Chapter 13

Running from Death

19th of Hearth's Call, 12533

The Silver Wilds of Anciart

The Deep Dark, Below Tanya's Retreat

I quickly ran out of the ruins, moving through the cavern that led me to the ruined city in the first place. The monster continued to chase me as I stepped through the lichen covered caves, with the amount of lichen decreasing as I ran. While it was surprisingly fast, I had an edge with magic pushing me forwards, so I was able to momentarily hide behind a pillar of stone within a larger cavern.

Forcing my breath to slow down, I mentally made a note to never come down this far again. Atleast, nowhere near the magical lichen. Honestly, what even is that? I let myself think for a moment, as the monster/giant moving lichen mouth slowed down once it entered the open cave, having lost my trail.

For the first time since I arrived in this world, I found a source of formulaic magic that did not originate from myself, yet the more I focused on the memory of its mana signature, the more a foul taste grew in my mouth. Blegh.

Like a formula seasoned with decay, the lichen was strange and, if I had to guess, absolutely unnatural. The possibility that it was artificial crossed my mind, but I had better things to focus on now.

Returning to the present, the lumbering giant moved near my hiding place, forcing me to start sneaking away. Slowly taking steps away kept me from being spotted, even though it still stayed near me by sniffing the air.

It was several minutes of sneaking through the caverns I had previously traversed before there was any change. In this case, the change was in the form of the local fauna.

A small mob of undead blocked my path back to the surface, presenting me with a conundrum. I could try to sneak past the dead, but if they make a sound, I'll have to evade them and the giant. I could also find a way out by either searching the rest of the cavern or making my own path up, which can be risky depending on where I end up. I could also wait them out, but I needed to get back up soon to deliver the materials I gathered down here.

…Wait, wouldn't the dead make enough noise to let the giant detect them?

As if to answer my thoughts, one of the skeletons tripped, creating a loud mess of clattering bone. Plenty for the-

RRRROOOOAAAAARRR!!!!

-giant to hear them. The monster rushed over to the undead, drawing their attention as well. If the dead were smart, they'd scatter to avoid becoming bowling pins.

Unfortunately for them, they don't even have brains left to think.

The giant barreled through the undead, sending gore and bodies in every direction. Most didn't survive, turned into bone meal and rotten flesh on impact. Out of the small group, only a single skeleton managed to get back on its feet.

With admirable defiance, the fleshless archer raised its bow and loosed an arrow into the giant. The twang of the bow gave it away, but the arrow impacted regardless. A shame that it did absolutely nothing to it.

The monster raged, taking a deep breath-

-And my whole world became noise.

My ears violently rang, making me clutch my head in pain. The sudden noise instinctively shut my eyes, and a headache pounded in my skull.

Fuck, what was that? I thought, as the pain lessened and my eyes flew open. From what I could tell, the giant created some sort of ranged attack, judging by the fact that the skeleton was removed from existence, with the monster having not moved at all.

What was strange was the lack of any damage to the stone around the ex-skeleton. The way the giant's antennas were practically glowing, and the fact that my ears were still ringing so heavily…

Does it have a sonic weapon? If so, it must be a less useful weapon in this environment, considering the noise would- is ringing off the entire cave network. With the undead returned to the grave, the giant seemed satisfied, then decided to burrow into the ground. Leaving me alone, with ringing ears, in the midst of the cave. I raised a hand to my left ear, and felt the warm feeling of blood trickling out of them. Hopefully, that will heal.

Now that the monster had gone underground, I was able to return to my own tunnels from the cave. By the time I exited the mines, the damage dealt to my ears was already regenerating. Hopefully, I wouldn't need to head back down there anytime soon.

31st of Hearth's Call

Even though it was months ago, Ishta still feels like she's back in Kikava. When she fled with the survivors her mother had gathered, it felt like everything she knew was gone. In a way, it was. Her father was dead, many of her friends died too. Even then it wasn't the end of their troubles until they reached the Confederation. Azum's Pillagers were brutal in their pursuit.

