Chương 46: Good Luck And Thanks

Joel did whatever anyone does when they think a shining star is hurtling towards them. They try to get the hell out of the way. He threw his body to the side, but the streaking ball of light caught him on the rib and sent him spinning through the air. He crashed hard into the ground, rolling on top of the scattered daggers that cut at him. Gasping desperately, he felt like his breath had continued to tumble away.

Pain coursed through his side, every muscle twitch rejuvenating a spasm through him, but Joel still tried to get to his feet. He only got to his knees before collapsing from the pain as notifications pinged warnings at him. [Damage taken. HP: 27%] [WARNING: Prone (Status Effect). Tilt 1 afflicted.] In his blurred vision, past the translucent screens, he saw Kell's massive, shaking frame saunter over. The macehead, which Joel had deliriously mistaken as a shooting star, shined brightly and inched closer.

He had to get back up before he was cratered into paste, so he held his hand against ribs and tried to roll back to his feet.

"Still alive?" Kell's voice was a wobbling echo that sounded both distant and close.

"I have to ask. Are all people from the Endless Isles this durable? Perhaps our eventual conquest there will be hard fought. I'll look forward to it." Simultaneously using his [Second Wind] and what he had left for [Lay On Hands], Joel realigned something disjointed in his ribs. It was a smidgen of relief, and he breathed easier, enough to pull himself back up with a glowing hand on his side. There was no point in holding back his own abilities. His status screen updated his HP to 38%.

Maybe just enough to tank one more shot like that, except it wasn't something he planned on testing out. At least the world wasn't shaking so violently anymore. Curiosity and respect reignited across Kell's face.

"So you've faithfully served a master all along. No wonder you're so steadfast. I see why you will not come to serve the Lord Emperor. Those who cling to dying divines are always the most difficult to bring to the light." Joel had no clue what the man was talking about. None of that stirred any recollection from his early access days. It didn't matter — he was too busy trying to formulate a plan, a trick, anything to give him a leg up. [Berserk]?

No, despite the damage mitigation it would provide, he needed a clear head first and foremost. Not only that, there was no guarantee that his frenzied state wouldn't drive him to attack and involve the others. [Total available EXP: 2008]. So much to use, just not enough time to think. He'd already maxed out his VITALITY, so there was no way to recoup some HP that way. It was the same for his DEFTNESS, which almost all of his martial skill triggered off of.

He wished he had his Seahorn cutlass with him, silently vowing to always carry it outside if he survived. Instead he picked up the same shoddy daggers that he'd rolled over, taking two in each hand. He did his best to ignore his aching side, a reminder of what would happen if he messed up. More than anything, Joel knew that he needed to take the initiative, the first move. With an underhand toss, he arced one of the daggers high into the air. Kell lazily watched the blade spin high.

"You dense or did I hit you too hard?" Joel hurled another, this time straight like a dart. It was enough to nick Kell's surprised face, a crimson cut glistening across his cheek. The third throw followed right after it, but Kell reflexively parried it. Not wasting a second, Joel bolted at the Executor and aimed his last dagger up at the throat. Except Kell was ready for him as his mace, glowing with divine light, careened towards Joel's head again.

The world twirled as Joel, hand on his cloakpin, felt himself pulled into his own space. Just like in the baron's study, the Slipstep cloak unraveled instantly where he'd focused his mind — where his first dagger was thrown — right above Kell. Catching the dagger with his unarmed hand, Joel drove both blades into the sides of Kell's face. He landed on the massive man's shoulder and back, as if he'd grabbed a boar by its tusks.

A wet gurgle came from Kell, and Joel was still forced to leap away from a grabbing hand, ripping the daggers out of Kell's face and sending blood spraying everywhere. Kell stumbled, like a bull with a broken leg, and swung his shining mace around wildly. He was holding his face and trying to heal what he could. It wasn't the death blow that Joel wanted, but it was damn close. Kell's face looked like poorly filleted meat. Yet the large Executor still charged Joel with a lit mace raised.

