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The Rifleman - Bk1 - Ch.30
🕑 Added 2024-06-26 08:00:07 +0000 UTCChapter Thirty
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Wesley settled himself on the roof as best he could, still grumbling about being made to climb rather than, to quote Split, ‘cheating.’ He would be sure to return the favor at some point, assuming they survived long enough.
Peterson and the others were down below, building small barricades in front of the half-breached section, while Wes, Split, and the newly christened Bitchy were on a roof each, overlooking the gap.
A quick check on the shadows: Wesley figured they were at about midday. That meant another day and a half to hold out. A furry head stuck itself over the top of the breach, and Wesley didn’t hesitate to blow it off. Another came behind it and got an arrow through an eye before he could pull the trigger.
The number of heads increased rapidly from that point on, and Wesley was forced to fire almost continuously for the next five minutes, burning through about half his remaining charges on Reload before the flow stopped.
Spells were lobbed through the breach next, and they all finally got a chance to see Bitchy at work.
The agile mage balanced effortlessly on the roof while she wove nets of mana strings together before catching spells in mid-air, spinning like a shot putter and sending them flying back through the breach. At one point, she had three different spells orbiting her at the same time before sending them rapid-fire at any attackers outside the walls. After the fifth wave, she was sweating; after the sixth, Bitchy was panting; and when the seventh came, she was too exhausted to go on.
Seeing her struggle to rise, Wesley fired off a double shield in the path of the fireball, causing it to crash into the wall instead of the breach, but was out of ideas when a massive bolt of ice followed it.
“Counter it!” Bitchy said in between gulps from a flask of some kind.
Now, that was probably a great idea if he had any idea what it meant. His frantic mind jumped to his theories on the lousy interaction between opposing energy types. The opposite of water would be fire, right? Wonderful. Now, if he only had a fire spell.
All he had was flare.
“This is really going to suck,” Wesley muttered as he raised his hand and fired off six charges of Improved Flare, all at the same time. The pain in his hand was excruciating as something incredibly bright and hot shot from his hand, searing it almost to the bone in the fraction of a second it took to shoot forward.
Even with his eyes pressed closed, Wesley could see the bright orb shoot forward, then a flash of light and…
Wesley opened his eyes, blinking the spots away as he cast Emergency Heal and felt his hand start to fix itself slowly.
The Greater Ice Bolt was gone.
“Did… did you just stop a siege spell with FUCKING FLARE?” Bitchy yelled. “Fucking Flare!”
“It worked, didn’t it?” Split asked smugly. “What’s the big deal?”
“You said counter it,” Wesley added. “It was what I had to work with.”
“Fucking Flare!” Bitchy yelled again.
“Improved Flare, actually,” Wesley offered helpfully. “It has fire mana in it.”
Bitchy just held up a hand to him and turned away, muttering and shaking her head.
“Touchy,” Split sighed. “Oh, and incoming.”
Wesley saw a pair of furry figures climbing over the lip of the breach and cast his Jolt with his last My Shield charge so he had time for his hand to heal enough to fire.
The arcing and hissing shield materialized in the breach, and arcs shot off to the climbing figures. As the shield faded, it seemed to chain between them, and then… something on their belts began to explode.
The wall below the breach cracked as the explosions seemed to daisy-chain through whatever was climbing it.
“Nice,” Split gave him a slow clap. “Want to leave the wall standing, please?”
“Hey!” A voice called from behind and below Wesley. “Want some food?”
Wes looked back over his shoulder and saw a white-bearded man leaning out the attic window and waving a package at him. “We have plenty, so I thought I’d bring you a snack.”
“Cheers,” Wesley said, shimmying down to grab it before returning to the top of the roof. “Wow, this smells amazing.”
“Thank you,” The man beamed. “My family sells them in the Market, secret recipe and everything.”
Wesley opened the package and beheld a thing of true and endearing beauty.
A meat pie!
The flaky pasty had been crimped in a thick half-ring that reminded him of a Cornish Pasty, so he ate it the same way. The moment he bit into it, his mouth was flooded with a spicy warmth, with spices and herbs fighting to grab his attention from meat as tender and soft as any he had ever had. “Wow!” Wesley repeated with a full mouth. “I have no words for how good this is!”
“Oi!” Split yelled over. “Do you have food?”
“Yup,” Wesley called back. “And it’s incredible!”
“No fair!” Split yelled.
“No,” Wesley said with a grin as he licked his fingers. “No, it’s not.”
