In For A Penny (III)

  Atop an unnaturally wide stone dais were two more statues standing at attention, their swords grounded and their massive shields resting against their sides. The intricate carvings on their armor shimmered faintly in the dim light, as though infused with a latent energy. The statues exuded a commanding presence, their postures rigid, as if forever poised to spring into action. Nothing about their design was drastically different from their counterparts, except for the fact that they both easily surpassed thirty meters in height.

  And still, as intimidating as that was, the real threat wasn’t the two colossal stone soldiers standing at attention—no, in terms of sheer size the real threat was much smaller in comparison. Directly in the center of the dais, and midway between the two attentive statues lay a single granite throne. Even under such poor lighting conditions it still had a radiant quality to the smooth, polished surface, as though it absorbed and reflected every faint glimmer of light.

  However, the aesthetics of that beauty was immediately appalled by the ‘creature’ sitting atop that throne. This knightly figure, unlike the others didn’t seem to be carved from stone. Instead, the full plated silver armor it wore gave the impression that its form was entirely composed of molten metal, perfectly forged and shaped as if it had been poured into existence.

  A large blade, more than two hundred centimeters long, was planted firmly beside the throne, gleaming with a brilliant mercury sheen. It resembled an oversized butcher's knife, though with several adjustments and intricate carvings—more for aesthetic flair than practical function.

  What....is this pressure? Is she really planning to fight that thing? Cyril wondered to himself. An unyielding sense of dread was preventing him from tearing his eyes off the A rank hunter who, even now, showed no hint of concern whatsoever.

  A single glance at the throne was all it took to make the boy gasp, but in the next instant all his fears, doubts and worries were abruptly blown away by a commanding voice.

  “Listen up everyone.” Yelena spoke righteously; her voice alone had culled the uproar with little more than a declaration.

  “As you can see, we’re currently surrounded, however chaos is the last thing we need right now. These statues haven’t done anything serious as of yet, so we can make it out of this as long as we work together. The goal here is that boss at the back, if we can breakthrough and defeat him then we can leave this room. I will lead the charge, the rest of you just form up with your captain and hold them off if anything happens.”

  “I assume that means you’ll need some cover fire from me then?” Asked Evan, who was starting to regain a bit more of his latent gusto; his voice was steadier now as the initial shock began to wear off.

  “If possible, yes.” Yelena replied, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “However, if these statues do start moving, please prioritize the safety of the trainees. And as for you, Ralph...”

  “I’m on it, my role never really changes much you know.” the tank answered instantly, giving a tap to his shield.

  “Should I also provide you some cover fire, Yelena? I’m certain my assistance wouldn’t hurt under these circumstances.”

  Yelena tilted her head slightly, then after a brief moment of consideration shook it from side to side. “No, that won’t be necessary Marcel. As you are a simple trainee right now, please focus on protecting yourself and your comrades.”

  “But-”

  “Enough, Marcel. That’s an order.” Ralph commanded, his tone sharp and unwavering.

  Marcel bitterly swallowed the brazen order, but not before tsking in frustration first, though by that time they were already done paying attention to him.

  “You have your orders, now it's time to follow through with the plan.”

  She’s completely taken control. As expected of an A—rank...but still, what is this feeling? Cyril thought to himself.

  The hand that was pressed to his chest struggled to suppress the relentless beating of the organ slamming against his ribcage, each pulse echoing the fear and adrenaline coursing through his veins. Having a single A rank in any party was a guaranteed way to boosts the groups chances of survival no matter the circumstances. It was like calling in suppressive fire from a fighter jet—it should have made him feel like they could at least escape with their lives but that dim prospect of hope had yet to surface in Cyril’s racing heart.

  Despite the conviction and resolve being resonated by his comrades he just couldn’t sympathize with that sentiment. It wasn’t because Yelena was weak or incapable, his reasoning was a lot simpler.

  Somewhere deep down, he could feel a sense of impending doom spreading throughout his body, like he was being bogged down by a dark swamp. The entirety of their hopes—trainees and hunters alike — rested on the shoulders of one A-rank, but Cyril struggled to grasp the logic behind that line of thought.

  If she had been a saint then he might have felt differently, but the thought of pitting a simple A —rank hunter against the armored creature sitting in that throne seemed suicidal to him.