She cursed the Arlainoiz bastard for ever coming here, making such a cruel realm before she was ever born. The only things that lifted her spirits in that time was her mother keeping the survivors together and sane, and finding out that the traveling Scholar Urie survived. Admittedly, hearing that the so-called Illager Evoker prodigy already met him put a damper on that mood, but at least there was someone out there who she liked that lived.

Then she met her. The Ancient living in the middle of the most monster-infested part of the Wilds, who recruited the Scholar to learn about the world. Tanya von Degurechaff. The most beautiful woman she had ever seen, and the source of the new, mysterious glow that brought them here.

Contrary to how Tanya acts and how most others see her, Ishta knows that she's hurt in many ways. Her soul, so different compared to the rest of the Villagers and Illagers around her, swirls with pain and mental anguish, a sorrow unlike any Ishta has seen in her short life. In some ways, being able to see this is a curse for Ishta.

The worst part is that she can't do anything about it. Whenever Tanya gets asked about her past, she dodges the question, so nobody knows the cause of her issues. Urie isn't even sure if she implied amnesia or simply doesn't want to talk about her past. Perhaps that's why Tanya hides in her many projects, and why she's taken de facto command, even if she hasn't realized it.

Ishta sighed, wondering how many people actually have any idea of how much of a mess she is.

"Is something the matter?" The woman in question said, startling Ishta.

"No, no, just thinking is all." Ishta said, waving her hands to dismiss Tanya's concerns. Based on the way Tanya's emotions seemed to move, she was feeling… nostalgic? Huh?

Ishta was sitting in Tanya's study room, next to her desk which was covered in books and papers. The new finds from Tanya's expedition down below were arranged carefully, with one of the books open in front of her. They were trying to read the contents of the ancient artifacts, but they had a minor issue in that… they were really Ancient.

Which meant they were in Enchantment. The Old language spoken in the First, or Ancient Era. The only era that had a defined start and end point, and the only era the Ancients lived in. Of course, only a few people knew how to read Enchantment, though plenty know a handful of the words. Ishta was among those with only a little knowledge of the language, as she was only an aspiring Cleric under her mother. Despite what she initially thought, Tanya's status as an Ancient doesn't mean she knew the language of her people.

So here the two were, trying to decipher a language none of them really knew, in the torchlit study in Tanya's house. Together.

She clenched her hands while resting them on her thighs. Meeting Tanya made Ishta's mental state do more than improve, though the other thing it did was reveal something she only had suspicions of. With a brief look at Tanya's face (of course, it was more than just brief), Ishta confirmed that Tanya wasn't looking her way, too focused on her work as usual.

Looking down, she looked over the strange clothes that Tanya wore. A white shirt, with the green pants of the "uniform" she typically wore, made light of features that a robe would've hidden. Ishta lingered on her modest chest for a moment, before pulling herself together.

There is one thing I beat her in, I suppose, She thought to herself, looking down at herself with a smirk. The brief moment of indulgence finished, Ishta returned to studying the tome before them. To the side of the ancient book was a rough codex of words Ishta knew. Mother would be helping, but she was busy with a domestic issue. Many of the marriages were strained since the raid and the escape from Kikava.

"The ancient word for Sister seems to be accompanied by some other word… a name? It's also referring to this individual as the author's sister…" Tanya muttered, drawing Ishta's attention to the book. From what the two could gather, the book was originally written by a powerful figure in the Ancient world.

"Maybe she has some kind of significance to the author? Some siblings can be very attached to each other… though I wouldn't know. Mine already left the village and my parents didn't want any more." Ishta pondered out loud, letting a little bit of information out. If Tanya won't share her past when asked, then maybe she'll exchange it for information about her?

"I suppose they could get attached. I wouldn't be the best person to ask either. Never even knew my parents." Tanya said as dryly as possible.

