Chapter 77

  The first artillery salvo aimed at the enemy reinforcements flew into the air. Reinos’ Second Battalion was just about to engage them at range on Acheron-side, and Styx-side had maybe twenty seconds before they’d have to do the same. The long column of the second wave of Riaret’s army, along with the civilian crafters, had just reached the edge of Camp Colosseum; the first wave was in control of the camp, so I wasn’t worried about any trouble from within. It was the two minotaur generals and their high-level posses that posed the real problem. Riaret had sworn blind she could handle them on her side, she had insisted on it in fact, which left the other side for me and Reinos, but probably just me. It was time; with rifle in hand and the beginnings of a prayer in my heart to no particular deity, I called out to my feline familiar.

  ‘Mickey! Now!’

  Just as it had before, the world around me — the western wall, the spotter almost next to me — vanished in the blink of an eye, and I found myself in the same, dark emptiness that had scared me the first time. This time, however, I knew I wasn’t in danger, in fact, I had come to think of being immaterialised and thrust into whatever this transitional dimension was as quite safe. It didn’t last long though; after a couple of seconds and a faint “meow” from my cat, physical reality fell back into place, or rather, I fell back into physical reality, landing on my feet from a height of about half a metre. I levelled my rifle immediately, even before I could get my bearings, focusing on the targeting and zoom screen on my NeuroHUD display, turning around to check my surroundings. And what a violent, chaotic scene it was.

  In front of me, some fifty metres ahead, Camp Styx burned in a fashion befitting the classic image of Hell — charred bodies and structures feeding the flames and becoming ashes. On my left, not too far, Camp Colosseum was its own special hell, where the concerted efforts of a blazing inferno and an army of fire and ice-demons had made sure this was the last day amongst the living for all occupants. I turned to my left to see the fiery murder-field that concerned me, where an enemy army was hell bent on chasing Reinos and his guys down. I was a little bit amused that I had got here before the first salvo of my artillery regiment. The minotaur general was about eighty metres from me and rushing ahead along the back of Camp Styx. Behind him, right in the middle of a sea of soldiers distracted and slowed down by a giant office lady explaining stuff about holographic projectors, the salvo of flameslime-jars finally caught up with me and landed. The result was awe-inspiring, but it also gave me the shivers. Even the minotaur general stopped and looked back to see his army going up in flames as pots crashed and shattered, indiscriminately splashing fire on his people. And the show wasn’t over; just as the second salvo of incendiary goodness rose into the air from behind the city walls, I spotted Reinos’ guys, splitting into squads, going around and unleashing all sorts of spells and Hell-Mana infused arrows at the minotaur masses, while keeping a safe distance.

  The image of the office lady began to flicker and fade — it seemed the projector hadn’t avoided a dose of the flameslime, and it wasn’t as immune to damage as the adverts would have you believe — and it looked like the minotaur general was of a mind to turn around and attack Reinos’ First Battalion instead of going for the camp behind me.

  It was a good thing the general was seemingly abandoning Camp Colosseum, which was the entire goal of the distraction. As far as I was concerned distance was my friend, the farther away from me the better, but I couldn’t have Reinos and his guys be slaughtered by an enemy combatant who outclassed them by a large margin.

  ‘Oh no, you don’t!’ I grumbled under my helmet as I aimed my rifle at the bovine bastard.

  ‘Let’s go get’im!’ Burning Darkness yelled into my mind.

  ‘Meow!’ Mickey encouraged the idea.

  I had no objections; I steadied my aim, zooming in on the enemy general, the targeting reticule right on his armoured back. I pulled the trigger, and boom! Eighty metres wasn’t all that far in terms of making the shot, and the three-round burst hit the high-level enemy’s back; sparks flew as my Hell-Mana infused flechettes made contact with the armour plate. The guy stumbled forward … but he didn’t fall. Damn! He stopped and spun around, spotting me instantly. Well, as the old saying went: if one shot’s not enough, shoot again. So, I did. Another three-round burst left my rifle with a loud boom, slamming into the minotaur general’s breastplate. Sparks flew again, and this time I realised they weren’t the natural variety: it was Hell-Mana. The general’s armour, a bonded piece of equipment without a doubt, was seriously reinforced with the magical substance from his soul. The guy faltered, but didn’t fall, instead, after getting his balance back, he decided I was worthy of his attention, abandoned Reinos and his forces and began to sprint towards me. What the hell was this guy?

  ‘This asshole is high-level,’ Burning Darkness commented.

  ‘About 43?’ I asked, based on the vague sense I was getting from him at this distance.

  ‘More like 45. And his armour’s no joke either. Keep shooting, my man!’

  I followed my sword’s recommendation, keeping my aim at the enemy general and kept pulling the trigger, burst after burst slamming into him — his torso, his arms, his legs — magic sparks flying all over the guy. He was getting close, and I was beginning to think I might be in trouble. The general was as fast as one would expect from such a high-level individual — he had left his captains in the dust to charge at me by himself — but his speed was something I could match for a short time if I exerted myself and pushed my SAC a bit. But being virtually bullet-proof? That was unexpected. The only one who had survived getting shot had been none other than the Third Ring’s king, at least so far, but this general might just make it to the number two spot on that list.

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  I switched my rifle to full auto. Getting into another duel or challenge like last time was out of the question; I had barely survived that last general, so I simply couldn’t let this one reach me. Luckily, unlike last time, I had clear line of sight to him. I pulled the trigger and kept my finger on it. I emptied the mag in seconds, my SAC’s stabilisation keeping the rifle on target and largely negating the recoil, the rounds hitting and sparkling against the minotaur general’s plates, but the guy was just barrelling towards me like a runaway fireworks rocket on Coria’s Victory Day parade — with a giant, serrated sword in hand. Even against the hail of Hell-Mana infused flechettes, he closed the distance in those few seconds. My rifle clicked empty, and he was about fifteen metres from me. I dropped the empty mag, summoning a full one from my storage as fast as I could, slamming it into the receiver and … I didn’t need to pull the trigger again.

