Tower of Avarice: A LitRPG story

Chapter 70 – Floor 7: Part 10

Samuel’s fortress was built into a cliff.

Mathew could imagine that it had once been a structure of security and safety before this world had ended, overlooking the sea around it while housing a garrison of troops. Or perhaps it had already been abandoned long before the Fiends arrived here, snuffing out all life on the Seventh Floor like a burnt-out candle.

Whatever its purpose had been in the past, it now served as a secure point for Samuel and his army of Fiends. Supported by tens of thousands of players who had switched sides to join the Outer Deity and an aura of mana that spoke of powerful magical defences, Mathew studied it carefully from a distant ridge while the army arrayed beneath him for the initial assault.

He could find no weakness in the stone, no side gate that they could penetrate its defences unseen. There would be no incursion into the structure by just the high-level players, a quick and sure knife strike against the heart of their enemy.

No, it would be a drawn-out and protracted battle, one where they would need to bait Samuel and his followers outside of the protection of their walls. To do so, they were going to make the cost of Samuel and the other's hesitation to take the field so high they would either do so or risk losing every Fiend here.

Mathew and the Council were going to be in reserve, watching for a chance to strike at Samuel. Once the man was dead, the Outer Deity would be dealt a blow that the god of Righteous Subjugation could capitalize on.

Hopefully, it would be enough to end this war.

‘Or we could all die here.’ Mathew thought to himself.

It was a gamble. The Fiends were infesting the land surrounding the fortress, their numbers in the millions. Judging from what he was seeing from where he stood, the numbers were in the player's advantage. Combined with better tactics and Blessings, the Fiends were going to lose here.

But Mathew had learned that fortunes had a way of turning abruptly on the Seventh Floor. He recalled how he had nearly died to the sudden opening of a portal in the middle of a battlefield. The Fiend's reinforcements had cut down thousands before they had managed to seal it again.

The Fiends were devious and unpredictable, and when you combined that with Samuel’s knowledge and the skills of those who followed him…

Mathew shook the thoughts away.

He looked up at the red morning sun as it just began to climb over the horizon. It was better to fight during the day. It gave them a slight edge against the Fiends, who always seemed to be slightly weaker in the daylight.

Every bit helped.

“Are you ready?” Eloise asked, and Mathew nodded. He adjusted the knife at his belt; the magical weapon combined perfectly with ‘Catapult.’ He could use his Blessing on it despite it being held and recall it to his hand with a single command.

His black jacket, reaching down to his thighs, shimmered in the light. The magical enchantments had saved his life numerous times before. Hopefully, he wouldn’t rely on it again today. His scarf filtered the air, driving away the dust and the foul smell of Fiends that wafted from across the battlefield.

“Ready.” Mathew responded, and the leader of their company nodded in response.

“Remember, we wait until Samuel is spotted. Even if his supporters leave the castle and start causing havoc, we don’t tip our hand until we have that bastard in our sights!” Eloise called out to the two dozen men and women who were going to be vital in killing the Apostle of the Outer Deity.

“We know, Eloise. You’re repeating yourself.” Baxter commented, and Eloise flashed him a disgruntled look that he merely shrugged off. Whatever other words that may have been about to be said between them were cut off by the screaming of millions of Fiends as they began to charge across the barren field between them and the army of players.

Led by hundreds of the traitorous players that had joined the Outer Deity, the Fiends were still as disorganized as ever. They moved as a swarm rather than in ranks, each acting independently of the other in their haste to kill.

But there was a hint of guidance and unity that Mathew hadn’t seen before the Outer Deity enticed people to join its cause. They were frenzied, but they were like rabid animals pointed in a single direction rather than an unthinking mass.

The players responded with a volley of cannon fire, explosions from long-range Blessings and flights of arrows. The terrain sloped to form a slight depression in the middle of the two armies. Greg and the other commanders had positioned their troops expertly, taking advantage of the difference in height that would allow an increased range for their attacks.

Before the Fiends could even reach them, thousands were caught in the deadly assault. Although they were immune to fire, the flames were secondary to the concussive blasts that ripped through them from the carefully crafted explosives of the Forgers.

Arrows pincushioned Fiends or hampered their movements enough that they were crushed by others pushing from behind in their rush to reach the enemy. Blessings of Lightning, radiant energy or a hundred other effects swept through their ranks, killing indiscriminately.

The slaughter continued for minutes, and the ground was soaked with black Fiend blood. Mathew watched with a horrid fascination, the nausea he felt at the violence dampened by the knowledge that for every Fiend that fell, it was one less that those below would have to face.

Even after years of slaughter, of untold violence conducted by both sides, Mathew wasn’t completely numb to it. He likened it to the last shred of humanity within him. If he could watch what was happening below without feeling anything at all, he thought it would mean that he was irreparably damaged in some way.

“That’s new.” Baxter commented, pointing at a section of the sky to their left. A flock of birds was approaching swiftly. In the lead, dozens of larger ‘Alpha’ variants of the Flying Fiends were carrying hundreds of the blade-armed Fiends on their backs.

They began to dive swiftly toward the ranks of players below, the howling-bladed monster leaping from above to fall onto the waiting players beneath. The air was filled with screaming as the attack coincided with the arrival of the rushing swarm of Fiends.

A terrible melee began, and Mathew had to grip the rocky outcrop beside him to keep from jumping in to help. He had a cautious nature, but no one amongst the players could watch others fighting and not feel the urge to join. It was instinctual, a need to fight.

Mathew could smell Aether; the spicey mist rising from the ground was intoxicating, and even if he didn’t participate, he could feel it seeping into his skin. Whoever won the battle today would have enough Aether to purchase whatever they wanted. Additional levels, magical items or Blessings were all possible if they could survive the day.

The battle continued for hours, with the Fiends hurling themselves at the players without rest. They showed no signs of fear or terror at dying, no signs of exhaustion or retreat. The ground was muddy with blood, the corpses piled high enough that they acted as barricades to the line of players that retreated slightly to make use of them.

Against an enemy like the Fiends, only stability, tactics and strategy could overcome their relentless desire to kill. Greg and the other army commanders cycled their troops to have periods of rest, using the terrain and flanking maneuvers.

At one point, when an area of the line appeared to be buckling, they ordered a retreat. Hidden explosives ripped through the Fiends when they advanced, allowing the players to retake the lost territory without much trouble.

When the sun was beginning to sink on the horizon, the horde of Fiends finally showed signs of failing. The gates to the fortress opened.

Thousands of humans who had once been their comrades emerged with weapons drawn and surrounded by a dark aura. At their head was Samuel.

He had changed since Mathew had last seen him. Wearing black armour, he wielded his magical mace in his right hand, and the demonic face on the front was opened in a silent scream.

Mathew felt the ‘Buzz’ immediately, something that had been absent from him for months. The level difference between himself and the Apostle was apparent. It felt like a crushing weight on him. A nervous tension flooded his body, and Mathew’s limbs shivered in a primal, involuntary terror.

The Apostle of the Outer Deity had arrived. Their plan to draw him from his fortress had worked.