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https://docs.google.com/document/d/1DFCuEwLQf8mB77pQ7P2GH3QVBky9zuc-kE5OsTkEY-U/edit?usp=drivesdk
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In the stretched out moments of his solo fighting, Alex acknowledged that he was, in fact, insane. It was no longer a question. He embraced it, and turned his full focus outward in order to survive his own insanity.
This plan—while undeniably crazy—was the best hope he had to protect as many people as possible.
He battered with his Hungarian shield—the long tear-drop shape and point thrusting out just beyond his fist making it simple to maneuver and utilize despite the press of bodies—slashed with his dadao, and blasted with force.
He also pulsed out with HP in carefully controlled amounts, ashing undead with some of his hits while keeping his health all but full.
With his recovery rate, that might seem like it could be a fairly steady flow, even using HP as the resource spent for transfusion. Unfortunately, that way of thinking ignored the injuries he had to be constantly healing from.
His Life’s Active Defense came into play every five seconds—actually the barest fraction of a second less if his hopes weren’t causing him to misperceive—and that helped keep some of the worst blows at bay.
He was also being utterly mobbed, making it more difficult for the undead to land truly powerful hits.
He was blessedly able to keep from taking any infirmities so far, as having to spend his Life would spell the beginning of the end.
Still, fast healing or no, having teeth rip away hunks of flesh, claws tear great furrows, and plague-infections attempt to become the crops planted within hurt.
In truth, his vision was fuzzy due to the pain. He was just glad that his view of Shaped Force Burst symbol sets wasn’t disrupted, even if his control was more fumbling.
The spell wasn’t being used to that great effect because he had to fine-tune each use, and the roiling fight was so tumultuous that it was all but impossible to do on demand.
As a result, he was effectively crafting an effect, and then waiting until an opportunity to use it in the selected direction presented itself. Thankfully, there were enough enemies all around, making such opportunities common enough that it wasn’t really an issue.
He slammed his shield’s point forward, splitting a ravager’s head in half just before a particularly large bite out of his left calf made him stumble as that leg failed. His knee hit the ground even as he dumped HP into healing the wound inefficiently—there was no time to apply first aid or other proper principles to the gaping hole. Thankfully, he was able to see the guttering flames back near the gate which meant the flesh golem gate guards had been dealt with.
He barked out a laugh of relief that was worryingly close to a sob of desperation even as he used Multi-strike to behead two bone lurkers, ashing the second as it fell against his bare leg.
Another set of clothing, gone. The thought was so fleeting as to barely register.
He rolled, moving a couple of feet back toward the gate, even though the seven or so remaining steps felt like an insurmountable distance.
Still, he was able to fully return to his feet, his calf restored. The expense of that large of a healing meant that he wouldn’t be ashing any undead for a few seconds, and that would increase the pressure on him.
He grit his teeth and trusted in his companions. They would be with him as soon as they were able.
He wasn’t sure if his altered status was to blame or not, but he certainly felt like every undead that saw him attacked with far greater ferocity than was usual, even if the difference was largely academic in the grand scheme of things.
A war-dog lunging for his throat might be less ferocious than a rabid beast doing the same, but in the end, failing to dodge or block would end with him just as dead.
Then, just as suddenly as the attacks had begun, the pressure vanished, and Jacob was helping him to his feet once more. He hadn’t even remembered falling.
The other Initiates were driving back the undead and slaying them through flame, death magic, or other means.
Alex might be among the most effective at permanently ending the undead, but he certainly wasn’t the only one capable, and he was infinitely grateful for that.
He leaned on the spear wielder, giving a grateful smile.
Jacob, for his part, had quite a bit of concern in his eyes. “Alex, man. You alright? That was… that was brutal to watch.”
Alex gave a tired nod, grateful for even a moment to rest. “Yeah, I—”
“BITE!” One of the other Initiates fell back, her place being taken by another, and Alex moved, his own exhaustion thrown aside in the face of another’s need.
He lunged her way and quickly purged the plague, specifically not healing the damage and letting Brianne do that a moment later.
That set the tenor for the next few minutes as Alex had to fight his exhaustion back again and again in order to sprint back and forth, purging plague from Initiate after Initiate.
Brianne followed at a more sedate pace bringing each back to full health, her ability to heal at range allowing her to essentially keep up with Alex’s frantic pace, and the pace of the injuries, while not moving about nearly as much.
This was, in fact, one of the core reasons they hadn’t brought more Initiates. They were close to the limit that they thought Alex and Brianne could keep in fighting shape with the plague factored in.
Despite his own stress and growing strain, Alex was able to see a frenetic light in the various Initiates’ eyes as they were able to finally slay powerful, high level enemies for their own advancement.
Alex had only managed a few dozen such kills in the minute or so that he’d been on his own, but that had still been enough to make him expectant to actually see his experience meters rise once he was safe once more.
If nothing else, this action—this assault—had been an incredible success in that area. The fact that Alex was too busy purging plague from his companions to make more kills of his own—not to mention the strain on his HP and regeneration—was a small price to pay for the others to be able to advance.
They all needed to be stronger for the good of all, and he would not begrudge them that.
Even Brianne would be advancing as, apparently, she was able to gain a portion of any experience earned by those she healed within a span of time proportional to the amount healed.
That was the benefit of a healing focused class, he supposed… Maybe he should angle for such a thing as his second class?