Well, I suppose I was right…

Tanya wrote out the presumed name on a piece of notepaper, and with frightening speed she managed to translate it based on the words Ishta knew of the language. Rhesya.

"...How did you figure that out so fast?" Ishta asked in bewilderment. She was still trying to figure out which letter translated into Common, or that 'Imperial' (or was it 'Germanian'?) that Tanya was also writing them in.

"This isn't the first language I've learned, and a little bit of Man- Magicka goes a long way in learning." Tanya idly said, starting to write down a list of all the letters in Enchantment and their Common counterparts, oblivious to Ishta's look of disbelief. Maybe she should start listening to that one guy calling Tanya the Sister Incarnate… No, no need to worship her or anything.

Maybe I could worship her a diffe- No! Bad Ishta! Ishta thought to herself, before shaking her head. The translation work continued, with Tanya rapidly figuring out the lost language of the Ancients through means that Ishta was still confused about. Eventually, they began to piece together what the book was about.

It originated somewhere around the 44th century of the Ancient Era, written by one Samayl, a researcher, prince, and, judging by the text, was what Tanya called a 'siscon' for his sister and apparently liege, Rhesya. The book itself was a sort of journal mixed with a study of the world, illustrating a world long, long forgotten. Ishta herself found that it corrected some views on how Magicka functioned, putting things in a clinical context instead of the mystical perspective her mother spoke of Magicka.

And then it mentioned more natural forces, much like Magicka, that the researcher was trying to understand more about. Before we could go any further though, the bells rang out, which while I didn't know the code, I could tell it meant one thing.

The hordes were here.

DONG! DONG! DONG! DONG!

The bells cried out from the towers as I arrived at the walls, the sun shining over them as it neared dusk. Overall, I thought the construction of the walls went well, so it should hold against the undead. And, if any Creeper bosses appeared to make things worse? Well, I could only hope that those plants weren't hostile to my men, if they can even have such a leader.

Still, this situation was not going well already.

Urie ran up to my side after scaling the stairs, looking over the wall to see the horde- much larger than it was a few weeks ago- marching out from the trees. By my estimates, probably about three hundred undead, mostly unarmed and unarmored, with a handful of spiders used as cavalry by skeletons. A spattering of old armor, ranging from equipment I've seen some of the Illagers carrying to ancient sets of steel.

I couldn't see any of the bosses from here, but they were likely within the horde itself. The exact number of leaders isn't easy to pin down from here, but if I had to guess, at least two or more of each. This horde, intimidating as it was, would've been so easy to deal with had I found some way to emulate a Computation Orb. Unfortunately, I haven't had such luck, so I will have to deal with it in other ways.

"Draw them to the gate! Make them crowd on the bridge! Don't let them through!" I barked out, as the men and women began to arrive. With our numbers, it didn't seem like there were very good chances. Six of the towers would only be staffed by a single individual, to signal for attempts at crossing and attacking elsewhere. That left a little over twenty individual troops to fight three hundred or so of the undead. Not very good chances…

"But I've faced worse." I said to myself, which also served to shake Urie out of his horror beside me. With a flick, I brought out a spear from my inventory, then raised my voice once again. "Ready the firework crossbows! Aim for the armored and armed ones, or dense pockets of the dead! Hold fire until they burn themselves in the moats!"

While the men and women grabbed the pre-prepared crossbows with fireworks, lining them up behind walls to fire quickly from, I turned to Urie. I had one more trick I needed him to prepare for.

"Head into the gatehouse and find the lever on the center turret, between the two towers and above the gate. Wait for my command to pull it." I commanded, then gave him a pat on the shoulder and a calm smile. "You've got an important job to do. Don't disappoint me."

With that, I looked back over the walls to the horde as it drew closer. Most of my men were waiting with crossbows ready, while a handful were at the gate, armed and ready for the oncoming storm. A small bit of pride filled my chest when I saw the armor I crafted shine against the setting sun.

