Nightmare Realm Summoner

Alex’s group didn’t waste another second. The chaos of the fight was more than enough to cover their entrance, and they all had their tasks to fulfill. Claire grabbed Alyssa and launched off to the side, their forms blurring as they accelerated away from the entrance of the room.

Derek made a beeline toward the closer of the two families. He turned his nose to the air and sniffed aggressively between every step — which would have been a lot more distracting had there not been a storm of magic tearing through the room around the enormous monstrosity at its center.

And, while the others raced to perform their parts, Alex immediately started making his way closer to the center of the fight. He kept his glaive at the ready as he wove through the crowd. Not one person paid him any attention.

All of Crimson’s people were entirely focused on the fight before them. Between the Lifebane Triscorpion boss monster and the other great family on the other side of the room, they didn’t have the attention to spare for him. He just walked right past them.

The urge to just sprint right at the scorpion like a deranged idiot was stronger than Alex cared to admit. If the boss had been any weaker, he’d have strongly considered it. But that was a moot point. If the boss had been weaker, then one of the two families here would have already defeated it.

I do wonder who the other Great Family is. I probably should have studied up a bit on what their crests were.

Alex squinted through the angry haze of crackling magic and shifting smoke that swirled throughout the room. Angry flashes of light sliced through the thick smog of battle. Waves of pressure and heat and frost battered against him and sent his hair whipping around his head.

If it wasn’t for the mask covering his face, the intensity of the magic tearing through the room probably would have forced him to squeeze his eyes shut. It felt like he were wading through a powerful current.

Alex could barely make out any details about the people in the group around him, much less his own group. That was probably a good thing. The less people could see of each other, the less likely anyone would be able to track them down after they pulled off their heist.

The trick is going to be escaping after we actually kill this thing. I don’t know how I’m going to find Claire and Alyssa in this chaos. Hopefully Claire’s already thought of a way.

Alex raised a hand before his face as a wave of energy slammed into him and sent him skidding a step back. He gritted his teeth and drew on his magic, summoning his shadow up from the ground. It materialized behind him and proceeded to sprint off in the opposite direction of the fight.

At the very least, it would give him a way to jump out after he struck.

Not that I’m sure how I can actually finish something this powerful off. For now… I wait. The Triscorpion isn’t near death yet. I’m counting on you, Derek. I really hope you and this Wess guy can pull off a big distraction.

Thunderous crashes tore through the room as the massive boss monster’s three tails drilled into the adventurers surrounding it in an endless avalanche of strikes. They were black blurs through the smoke, practically impossible to keep up with and equally as difficult to block.

The screams coming from the crowd nearest to the monster made it clear that neither of the Great Families were having a great time — but Alex couldn’t help but notice that there were far fewer deaths than he’d been expecting.

Ripples of golden and white light rolled out from people scattered throughout the crowd to fall upon the wounded combatants in a torrential rain. The magic dragged the injured people right back to their feet, their wounds sealing over in instants.

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Whenever someone lost their footing, another person would dart out from the group to drag them to safety so the healers could deal with them.

This wasn’t just some skirmish. It was completely different to pretty much every other fight that Alex had seen since the start of the apocalypse. The back of his neck prickled as he watched the fight unfold before him.

Crimson was a well-oiled machine. The Outworlders fought as a single entity. Compared to the pathetic attempt at defending themselves that Towntown had put up back during the Initializations… well, there was no comparison at all.

This is what the Great Families are truly capable of. Even as restrained by the System as they are, their tactics aren’t touched. And this is just a group of fifty or so of them. How many years of experience do they have doing this? How many monsters just like this one have they already killed?

Alex’s fists clenched around the haft of his glaive. This was what 274-50 was up against. While all the Nativeworlders struggled to survive and spent resources fighting each other just as often as monsters… the families could just go at dungeons and Ancestries like this one after another.

This probably was far from the first planet they’d done this on. And if they had their way, it certainly wouldn’t be the last.

A booming explosion tore through the air. It buffeted Alex’s hair back. Orange flame coiled away from the side of the Triscorpion in a huge ball of fire. The monster staggered and let out a scream of pain. A dozen other spells crashed down on it all at once, each one making its legs tremble and bend just a bit more.

I’d be willing to bet I could hold my own or beat many of the people here. But as a machine? When they’re working together like this? If they put siege to Mirrorwane… we’d be dead. As things stand right now, there’s shit all I could do to stop a group like this.

Alex’s jaw clenched. The noise and chaos was so great that any distraction Derek and Wess went for was going to have to be positively enormous for it to have an effect.

But Derek had been confident they could pull it off. And, as odd as the large man was, Alex trusted that he would keep his word. He just had to wait for the right moment to strike.

Aside from the lack of restrictions from the System, there’s only one way I can really take advantage of the rewards these Outworlders are creating with their presence on 274-50.

Surprise.

Alex drew on his magic. The Triscorpion was getting weaker now. Its tails were moving slower. It wasn’t quite an inch from death yet, but if he waited until the literal last second, then the chances of him actually being the one to land the finishing blow were immensely small. Both families were going to be looking to claim the actual kill for themselves. That meant he had to attack before anyone else went for the finishing blow. Before anyone else thought the Triscorpion could die — and he had to do more damage than anyone thought possible.

He lowered his stance, ignoring the cries rising through the room around him. The bombardment of magic started to slow. Both families had realized how close to the end they were as well. The haze of magic receded for but a moment.

Everyone was holding their strongest attacks. Nobody wanted to miss the chance to strike, and nobody wanted to be the one to give the other the help they needed to claim the kill themselves.

There was the tiniest flicker of silence. The momentary peace of the eye of a storm as every adventurer waited for their chance to claim the kill.

A holler tore through that moment like a jagged knife.

Alex’s eyes were drawn upward as a man sailed straight up into the sky like a catapult had launched him. He held a cowboy hat to his head with one hand. A leather jacket flapped like a cape in the wind behind him, and there was a distinct grin upon the rough stubble covering the lower half of his rugged face.

The man held his other hand out before him, his fingers curling as if gripping something.

“Partial Soul Manifestation.” A distinctly Texan drawl cut through the room, a sharp twang of manic delight lining every word. There was a crackle of white energy around the man. Pieces of metal slammed into being to encase his arm, extending out before him in an unmistakable shape.

Alex’s eyes went wide.

No way. You can’t be serious.

But his disbelief did nothing to stop a stock from forming against the man’s shoulder as a rifled barrel pieced itself together and a grip shifted into place within his hand, a finger already against the trigger.

The man’s grin grew wider. A brilliant scream of energy gathered at the tip of the massive weapon in his hand, whirling like a pale vortex. The man — who could have only been Wess — grinned even wider still as he finished intoning the second part of his soul manifestation.

“Big Fuckin’ Gun.”