Ch 29 — First fight on the ship

  Mark walked out of the compartment. He followed a narrow hallway until he reached a small door on the left, opening to the cramped square space where the fighting was happening.

  He saw a Mongol standing in the middle of the narrow stairs to the lower deck. He was fighting Bjorn, who was standing at the foot of the stairs. Another Viking named Ulfar was on the right side of the stairs, threatening the Mongol with a long spear. On the left of the stairs, there was a rough wooden wall with a crude railing.

  The lower deck was a terrible position to storm. The Mongols were forced to walk down the stairs in a single line, and before they reached the floor, they could be attacked from the front, from the right, and even from behind. There was a Viking named Leif behind the wooden stair—with a sword, he could stab through the steps of the stair, hitting the back of the Mongols’ legs.

  He did it now to the Mongol fighting with Bjorn, and when the Mongol lost his footing, Bjorn brutally hit him with his mace on the head. The crack of the bone made Mark shudder.

  It wasn’t the first Mongol who had tried to take the position. Harald was behind Bjorn, ready to relieve him when he got tired. But for now, he was moving the bodies of the Mongols away, so they wouldn’t hinder their movements. The Vikings acted with brutal efficiency. No hesitation, no wasted effort—only the relentless rhythm of battle. Some sunlight entered through the door at the top of the staircase and illuminated the blood already covering the floor.

  There’s no way we could do this without them, Mark realized. It didn’t matter that their new Levels and Skills helped them even the odds. There was a certain coldness in this kind of battle that could only be earned with experience.

  Even the Mongols were fighting with the professionalism of hardened soldiers. One Mongol jumped from the stairs to the right, jumping toward Ulfar and managing to avoid the thrust of his lance. The Mongol had lost his weapon in the jump, and he started to struggle on the ground with the Viking, trying to take his spear.

  Bjorn seemed to want to help his friend, but four Mongols ran down the stairs toward him without any regard for their own lives. Harald was coming back to the small enclosed space after having dragged a corpse away.

  Would any of the Gamers be willing to storm down those stairs, knowing their own death was almost certain?

  “We got it, Bjorn!” Mark shouted, running to the Mongol struggling with Ulfar. He grabbed the Mongol’s hair, raised his chin, and cut his throat. The blood pumped over the Viking’s pale face.

  Mark and Wyatt dragged the corpse from over the Viking and realized that he was seriously injured. He had been stabbed in the stomach and would die if they didn’t [Heal] him fast.

  “Take him to Emily,” Mark ordered Wyatt.

  The Gamer obeyed. He grabbed the Viking by the back of his shirt and dragged him on the floor, retreating towards the same compartment they had just left. Mark knew he would take down the thin wooden separation and then access the deepest part of the ship from there.

  This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

  Bjorn, Harald, and Leif were now fighting six Mongols on the small square space where the stairs ended. Liam was looking from the door, ready to jump into the fight. From another door in front of the stairs, Tobias was also looking, trying to find a way to help.

  “Don’t do anything yet!” Mark told both of them. The space was too small—they would only bother the Vikings. And neither of them was specialized in close combat fighting; they were better suited for mid-range fighting.

  Mark did enter the small space, but he didn’t try to fight the Mongols already there. Instead, he jumped to the stairs, cutting the path of another Mongol who had tried to get down into the lower deck.

  Mark had exhausted both his Skills—he was going to have to fight without protection.

  The Mongol kicked down Mark, hitting him in the shoulder. Mark stabbed up, nicking the Mongol on the thigh. The Mongol lost his balance and threw himself over Mark, blocking the Gamer’s dagger with an arm. Mark started struggling with the Mongol, having to support both their weights, and he shouted in pain when the Mongol bit down on his ear.

  From over the Mongol’s shoulder, he saw how a couple archers peeked through the door and started shooting down into the chaotic enclosed space, risking hitting their own comrades.

  Mark moved the Mongol to the side and put him in the path of one of the arrows. The arrow hit the Mongol on the back. The struggling Mongol dragged Mark to the left, and they fell from the side of the stairs to the floor.

  Mark finally managed to slip the dagger under the Mongol’s defense and stabbed him in the neck. For a few seconds, he recovered his breath half-hiding under the spasming man. His heart was beating wildly.

  Then nearby passed a Mongol fighting at close quarters with Bjorn—who was having some difficulties using his mace in the tight space. Mark thrust his dagger towards the calf of the Mongol, and when he fell, Mark finished him off with a stab to the heart.

  Bjorn seemed to be about to thank him when one of the arrows managed to hit his knee, making him collapse to the floor. Another arrow hit Leif in the eye, and he fell to the ground, already dead—Emily could do nothing to help an injury like that.

  “Leif!” Harald shouted, activating his [Berserker] Skill and finishing two of the remaining Mongols with brutal hacks of his axe, ignoring the arrows that hit him, one in the arm and the other in the shoulder.

  “Tobias, Liam! Now!” Mark shouted, using the corpse of the Mongol still over him to protect himself from the arrows.

  Liam used his [Unerring Throw] Skill to hit one of the archers in the neck with a small hatchet. The archer disappeared from view while trying to hold down the blood spurting from his throat.

  Tobias threw a [Fireball] up the stairs, hitting the other archer in the face. For a few seconds, the only thing Mark could hear were the desperate shrieks of the archer.

  The last Mongol begged for his life on his knees, and Harald executed him with a vertical slash of his axe that almost cut him in half.

  Then there was silence—the Mongols must have put their burning comrade out of his misery.

  More Mongols were about to storm down the stairs, taking advantage of the opening their comrades’ sacrifice had earned them.

  Harald took two steps up the stairs and stopped them using his [Battle Roar]. The roar hit deep into Mark’s chest. He hadn’t been the target and still felt his heart quaver, and his legs weaken under him. Bjorn, who didn’t have that Skill, got up, leaning on the wooden wall, and roared next to his comrade.

  And suddenly Mark understood roaring in the middle of battle. It wasn’t just to try to scare the enemy. It was a roar against everything, a show of courage; it was looking Death itself in the face, and telling it to come get you, if it dared.

  Mark was exhausted. More tired than he had ever felt. He was still feeling the aftermath of the [Battle Roar]. But he still looked up to the door and shouted next to the Vikings:

  “Our ship! This is our ship, motherfuckers! Come and fucking take it!”

  The Mongols didn’t come. They retreated back to the upper deck to recover and plan their next move.

  Mark looked at the trail of blood the injured Viking had left when he had been dragged by Wyatt. At the body of Leif, that Harald was taking back to the deepest part of the ship, using his non-injured arm.

  It hadn’t come without a cost. But for now, they were winning.

  And again, thank you so much for reading!!