Battle was joined with a roar. The first of the monsters slammed into ready shields and waiting spears and were cut to pieces. The ones that came after used their comrades' bodies as steppingstones to reach at the alves beyond the wall of blades.

  They too were cut down, and in hardly a minute of combat, a dozen of the creatures had already died. But there were more. Flynn’s mind was ablaze with the specter-like silhouettes of all the taken-beasts bearing down on him.

  Up, down, side to side. Every direction he looked was blanketed with the density of their attack. One of the fungal-infested vermin slowly oozed out of the walls near his group, though an arrow put an end to it before it could strike at Shissi. The spearwoman shot him a grateful look before she returned her focus to where it belonged.

  It looked like the mana the mages had spent hardening the walls as they went was doing its job, but not well enough. Not for his liking. The monsters were still coming through, even if they’d been slowed in the coming.

  Ahead, three of the things tore an opening into a different squad and nearly gouged a bloody smile through an alf’s throat. A swift slash by a comrade saved the man’s life, who rejoined his line without so much as a blink of the eye.

  Tough bastards.

  A Spectacle Arrow from Cheek created a bloom of light that blinded a grouping of monsters in the distance, and they were made easy targets for a hail of arrows from every archer that saw them. Flynn released a Veiled Arrow that cut through them all with ease before he then aimed another Veiled Arrow straight down into the ground beneath him. The projectile pierced deep enough to carve a hole into the taken-beast that’d been digging its way up to him. He scowled.

  Lvl. 8 Taken-Beast

  Monster

  An inhabitant of the Gutlands. This unfortunate beast has had its mind suborned by the dominant will of the Spirit of the Forest. Its body is but a husk to be used to its ends, but a husk that retains its animalistic strength and instincts is a powerful weapon nevertheless.

  Most of the creatures seemed to hover between level eight and nine, though he spied a few level tens thrown into the mix. An arrow through the heart put an end to one such monstrosity before it could cause any trouble. Flynn swerved to put down another when a cry stole away his attention.

  “Silthius!” called Alsias in warning. Flynn’s gaze snapped to where one of the wretches was jutting from the ceiling right above the spearman. His arrow only barely killed it in time, leaving the man to dodge its falling corpse. Silthius was breathless on the ground, eyes wide as he stared at the body, though he recovered quickly after.

  Flynn felt his throat go dry as he turned away. That’d been a close call. Too close for his comfort. He glanced about and found more of the things bounding for his group. A savage snarl crossed his lips, and he mustered his mana like he had a finger on the trigger. Finally, he thought as he eyed his unknowing volunteers, it was time to put his acquisition to a proper combat test.

  He only hoped that the tunnel could bear the force of his experiment. It was a risk that he'd have to take.

  ‘Alright fuckers, let’s see how you like a little taste of American diplomacy.’

  Two clones came into being and charged right into the midst of the monsters. The beasts attempted to swipe at them, confused and delighted at the sight of their prey coming towards them, only for their claws to grasp at air instead. There was a moment of bestial bafflement before their features were lit up for a ghost of a second in a radiant glow of white and orange. And then the clones exploded, and five monsters were turned into a puree and splattered into the walls around them.

  Dozens of pairs of eyes, alf and monster alike, turned to gape at the sight. They found the gory remains of the monsters, and a madly grinning man surrounded by five more clones.

  Oh yes. Oh, fuck yes. "Happy Fourth of July motherfuckers.”

  In retrospect, Flynn would cringe whenever he reminded himself that he’d said those words, but in the moment? He’d felt like a king, and his kingdom was painted in blood. Five more explosions rang out, and the tide was thrown back in the face of such unseen carnage.

  Flynn turned to the others. His group was awestruck, and maybe a little afraid. The others, more so. The monsters? He thought he saw the alien intelligence lurking behind their husks for a scant moment, and it looked unnerved.

  He enjoyed that. He enjoyed that immensely.

  Five more explosions rocked the tunnel, stemming the tide at least from one direction, and only for a moment. Flynn sensed more of the beasts coming from every other way. One starfish like thing protruded from the ground inches away from where Mariae, one of his own, was stood. The spearwoman saw it just in the nick of time to jab a blade through its eye.