Just as the last rays of sunlight glanced off the trees and fell below the horizon, the horde stepped forth. Safe from burning away, the undead could march from their disorganized slow approach, and closer to my walls. With them uncovered by the forest that surrounded us, I could get a better headcount.

"Closer to four hundred… Just gotta wait for the right moment." I said to myself, settling my spear against a crenellation while drawing one of my own stored firework crossbows. Mentally, I focused on some of the more dangerous groupings, having to do guesswork on which ones will be targeted by my men. I opted for a variety of targets, in case the target I pick gets blown apart.

When the sun was completely gone, and when the monsters began to draw near the moat, I gave the command.

"FIRE!"

The hail of fireworks shot out from the battlements, impacting and exploding on the ground and bodies of the monsters. Colorful explosions mixed in with gore painted the battlefield, blowing through large groups of undead. From what I could see, about 20% of the crossbows weren't as effective. Nonetheless, a chunk of the enemy forces were scattered.

I was the first to bring out my next shot, firing it off at a group of those spider-riding skeletons. By the time the next, much more scattered salvo followed, the smoke from the first blast cleared. Hmm, somewhere about twenty undead completely eliminated so far? Ah, if only mere wounds could take them out.

Sizzling drifted up from below me as the dead began to step into the moat of lava, burning up as soon as they came into contact and sinking in without realizing their mistake. Even from this high, the smell of burning corpses made me almost nostalgic, in a way. I shouted out an order to hold after their third shot, then took my own shot at a group around armored skeletons.

Just as the last fireworks went out, so too did the gate open up. Six of my men, mostly Illagers, ran out to the bridge over the moat with axes, spears, and shields. They formed a loose shield wall in the middle of the bridge, the ones on the side angling to protect against archers from the sides. I told the men on the wall to switch to arrows from here on out, and picked up my spear while looking out to the horde.

Most of them were in the middle of the field, as the last stragglers were leaving the forest at this point. My eyes drifted across the horde, picking out several strange undead. The way they looked about, groaning and pointing, told me that these were the intelligent ones. The bosses, then. Plenty wore rather intact sets of armor, plenty were also distinctly different in many different ways. For example, some were so rotten that I couldn't tell if they were a zombie or undead until their weapon was shown. Others I could've mistaken for a person, if their skin wasn't ever so slightly green.

Two of them were close to the wall, and were already starting to figure out that the lava kills their men, so it was now or never.

"PULL THE LEVER, URIE!"

I braced for the sound, but I only heard the gate starting to close. Dammit.

"WRONG LEVER!"

Maybe I should've made it more clear before I asked him to-

BWWOOOOOOOMMMMM!!!

The field exploded as the stockpiled TNT was detonated, wiping out the horde gathered in the middle. All but two of the bosses were immediately dead, as the last two were far enough away that I didn't want to risk any damage to the wall. Personally, I could've done better with the Type 97, but the dead can have this taste of the Rhine today. Although, the force of the explosion did send a handful of the more fragile dead into the lava.

Our chances at survival tonight had expanded greatly, even if we were still outnumbered. From my point at the wall, I could see the last remaining bosses reigning in their surviving troops and directing them to the bridge. One of them, a fully-armored giant of an undead, was even marching to the front. Ah, if only I had my old tools at my disposal. Such straightforward tactics made me nostalgic for the Eastern Front.

…Am I actually being nostalgic for that hell?!

I snapped out of that disturbing thought and lept down from the wall towards the bridge, pushing a rudimentary flight formula at my feet to slow my descent. My steel sabatons over my original boots and the extra leather boots clapped onto the stone just behind the formation of shields. A few undead had already made their way onto the bridge and were chopped to bits or impaled till the body stopped moving.

Sometimes, undead can be tricky to kill. They can be stabbed and chopped and burned and still the dead will march on to eat you alive. Other times, you can graze them and completely disable them from nerve damage caused by your attack vibrating through them. Skeletons are even weirder, as it isn't even clear how they stay together in the first place.

In other words, they're a bitch to put down.