Joel turned to run, the aching pain in his side making him grimace. He needed more distance between them, more time to plan, more time for Pest to get up, more time for some back-up to arrive. He peeked over his shoulder, getting ready to dodge away. Bruised and bloody, Pest rushed past him, straight at the staggering Kell. In a single slash, his shortsword sliced through the mace-wielding arm, taking it off at the elbow. A guttural cry came from Kell as the massive man fell to his knees.

Pest spun to take the Executor's head. Letting his face stay mangled, Kell pulled his mace flying back to his only hand. The macehead, placed against his neck and shoulder, barely saved him from Pest's precise strike. Despite being one-armed and badly injured, Kell still got to his feet, pushing against the swordsman. He croaked indiscernible words, some strange chant or prayer. Without any nearby daggers, Joel started to rush towards Kell's broad back, searching for the perfect spot to kick.

He didn't get more than four paces before he heard a strum and a red-feathered arrow hit the ground at his feet. Two more landed between Kell and Pest, forcing them to spring apart. Joel's eyes darted over to the shooter. Ifsra stood ready, their harp's wings unfolded and extended into a curved bow. A wispy amber light drifted off of the bow's polished sheen. The Executor lifted a graceful hand towards the bowstring and the smoke-like light coalesced into a materialized arrow.

They notched and drew the arrow back against their fox mask. Kell spluttered angry noises at them, but Ifsra shrugged and fired a wayward arrow that landed past him. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

"Pathetic. My pups tell me we're out of time," Ifsra said, pointing a finger upward, and then tapping their ear.

"There's about to be too much company joining us. We've got to go." They snapped their fingers and the four arrows near Kell formed a dazzling circular light under his feet. The arrowheads appeared to absorb the light, revealing an overhead view of a forest. Roaring angrily, Kell fell into the portal below, arm and mace flailing. Another snap of fingers and the magic anchored between the arrows vanished. Ifsra tilted their head to the two of them.

"That was funnnnn." Joel could hear the smile behind their voice, behind the mask.

"Hope we see each other one day."

"Wait, you've got to take me with you," Vargo cried out and hobbled over, dragging Hottor at knifepoint.

"What did I say about telling us what we have to do?" Ifsra sighed, their soft voice turning venomous. Their hands moved too fast, more of a twitch than anything. Another melodic strum, and an arrow was buried through Vargo's boot. The stout man shrieked as he dropped Hottor and grabbed at his punctured foot. Promptly ignoring him, Ifsra turned back to Joel and Pest, both who were giving each other uncertain glances.

"Next time, then." Firing three arrows into the floor next to them, Ifsra snapped their fingers once more and hopped into the tiny portal that formed.

"Agh!" Vargo cried out as he yanked out the arrow that pinned his foot to the floor. He turned to them, shaking in fear.

"Stay away!" In desperation, he threw the ornamental knife at Joel, the closer of the two. Joel swatted away the thrown knife with his hand, wincing as its edge cut his palm. [Damage taken. HP: 37%] How annoying. He watched Vargo hobble towards the covered cage. Joel took a step forward, looking at the collapsed and tied Hottor. He felt the flat of Pest's shortsword across his chest, stopping him.

"He's mine," muttered Pest. His face was badly bloodied but his eyes were wide open and locked onto Vargo. Irritation filled Joel. He was getting really sick of weapons being pointed his way so he smacked the blade away from him.

"You can have the bastard. I'm here for Hottor." Moving past Pest, he approached Hottor, removing his gag, and using a dagger to slice through his bonds.

"You alright? Got me and Alis seriously worried there." Once the rope tying his hands was cut, the dwarf threw his arms around Joel, weeping loudly into his shoulder. Joel knelt there, stunned, before returning the embrace and patting the old dwarf on the back. He felt silly for not realizing how scared Hottor was. The moment was interrupted by the jingle of keys and a metallic clank. Vargo had swung open the cage door while hopping on his single foot.

The tarp flapped over the open door, keeping whatever was inside still hidden, but the growls were loud enough. Something stepped towards them, something big and heavy enough to make its step rattle cage bars. Joel and Pest shared a gulping look.

