Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 161 – Floor 15: Part 7

With the noonday sun directly overhead, the combined forces of Aiden of Anglia and Louis of Francia watched the mine opening nervously as they formed a half circle at the entrance. They were unsure of how many werebeasts would be inside the tunnels; the Ancestral Wererat had made this mine its home for decades.

It was unnerving how quiet everything was. Mathew could hear the shuffling of feet, the nervous tightening of leather gloves as they gripped weapons or soldiers rechecking their rifles. The long, wooden and metal rifles used magical alchemy to propel a round ball engraved with runes with enough power that it could harm a Demi-Beast.

There was no wind, something that Mathew had hoped for as it could cause the fire they were about to create to go out of control. They wanted the flames heading toward the tunnel, not falling back on their lines.

“Milord, we’re ready.” Marten said as he came up behind Mathew. Daphne and Alfred were next to him, ready to use their magic in the coming battle, while Enalious floated above them along with the remaining mages.

Mathew looked to Louis, who confirmed that his own forces had completed their preparations with a small nod. The man had a long, steel blade held in his hands. Made of thin curved metal, the sabre was beautiful and elegant, and it had an ivory handle.

But Mathew didn’t underestimate the sword because of its thinness; it had the glow of magical enhancements around it. The blade left blue streaks in the air as it moved and created a loud, piercing scream as it did so.

Louis called it the ‘Epee de Larmes’ or the ‘Sword of Tears’ but refused to elaborate on why it had earned that name. With his steel armour shining in the sunlight and blue tabard, Louis projected grace and nobility.

Mathew, on the other hand, looked like a murderous thug.

His foreign armour, black and silver that lacked any trappings or sigils of a noble house, mixed with his heavy, rusty executioner-style sword carried on his shoulder like a brute about to carry out his business of killing, meant he had a terrifying presence.

“You have command, Marten.” Mathew said, looking at the young knight. Marten nodded hurriedly and made his way back to the line of Knights. Drawing his own sword, he raised it up high.

“Fire!” Marten shouted, his voice enhanced with magic to ensure that it carried across the battlefield.

The detonation of the three massive cannons was thunderous. A cloud of smoke erupted from each and rose toward the sky in a black pillar. The ground shook from the blast and rocked again when each cannonball stuffed full of alchemy mixtures arced through the air and entered the mine entrance.

Green flames engulfed the entrance, billowing outwards and skyward. The heat was so intense that even Mathew covered his face from where he stood three hundred feet away. The magical flames didn’t die down. Instead, it slithered across the ground deep into the cave system, burning everything in its path.

“Fire!” Marten ordered once again, and another volley of explosives flew toward the cave entrance. This time, the explosion shook the ground violently, and earth erupted from the hill, opening up new entrances to the ground as the force of the blast launched stone and soil in all directions.

“Hold!” Marten shouted, gesturing with his sword to both sides of him to have everyone ready themselves for the werebeast response.

They didn’t have to wait long.

A tremendous roar sounded out from the cave, and the green flames were smothered by a powerful force deep within. The shockwave of the roar pushed back the waiting army, causing some to fall to their knees momentarily to keep their place in line.

The ground shook and in an instant, there were figures rushing out of the tunnel. First, dozens, then hundreds of werebeasts emerged and sped across the land between the gathered humans and the mine.

Wererats were humanoid, their bodies covered in black or brown fur, with long ears, sharp fangs and clawed hands. They wielded weapons in their hands, all taken from the various people they had devoured over the years. Sword and Axes, spears and pitchforks along with clubs.

The humans, who only numbered a hundred in strength, raised their rifles and crossbows, took aim at the wererats, and fired. The first volley tore through the approaching creatures, ripping limbs from the torso and spilling blood across the ground.

The arrows pierced their targets, tripping them up when they struck their legs or outright killing them when they hit their heads or bodies. Mathew saw one unfortunate werebeast filled with so many arrows that, when it finally fell, it couldn’t rest against the ground; the arrows propped it up on an angle.