  Can they not sense it? That thing...its on another level. We need at least a saint if we want to beat that thing.

  Profuse droplets of sweat trickled down the young man's temples. His inward cries were inaudible to all, and yet he knew he couldn’t vocalize them, not after what happened a few minutes ago. Doing that now would only plummet what little morale Yelena had trumped up to stir their fighting spirit.

  Thus, he had only one choice available to him.

  “I have to fight.”

  That was the only way to provide assistance and stave off his own fears at the same time. Anything else would only end up slowing him down.

  [Alert. The operator is now online, the quest ‘Hier to Oblivion’ will begin at its discretion once the timer is initiated. Failure to complete the quest may result in death, permanent injury, or insanity.]

  [Alert. The operator has activated the skill Circle Of Perdition.]

  [Alert. The operator has activated the skill Tartarus Pit. All participants will be prohibited from leaving the operator’s domain for the next ten minutes.]

  [Alert. The countdown has begun. The primary sequence will end in 9:59]

  Cyril didn’t know what to make of all the information that suddenly flooded into his mind. He whipped around to see if anyone had heard the same robotic voice that had spoken to him and immediately dismissed the notion after only five seconds.

  There’s no way they could act so calm if they were hearing this. Shit! I don’t know what any of this means and its not like I can-

  SPLAT

  That horrific sound came from behind him.

  Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.

  At first nobody said anything, but there was a vague feeling of oppressive terror looming at the back of his mind. Ignoring it, Cyril slowly turned around, his neck creaking like ominous gears with each motion, until his head finally achieved the desired angle.

  There he saw the collapsed body of the knight he had spoken to earlier. Blood oozed from every orifice on his body, seeping through everything from the gaps in his armor to the cold, hard ground beneath them, and staining it a deep, unforgiving red.

  “A-AAAAAAAH!!!”

  A scream pierced the air, sharp and unrelenting.

  He couldn’t tell if it truly was unnaturally loud or if the distorted pitch only seemed that way against the eerie backdrop of muted reactions—or the complete absence of any at all. It came from a girl standing directly beside Angelica. She thrashed, tussled and turned, until she eventually tripped over her own feet and fell into the viscous crimson pit.

  “H-Hey calm down!” Cried the young B-ranker. Although she herself was quite obviously startled by the sight, Angelica managed to muster the will to act despite the shivers coursing through her body.

  “We need you to focus, get a grip already!”

  “What...exactly happened here?” Mouthed Evan. He drew closer to the body with an eerie sense of caution to his movements, as though he was ready to strike at anything that came too close.

  “I-I don’t know he just suddenly started bleeding and...and...!!!”

  Angelica tried her best to calm her flailing comrade’s fit. Only the first half of the young girl’s words made any sense before she divulged into a spew of senseless jabber. Evan observed the sight cautiously. His concern wasn’t visible yet but the subtle shift in his usual demeanor was far from being called tame.

  Another splat sounded.

  This time, it came from directly in front of him.

  A young magician holding a staff suddenly fell prone to some unseen force, splatters of red exploded out his skin before the young man ultimately collapsed into a bundle of agony. The unseen assault—whatever it was—came so suddenly that Cyril’s perception lagged for a moment. He stared ahead, as if struggling to believe what he was seeing. There was no cause. No spell. Just death.

  “A-Aghhhhhhh!!”

  This time, the terror spread like a wave.

  Weapons suddenly came crashing to the ground from the resulting scuffle that saw numerous trainees rush towards the sealed stone doors. Despite their frantic efforts however, there was just one problem— the collection of literally heartless warriors blocking their path.

  An ethereal purple light blinked into existence around their eye sockets and with that serving as their sole spark of animation, the warriors lurched forward. The hollow sound of their movement—grating stone slabs—filled the air, an ominous rhythm that matched the flickering glow in their empty stares.

  “M-Move goddamn it!”

  A young magician blind to reason roared.

  Radiant embers gathered around his outstretched palm, swirling and swaying as they coalesced into the rough shape of a sphere. The construct bulged, ready for its eventual activation, but rather than exploding into a hellish spiral of flames, the spell shattered abruptly as if being denied its very purpose.

  “What? My spe-”

  A bone crunching sound came next, and with it, the magician’s body split apart along a perfectly vertical slash before falling to the ground with an unnerving sound.

  Naturally, after witnessing something like that, more chaos erupted.

