Chương 60

The Showdown – Part One Lokta'Inif was afraid. The man in the garish shirt had been a monster – far beyond anyone she had ever encountered, even in her life before Galaxy Showdown. The power he'd wielded… it was terrifying. She hadn't been the target of his anger, but merely standing near Lendoria had been enough to fall within its shadow. It had taken every ounce of her willpower to remain standing. She stared at Lendoria's corpse and shook her head. The foolish girl.

She had grown arrogant, lulled by the false sense of security provided by her position on the leaderboard. In the moments following the attack, Lokta'Inif had considered ordering a retreat. If that monster had turned his attention on the rest of her force, there was nothing they could have done to stop him. Fortunately, Lendoria's death seemed to have sated his anger. Even more than that, he had not seemed particularly happy with Peter Brookes, exchanging a few heated words with the man before fading from sight.

It was this that gave her confidence he would not return.

"My soldiers," she said, turning to face the assembled force. It was clear many of them were wavering and on the verge of running. She couldn't blame them. They had just seen the fifth-ranked Trialist for total stat gains crushed like she was nothing.

"When I called for aid in my battle against the top-ranking Trialist, I made clear the dangers involved. I told you it was likely that some of you would die. Over a hundred guild members were invited, yet it was the fifty of you who answered the call. By coming here today, you have proven your loyalty… and loyalty deserves to be rewarded. I will make each and every one of you a promise: prove yourself in the battle to come. Stand by my side. Help me crush my enemies.

Do this, and I will ensure you are given every resource needed to secure your place in Galaxy Showdown." Just as she knew it would, her announcement washed away their fear. If Lokta'Inif had learned anything in life, it was the power of greed. Offer the right reward, and even the most fearful will find the courage to act. Morals, doubt, self-preservation… all of it can be set aside if the prize is great enough. And there were fewer prizes more valuable than a guaranteed place in Galaxy Showdown.

Within moments, they had drawn their weapons and moved to stand beside her. She turned to face Peter Brookes and his allies, fixing them with a cold stare. It was time to end the fool's life and claim her rightful place at the top of the rankings for total stat gains. Taking a few heavy steps forward, Lokta'Inif unleashed a thunderous battle cry that made ally and enemy alike flinch, then pushed off the ground with enough force to make the earth itself tremble.

She tore through the air towards Peter Brookes, a savage satisfaction rising within her as his eyes widened in surprise – just before her enormous fist crashed into his jaw. And then chaos descended as the battle began. * Kaelis had made significant progress over the past week of questing. Indeed, it had been enough to help him break into the top sixty for total stat gains. Despite that, Lokta'Inif's first attack was a sobering reminder of the vast gulf that still existed between him and the top-ranking Trialists.

He had barely registered her movement, her outrageous speed transforming her into little more than a blur of motion. One moment, she was standing thirty metres away. The next, her fist collided with his Master's face, sending him rocketing backward – his body slammed into the ground, bouncing several times, before skidding to a stop. As Lokta'Inif strode toward his Master's prone form, Kaelis briefly considered pursuing her. Perhaps if he caught her off-guard and struck from behind, he could inflict some damage.

No… that would be foolish. To draw her attention would be to invite death. There were many ways Kaelis could contribute to the battle, but dealing with monsters like Lokta'Inif was a task for his Master and Grandmaster. He scanned the battlefield, and his eyes narrowed as he spotted members of Pete's Peasant Patrol being overwhelmed by a Trialist. It was a huge creature whose body was formed of glowing orange rock. It carried two swords, but they looked like little more than daggers in its enormous hands.

A powerful backhanded swing carved a deep gash in an orc's chest, cutting straight through the letters 'PPP'. Using the momentum from the first strike, it drove forward, sinking the blade of its second sword into another orc. It gave the weapon a vicious twist, then tore it free, a fountain of blood spraying through the air. Kaelis roared and charged, crossing the battlefield at a speed he would not have believed possible six months earlier.