"Hottor, I need you to try and run for the lift. You saw the one they brought you down on?" Joel had to practically peel the elderly dwarf off of him, who fought to hang onto him. The second growl from the cage, enough to blow the tarp up briefly, made him give Hottor a firm shake.

"I know it's terrifying, but you have to do this. Go, please." Given a gentle shove, Hottor stumbled away, tripping over his feet as he ran to the door. Joel picked up the ornamental knife he'd slapped away.

"Kill them! Kill him!" Vargo screamed like a madman, pointing a trembling finger at them. What stepped out of the cage made Joel's knuckles go white around the knife handle. He didn't need to reference his game knowledge to recognize the creature that stepped out. A yeti. Over thirteen feet tall, the white-haired monstrosity looked like an overgrown gorilla on steroids. Muscles rippled across its massive chest and abs with every snarling breath.

Most horrifying of all, two long nails, each twice the length of a railroad spike, had been jammed through its temples and stuck out the other side. Both of the metal nails had strange runic etchings in its cruel metal. It gave the hulking yeti an eerily Frankenstein-like appearance.

"What the…" muttered Joel, his mouth hanging open.

"Hah, so you finally got one on your grubby little hands, you oversized rat," Pest scoffed at Vargo while flourishing the sturdy shortsword. He tapped the tip of the blade against his head.

"And then you mutilated it."

"I-It's small! But more than big enough for you," Vargo shrieked, his cracking voice making him sound deranged. Joel couldn't resist.

"Is that what you tell your unfortunate lovers?" Vargo turned a bright shade of pink.

"Smash them into the ground!" In response, the yeti screeched, slammed its fists on the ground, and then banged on its chest. It was getting so riled up that the entire loading station shook. The tremors became so violent that Vargo threw further panicked looks around, as if he had to worry about the cavernous room collapsing, and decided to run for the tunneled passageway that veered off. He wasn't going to get far with that limp. The yeti was strong, that much was very clear.

However, it was still a beast at best. Between him and Pest, along with their weapons, this challenge was feasible. They had to bounce the yeti's aggression between them, same as they'd done with Kell. As long as this monstrosity didn't have some healing ability, they could chip it down slowly. It looked like Pest was on the same page as he went to match the charge of rabid yeti. He ducked under its grasping tackle and slid past the monster.

Shrieking in further rage, the yeti turned to him, pounding its fists against the floor — back turned to Joel. Throwing the knife, Joel didn't wait to see if he struck true, running and diving for another dagger. An angry roar told him that he'd hit his mark and he instinctively lunged into a roll. That saved him from the furious yeti that smashed through a nearby beam. Wincing from his ache on his side, he swallowed through the pain to bounce back to his feet; dagger held out. Yeah, they could do this.

The both of them simply had to keep juggling the creature's attention and they'd beat it together. At the minimum, they'll last until reinforcements got here— Pest was walking away from the fight, toward the tunnel.

"Where're you going?" Joel yelled after him.

"We can take this thing!" Pest gave a lazy salute with Hux's shortsword.

"Got a rat to kill. You handle this one."

"What!? That guy's not going to get far!" Joel flinched as he dodged a closet-sized cage that crashed into the wall behind him. It looked like Pest shook his head. Joel was too busy trying to run from the feral yeti trying to rip his head off to tell.

"I can't risk letting him get away. Good luck and thanks." Pest continued down the tunnel pass, disappearing around the corner. Joel didn't even have time to call out after him in frustration. The yeti leapt after him, and this time he barely avoided it, his cloak almost getting grabbed. He turned in time to see the monster whip its arm across the ground, sending rubble and daggers spraying at him. He was back in the mines, facing another tide of weapons rocketing towards him. Except he was much faster now.

He deflected three daggers that threatened to pincushion him with his own, sidestepped the bent bars from a broken cage, and even blocked wayward pebbles from catching him in the eye. The only mistake he had to pay for was not noticing the small broken plank, which he forced him to block carelessly. Hot pain seared as the stake pierced through his forearm. [Damage taken. HP: 34%]