuals—and I’d already marked those for early elimination.

But deception would also be the key to my survival once I left the sector, which was why I needed to train the skill and invest in its governing attribute while I still could.

I set my hands onto the hilts of my sheathed blades. I was finally ready. Let’s do this, I thought and stepped over the Circle’s gold border.

✵ ✵ ✵

You have entered a Ritual Combat Circle. A dampening field is active in this Circle. Your mana, psi, and stamina abilities have been inhibited.

Analyzing contender…

…

…

No active buffs found. No time-limited spells present.

Warning: death in the Circle is final. You will not revive if you fall within its field of effect. Exit the Circle immediately if you do not wish to risk final death.

Ignoring the Game message, I strode deeper into the Circle.

The battle will commence in 1 minute, at which time the dampening field will be deactivated.

Once combat starts, there can be no retreat until a victor is determined. A barrier will be erected around the Circle, preventing outside influences from affecting the battle’s outcome. You have until the start of the combat to retreat if you so wish.

Coming to a halt in the center of my half of the Circle, I bounced lightly on my feet. Most of the warriors facing me had drawn their weapons already. They stood poised on the edge of their side of the circle. Their intent was obvious. Once the clock ran down, they would rush across.

Judging the distance carefully, I drew back. I couldn’t afford to be caught out by an errant charge.

“Look! He’s afraid.”

“Stupid wolf, what was he thinking?”

“He’s mine!”

“Not if I get him first!”

The battle will commence in 30 seconds.

Ignoring the hecklers, I let my gaze rove beyond them. Darius’ people were massing behind the first line of warriors and looked ready to cut them down—a fact not lost on the possessed warriors—causing many to turn about and face the former wolves.

The Scum’s archers and spellcasters had retreated to the far rim of the Circle, and some already had their bows and staffs pointed skyward. I eyed the weapons. They could prove troublesome.

Avery and the two elites were at the center of the casters’ formation. Predictably, Castor’s former protege was sticking close to the pair. The first was a ranger named Whyte, and the second was a sorcerer called Mersk. Only one was a serious threat, though.

The battle will commence in 15 seconds.

It was time to get ready. Lifting my hands from my sword hilts, I set them on the belt strapped across my chest and drew two items.

Then, I crouched down low, waiting.

The battle will commence in 5 seconds.

4…

3…

2…

1…

Fight!

I exploded into motion.

Everyone else did, too.

A wall of sound rolled across the Circle, the twang of a score of bows competing with the chants of mages and the yells of fighters. Half of the possessed warriors hurtled across the ground. The rest held the former wolves at bay. Mages lobbed missiles or whispered furiously. Archers fired arrow after arrow.

Flinging away the stone bottle in my right hand, I rolled across the ground as the missiles hissed across the sky—a sky distorted by the shimmering haze of a protective dome. The Circle’s barrier was in place.

You have ignited a smoke bomb, creating a smoke cloud.

You are hidden.

Dark gray clouds ballooned out from my feet, concealing me from sight, but also obscuring my own vision too. Still, I didn’t need to see.

I had my target’s location fixed with mindsight.

I continued rolling, keeping my motions as erratic as possible while I spun psi. The charging warriors drew closer. But they worried me little. Even the descending projectiles would soon be of no consequence.

The gray cloud I’d created would do more than confound my foes’ attacks, it would distract them, too—and leave them futilely searching for me where I was not.

A heartbeat later, my spell was ready, and I released it.

You have teleported into Whyte’s shadow.

A hostile entity has detected you! You are no longer hidden.

I emerged from the aether behind my target and with my hands already in motion. The ranger spun around, instantly sensing my presence. His longsword came up, ready to fend off a blow.

But it was not a blade I leveled at him. It was a ring.

My right arm darted upward—palm up and facing Whyte—while my left hand opened, dropping the second stone bottle.

Mage’s surprise activated. Spellhold casting released. You have trigger-cast darkness bolt.

You have ignited a smoke bomb, creating a smoke cloud.

Forked tongues of black lighting arced out from my hand at the same time as gray smoke mushroomed up from my feet.

Whyte has failed a magical resistance check! Whyte is stunned. Duration: 6 seconds.

You have critically injured Whyte!

Farren’s tier six spell, kept safe all these days in the ring on my hand, ripped through the ranger’s defenses as if they weren’t there, inflicting pure Force damage and pushing him backward into the billowing cloud.

“He’s here! He’s here!” Avery shrieked. “Get him!”

Ignoring the possessed, I drew ebonheart and advanced. My foe’s chest and hands were a smoking wreck, but he was still very much alive, and he needed to be dealt with.

Mersk’s seeking fireball has hit you. Damage resisted by void armor!

Avery’s scorching ray has missed you.

Garnet’s color spray has missed you.

The second elite’s attack staggered me, but my void armor rebuffed it, and it failed to do any damage. The other attacks, poorly aimed, were likewise ineffective. Nor did I need fear follow-up volleys. Until the dense plumes of smoke were cleared, I was as invisible to the possessed as they were to me.

Still, I knew I had only a few seconds at best.

But that was all the time I needed. Locating the stunned ranger by mindsight, I lunged blindly forward.

You have injured your target.

My first strike found only meaty flesh, but that was alright. It gave me a sense of how my target lay, guiding my second attack.

You have killed Whyte.

“Where is he?” Avery yelled. “Mersk, you see him?”

“Shut up and let me work,” the elite growled. “I need to banish this smoke!”

I rolled off the body, leaving ebonheart buried in the corpse. The black blade was too distinctive to keep carrying around. Rising to my feet, I pulled out two more stone bottles and, without hesitation, flung them toward Avery and Mersk.

You have ignited an acid bomb and a fire bomb.

“He’s after us! Run!”

I didn’t stop lobbing bombs. Deception was the key. But a bit of chaos wouldn’t go amiss either. Pulling out more stone bottles, I threw them in random directions.

You have ignited 4 ice bombs and 3 acid bombs!

“He’s to our right!”

“No, he’s attacking from the left!”

“You fools! You’re both wrong. Retreat and regroup!”

I grinned, listening to the sound of pounding feet—as many were heading blindly in my direction as away from me. My foes were panicking. They’d spent too long as possessed and had grown used to being immortal. Now, faced with the threat of death—real death—they were running scared.

Sadly, it wouldn’t last.

But while it did, I had time to prepare. Removing the Cloak of the Reach, I let it drop to the floor. It, too, was easily recognizable and would have to be left behind. Drawing on my stamina, I wove a spell quickly.

You have cast facial disguise, assuming the visage of Limond, a level 110 human scout. Duration: 3 hours.

My chosen face was that of a nondescript human possessed. He was still alive somewhere in the Circle, but I had his location fixed in my mind, and he wouldn’t remain that way for long.

But first, it was time for me to regroup, too. Pressing the central stud on the belt around my waist, I released its magic.

You have activated the simple mode enchantment of the belt of the chameleon.

Clothes rippled upwards from the artifact to cover my leather armor in sturdy black pants, a white cotton shirt, and a brown duster jacket. Then, affecting the same panicked expression that my fleeing foes would be wearing, I dashed out of the smoke.