(Second Book Complete!) Runeblade: A Delving & Skill Merging LitRPG

Cosmic fury bombarded the frontier, whiting out Rieker’s vision. He watched it silently. One moment, there was nothing, the next there was a strip of void and dozens detonations.

He’d seen war magic many times in his career, but this.

Flicking his eyes to the boy, he couldn’t help but feel a little bit of a chill. Unleashing something like that, in an instant? It wasn’t normal — let alone the fact he could do it and still be so blasted good with his sword.

A godsdamned monster, that’s what he was. All of them, really. He’d been fighting and warring for decades, and sixty years later he’d clawed his way to the three-forties.

Two years. That’s how long it had taken his little batch of psychopaths to catch up to him. He had a hundred bloody levels on them, and they kept pace easily.

Rieker clenched his jaw, remembering the Tyrant’s passing jibe. Once Great. How true it was. It might not chafe as much as it once would have, he’d taken this post for a reason — he needed a godsdamned break. Not that he’d gotten one. A bare handful of years into his and Ro’s sabbatical and he’d gotten a pair of freaks turning up at his doorstep.

Taking a deep breath, he felt the nauseous burn of the Tyrant’s energy lingering on his chest. It sapped at his strength, wore him down in much the same way its Authority did. Fighting back against it felt like strapping an anvil to his back, but he’d suffered worse.

Kaius and the others seemed barely affected, their own aspects helping them fight back. Once great, indeed.

It was strange, to wake up and discover that the world had left you behind.

He spun the hammers in his hands. Hektran and Detmenkoz, gifts from his last foray into the Drozags. He found the weight of the dwarven steel comforting. Two decades, and they had yet to fail him.

Tightening his grip, Rieker readied himself. Their fight wasn’t over — the blood didn’t stop flowing until the System chimed. The Tyrant still lived, somewhere in that chaotic deluge.

Silently, he fell into formation. Kaius and Porkchop took the centre; as much as it galled. They were the anchors of their fight with their resistance to the Tyrant. He took the left flank, Arc took the right — spread wide, to catch their foe should it try to break through and reach their back line.

The dust settled, and the light dimmed. Cratered and broken, the dead ground had been flashed black, with the odd orange ember glimmering in the soil. At the centre of the devastation a smoking form rose. The Tyrant was slow, but the steadiness of its movements sent a chill down his spine. It was broken. Great rents had been torn in its flesh, and its black skin was rapidly painted yellow from the blood that poured from its wounds. One of its arms hung limp, its shoulder twisted unnaturally.

Not one iota of its speed or grace had been lost to the wounds. It was flowing granite and liquid steel; indefatiguable.

There was no moment of dramatic pause. The second their target was visible, they burst into motion as a cohesive group.

Rieker made it a dozen strides before the Tyrant ignited into a conflagration, and a mountain landed on his back. Authority. It was incomparable to what he’d felt before, banishing the very world until there was only a bone-cracking pressure, and the burning totem that stood across the field.

Kaius and Porkchop made it a few steps further, before they too staggered. Rieker could see them straining, quaking as they forced themselves into a slow jog — heading right for the Tyrant.

Hells. He was getting too old for this shit. Desperate battles and last stands were a young man’s game.

Kaius raised his hand shakily, a Nail snapping towards the Tyrant. It swayed, stumbling to the side — a hair too slow. The spell slammed home into its ribs.

The sight of it made Rieker’s heart beat just a little faster. Could they actually do it?

“A well executed ploy. Laudable, even,” it whispered, sound carried right to Rieker’s ears.

It sounded genuine. He’d put down some mad bastards, but this hellspawn was right up there.

Feeling a vein throb in his forehead, he strained against the suffocating weight that surrounded him. A single, shaking step was the best he could manage. A terrible show of it, considering his protege’s had already worked their way to a full sprint.

“Unfortunately, all the guile in the world matters little in the face of strength!” the tyrant hissed.

Rieker felt the illusory crackling edge of a knife against his throat, joined by the pressing urge to hurl himself a step to his right. His eyes widened — fuck.

Red fire erupted.

He barely managed a drunken stagger before the Tyrant appeared in front of him. A lance of cold punched through his belly and up through his chest, erupting out the back of his shoulder.

Rieker blinked, and stared down at the arm that was buried up to the elbow in his guts. He coughed, a splatter of red landing on the Tyrant’s grinning face. Joy. Oh how he wished he could cave in its skull. Utter fucking bastard.

Foreign energy surged out of the Tyrant’s arm, and then he was gone — lost in a sea of consumption that attacked his very soul.

…

“No!” Kaius roared, staring in horror as the Tyrant hoisted Rieker into the sky. Blood ran from the guildmaster in a steady stream, pooling at the creature’s feet.

Then it hoisted Rieker further. Blood gushed from his wound as he let out a pained groan.

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The casual disrespect of the motion slapped Kaius. He didn’t think; there was no need to. One moment, he was across the field of battle, gripping his blade in a white-knuckle grip.

Then space devoured him with hungry fangs. Pain exploded through his body, rents opening throughout his body as impossibly fine ripples tore through his flesh like it was paper.

Instantaneously, he arrived behind the Tyrant. The violence of his arrival tore into its back, reopening its many wounds and spraying him with blood. Kaius barely noticed, too focused on his descending cut. His blade burned red and hot, honed to an impossible degree by Investiture. Violent azure shone on its edge, a screaming Mystic violence.

Burnt carapace offered no resistance. He cut through the arm that was buried in Rieker’s stomach. Rend detonated, a burst of blood and fluid spraying wide. Rieker dropped limp as his blade continued down — gods he hoped it was just the Tyrant’s Authority. Worry didn’t slow his strike.

