Chương 16: Chapter 15

Corin flew through the air, desperately shooting a Tether at the rapidly-disappearing wall. It caught, his arm abruptly dislocating from the force as he wrenched himself backward - the same motion hauling the goblin on the other end of the rope clean off the ground far below, both of them now swinging back toward the stone together. They slammed into it halfway up, the impact snapping the Tether entirely, and both of them fell, goblin and Corin alike, tumbling back down to the earth.

He landed directly on top of it, swiftly discovering that goblins, bony little things that they were, crunched more than they cushioned. [Goblin (Lv. 6) slain!] [You have leveled up! 12 → 13] [+2 stat points available] He looked down at what remained of the goblin (not much at all, really), then looked around wildly. He saw the last few goblins scaling the wall, and felt a sudden wave of desperate relief that none had noticed him.

He pushed himself halfway up, gripped the hook still lodged in his shoulder, and ripped it free with a cry of pain, then shoved the joint back into place. A Minor Heal put him just over half HP, and he finally stood fully upright, trying to get his bearings. He'd fallen about a hundred meters from the city gate, and he saw the horde of goblins trying to squeeze through the small opening in it, long spears stabbing at them from the defenders trying to hold the line. I have to get back inside the city.

Corin stared at the goblins streaming in, hearing cries of battle and terror. He glanced at the forest behind him. Or... I just have to get away. He gazed at the forest, the lurking dangers in it infinitely preferable to the immediate dangers in the city. Then he looked down at the bloodied grappling hook in his hand, and sighed. You don't need to do this, you know. Yea. I know. He flung the grappling hook upward, not even clearing halfway up the wall.

It clattered back down onto the ground almost apologetically, and despite the imminent danger all around him, he was briefly relieved that no one had seen that pathetic throw. Thereafter he swung it in a wide arc a few times, then loosed it. The hook flew upward, gaining some solid distance but going wide of the wall. It took two more swings before it finally found purchase, and he pulled a few more times for good measure, the rope going appropriately taut each time.

He looked up at the distant edge of the wall, and let out a deep breath. One step at a time. He gripped the rope and pulled, stepping onto the wall almost horizontally, and took a faltering step forward. Each step brought him closer to his goal, and further from the courage he'd left back down on the ground. The sounds of battle grew louder with every pull of the rope, doing little to help his fears.

After what felt like forever, he eventually neared the top of the wall, the clatter of weapons against metal sending brief sparks of light shooting into the dark sky. Just a few meters from the top, he heard someone right above the wall and was grateful for the assistance getting up - until he realized the tiny hand from the supposed guard was, in fact, a goblin that had already taken liberties with looting, the city guard's helmet several sizes too big for it.

They both let out a cry of surprise, the goblin immediately leaping toward the grappling hook rope, short sword in hand - and soon found something connected to its chest. Corin snapped his free hand shut. The goblin let out another cry of surprise, this time really surprised, as it too was being introduced to the beauty of flight; however briefly. [Goblin (Lv. 5) slain!]"God, I fucking love Tether," Corin said to himself, pulling himself over the edge of the wall, finally becoming vertical once more.

He glanced back over the edge, just to see how far he'd come, then looked out over the city. The Guild was burning. Corin picked up the flighty goblin's fallen sword, then heard a screech of machinery to his right. The goblins were still at the winch, pulling and pushing madly as his half-removed hammer struggled against the gears, groaning under the strain.

"N-" His trusty hammer snapped, sending shards of copper spinning through the air, and Corin let out a cry of pain as if it were his own bones splintering. The mechanism began to grind open once more. Enraged, he glanced down at the goblin sword in his hand, then back at the assembled goblins in front of him. He then flung it ahead of him, the sword clattering and lodging directly into the gears, abruptly grinding the mechanism to a halt once more.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Judging by the flurry of curses that followed, in what Corin could only assume was the foulest language available to goblinkind, the goblins were apparently not pleased by his reintroduction to their night. Corin didn't stick around to decipher the expletives.

Instead he jumped off the city-facing side of the wall as they charged at him, shooting a Tether at the wall, swinging briefly before landing hard, but mostly intact, on a tall building below. He rolled a few times, catching himself right at the edge before he could tumble off, and looked down at the burning Guild, flames illuminating a tense standoff between a dozen or so adventurers and a hundred or more goblins. Corin grabbed a gutter pipe and scaled down it, reaching the ground with surprising alacrity.

Somewhere below him, the rhythmic thud of nails driving boards over a window came fast and frantic. Further down the street, a woman half-carried, half-dragged two children toward whatever safety the Guild Hall could offer. If they couldn't repel the attack... then every single one of those people would be dead by the end of the night. He ran to the group of gathered adventurers, seeing Bran at their center.