  Others were not so lucky. Flynn saw the first alf to fall since battle was joined dragged from his squad and into a meat-grinder of roving claws and teeth. Several arrows cut into the creatures, but the man had been lost in seconds. He would not be the last, Flynn was sure. His explosions could rock back the monsters, but his mana wasn’t limitless, and the drain would eventually have its due. They couldn’t last forever here, but there was no direction to turn to.

  Save for Flynn, it was taking every other member of the expedition all their focus just to keep from being overrun.

  Even Sthrillas was faring poorly, though he showed none of it on his face. The man was calm as can be as he cut apart monsters with expert ease. To his side, Astralien was a whirlwind of thorn-like tendrils tearing holes in monsters with machine-like precision.

  The other priests they’d brought were similarly claiming their toll from the beasts as well, tendrils snapping and cutting like whips. All save for a group of ten priests at the center of the mass of squads. Flynn turned away, cut down a level ten, then turned back and saw them chanting amongst themselves, their eyes focused as they did something.

  Something important? His eyes turned towards the cohort-chief. The man looked to him, as if having sensed his attention. “Protect them.” he mouthed across the distance.

  Flynn nodded. He sent Cheek to cover them as they did whatever they were doing. It was hope, he thought, if nothing else. It meant that they had a plan in action.

  The battle raged on for what felt like hours more, though it likely couldn’t have been more than five minutes. He must’ve killed at least three dozen of the creatures in that time, and his group had claimed their own butcher’s bill of the dead by themselves.

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  And yet, the tide seemed never-ending. It felt like every beast in the forest had converged within those tunnels, under the spirit’s command. He wouldn’t have been surprised if he’d learnt that to be true.

  Stamina had started to flag across the expedition, and a second alf fell victim to a grasping claw that stole her life away. Flynn swore. His mana was starting to dip low as well, and he’d been forced to relent with the explosive clones. He needed time to recover. No.

  He needed the priests to be done with whatever they were planning. It took them two more minutes before that moment finally came. The priests split apart and gestured widely. Flynn felt something shift in the air, and a groan carry through the entirety of the tunnel. And then the walls ahead of them shifted, tendrils sprouting to join together into a barrier that quickly sealed itself up, blocking the monsters from using the path ahead.

  They’d made a barrier. The path back up to the surface remained open however, and there the taken-beasts acted oddly. They’d stopped their relentless charge, and instead shook and shivered on the spot, their eyes distant. The mages had done something to the creatures too, though whatever it was looked like it was fading quick judging by the viciousness slowly returning to their miens.

  “Retreat!” roared Sthrillas, grasping at the sudden peace. “Retreat at full pace!”

  Flynn didn’t need to be told twice. He joined with his group to charge right back the way they’d come. They cut apart every monster in their way, the dazed creatures hardly able to defend themselves, let alone pose a threat.

  Occasionally he sensed a monster crawling towards them from the walls, but they weren’t fast enough to keep up with the alves at full sprint. All semblance of caution had been thrown to the wind as they raced the way back, though discipline was still maintained. Flynn had to try hard to keep from outpacing the expedition and his group, and further still divide his attention between that and keeping a check on the monsters around them.

  As they went, he noticed the markings they’d made along the way and knew thusly that they were making good time on the way back. What had been two hours coming down could be less than forty minutes up if they maintained their pace.

  If all things went well.

  He shouldn’t known better than to tempt fate. Flynn had hardly completed the thought that an ominous rumble swept through the cavern, and then the walls were moving again. At first, he’d thought it some tactic of the priests, but the alf magic-wielders seemed just as surprised by the development as all the rest. The fungal flesh around them churned and roiled before thick slabs protruded forth eratically. Flynn barely managed to dodge one before it slammed into the wall near him. Others hadn’t been so lucky.

  He saw an alf, blood dripping down his lips, caught between the two walls. The poor man was dead in seconds. Flynn grimaced. They were being sealed off, he realized. Separated.

  He glanced about. His group was still with him, as were a few other squads, but he’d been separated from Sthrillas and the larger part of the expedition. The thud of the tunnel shifting elsewhere told him that others were being separated even as the seconds ticked on.

  The fucking spirit was dividing them. He mustered a clone and tried to blast a hole back to the other alves, but the second he did, more tendrils filled up the whole faster than he could capitalize on it.

  The youth swore and prepared to do it again with thrice as many clones when he felt an unease in his gut. The ground shifted beneath his feet, and he already knew what was happening before the thought had even registered. Flynn immediately leapt just as a hole opened up beneath him, barely avoiding the fall into the murky gloom inside.

