Andeni all but dragged Gauss into his room.
"Let me see it."
She was practically buzzing with curiosity. Seeing her tip her head up, eyes shining with a hungry light, Gauss didn't tease. He pulled the white mage's staff—the former bone staff—out of his pouch.
"Whoaa—"
Andeni hurried closer. The staff was a little over half a meter long. Unlike the old, jointed look of bone segments, this one was smooth throughout, every sharp edge polished away.
Its color was jade-white, flawless to the naked eye. The grip was slightly thicker than the shaft, with natural contours and hollows that fit the hand; the hue was subtly deeper there, and if you looked closely, nearly invisible gilt lines ran through the grain like leaf veins or feather barbs.
It looked less like a weapon and more like a perfect work of art, throwing off a mesmerizing gleam in the light.
Most striking was the milky gem set at one end, within which silver points of light pulsed and drifted. A calm but powerful aura poured from it, drawing sight and thought inward.
Even the light around it bent ever so slightly. Beautiful. Elegant. Mysterious. Strong.
That was Andeni's first impression of the bone staff reborn.
"Gorgeous…"
After a long moment, she swallowed and finally gave her verdict. But even with her eye, she couldn't place the source of the change. And because she'd handled it for years whenever she was idle, the difference hit her all the harder.
"Can I hold it?"
She looked up for permission. The staff may once have been hers, but she'd given it to Gauss; it wasn't her place to assume. "Try it, Master?" Gauss bent and offered it to her.
…Huh? Andeni blinked at the gesture, but curiosity trumped the question. She reached out—
"Eh?"
Just before her fingers closed, a powerful push welled up from the staff's surface and pressed her hand away.
What?
Not one to give up, she tightened her grip and reached again. The repelling force swelled stronger—as if the staff sensed someone trying to take it from Gauss and flared in defense.
"Hup—" Her second try failed, forcing her back half a step. She tried a few more ways, even resorted to magic—but never managed to hold it, much less use it.
She had to give up. Watching Gauss flip and flourish the staff with ease, she couldn't help a stab of envy. It had clearly recognized him as its master; only he could wield it. He might be its fated owner—but as the former one, did it really have no softness left for her?
"No one else can touch it?" Andeni sank onto the bed to catch her breath.
"That's right. My two teammates tried. No luck." Gauss's mouth quirked at her chagrin.
"Mm… that's something," she said, feeling a touch better knowing no one else could.
"Any luck identifying it?" Gauss asked. When he'd first gotten it, he'd used Identify—many times. Nothing, every time. Maybe her higher rank would change it.
"No." She shook her head. "My Identify won't take anymore."
As a bone staff she could at least cast on it—even if it returned nothing. Now the staff simply warded her spell off.
A twinge of disappointment moved through him, though he'd half expected it. The staff's origin was no simple thing.
"Did someone finish forging it for you?" she asked, eyeing the flawless make. If there was a craftsman with hands like this, she wanted their name.
Gauss shook his head. "I don't think so. I'm not sure what happened."
He had only a blur of entering a mysterious place; when he came out, the staff was. The rest was gone.
Andeni fell into thought—then a commotion erupted outside. The quiet night broke with a drum of feet.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
Three sharp peals smashed through the outpost. No one in the place missed it.
"That's—"
"An attack!" Andeni's face changed; she sprang to her feet. Three short, urgent peals—the standard high-level alarm when a city, town, or camp faces a massed assault. No one joked with that bell.
Out the door, Serandur and Alia were already at Gauss's room.
"What do we do?"
"Out—find out," Gauss said at once. Sitting in an inn wouldn't help; you went and learned, then acted.
They weren't the only ones. People poured into the streets. Torches bobbed everywhere.
"Monsters at night! The Captain of Knights begs all adventurers—onto the wall! Help hold the defenses!"
Horsemen galloped down the main road, shouting the news to anyone with ears. So it was a night raid. Knowing was a relief. The only worry: a lot of cavalry had ridden for the Mist Trail earlier. The garrison here was thinner than usual. And the timing—too neat.
Questions could wait. Right now, the wise move was to help hold. Inside the outpost, the defenses were yours to lean on; outside, blind in the night, was worse.