I merged with the rest of the formation in front, bringing out my shield just in time for an arrow to implant itself in it. The funneled undead started reaching out in hunger, the first undead gaining a mouthful of my spear and falling quickly. Another tried to lunge as I ripped the spear out of its friend's mouth, only to be bisected by an axe. Ah, Djon was down here. Good, he's one of the better fighters, if a little naive.

Arrows started raining down on the dead as they started to funnel into the bridge, piercing their old skulls and creating tripping hazards for their lethargic compatriots. I cut down a few more zombies and a skeleton that was pushed to the front by the mob, before the next real interruption reared its undead head.

Stomping through its decaying subordinates, the armored zombie arrived, and when I saw it… I suppose a little bit of fear crept into me at the time, but I didn't let it show.

Clad head to toe in a metal so brightly blue I would've assumed it was plastic from my first life was a zombie in Diamond armor with a suit of chainmail underneath, wielding a steel shovel- respectable, might I add- with much of the armor barely holding together. The chestplate looked sturdy enough.

It charged forwards, forcing us back and breaking up the formation momentarily. I raised my shield and felt the impact shove me back while I tried to dig my heels in, refusing to let it move me any further. He backed off momentarily to charge up a swing with the shovel, but I was already running mental enhancements and had more than one way to speed up.

In the blink of an eye, my spear struck out, only to glance off the intact diamond armor, chipping as it bounced off. My failure was rewarded with a strong whack of the shovel into my side, shoving me into the wall of the bridge. It immediately attempted to follow up with another swing at me, but I dodged out of the way with the help of a small flight formula.

Taking advantage of his moment of recovery, I launched my damaged spear at the undead, only for it to break apart on the diamond armor. Huh. Diamond shouldn't be that strong, right?

Probably another one of this world's damn absurdities. I thought as I drew my sword. Normally, I wouldn't consider using a sword, as I am more familiar with using bayonets, but my spear would only be so useful against the undead's covered upper body.

The frontline troops looked back at us, only to have to ignore the giant threat behind them for the threat in front of them. I eyed the zombie boss, his gaze focused only on me. A challenge.

Intelligent indeed…

The boss surged forwards, sending out strikes with its shovel that I blocked with my shield. Using an opening after one of its attacks, I was able to force it onto the defense by pushing away the shovel and sending my sword, enhanced by a mage blade over it, into its leg.

The frail flesh made it extremely easy to slip into the zombie's skin and cut a chunk out of its leg easily, but the strange biology of the corpse prevented it from being a decisive blow. A fist struck out from my right, barely giving me enough time to block it with the pommel of my blade-

-A loud vibration went through my head, ringing back and forth. My eyes barely caught the undead pulling back, grabbing something on the ground. I almost fell over, but I managed to stay up with the effects of the last mental enhancement I was running while still keeping me slightly conscious.

It took me a moment to realize what happened. The bastard headbutted me! I clenched my hand in frustration, trying to clear my mind with some magic before realizing I couldn't do that without a computation orb. Only when I felt my nails against the palm of my hand did I realize that I dropped-

SHRRK!

Pain coursed through my body as my sword- the one I just had- cut through my shoulder, going deep between the gaps of the armor and stopping on the bone. I let out a cry of pain, snapping me out of my hazy state and letting me pull a knife out of my inventory and into my hand.

Then it pushed the sword down, pushing further through my shoulder. An analgesic formula was my only relief as the undead tried to remove my arm from my body. With how deep the blade already is, I wouldn't have a chance to stop it from cutting off my arm. My eyes scanned for any opportunity, and when I spotted one, I took it. I raised my knife as the zombie plunged further down on my shoulder, and slammed down into the neck gap in his armor.

At the same time the undead finished the cut, I pushed a mage blade onto my knife and swept through the rotten neck of this beast. I fell back as I let go of the knife once it was through, clutching the open wound that now replaced my arm.

