Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 148 – Floor 13: Part 9

That night, Daphne witnessed horrors that would stay with her forever. The things the Shamans did, what they were capable of doing to not only the humans they were fighting but the Demi-Beast members of their own tribe, kept her from sleeping.

Waves of corrupting magic that would etch stone like acid drain the life from the environment, and any unfortunate soul unlucky enough to be caught in its path swept through the battlefield and crashed against the wall like an ocean wave.

Necromancers raised the dead and used them as weapons against the living. Accumulated Aether was driven into the bodies of the Demi-Beasts without regard to the consequence or pain it caused, turning them into twisted, hulking mutations with additional limbs and no thoughts beyond killing.

Against this onslaught of nightmares, the human defenders atop the wall faced them with spears, crossbows and a continuing bombardment of cannon fire that tore the ground apart. But their losses were shocking even with all of their training, organization, and protection of the high, magic-enhanced wall.

Daphne watched her comrades being torn apart by claws and teeth, devoured alive by monsters and the summoned dead. Even the mage students were not spared. The Shamans seemed to be unusually focused on their location, sending their magics against them in an attempt to wipe them out.

Daphne and her fellow mages sent fire and lightning back in response, and the air above the wall was filled with explosions. Magic collided and was countered. It was as beautiful as it was deadly.

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When the sun finally rose, it was to utter silence that was only broken by the occasional moan from the injured and the dying. Healers walked amongst rows of humans, using their magics and gods' powers to heal and help ease their suffering.

There were no Demi-Beasts left; they had died to the last, along with the Shamans that led them. It hadn’t been the mages that succeeded in killing them; it had taken a cadre of Knights to eliminate that threat.

Covered in sweat and feeling more tired than she had ever recalled being in her entire life, Daphne sat on the stone steps that led to the castle and leaned against the frigid walls. She stared over the battlements at the destruction.

The pristine green field was gone, replaced by ground that looked as if giant sections had been scooped out. The mud had a reddish tinge, and the ground couldn’t soak up all the blood, leaving it in puddles around the bodies.

There were so many of them. They were everywhere, some intact, but many of them were in pieces. Daphne was numb to the violence; her stomach had long since been emptied, and she didn’t think she would ever feel the desire to eat again.

In a distant section of the wall, workers were already picking up stones and repairing a large gap that had been broken into the barrier. That had been caused by a massive undead monster, an unholy amalgamation of bodies that reeked of death and Aether.

It had taken Aiden’s direct intervention to stop it. The Prince had used a single strike from Excalibur to put an end to its attack, a mana-infused slash that had split the monster in half. It had also inspired the troops to resist, stiffening the defences.

Now, the troops garrisoned here looked at Prince Aiden with near worship. They believed he was capable of anything, and maybe he was. Daphne wasn’t sure of the limits of the imposter Prince’s strength. Every time she thought she knew his threshold, he would pull back another layer and surprise her.

“How are you?” Alfred asked as he came down the steps. He looked better; his skin wasn’t so pale, and he seemed slightly less frail. It appeared the Aether in the air helped his constitution.

“Tired. I’m more worried about you.” Daphne replied as she looked up at her friend. Alfred had been with Aiden all night, practically tied to the man’s hip. The False Prince took his duty to protect Alfred seriously, not letting him out of his sight during the battle.

She had thought it was foolish to expose him to so much danger. Aiden had walked the wall the entire night. While others commanded the defenders and the Knights, Aiden had ultimate command and hadn’t stayed safely behind the castle’s walls.

He had been in the thick of it, dragging Alfred along with him.

In retrospect, Alfred was probably in the safest position of them all, considering Aiden’s power.

“I’m worried about all of us. I thought I knew what to expect, but this is unimaginable. There’s no way to mentally prepare for this.” Alfred said as he sat down on the stone step next to her, and he gestured vaguely toward the battlefield.

Army troops had begun to collect the bodies into piles, using horses, mules and oxen to haul them by cart to large pyres already burning from collected peat and coal.

Mages held in reserve, and part of the regular garrison followed behind, filling in the holes with conjured earth or smoothing out the soil. They wanted a clear line of sight for when the next group of Demi-Beasts arrived.

“Aiden seems unaffected. I saw him last night, watching the fighting. I don’t know if he has any emotions at all; his eyes were as dead as those bodies out there.” Daphne muttered. She drew her cloak closer around her body against a sudden cold wind that came down from the north.

“He talked to me last night. I think I know why he wasn’t shaken up about the battle. He’s seen a lot worse. I can’t imagine what kind of hellscapes and horrors he’s seen for him not to bat an eye at what happened last night.” Alfred explained.

“I don’t want to go north, Alfred. Not with him at the head of the army.” Daphne confessed, and Alfred gave her a small, understanding smile.

“Not so eager to have him teach you his magic?” Alfred teased in an attempt to cheer her up. Daphne snorted and shook her head.

“He can keep it if it means I have to go through more of this.” Daphne replied.

“Good, you’ve learned an important lesson. Nothing comes for free in this life, especially when the gods are involved.” A familiar voice spoke from the top of the stairs behind them. They both turned to see ‘Aiden’ walking down the steps.

The man who claimed his brother’s identity was still wearing armour. He wore it like he was born in it, further solidifying the image he had of a combat veteran. Aiden was peeling an apple with a nearly foot-long knife that had the tell-tale glow of a magical item. Popping a piece into his mouth, he chewed it as he sat down next to the pair.

“You’re right; last night wasn’t that bad compared to some of the places I’ve been. The number of casualties is still coming in, but it looks like it was only one in fifteen that died. I expected it to be higher, to be honest. I figure that by the time we’re ready to march north, we’ll have lost one in ten.” Aiden described it nonchalantly, and Daphne stood up in anger.

“How can you be so callous! These are people’s lives you’re talking about! They have families and friends, and you’re talking about them like they are just numbers or objects!” Daphne shouted. Alfred winced at her tone of voice.

Aiden was powerful enough, both physically and politically, that he could punish her quite easily if he wanted to. But, as always, Aiden showed little reaction to her outburst. He treated her disrespect like he did most things, with casual indifference.

He kept peeling his apple, cutting off small pieces and popping them into his mouth as Daphne’s anger slowly faded, replaced by the chill of knowing she had just yelled at someone incredibly dangerous.

“Where I’m from, or rather, in the places I’ve been, we sometimes earn titles. They’re sort of like nicknames, or maybe you could call them monikers. They can tell you a little about a person before you even meet them.” Aiden described. His knife didn’t stop peeling, and soon there was nothing left but the core. He threw it over the side of the battlement before continuing.

“Anyway, you usually have to be someone really good or bad to earn a title. Not every person can just give themselves a moniker and have it stick. It’s the kind of thing that even the gods are aware of, it becomes a part of you.” Aiden stood up and looked down at Daphne, his blue eyes locked onto hers, and, for a moment, she could imagine the sorts of horrors this man had seen.

“I can be so callous about those men and women dying because I’ve seen much worse, time and time again. I earned the title ‘The Enduring’ because, unlike here, where only one in fifteen died, I survived battles where I was the only survivor. Over and over and over again. There was just me and fields of the dead.” Aiden turned away, and Daphne sagged in relief to be away from his gaze.

“If you want to ‘Endure’ like I did, you should start looking at them as numbers and objects as well. Or, even if you do survive, you’ll lose your sanity. It’s easier to move on when you force yourself to not care.”

With that sentence lingering in the air, Aiden left them.