Chapter 211 - Unstoppable Force (Patreon)

Zeke stood atop the wall walk, watching the approaching army of undead, an unreadable expression on his face. He was of two minds on the upcoming battle. On the one hand, he hated that it was necessary. People were going to die, regardless of how well their plans went. And given the chaos of any battle, the death toll would likely land in the hundreds, if not thousands. He would have spared them, if he could.

But on the other hand, he itched for the fight. He’d tested himself against the undead before, and even against the weaker zombies, the sheer numbers had forced him to retreat into Tucker’s tower. Then, when Micayne and the other, more powerful unliving creatures had joined the fray, he and the others had had no choice but to turn tail and run away. Even that would have been impossible if not for the distraction provided by the caprids. And Zeke desperately wanted a rematch.

With that desire, though, came guilt. His impending rematch was going to cost people their lives. It was inevitable. So, what kind of monster did that make him if he was looking forward to it? That he was excited? He didn’t want to think about the implications of his emotions too deeply, so he shoved them aside and focused on what he needed to do. Thankfully, his part of the plan was simple. When the horde came within range of Jariq’s ranged defenders, he was supposed to hop down off the wall and challenge the biggest, most powerful creature he could find.

Which was going to be Abdul Rumas.

The former paladin had, according to Talia, changed quite a bit when he’d been taken by Micayne. Before, Rumas had been a large man who could grow much larger with the help of one of his skills. However, after being converted into one of the unliving, that transformation had become permanent, leaving him nearly the size of one of the Jotuns, albeit much broader across the shoulders and chest. That size was further enhanced by his bulky armor – once silver, but now blackened steel.

Even from so far away, Zeke could tell that, since his previous encounter with the turned paladin, Rumas had grown much stronger. Never was that more apparent than when he focused on the towering figure at the head of the undead army:

Abdul Rumas, Champion of the Dead – Level 25 (B)

“That’ll do,” he muttered. He wanted a challenge, and it looked a lot like Rumas could give him one. Zeke was under no delusions that his fight against the monarch-tier fireback turtle had been representative of his real power. Like had been the case against the fire ants, he had been immune to the monster’s most powerful abilities. What’s more, the thing was so big that, once he reached the shell, there wasn’t a lot it could do about his attacks. Sure, it had broken out a bit of a surprise when the creatures had crawled out of its shell to defend it, but those had been more annoying than true threats. It almost felt like he’d cheated his way to that kill, which might have been why the Framework hadn’t deigned to reward him for it, aside from an influx of experience that had pushed him closer to level twenty-four.

Rumas, though, would be different. As far as Zeke knew, he wasn’t immune to the former paladin’s abilities, and he expected it would prove to be a mostly even match-up. Maybe it would give him a chance to truly stretch his own skills and abilities, perhaps even advancing them in some way.

When the horde was only a mile away, Zeke donned his armor, pulling each piece from his storage space before affixing it into position. Without having to deal with straps and buckles like most armor, it only took a couple of minutes before everything was in place. Finally, he slipped his helmet over his head. Like the first armor set he’d gotten back in Beacon, the helmet had been enchanted in such a way as to allow for unobstructed vision. But in the desert heat, it was still uncomfortable. Soon, sweat started to drip down his face.

“Wish endurance and my fire immunity came with a tolerance for this heat,” he grumbled, summoning his mace.

He looked down at the bone-hafted weapon, his eyes tracing the runes along its shaft. They’d grown progressively more complex over the previous couple of months, but he’d yet to discern any difference in the weapon’s utility. However, one thing he did notice was that, in the past week or so, the head of the mace had also transformed. Instead of four equal prongs jutting from the weapon’s head, two of them had grown by a few inches in every dimension. The perpendicular knobs had, in turn, flattened out, giving the head of the mace an almost hammer-like look.

Zeke had no idea what to make of the transformation, but it didn’t really affect anything. Besides, regardless of what form the mace took, its functionality made it irreplaceable.