  The frantic mage Angelica had been doing her very best to calm down expelled all forms of logic from her brain. Taking advantage of the B-ranker's temporary shock, she broke free from her grasp and tumbled forward with the faint hope of making a beeline for the large stone doors at the rear.

  A few steps later however, and a single flash of a large, chunky stone sword had liberated her crazed cranium from the rest of her body. What happened next could have easily been called a stampede. Even more scream’s, wails and cries came but they were met with the same result.

  Their spells failed at the most crucial moment, but the only difference was that this time when they were mere seconds away from death, someone was there to intervene.

  Yelena’s silhouette streaked across the oval space in a blur, vanishing and reappearing with each thunderous crash of severed stone limbs against the floor. Most people couldn’t even see what she was doing, and the few who could weren’t seeing their lives flash before their eyes.

  Ralph forced himself between a large stone axe and two trembling mages that were about to be cleaved in half. The blunt weapon clattered against his shield with a loud CLANK sound, only for him to push the inanimate creature back and destroy it with a sharp thrust from his shield.

  “I’ll buy you some time, get back in formation!” his sentence came to an end just in time for him to duck under yet another frantic swing from a large stone club. He was certainly agile for his build but once the large shield was deployed, there was hardly any need for him to dodge.

  Ralph charged at their unfeeling stone foes without hesitation and used the shield-turned-weapon to block, parry and even deflect the attacks aiming for his comrades. The hunter-trainee counterattack was finally starting to gain some footing, though with some unexpected developments.

  For some reason, neither Evan nor Marcel had launched any attacks yet. It wasn’t because they didn’t want to; it seems they were unable to successfully conjure any flames at the moment. Every attempt ended with only a flicker or a flare manifesting above their palm, followed by the creeping sensation of doom that seemed to be overtaking them.

  No longer did they have any air of dignity or prestige about them, the only thing their crumpled expressions betrayed was rage and despair. In the midst of the chaos, with all the screams and squeals Cyril stood still. To any outsiders, the absentminded look on his face would make one assume that he’d given in to despair but that wasn’t it.

  There was a pertinent question brewing in his mind at the moment.

  “Why aren’t they attacking me?”

  He wasn’t doing anything different from the others, in fact his weapon had already been drawn but the only thing separating him from those who were already engaged in combat was their relative positions.

  Wait, that girl earlier got attacked after she charged towards these statues, and before that they only attacked us after everyone started panicking, so...

  He wasn’t sure if he was correct, and he wasn’t sure if it would work either. Still, he decided to test it, and there was only one way to know for sure.

  His body spun instinctually, searching for a foe he felt he could match.

  Then a few feet away, he saw Arden swinging his larger Warhammer at three sword-wielding statues.

  “Alright!”

  Cyril clenched his fists, steeling every ounce of resolve he could muster in his heart. His body tensed, his muscles bulged and within a single second the buildup of force propelled him across the oval space.

  He closed the distance with a parry and knocked away the weathered sword that was about to come down on Arden’s chest. The statue stumbled backwards from the blow, giving them just enough leverage for a proper counterattack.

  “Do it Arden!”

  “OOOOAAH!”

  With a roar, Arden swung his weapon with all the centrifugal force he could muster. Several stone bodies crumbled from the blow, sending dust and shrapnel exploding in all directions.

  Their aggressors had been pushed back, but Arden couldn’t take advance because of the force that abruptly yanked him in the opposite direction.

  “Woah Cyril! What the hell man!?” he cursed mid-tumble as a massive stone fragment narrowly missed his head.

  “Wait. Don’t move yet, I want to see something.”

  Unlike before, Cyril’s voice was sharp and clear. For a brief moment, it suppressed the need for words, so in light of that, Arden simply decided to follow along with it.

  They waited for the dust to settle a short distance away from the wreckage they had caused and a few seconds later....nothing happened. Instead of breaching into their oval territory with the sole purpose of slaying them, the statues stood still.

  “Looks like I was right.”

  “Right about what?” Arden asked dubiously. He let out a painful growl and donned the bulky weapon despite the powerful breaths of exhaustion escaping him.

  “These statues, they won’t attack unless you get too close. Tell that to the others on this side, I’ll go spread the word over here!”

  That brief explanation left no room for questions, because by the time it was given Cyril had already broken into a dash.