Focused to the extreme, he threaded his blade through the gap in its natural armour surrounding its elbow. That too, he severed.

Carrying through the motion, he whirled into another high slash.

“You still hold hidden depths? Good, show them to me,” the Tyrant hissed as it spun away from his follow up, clutching its spurting stumps.

A sudden kick ejected fire. Kaius dove straight through, ignoring the crackle of his flesh as he slid into a fencer’s thrust. A feint. The second it backed up, he fired the last of his Nails — four spikes punching into its chest.

Somehow, it still stood strong.

He knew it was fucked. Gods’ scorn, he’d taken two of its arms. It was still dangerous — he was alone. Rieker was dying, Arc was frozen, and Porkchop was distant.

A shrill whine cut off the thought, something shooting past him. An arrow slammed through the Tyrant’s thigh, making the limb buckle. Vines sprouted a moment later, fouling its footing.

Kaius grinned — maybe not totally alone.

Capitalising on the opening, a Shunt hurled him forward. He swung for the tyrant’s maimed side. The creature tried to dodge, but it was slow. Starfall had worked, no longer could it dance around them without care. Mystic’s Rend snapped into existence.

The tip of his blade ripped through its weakened flesh, exposing its shining viscera, before his Skill collapsed and its innards were pulped with caustic energy. To his displeasure, it barely winced. Still, he’d managed to gut it, just like he’d promised.

As if it could read his mind, fury flashed in its eyes. Fire erupted, a pyre that engulfed it like a lover.

Kaius steadied his course. Winds howled around him, sapping the fire as a fresh Maelstrom went to work. Blue lightning cut through the red, lashing the Tyrant again and again. He cut off the spells a moment later — he only had three more left.

Motion caught his eye: Porkchop, charging in. Arc was with him, recovered from the Tyrant’s burst of Authority.

They struck together, battling through the flames. It gave Kaius a moment of breathing room. Checking on the guildmaster, he let out an explosive breath as he saw Ianmus crouched over him. The Keyseals atop his staff were gone, and an empty tonic bottle lay discarded next to him. Whatever he was doing must have been mana hungry beyond belief.

Rieker was pale and unconscious, but his chest was rising weakly. He was alive.

That was enough. Kaius tore back towards the battle, chained Shunts sending him skyward. His own wounds were severe. Muscle deep burns had accumulated faster than he could heel, and he felt like he’d been butchered from within after using Fractured Warp. He couldn’t risk using the spell again, not so soon.

From up high, he saw the Tyrant cleanly. With two arms missing, its defence had crumpled — every bit of it was focused on avoiding Arc and Porkchop’s assault. It wasn’t working. They were battering it, crushing blows landing in ceaseless waves.

It couldn’t see him, nor was it paying attention to Kenva. She was standing across the field, straining as she funneled more into a gleaming arrow. Howl of the North wind — he had to give her an opening.

Using the last of his Shunts, Kaius circled the battlefield. He descended, right for the Tyrant’s back. Feeling the fury within him, Kaius committed fully.

He refused to let this battle draw on any longer. They had to get Rieker to Madrigal — the life mage was a dedicated healer.

Magic erupted from his throat as Redoubt of the Speaker burnt like a wick. He dove into VOS, pressing that ineffable power into one of his final charges of Stormlash — but he didn’t let it erupt. Gritting his teeth, Kaius directed the power to his blade.

Sparks danced through A Father’s Gift, like a living storm had been trapped inside crystal.

He descended an avenger, cleaving down with everything he had towards the Tyrant’s skull.

It twitched, dodging impossibly. Rather than bifurcating its head, he sundered its chest. Half a dozen ribs split like they were kindling, before a bright blue flash consumed the creature from within. Lightning arced from every wound in its flesh, creeping over its body like a living thing.

Kaius staggered, his mind fogged and raw as his wounded body protested the force of his landing.

The Tyrant fell to its knees.

Kicking it in the back, he ripped his blade free as he forced it flat. Lying prone between the three of them, it laughed, a sopping gurgle as it choked on bloody foam. How the fuck was it still alive?!

“And so…sacred duty…is upheld,” it took a single, shuddering breath. Kaius watched its lung expand and spasm through the rent he had torn through its body. “And purpose…is found.”

Porkchop growled, raising one paw as he prepared to finish it off. He wasn’t sure if he’d get the chance — Kenva held Howl of the North Wind at full draw, her back shuddering from how long she had been channeling the shot.

“One moment,” Arc said, holding up a hand for Porkchop to halt. He crouched down.

“At the start of our battle, this one asked why. You spoke of the sin of mediocrity. This one would know if those thoughts remain,” Arc whispered pitilessly.

Another shuddering laugh rocked the tyrant’s bleeding body. “I… cleanse sin. I am… a mercy.”

Arc turned his head and spat on the dirt in disgust, “Monster.”

Kaius couldn’t agree more.

“Back up,” he said, stepping away from the Tyrant. Meeting Kenva’s eyes, he nodded.

Howling wails filled the air as she loosed. A gale-covered streak ripped across the battlefield, skewering the Tyrant’s head. It ruptured in a burst of wind, splattering the surroundings with fragments of bone and pulped brain.

**Ding! You have slain Purpose in Duty - Level 264 Tyrant of the Enthralling Pyre! Experience Gained! Increased Experience for slaying a foe of significantly higher level! Increased Experience for slaying an Essence User!**

The instant the Tyrant died, pandemonium erupted, drowning out the successive chime of notifications that followed. Kaius shoved them deep. He could check them later — when they were truly safe.