"Stay on me. Don't stray," Andeni told them. Of the four, she was the strongest; she could say it with a straight back.
"Okay," Gauss nodded, easing—for all the unknowns, Andeni was a rock. He knew she was at least iron-rank and in her prime—one of the strongest on hand. Alia and Serandur traded a look and nodded quickly, falling under her lead.
Andeni set off for the edge. For a small mage, she moved fast. They and other parties hurried after. The closer they got, the tighter the knot of urgency. Laborers and non-combatants flowed inward under soldier's shouts; armed men and adventurers ran to the line.
Through the last tangle of shacks and sheds, the final defense showed: an earthen wall ringing the camp. Scattered rough towers; chevaux-de-frise and pits; a makeshift shield. Under heavy pressure.
Beyond the black walls, sharp cries, and a tide of shadows—slamming the line. On the parapet, soldiers stabbed down with long spears; archers and early adventurers loosed from notched merlons; petty spells splashed over the wall.
Blood, powder, and beast-stink thickened the air. Gauss had never been in a battle this big—especially at night. His heart kicked.
Bang!!
A section outside cracked—something huge hammering it. A man in bright silver armor on the wall drew and loosed in one smooth breath—silver-white light screamed through the dark. The pounding stopped.
"Iron-rank," Gauss thought. Likely cavalry.
They took the stairs to the top. The sight beyond pinched every face. Monsters black as ink poured in waves; too dark to count. Worse, their eyes glowed red—unafraid of death. Even as their fellows fell to arrows and spells, they climbed. Hook-lines slapped onto the parapet; goblins and kobolds scuttled up the ropes. Monster archers returned fire.
"Aah!" a soldier nearby took an arrow clean to the throat, blood fountaining. He clutched it, stumbled two steps, and fell. Others dragged the wounded back. On a field like this, one stray shaft can kill a careful man.
"There's so many… and they don't care if they die…" Alia swallowed. This was orders of magnitude past a routine job. Even as a professional, you felt small here.
"Talk later—help now," Gauss said, handing two hand-crossbows and bolts to Alia and Serandur. After checking their Omni-Armor, he looked to Andeni.
"I'm fine." She shook her head. A tough white light climbed over her skin—her own ward. "Mind your mana," she added gently.
"Right."
Gauss drew his steel sword. His wards were for his team; he had nothing to spare for others. Since his ward felt Level 2 now, it ate more—he couldn't sling it around. He'd need juice in the tank.
Four clay spiders unfolded at his feet. Shame the two clay Converts were still in the Black Forest; he'd sent the recall, but who knew if they'd make it back.
He told the spiders to fight on their own around the three of them—guard and assist—then moved. A greenish hand topped the merlon; a bald, ugly head followed—
His steel flashed, and the goblin went silent before it could scream, body tumbling back into the dark.
[Goblin Slain ×1]
Goblins were everywhere—cheap forest "soldiers." But kill them all and they sprouted back like weeds.
Gauss breathed deep and crushed the nerves of a first night on the wall, letting his gaze harden. Contract, cave, or wall—you do one thing: kill monsters. Kill goblins. That he did best.
He slid along the parapet, eyes keen, cherry-picking three about to crest. Sword out—thrust, cut—clean and fast. The merlon stayed clear around him. The spiders snapped and sprang, needle limbs punching eyes and throats; gluey strands stitched climbers to stone for others to finish. Tireless, fearless—little harvesters of death.
[Total Monsters Kill: 2430]
[Total Monsters Kill: 2431]
…
The counters ticked up. He ignored them and worked. A soldier fell under three goblins; a dagger rose to plunge—one silver streak later, three heads spun away in a spray, and the man, blinking through blood, gasped thanks at the tall black-robed figure above him.
"Th—thank you!!"
"Mm."
Gauss chopped a line of vines loose and peered down. More were growing up the wall—ladders of living rope. The enemy had casters too. Farther out, a flicker—not from campfires. A horse-shaped beast's mane, tail, and hooves burned by nature, bright against the night.