  The huge bovine demon of the Third Ring collapsed face first, his black blood seeping through a dozen holes on his body, his gigantic sword clattering onto the ground next to him. He was still alive — I would have received the usual “you have defeated xyz” notification from the Genius — but it didn’t look like he was going to get up. Thank all the gods for JTEC Armaments Corporation and the wonderful ammunition they manufactured!

  ‘Is this it? Come on! This is disappointing.’ Burning Darkness cried out in my mind.

  ‘Meow.’ Mickey commented.

  ‘I don’t want to hear that from you, you furry soul-muncher!’ the sword protested.

  ‘He’s got a point,’ I said, agreeing with my cat familiar.

  ‘Well, that aside, the guy is still alive,’ he shared his observations.

  It was somewhat of a surprise, to be honest; a full magazine, seventy rounds total, and the level 45 minotaur general, protected by a no doubt high-level bonded armour, was not yet dead. I supposed there could come a point in one’s progress in levelling when even a few armour piercing flechettes wouldn’t be too much of a threat, unless supplied in bulk.

  The minotaur general managed to lift his head up a little, just enough for me to see the hateful glare he was trying to send me while attempting to crawl forward, the dry ground drinking his blood greedily. I knew I had to dispatch the guy, but perhaps due to my human sensibilities, I felt some distaste at killing someone who was already down and not a direct threat. But even injured and as close to death as he was, he was still a general, and I was sure he could still issue orders to his captains, and I couldn’t have that. Burning Darkness probably sensed my momentary hesitation, and said,

  ‘What are you waiting for, my man? Use me! Cut the bastard to ribbons! That’s a lot of EXP right there, so start channelling your inner Riaret and get on with it!’

  ‘Right. Inner Riaret. Got it,’ I mumbled just to myself as I put my rifle back to its slot and drew Burning Darkness.

  I walked over to the half-dead general and stood above him, the boots of my SAC half a metre from his head. From this close, I could see the many, many holes in his armour plates covering his torso and his arms — I had thoroughly perforated the guy, and it was a wonder how his levels were keeping him alive.

  The general grunted and spat blood as he made the effort to roll onto his back, heaving and coughing, but his eyes glowing with all the resentment and hostility the Third Ring could offer.

  ‘You … are that … champion,’ he panted the words at me as I was looking down at his horned, bull-like head.

  ‘I am,’ I stated.

  [Lord, several enemy captains broke away from us, taking a few hundred of their soldiers with them and heading your way.]

  Reinos’ warning popped up on my NeuroHUD.

  ‘Acknowledged,’ I said to him via the RMS. I took a glance at the smoky, fiery battle taking place a few hundred metres from me at the back of Camp Styx, and I looked down at the general again. ‘Your soldiers can’t help you.’

  ‘No. But I can,’ he wheezed the words, and at the same time I felt a sudden surge of Hell-Mana from him. A spell? A skill? A last-ditch effort to inflict some harm on me? I didn’t wait to find out: I slammed Burning Darkness down, driving the magical blade into the minotaurs throat until it hit the ground on the other side. The quickly gathering Hell Mana dissipated in an instant, and a deathly gurgle and a message on my NeuroHUD signalled the end of the enemy general.

  [You have defeated minotaur general, level 45. You receive EXP.]

  [EXP requirement for level 18 and level 19 (Human, sort of) reached. Do you wish to level up?]

  [Alternatively:]

  [EXP requirement for level 24 (Machine Armaments of the Hellfire Lord) reached. Do you wish to level up?]

  ‘Ahhh, finally’ Burning Darkness sighed loudly as I pulled him out of the general’s neck, black blood dripping from his sharp edges. It was the kind of satisfied sigh one could only expect from someone who had figured out and fulfilled his purpose in life. Which he probably had: skewering foes.

  ‘Happy?’ I asked him.

  ‘A little,’ he said.

  Well, regardless of my sword’s level of job satisfaction, I was a little bit excited myself: the general’s life was worth not one but two levels for my comparably low-level human self, or one level for my bonded item set. In any case, I was glad I hadn’t been forced into a duel of to-the-death melee with this guy; I doubted I could have won.

  ‘Alright, time to get out of here. Mickey? Are we ready for a Kitty-cat jump back to the city?’

  ‘Meow!’ he said, and I brought up the map to pick our destination.

  [Lord, from what we can see the column of the second wave is heading from the camp to the Path.]

  Reinos reported.

  ‘Okay, that’s good. Prepare to disengage and either disperse or get to the rear-guard position as soon as they’re through. I’ll tell Riaret to do the same.’ I said, and I reached out to my hot-headed general.

  And I didn’t get a reply or even an acknowledgement.

  [Uhm, there is a problem.]

  Reinos messaged.

  ‘Of course there is,’ I sighed. ‘What is it?’

  [General Riaret has just told me I was a “good son after all” and said goodbye.]

  ‘I … what?’

  [She is in trouble, my Lord. She’s never said anything like that to me. And she wouldn’t unless she was about to die.]

  ‘Oh shit! Where is she?’ I swore and I focused on the map as Reinos’ captains in Second Battalion updated him on what they could see. He marked the area where he thought the impulsive, cat-loving general would be.

  ‘Meow?’ Mickey asked.

  ‘Yes. Change of plans.’