“Reload!” Marten shouted as the soldiers set their crossbows on the ground and hauled back the line to set it for another shot. The riflemen filled theirs guns with the mixture of gunpowder and alchemy solutions before setting a ball and packing it tight with long sticks.

“Now!” Enalious followed Marten’s command with one of his own. Mana swirled around the Anglican and Francian mages as they gathered their magic. Chanting the mystical words to their spells, they unleashed a barrage of fireballs that arced across the air and landed amongst the werebeasts before spreading out and burning everything around them.

It was a slaughter. By the time the third volley of bolts and bullets was fired, there were no werebeasts left alive. Mathew and Louis hadn’t needed to become involved at all. Beside them, Alfred and Daphne panted from the loss of mana. The few spells they had cast had taken quite a bit of power, and they needed a moment to recover.

“Rest!” Marten bellowed, and the line of Knights and soldiers all lowered their weapons. Some sat down right where they were and wiped the sweat from their foreheads.

Mathew turned to look at Louis, who was frowning at the battlefield.

“Could your intel be wrong?” Mathew asked, and Louis shook his head.

“Non, c’est vrais. The Ancestral Werebeast is here.” Louis replied. He stared intently at the still-smoldering entrance to the cave and nodded.

“It just needs some encouragement, incentive to reveal itself. We must drag it out into the light if it does not come out willingly.” Louis explained as he stepped forward.

He gestured to his bodyguard and Mathew not to approach; Louis made his way through the field of dead and dying wererats before stopping in a small, clear area a dozen feet away from the cave. Louis knelt with the point of his sword in the ground, and his forehead rested against the hilt as if he were in prayer.

Mathew heard the words he spoke clearly, even with the distance between them. Strangely, he understood what Louis said, even though the Prince of Francia was speaking French.

“Weep, O’ heavens. Cry for those slain by this blade, for they will never know the light of your grace, the comfort of your blessing.” Louis whispered, and Mathew felt a chill as if an oppressive power had descended. The sky above darkened with clouds, and the wind picked up.

Louis slowly stood and raised the graceful sword skyward just as the dark grey clouds above roiled and the wind howled through the trees around them.

“La Fin.” Louis stated, and he slashed down with the sword. The blue light that followed shot out from the edge of the blade and carved its way through the ground toward the mine. When it struck, a blast of mana was greater than the cannons had created. It rocketed upwards, billowing outwards until it pierced the cloud cover.

Even Mathew was impressed by the power displayed by the Prince of Francia. The ‘Buzz’ grew stronger, and he estimated that Louis was about the same Level as himself, or perhaps even stronger.

“Well, that’s something.” Mathew whispered, and Alfred nodded.

“Do you think it will-” Alfred was interrupted by the ground shaking violently, and the head of a massive black rat with red eyes burst from the earth. With a deafening screech, it launched itself at Louis. The Prince protected himself with his sword, and the battle with the Ancestral Werebeast began.

“That’s my cue.” Mathew said. Hefting his sword securely onto his shoulder and feeling its incredible weight pressing down on him, he activated his Blessings and leapt after the pair as they rampaged across the battlefield.

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Mathew set down the Wrathful Blade, grateful to have the weight of it gone. He was exhausted, out of mana and heavily injured. Louis sank down onto the ground beside him; his armour was no longer shining and clean. He was covered in mud and blood; his blue tabard with the symbol of his house was in tatters.

The pair of them looked like they had been tossed around in a storm, shredded and dirtied before being cast aside.

But they had done it. In Mathew’s hand was the heart of the Ancestral Werebeast. Similar to the other one had gained, this one was also made of crystalized Aether, and it pulsated with mana.

“C’est fini.” Louis said, and Mathew nodded.

“This one is, yeah. I still have another three left.” He replied tiredly before tucking the heart into his inventory. He would give it to Alfred later once they returned to the site of the battle. They were miles away from it now; their chase of the Ancestral Werebeast had taken them up the hills and through a forest.

“What do you plan to do now?” Mathew asked, and Louis shrugged.

“I trained for so long in order to kill them. Now that I have, it would be a shame to stop. How would you feel about having some more company on your way to Rome?” Louis asked, and Mathew grinned in response.