He slammed into the creature's back, his armoured shoulder sending it stumbling more than a dozen metres as it desperately attempted to stay on its feet. Not giving it a chance to recover, Kaelis leapt after it, bringing his axe down in a devastating overhead swing. The force of the blow carved a huge chunk from the creature's back, sending shards of glowing orange rock raining down around them. It crashed to the ground, but twisted as it fell, bringing both swords up to protect its face.

Kaelis' strength had grown significantly, and he snarled as he swung his axe. The blade whistled through the air and smashed through the creature's guard. Its swords gave way, and the blade of axe cleaved its face in half. The glow that suffused the creature's body faded as it died. He nodded to the orcs who were staring at him with undisguised wonder, then turned on the spot to find his next target.

Voklum was locked in a furious exchange around twenty metres away, his warhammer blurring as he attempted to fend off two Trialists. They were fast and skilled, evidenced by the dozens of deep gouges marring Voklum's armour where he'd been unable to block their strikes. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. Kaelis' war cry rang out once more as he raced to his friend's aid. * Dekrek was angry. That bitch had clobbered Mister Pete right across the face.

He clenched his fists and took a step toward her. Then hesitated. She may have clobbered Mister Pete, but she was also really strong. Dekrek glanced across the field at Lokta'Inif's army. Maybe he'd take his anger out on them instead… He nodded. Yes. That was a much better idea. He roared and charged, the rest of Pete's Peasant Patrol taking up the cry. Dekrek crashed into their ranks, his fists crushing bone and armour alike. A Trialist snarled and swung a huge two-handed sword.

Dekrek ducked beneath it, feeling the blade whistle past his head. His arm shot up, his fingers bent into a claw, and he tore a ragged chunk out of the man's face. He lunged forward, shoulder-barging the Trialist and sending him tumbling to the ground. The man did not get up, too busy howling in agony as he clawed at the ruined remains of his face. Dekrek tossed the mangled flesh aside, his blood-splattered face splitting into a savage grin. His eyes found his next target…

As he violently murdered people, he felt very proud of himself. He was finally one of the good guys. His enormous fist crashed into a Trialist's jaw, the bone crumpling under the force. They collapsed to the ground like a particularly heavy sack of shit, and Dekrek leapt on top of them, continuing to pummel their face into an unrecognisable mess.

"I'm…" Smash"Helping…" Smash"People." Smash. Who knew doing the right thing would be so rewarding? He rose to his feet and looked around. Something slammed into his back. Huh? He tried to turn but found that he couldn't. His vision started to blur, and he shook his head to try and clear the sudden dizziness. What was going on? He glanced down, his unfocused eyes widening as he saw a gauntleted hand protruding from his stomach.

It ended in clawed fingers, the glow of the red runes muted by the blood smeared across the metal. Dekrek was confused. That wasn't supposed to be there. The gauntlet was suddenly withdrawn, the movement producing a sickening, squelching sound as it tore free and left a hollow void in his stomach. Dekrek was a little concerned as he watched the blood fountain from the hole. He wasn't sure how much blood he had, but he was fairly certain losing that much of it wasn't good.

He swayed on the spot, squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to clear the haze from his thoughts. It didn't work. He sagged to his knees as a shadow fell over him. He raised his head slowly, his muscles weak and distant, and even that small movement took a mountainous effort. A huge figure loomed over him. It wore dark plate armour, its gauntleted hands ending in vicious claws. Wait… Dekrek stared at the claws for a moment. They looked just like the one that had been sticking out of his stomach a few moments ago.

The armoured figure slowly raised one of its hands… Dekrek wasn't scared. He knew that Mister Pete would save him. After all, he was one of the good guys now. Just as the Trialist was about to strike, a sword slammed into its side, the sound of clashing metal ringing out across the field. It stumbled several steps, and Dekrek smiled, expecting to see Mister Pete standing there. It wasn't Mister Pete. It was a skeletal knight, its black armour gleaming in the sunlight.