That might work—
“CUT!” He pulled away from the man he’d just purged and dashed the short distance to where Natasha had taken a slash to her left shoulder.
She grunted and smiled in gratitude even as she cast Force Shield, deflecting a rock of all things that had been flung at Alex.
He blinked at that—the healing complete—confused at the projectile. Oh, make no mistake, the undead had continued to try to attack him, but they’d been mostly unable due to him staying behind the front line.
The rock caused him to lift his focus, where he saw several variants stooping to pick up other things to throw, one flesh golem near the back—thankfully not a Plague Guard—even grabbed a bone lurker.
Beyond that, a ripple of cohesion passed through the other undead.
Oh… Alex instantly understood. A Commander had arrived.
He opened his mouth to call out, but others had already done so, starting their plan for this eventuality.
One of the other Initiates with a force shield cast it, and John lunged upward, pushing off of the shield and getting near to twenty feet in the air due to the platform and his own, stat enhanced body.
His match-honed reflexes—elevated further with levels and skills—let him lock onto the source of the oddity. Both guns came up, and the man must have used near to half his mana pool on four shots—two from each pistol.
The undead horde shivered to a stop even as John dropped straight back downward. That pause allowed the Initiates already engaged to reap a harvest of lives, spells and skills that had been held in reserve exploding outward to increase the pace of their attacks in a glorious surge.
In fact, that momentary respite—along with their surge of attacks—was enough that they actually cleared the area nearest the gate, leaving them momentarily without opposition.
A bit away from the group, the last ‘normal’ flesh golems were aflame, being rendered down to ash.
Thankfully, no one paused to revel or even in shock at their initial success.
As one, they surged forward, beginning the advance even as John was returning to his feet after having slammed back down. When he called for a heal, Brianne tossed a flare of golden mana his way, and he was good to go.
As they moved, the Initiates did take time to congratulate themselves, accolades especially coming down on John, Alex, and Brianne, though there was plenty of praise to go around.
The campus wasn’t that large, maybe six times the size of the high school, in a rectangle half again as long as it was wide.
Alex pulsed his Detect Unlife and Detect Life spells, confirming that they were the only large things alive within range, and only the Death Squires on the outside of the outer walls to either side pinged to the unlife version above ground.
That was… concerning, partially because the area beneath their feet was absolutely packed with undead.
Thankfully, it didn’t look like they were in the sewer tunnels or anything like that. There was simply a complex that filled the entire area beneath the surface level campus.
They also seemed to be holding absolutely, utterly still.
His mana sense—along with that of the other Initiates who had it or similar skills—showed that the undeath in the air was concentrated around one building in particular, near the center of campus.
That’s where they were headed.
They were two thirds of the way there when more mindless undead began to pour out of the nearby buildings, causing the Initiates to fall back into a tighter formation, continuing to advance as the killing began once again.
Also once more, Alex and Brianne were frantically moving around to cure and heal their companions.
The group made it another dozen yards before the ripple of competence seized the undead once more.
The Initiates responded in the same way, John launching skyward and slaying the newly arrived Commander, but as John was on the way down, Alex felt the undeath surge.
That surge, coupled with a lack of anything from his Danger Sense, gave Alex a horrible premonition.
He lunged upward on almost pure instinct, latching onto John’s ankle and dumping HP into him as no fewer than six beams of black light slammed into the marksman.
The turning magic cascaded through his body utterly unopposed until it hit Alex’s transfused HP, and there utter chaos reigned.
Alex and John tumbled to the ground, the latter limp while the former called out, “BRIANNE!”
The healer was there even before he finished shouting, golden light suffusing John, even as bows and crossbows twanged, magics fired off, and a couple of shots range out, the Plague Witches being brought down with startling speed, for all it hadn’t been enough to prevent John’s affliction.
Thankfully, Brianne’s golden mana was able to break the hold of the magic within much of John’s flesh, not driving it free, but resetting the fight so that Alex was able to assault the foreign influence on an equal footing.
And on an equal footing, this strain of undeath stood no chance.
Alex’s HP was able to drive back the plague, but it was used up in doing so, forcing Alex to continually add to it as the six spell-effects fought to fulfill their purpose.
Still, the result was never in question, Alex simply didn’t know the cost.
In the end, that cost was four thousand of his roughly eleven thousand HP.
As John gasped in a breath, his wife swept by to check on him and give her husband a kiss before she stood back up and continued her judicious use of fire.
The Initiates had stopped their advance to let Alex attend to John, but they were ready to continue now, two moving in to help John back up and steady him until he could run on his own.
That, of course, was when the odd chanting began. It was deep and rhythmic, seeming to rise up from the ground below them, strengthening the undead even as it confused the Initiates.
“Pug was some pho. Pug was some pho. Pug was some pho…” On and on without end.
Then, new voices were added in, layered overtop, a high-pitched keening, the sound like nails on a chalkboard… in his eyes? “Pigeon saltwater, covfefe, lamentations of the cow children. Bridge to yesterday, several scissors snipping!”
It made no sense, and the sound was somehow more awful than the magical effect it imparted. At least the sound was the worst part for Alex, his Magic Resistance somewhat obviously making him almost immune to what was freezing most of the Initiates in place.
He unconsciously clapped his hands over his ears, but he could hear the steady, nonsensical chant and high-pitched, random keening even so.
As his vision fuzzed, Alex had the nagging thought: Maybe this assault had been a bit ill-advised.