“Want another?” The old man asked with evident pride.
“Yes, please!” Wesley called merrily as Split glared daggers at him.
In the end, he ‘cheated’ and slipped into wisp form to bring her half by leaping between the rooves. In no time, the old man and his wife were doing a roaring trade out the windows of their house as they sold out as fast as they could bake them.
They didn’t ask for money, of course… but everyone gave them some anyway.
Some things were worth paying for.
That brief break came to an end with a crash as the spells started coming again—slower but bigger by far. This time, they were targeting the walls themselves, and no one attacked in between. The cracks began to spread, and the civilians were evacuated by the squad’s near-exhausted officer.
Wes had to give it to the young officer; the man did not shirk or take it easy. That much was obvious. He even noticed that people were actually saluting the guy now, and Wesley got it. The man cared. People noticed shit like that.
Take the baker and his small family. They had offered a bit of food to take a little of the suck out of a shitty job. Result? They were evacuated with a near honor guard of thankful soldiers to keep them safe on the way.
“I’m not leaving people behind!” Peterson’s voice rose above the rooftops as he yelled in an argument with that same officer. Naturally, everyone immediately began to eavesdrop.
“I’m not saying people, Captain,” the officer frowned. “I am saying person. One. Just to cover the withdrawal from the area. It is necessary.”
“If the wall is breached while they are still here…” Peterson snarled.
“They will die,” the officer finished for him. “I know.”
“One person can’t hold that breach anyway!” Peterson rallied.
“They won’t be alone,” the young man sighed. “I will also be holding the breach.”
“I’ll do it,” Wesley called down from above. “I can get out fastest.”
“Sod it!” Peterson snapped. “If one stays, we all stay.”
“There’s—” Wesley started.
“Shut up and take the help,” Bitchy called. “We could use it.”
“We?” Split asked with a smile.
“Why the fuck not?” Bitchy shrugged. “I saw an idiot block a siege spell with a Flare today. Might as well see what he does next.”
They had gathered on a single roof now, one with a ladder leaning against it for Split to slide down when they needed to run. Bitchy, would apparently be fine.
Spread across the road at the base of the ladder were Ben’Ta, Peterson, Mental, and the officer.
Wesley and the others waited for the whistle that would give them the all-clear to retreat, each second feeling like an eternity while the wall visibly began to crumble in front of them. Just as the massive structure gave its’ last and tumbled into rubble, the whistle finally rang through the streets.
“GO!” Wesley yelled as something began to force its way through the rubble. He didn’t stop to think or to see clearly what it was; he just found a piece of flesh and fired a trio of Jolt rounds into it, causing it to freeze and spasm.
Split was down the ladder, and the others were halfway down the street before it started to move again, pushing forward as lights built behind it.
“Can you carry me if I pass out?” Bitchy asked calmly.
“Yeah, why?” Wesley asked.
“Because I might. Obviously,” Bitchy began to have a complex spell. “Keep it there, will you?”
Wesley cast two shields at once, it was all he had. The thing stopped, pushing against the shield for a couple of seconds before it shattered.
“A little more,” Bitchy commented.
“Okay, but this is all I have left,” Wesley growled and fired four Improved Flare charges at once. The night turned to day as the orb of light shot into the rubble, and the creature inside howled in pain and stumbled a little, a massive arm coming up to shield the abused eyes.
“Done!” Bitchy yelled, and the complex weave of strings flew out and hit the wall above the creature.
“You missed,” Wesley said calmly. “Glad I used all those charges on that.”
“Asshole,” Bitchy clapped her hands together once. The strings twisted, stone cracks cracked further, and a massive section of the wall broke off, falling with a wet crunch onto the creature below.
“That worked,” Wesley said with a grin. “Almost as good as my Improved Flare trick.”
“Asshole,” She laughed. “And I didn’t even pass out.”
“And you didn’t pass out,” Wesley said. “Let’s get out of here.”
“I’m good,” Bitchy laughed and stepped off the roof, a string of mana attaching to a building across the way and shooting her forward.
“Spider-mage,” Wesley grinned as he shifted into wisp form and shot off after her. “Nice.”
/////////////////
The barricades here were a lot better than the temporary things they had built in front of the breach. High, strong, and reinforced by structural magic courtesy of the city Builders, they offered a real defense against the waves of monsters pouring into the city through the breaches.