“You should let us soften them up before you go,” said Ahmed, who was standing beside Zeke. “That monster is dangerous.”

“I can handle dangerous,” Zeke said. “You and your people should focus on the giants. I’ll hit Rumas. And whatever happens, don’t stop until I come back. Even without the leader, that horde could swarm these walls in a heartbeat. Believe me when I say that you don’t want that.”

“I will not argue with that assessment.”

“The healers in position? We don’t want anyone turning,” Zeke said. Indeed, that was his worst nightmare. Jariq had a diverse population with a variety of skills represented, but the Church of Purity had never established a foothold in the mostly lawless city. As such, healers were at a premium. And even worse, not every healer had access to a skill that could cure the disease that would, eventually, turn anyone affected into one of the undead. Because of that, the strategists had been forced to spread the healers out so that they could hope to treat anyone unlucky enough to contract that disease.

But Zeke knew that if the undead reached the walls, those healers would soon be overwhelmed and run out of mana, especially if they were expected to perform triage as well. It was one of the reasons Zeke wanted to end the threat as quickly as possible by spearheading the fight outside the walls, even if common logic said to turtle up and endure the siege for as long as they could.

As they drew closer, Zeke rolled his shoulders. He felt good, and not just because he was excited about testing himself. In addition, he’d actually had a little time to rest. To recover. And for all that the threats against him had increased, so had his ability to combat both the threats themselves and the aftermath. His recovery times were growing faster each time he pushed himself to his limits.

Even so, he wanted nothing more than a few more months to dive into [Heart of the Berserker] and adjust the skill to the point it didn’t cripple him the moment he let it fade. It would be an incredibly complicated bit of runecrafting, but he felt confident that, with enough time, he could make some headway in the skill. That was a worry for another time, though. For now, he had a fight to focus on.

The horde of undead drew to a stop when they reached a spot a little less than a hundred yards from the wall. It was well within range of some of the adventurers upon the wall walk, but they held their skills at bay. Instead, they waited. After a few moments, Ahmed said, “At least they didn’t surround us.”

“They’re not trying to siege the city,” Zeke stated. “They want to punch through and convert as many people as they can. This isn’t a normal war.”

“No war is normal,” said the captain of the guard.

Zeke shook his head but he didn’t reply. The man was far too entrenched in thinking about the attackers in human terms. These were monsters, and what’s worse, they had the means to convert the defenders to their side. And even worse than that was the reality that the walls couldn’t hold. Not before the Jotuns. Not when tested by Abdul Rumas. Faced with that, the walls would crumble, offering no more than a slight delay.

“I think it’s just about that time,” Zeke said. Then, he took a deep breath before hopping off the nearly forty-foot wall. He landed with a thud that sent sand and shattered rock billowing into the air. He wasted no time before striding out of the cloud, activating his various skills along the way.

The first – and arguably, most important – was [Life Scythe]. For now, he limited it to the version he associated with the skill’s previous iteration, [Leech Strike], which would drain his enemies with each successful attack. But he was ready to send the more recent version of the skill arcing at the undead monsters at a moment’s notice. Like Talia, they had no pool of vital energy to call upon if injured, but their bodies were still suffused with the stuff. He intended to take that from them, one swing at a time.

Next came [Heart of the Berserker], sending a jolt of power through his muscles. Even with his high stats, the difference was noticeable, and he reveled in his strength. Under that skill’s influence, every passing minute would see his endurance crippled. However, because of his [Armor of the Juggernaut], which synergized perfectly with the skill, it would simultaneously increase the armor’s durability. It wasn’t as good as fixing the skill, but it allowed him to use the [Heart of the Berserker] without worrying about being killed by a stray blow.

Then, he stilled his mind and embraced his martial path. When he did, green light shone through the red mist of [Life Scythe] clouding his hands and weapon. To top it off, he let his racial ability loose, sending arcing black lightning through the red mist. He still didn’t quite understand his ability to flay souls, but he knew that it caused his enemies untenable pain. Hopefully, it would affect the undead and at least distract Rumas to some degree.