It darted after the Trialist, its sword blurring as it arced through the air. Dekrek really wanted to watch the rest of fight, but he was feeling very tired. Maybe he'd just lie down for a few minutes and close his eyes. Then, when he was feeling a little better, he could get back up and help Mister Pete. * Rel hovered over the battlefield, his arms crossed as he surveyed the fighting below. He had briefly considered striking at Lokta'Inif, but dismissed the thought almost immediately.

Pete would not have been happy. Rel could easily imagine the thoughts going through his friend's mind after Lokta'Inif's punch had sent him hurtling through the air.

'Damn, she's strong. That actually kind of hurt. I wonder how much durability I'll gain if I keep letting her smack the shit out of me.' Instead, he watched as Kaelis, Voklum, and Allaria entered the battle. He couldn't help but feel a sense of pride as Kaelis engaged an enormous Trialist formed from glowing orange rock. The fight was brief. Kaelis overwhelmed his opponent, his axe smashing through its guard and reducing its face to rubble. Voklum battled two Trialists.

Despite their speed and skill, he held his own, managing to deflect or block most of their blows. Rel was about to intervene to level the playing field, but was spared the need when Kaelis entered the fray, sending one of the Trialists tumbling through the air with a colossal swing of his axe. Rel turned his attention to Allaria, his mouth curling in a satisfied smile as he realised what was about to happen. A Trialist strode towards her, three arrows already buried in his flesh.

He had to be a top-twenty Trialist – his considerable durability reducing the arrows to little more than shallow wounds. He approached at a leisurely pace, carrying all the arrogance of a predator that believed it was playing with its food. The fourth arrow struck, sinking into the exposed flesh of his arm. He was less than fifteen metres from Allaria now, and Rel saw his lips moving as he spoke, no doubt explaining the fun he was going to have with her when he reached her.

As Allaria nocked another arrow and drew back the string for her fifth shot, lightning began to arc along the limbs of the bow with an almost blinding intensity, and the light around her dimmed, as if being drawn into the weapon. The Trialist faltered, the arrogance written across his features slipping. It was too late. Allaria released. The lightning-infused arrow tore through the air and slammed into the Trialist's chest.

When he saw it penetrate no deeper than the others, he let out a triumphant roar and took another step forward. And then the lightning fell. A dazzling bolt, thrumming with so much power that it rivalled one of Rel's own spells. It struck the Trialist. They exploded. Rel chuckled, then let his gaze drift across the battlefield once more. He frowned as he spotted Commander Osian locked in combat with Malior, the sixth-ranked Trialist.

They fought with speed and strength that surpassed anyone else on the battlefield – a whirlwind of motion as sword and claw clashed. However, it quickly became clear that Osian was coming off worse in each exchange. Despite his considerable skill, Osian could not overcome the advantage granted by Malior's superior stats. When summoned, his power scaled with Rel's intelligence, which was more than enough to deal with most opponents. But against the sixth-ranked Trialist for total stat gains? It wasn't enough.

It was time. A staff appeared in Rel's hand. It was a magnificent creation – the result of countless hours of intensive work over the past week. Every evening, when Kaelis, Voklum, and Allaria had gone to sleep, he'd ventured deeper into the woods and set to work. His connection to the Passenger was growing stronger. As the link between them deepened, so too did Rel's access to the being's vast knowledge of the arcane.

Day by day, his understanding expanded – of the nature of magic, the construction of rune formations, and the flow of power. It was this knowledge that Rel had used to craft his staff. He'd bought the material from the auction house before they'd left Oakreach. It was made from Aetherbark – a dense, silvery wood that grew only in regions with incredibly high concentrations of mana. The environment in which it formed made it exceptionally durable, allowing vast amounts of power to be channelled through it.

It had cost him nearly all the gold he'd earned during his solo week in the Tower to purchase the materials, but as he gazed lovingly at his creation, he knew it was worth every single coin. Magus' Staff of Elemental Mastery A masterwork crafted by Squire Rel. The intricately inscribed rune formations allow the wielder to channel their power through the staff, amplifying and shaping it into devastating elemental spells.

Equipping the staff grants the following bonuses: + 10 intelligence +50% Elemental Spell Damage He gripped the staff in both paws, raised it before him, and swooped down into the fray.