Breaches, plural, because their own wall was far from the only section breached. Within the next few hours, the rest of the outer city was flooded with the invader’s forces. Their own officer was already busy working on the next set of barricades, having wisely decided to plan ahead. It had been working for him so far.
Around what must have been midnight, Wes was firing into a distant group of wolves that were roaming the street, searching for any people left behind. A massive gong sounded, and chalk seemed to write itself across the sky in massive glowing letters.
FINAL DAY OF ZONE INVASION:
The faction that controls the zone at light’s end will win the invasion and control the zone.
Please note: Invaded Zones can not be rechallenged for three control shifts, regardless of the outcome.
“Doesn’t time fly,” Peterson chuckled darkly. “This is gonna get nasty now.”
“They get desperate at this point?” Wesley asked, already sure that he didn’t want to know the answer.
“Oh, they hit desperate yesterday. Today? They will do anything to win.” Peterson slapped him on the back. “We’ll make it, don’t worry.”
“UNDEAD!” A cry rose shortly after those ominous words. “They broke into the body storage!”
Wesley just sighed and went to see what he could do.
He had been that close to a break.
“Where ya going?” Ben’Ta asked as she fell into step beside him.
“I’m kind of good against the undead,” Wesley admitted. “And I know a trick.”
“This I have to see,” Ben’Ta grinned and followed him as he searched for his officer.
They found him asleep with his head resting on a pile of smudged papers. He had earned his sleep; he really had. The poor bastard only looked about eighteen at best. Still, needs must and all that.
Wesley coughed a few times until the officer woke up and gave him a brief rundown on his theory on undead interactions, plus his experiences in the dungeon.
“Wait, you cleared an undead dungeon… solo?” Ben’Ta asked. “Are you crazy?”
“Believe it or not, it was the safer option,” Wesley said, rubbing his chest absently while he spoke.
The officer, naturally, wanted to see this for himself, and the undead were happy to provide an opportunity. They came shuffling out of the darkened streets and towards the lines of defenders, who were suddenly facing their own dead, come to kill them.
It was a hell of a thing to face, and Wesley felt himself dreading the sight of Sara or one of the others coming shambling into the range of what he was about to do. He climbed the barricades and carefully aimed a Healing Flare into the air above the approaching hoard, which almost immediately began to burst into flames. By the time the flare hit the ground and winked out, nothing in its radius was still moving. The undead, however they had been raised, were very weak.
“I need a moment!” the officer grabbed an icon on his belt and began to mutter as his eyes glazed over.
“Far-speak enchantment, cool,” Ben’Ta said. “Do you think she’s out there?”
He knew she meant Sara.
“I hope not,” Wesley said honestly. “Hopefully, we will never know.”
“Here’s hoping,” Ben’Ta agreed. “More coming,” She nodded over his shoulder, “Care to repeat the demonstration?”
And so it went, with the undead shuffling towards the lines around the city, while Wesley did what he could with his skills and other healers got a chance to help defend their home—some with absolute abandon, which naturally got them killed.
At this point, every living defender mattered, so they were pulled back behind the lines.
All around the city, every defender not throwing up or traumatized by the undead attack was thinking the same thing.
Where are the invaders?
The waves of undead came on, eventually turning into waves of the Den Mother’s forces' own dead, once more on their feet to give their last for the cause of some idiot not one of the low-ranking shlubs would ever have met.
It was another time that Wesley had to fight the Hatred with a capital H. There was no chance of him not hating the bastards that had drafted him and set this whole awful world into existence just to pass the time with a game, but he could not let it change from plain old hate to the raging fire of true hatred. Not if he wanted to be clear-headed enough to survive this place.
The other shoe dropped the moment light returned to the zone. While the defenders had been fighting off undead all night, they had been resting and recharging to make a big push into the city.
And push they did.
Wesley’s section was not one of the ones hit, but they could certainly hear it from here. The clash of metal and the burning smell of flesh, stone, and wood drifted in the air as sections fell one after another. It was almost a total route, but various officers had taken a leaf out of the young officer's book and had fallback barricades ready to go.
As for the section Wesley was in? They ended up trapped between their own barricades, an island in a rapidly growing sea of enemy forces.
They had minutes, at most, before they were cut off permanently, and then, well, they would die.
“Round up the civilians!” The officer hovered a few feet above the floor, his pale face set and determined. “We push for the center of the city!”
“Well, this is gonna suck,” Wesley muttered to himself as he hurried off to find his squad.