  He tucked into a roll and sprang back up to his feet before sprinting towards his group. Five clones materialized and charged towards the wall.

  “Take cover!” he ordered. All of them squatted low as the explosion rocked the tunnel. Flynn shook off the ringing in his ears and eyed the massive hole he’d made. Beyond it, he saw other alves staring at him wide-eyed, Sthrillas included.

  “Go!” he hollered, and his group hastened to obey. They sprinted towards the gap even as the tendrils tried to close the gap again. Arrows cut them quick, but the damn thing was determined to keep him trapped.

  But Flynn would not be denied. His fingers danced on his bow, loosing arrow after arrow at a relentless pace. He did not stop, even as the elders were pushed through first, and then the others trickled after. The other squads on his side rushed through and then only Flynn remained. The youth shot off one last arrow before he rushed towards the hole. Cheek swerved towards him from the other side where’d it been trapped with Sthrillas, taking over to try and keep the tendrils in check.

  It was doing a stellar job, and he’d almost made it through when he suddenly felt his balance slip from him. Eyes wide, he glanced at his feet as he fell. A protruding tendril wrapped around his ankle. He crashed with a grunt and hurriedly tried to cut it through with an arrow, but it was too late.

  The ground beneath him gave way, and Flynn was enveloped by the darkness.

  ◆◆◆◆◆◆◆◆

  You have earned a level

  11 >> 12

  Flynn swiped away the page as he rose before he quickly checked his surroundings. No monsters in sight. No monsters prickling against his senses. That no longer meant safe. He was of half a mind to summon Cheek back to him but quickly decided against it. Better it protect his people and the rest for as long as it could.

  A pang of concern bloomed in his gut as he imagined them, isolated from his strength.

  He knew that they would need all the help they could get.

  In the meanwhile, he had his own troubles to contend with. He’d fallen through another fucking hole for one. What was with this exam and sudden drops opening up beneath him?

  It wasn’t even funny anymore, not that it’d been funny in the first place. Well maybe the mushroom fall had been funny. But not this. Not now.

  Flynn tightened his fists.

  He was in a tunnel again, just as glum and poorly lit as the last one had been. Only one path stretched into the dark ahead, and he saw no sign of any danger in the way. He still sent forth his Illusionary Clones to test the path, their explosiveness unsocketed for the time being.

  It was empty as far as they’d gone. Flynn didn’t like that one bit. Illsien had been right. It was the waiting that grated far more than the actual battle. Bringing up his book, he allocated his newly gained free point into mana potency before he set off.

  It was a long one, the tunnel, and even after twenty minutes of cautious walking he’d not yet found its end. But he was close. It was opening up, he saw. The walls to his either side spread further and further apart, and it wasn’t long before it fully parted to reveal the chamber beyond. It was a vast dome-like space crafted entirely out of ashen-white mushroom-flesh.

  And with great care. That much was readily evident.

  The architecture around him was nothing like what he’d seen before amongst the alven. It was harsh, these walls, with jutting angles and intricate detailing. Pillars lined the walls, and all manner of imagery lined the walls, and even without studying them at length, he could tell what they were meant to depict.

  The statue near the entrance made that obvious enough. It was a sizable thing, at least fifteen feet in height, and showed an alven woman clad in flowing robes with chains flowing in her wake. Her face was sculpted with an expression of divine calm, and her eyes stared at him in judgement.

  Around her laid the figures of a dozen lesser alves, prostrated in worship, and behind her... a world burned.

  Again.

  Again, with the destructive imagery. Just like with the shitlings. Flynn swallowed thickly. He didn’t like the pattern he was seeing. Would he have to fight this thing now? Another boss-battle against a melancholy monster?

  A voice cut through his thoughts.

  “Beautiful, is she not?”

  That hadn’t been a woman. He turned calmly, almost languidly, to eye the figure that revealed itself upon the chamber’s center-stage. Flynn’s bow was up, an arrow manifested with a thought.

  He studied the threat.

  It was an alf, or at least its upper half was. Its lower body stretched behind it, long and sinuous, pulsating with its every movement as it slowly drew a long circle around the chamber. All its body was dotted in the same fungal growths that had covered the taken-beasts, and seeing as how he could muster no tooltip despite his best efforts, it clearly wasn’t considered the same kind of being as its minions.

  It could only be The Spirit of the Forest.