Shit, this is bad! I don't know how well my regeneration will work, or if it's better for me to die here. Leaving the battlefield now poses a risk to our defenses, but remaining here might hinder them if they try to help! I thought as I shuffled over to the gate, leaning against the wall. Such an injury was throwing off my balance, and I didn't have a shield arm anymore so staying so close to the bridge was dangerous. I shouted out to the troops in front to keep fighting, as the numbers should be dropping a bit now.

Quick footsteps from the direction of the civilians made me turn my head to see Ishta walking over, torch in hand. The darkness of night mostly obscured me, so when I moved she froze. My eyes were still glowing though so she only jumped a bit when she noticed me.

"Tanya, I- I know I shouldn't be here, but I couldn't just stand back and-" She started to rationalize her reasons for disobeying my orders, but I interrupted her.

"You can heal with your magic, right?"

"Um, a little, yes." She replied. Why was- Ah, she can't see me with how dark it is and how far the torch in her hand still is.

"Then get over here and help me stop the bleeding!"

Her face twisted in confusion as she stepped forward before contorting in horror as she finally saw the missing arm. She fumbled the torch onto the gravel next to us as she ran over.

"I-I don't have much Magicka in me, so I'll have to u-use some of yours, alright? It might hurt…" She asked, trying to get my confirmation. That's surprisingly-

"Just fucking do it! I'm already- Agh!" I barked, then grimaced when Ishta touched the wounded area a bit too rough. While she started to mutter some Enchantment as part of whatever healing magic she had, I started uncoupling my chestpiece armors, throwing them off with my good arm.

The bleeding was starting to slow, as I noted my collected Magicka dropped from 264 to 247, whatever that number actually meant. Still, I felt somewhat sluggish from the bloodloss, so I undid my uniform jacket and pulled it off of myself. Glancing over at Ishta, she must've been straining her abilities as her face was growing redder. At least what she was doing seemed to be working better than my own self-regeneration would at this pace. I wadded up my jacket and shoved it over and partly into my wound, trying my best to ignore the pain that seeped through the analgesic formula I was running. Slowly, the bleeding began to stop.

A bit later, as I sat there trying to nurse my wounds with Ishta, I saw Urie come over along with a pair of others. His eyes widened at my wound, though not as much as the others. He's seen my body in worse condition over the years, so this wasn't that bad to him. He gave a salute I taught him before returning to his normal posture. Hmm, 6/10, needs more disciplinary work to correct that form.

"Are you uh, alright, Tanya?" He asked.

"I'll be fine. Give- agh, give me a status report. How is the battle going?"

"The zombies are now mindless, which I assume is because of… that." He pointed at the corpse of the zombie boss. "The skeletons are still under a boss, however, and are starting to retreat. Not many are wounded, but plenty of us on the walls are winded. I can… still fight, and so can these two."

"Good enough. Urie, take yourself and the two you have with you and take command of the front. Take them off the bridge and start hunting for that last boss. We can't let victory escape at this last moment. Go!" I commanded, wincing at the last shout. Urie nodded despite the look on his face and the trio went to the front.

As the bleeding slowed enough for me to get a better bandage (one of my wool shirts in my inventory, unfortunately), I was able to relax. A few of the braver villagers that weren't in the fight approached when the battle seemed to be winding down in our favor, so I ordered them to get the loot that was safe to grab. Unfortunately, Urie didn't quite manage to catch the last monster boss, though it was impaired by an arrow that he had lodged in its knee.

As the sun started to rise, I made my way back to my home with Ishta helping me

back. I settled onto a couch in my guest room with Ishta sitting next to me. I still felt tired, so I leaned up against her for support. The fact that the horde managed to escape was disappointing. Clearly I need to change some things about the village's defenses. Still, we had survived against the horde and cut them down enough. Between all the work preparing for this siege and my utter exhaustion, I wasn't in any shape to continue anything for the day, so I remained leaning against Ishta while Olysha came to inspect my wound that I felt was starting to regenerate. Once more, I survived…

I could use some sleep. And some coffee…