"Nightmare," he muttered. The "hellsteed," usually rating 3+. Mount to evil elites, summoned in from other planes by many kinds of casters. Riders sat those nightmares now—silhouettes that handled them with ease. Stronger than their mounts, by far.
He jerked his gaze to Andeni. She hovered in the air, holding a long stretch of wall. Small body, heavy pressure. Her staff tipped; gouts of fire screamed out like living things, slamming into the densest masses below.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Blast after blast; fire climbed, monsters shrieked and crisped. Her flames rolled in waves to sweep ranks away, or drew into arrows to pick off elite skirmishers—javelin-throwers and spellcasters beyond the reach of most.
With her as a turret, the weight eased. Soldiers and adventurers rallied and cleared the few that made the top.
"So strong…" Gauss couldn't help it. It was his first time watching a high-tier work up close. The master tier was a different world. Trash and elites both looked the same under her hand. He even felt she was more than just a master.
On the long wall, others like her held their spans. Where the net sagged, elites like Gauss swept. For a moment, the line steadied.
Then—sudden, deafening blasts ripped the night.
Thoom!
Thoom!
THOOM!!
Shocks shuddered through stone and earth; the parapet quaked under his feet. He braced on the merlon, scanned as the dust sank.
Gaps yawned in the wall—meters wide, tens of meters in places. "Trouble." His guts dropped. That wasn't a goblin's trick; that was alchemy, pre-laid.
"Breach! The wall's blown!"
Panic skittered down the line. Monsters poured through the breaks—up the rubble slopes and onto the wall to crash into defenders at arm's reach.
"Rrraah—!"
The fight scrambled again. From the darkness, the elites surged—the first over were thick-skinned bear-fiends and armored land-beasts, shields in flesh, soaking arrows and spear-casts to open a lane. Behind them, red-eyed imps scampered four-footed across the parapet.
Gauss picked a bear-fiend. With no one close, he thrust the white staff forward.
"Burning Hands!"
A fan of terrible flame blasted out from his palms. The parapet ahead went white-hot; monsters in it screamed as one—bear-fiend included. He'd been working on up-casting; not there yet, but this was above Level 1. Ten meters of wall lit like day.
"Stubborn," he muttered. Small fry died in an instant; the bear-fiend still writhed. Broad-area spells trade punch for spread.
"Magic Missile."
Spheres leapt from his hands with a thought and slammed into the flaming brute.
Bang!!
It jerked, stumbled out of the fire, wavered—then toppled heavy on the wall.
[Bear-Fiend Slain ×1]
The prompt flashed—and he looked at his elite ledger. Forty-three… to fifty-three. Ten more from a new entry. Finally enough to evolve.
On a battlefield, more strength is the right answer. He flicked his eyes to his racial talent: [Reptilian Strain]. It glowed.
"Requirements Met. Evolve White-tier Racial Trait [Reptilian Strain]?"
"Yes," he thought, without a heartbeat's pause.
Elite Points burned down to three. Blue light surged in the talent slot.
"White-tier [Reptilian Strain] evolved successfully!"
A far hotter flood burst from deep in his blood—nothing gentle about it; savage, ancient power flushed his bones and flesh. He heard his blood run—thicker, stronger.
A fine mesh of energetic scales rose to his skin, reforming, layering denser, tougher—blue-black plates like real scale—blazing heat off them as they merged with the Omni-Armor. Where it had been invisible, now the ward wore a skin of overlapping, tangible scale.
Muscle fibers tore and rewove; bone thrummed to a denser tone. In his senses, darksight and heat-sense snapped into clarity—monsters below burned like torches, and he could almost trace the flow of power inside them.
On the panel, Crawler melted away; in its place, deep-blue characters gleamed:
Blue-tier [Ironscale Bloodline]
You have reached back to an older source. A thin but pure draconic power wakes in you. You step beyond the common run of reptilian stock and hold a closer potential to the great.
Power like nothing he'd known filled him.
Thoom!!
He clenched his right fist; the Omni-Armor warped and coalesced—shaping into a razor, air-warping claw of mana. The ward's signature had braided with the Ironscale blood—magic and bloodline reacting in a marvelous compound.
What a force.
~~~
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