"Don't overextend!" Bran cried.

"If you can, kill any archers with flaming arrows you see, and make sure no goblins flank the guards at the gate. We don't know how long it'll stay closed!"

"Should at least be a while longer, at least," Corin said, joining the group from behind. Bran looked back at him in surprise." Corin? Where the fuck have you been?"

"Making sure the gate stays shut," Corin said, pointing up at the winch.

"It's jammed again for now. It should buy us some time."

"Then we try to give them as much time as possible," Bran said, glancing at the guards at the gate.

"We're heavily outnumbered. I don't like our odds, but every minute we hold is a minute closer to reinforcements arriving." Corin stared at the goblins, flames flickering, carving grotesque shapes out of their faces, shadows dancing across weapon and blood. There were so many of them. He reached into his Bag of Holding.

"You still got your Innate?" Corin asked, and Bran nodded.

"Then you're about to have a very good day," Corin said, dragging something out of the bag as surreptitiously as he could, trying to hide it from the other gathered adventurers. Bran gasped.

"Where... where did you..." Bran muttered, unable to get out the sentence, and Corin simply shrugged.

"Massive Strength requirement, so you'll only be able to wield it with your Innate," Corin said, as Bran slowly gripped the Blade, flames growing brighter in recognition of his power.

"But you'll need to make it quick." Bran knew better than to waste time asking more questions. As if on command, Bran grew in size, muscles bulging against his armor. He nodded back at the assembled adventurers, then charged into battle, the rest following in his wake as the goblins began their own charge. Bran hit the middle of the throng like a meteor, bits of seared goblin flying through the air.

Every archer trained on him, but the arrows not incinerated outright by the sword's flame simply bounced off his armor instead. He was tearing through them with terrifying, unstoppable force - but he was still only one man, flanked by a few more, against a hundred goblins. Corin, now truly weaponless (and feeling another sudden pang of loss over his hammer), fell into the role of caster instead, firing Spark on cooldown, trying to catch as many goblins as he could with its small AoE.

After the third cast, he loosed Bolt at the nearest one, sending a chain of lightning bouncing across half a dozen more. [Goblin (Lv. 5) slain!] [Goblin (Lv. 6) slain!] [Goblin (Lv. 5) slain!] He checked his mana reserves. Already down to nothing. He wouldn't be of much more use.

"Hey!" a voice cried to his left, another caster. Something flew through the air toward him, and he caught it just before it hit the ground. A blue potion.

"Drink up!" the caster called, before firing another Mind Blast into the crowd.

"And save some mana in case any get too close!" Corin uncorked the potion and gulped it down in one go. [Mana Potion {Uncommon} consumed: Restores up to 100 mana] [Restoration time: 10/s] [Satiety: 50/100] He felt his mana rushing back almost instantly, and fired off another Spark and Bolt at the goblins, Tethering two together to send them both sprawling, then cast Minor Heal on himself the moment it came off cooldown.

He was trying to burn through the surge as fast as it came, since any of it that overflowed his cap would simply go to waste. [Mana: 40/40]"Thanks!" Corin blurted out, though the caster didn't hear him. Grateful he'd managed to burn through as much of it as he could, he turned to face the crowd once more - and saw a man in shining armor facing off a dozen goblins. Corin didn't need to see his face. The armor alone was enough. Lionel.

Several dead goblins lay at his feet, his rapier crackling with barely-restrained current. His <Voltguard> Innate flared at the blade's tip, an ability that allowed him to pierce through even the hardest armor. He leveled the blade at the goblins still encircling him.

"Who's next?" he said, face darting between each of them.

"Who's next?" Corin hated how fucking cool he look- A crossbow bolt suddenly burst from the darkness, slamming into his gilded helmet and shattering the visor. Lionel staggered back, stunned, just as a spear flew true from the crowd, punching through his breastplate and lodging between his ribs, driving him to the ground. The thrower emerged from the chaos, towering over the other goblins, dragging a massive mace behind it.

Lionel tried to push himself up - just as the mace crashed into his exposed head, a sharp crack of sound echoing across the city as it half-caved his helmet. They're going to kill him. Lionel lunged for his rapier, arm twisting with the motion - then the mace slammed into it with a sickly crunch, the weapon falling from his hands as his shattered forearm curled uselessly around the shaft. They're going to solve my problem for me.

The Brute lifted its mace far above its head, arm raised, the weapon almost touching its own skull, and then... nothing. It strained against something, muscles bulging, the mace not budging. Something was connecting the mace directly to its head. A short, thick tether. It turned toward Corin, its face breaking into a terrible, knowing smile. With its free hand, it dragged its thumb slowly across its own throat, leaving a smear of Lionel's blood in its wake. Ah, fuck.