Finally, he held [Unleash Momentum] on the edge of activation. He had been letting the skill, which stored momentum from his every movement, build for quite some time. With all of that force, Zeke felt certain that he could take Rumas out. But he didn’t want to do that – not at first, at least. Instead, he wanted to see if he could stand toe-to-toe with a boss-tier monster. If he couldn’t he held his most powerful skill in reserve, but he didn’t want to use it unless absolutely necessary.

All of that, he did within the time it took to take two steps, so when he cleared the cloud of dust, he was completely ready for battle. It was a good thing, too, because it was at that moment that Pudge let him know that his companions had begun their own attack. They were holding up their end of the bargain, so it was time for him to do the same.

Zeke picked up the pace, his footsteps thudding against the hard-packed sand of the desert, as he jogged toward the enemy’s frontlines. More specifically, he aimed for Abdul Rumas, the so-called Champion of the Dead. As he closed the distance, the former paladin raised his black steel shield and hefted his monstrous sword. It danced with black energy, announcing the presence of a skill. Zeke had only just noticed it when Rumas raised his sword, aimed it at Zeke, and let loose a bar of black mana that Zeke only narrowly avoided. Behind him, he heard the shouts of the men and women upon the wall followed by the sound of falling sandstone.

He risked a glance back the way he’d come, and he saw that a section of the wall had been destroyed, further supporting his decision to take the fight to the undead horde. Left alone, Rumas would completely destroy the entire wall, giving his troops clear access to the city. Zeke refused to allow that.

His jog became a sprint that was faster than any man or woman on Earth had ever run. Faster than many cars, in fact. He covered the ground in an instant, and when he reached Rumas, he took his mace in both hands and aimed a mighty baseball-style swing at the converted paladin’s right knee.

Zeke’s weapon screamed through the air, propelled with more force than any swing he’d ever unleashed. But the moment before it hit home, Rumas thrust his shield into its path. A huge clang and a shockwave of pure force rang through the battlefield. Zombified humans, giants, and other monsters alike were knocked from their feet. Zeke’s weapon shook in his hand so violently that he very nearly dropped it, and he rebounded from the fallen paladin’s bulwark, skidding backward a handful of feet.

Rumas’s sword descended with world-cleaving force, and Zeke barely had time to dive to the side, narrowly avoiding being split in two. He rolled to his feet, clutching his mace with white-knuckled anticipation mingled with fear. He’d wanted a worthy opponent, and now, at long last, he had found one.

With renewed vigor, he darted forward. Rumas aimed another sword strike at Zeke, aiming to split him at the waist, but Zeke ducked under it, never losing his momentum. An instant later, Zeke’s mace found its way to the undead man’s armored leg. It hit with a loud clang, denting the black steel armor but failing to elicit more than a slight shift in Rumas’s footing. Then, Zeke reeled as a shield took him square in the face, sending him flying across the desert. He hit the hard-packed sand before tumbling to a stop twenty feet away.

“Shit,” he grunted, climbing to his hands and knees.

That’s when the horde surged forward. Zombified Jotuns, elite zombies, and undead monsters raced forward as one, aiming for the breach in the wall.

“Alright, then,” he growled, finding his feet. “Guess we’re going all out.”

Then, he swung his mace, sending a wide arc of hungry, red energy to slice through the charging army of undead. As one, they stumbled as their precious life energy was snatched away. By the time they regained their stride, Zeke was among them, wreaking havoc with his mace.

Ranged attacks – some energy-based, others in the form of arrows or crossbow bolts – fell upon the wave of weakened attackers. Some fell. Others continued on. Zeke kept moving, his mace never ceasing, as he carved a path through the undead creatures. When he caught sight of Rumas once again, he aimed a red blade of energy at him, which took the hulking former paladin by surprise.

“Yeah – we’re not done yet,” Zeke spat before leaping back into action.