Accidental Healer-Chapter 139 - 53 - Bruiser

Two weeks later.

"What is that?"

Nick pointed a finger that I followed to a figure jogging lightly at the head of the Chaos Spawn herd. The figure was clad head to toe in jagged black armor with streaks of red that gave the impression of crimson veins that flowed to a red crystal fixture at its chest and a dangerous looking black longsword.

"I'm not really sure…it's the first I've seen…"

On the cusp of three months into the scourge trial we'd reached a point of near consistent waves of Chaos spawn. They'd grown so large that each fight would last nearly an hour to kill them all. Thousands—maybe tens of thousands each time. Each one level thirty or higher. Each one dropping at least 500 or more UBCs. Stamina was becoming a serious issue. To combat the fatigue fighters were broken up into three separate shifts to allow at least some respite.

The other towns followed suit. Thankfully, the waves scaled to population or the losses in the outer towns would be devastating. But through some miracle, we'd gone two whole weeks without a single fatality.

That did not mean things were getting easier. The Chaos spawn Champions were covered in thick iron plating that even reinforced their powerful hindquarters. They'd begun to look more like tanks than actual monsters by this point. Scavengers started carrying handbows and were more frequent but stayed mostly the same in appearance. Mischief claimed they were showing more emotional intelligence lately, which he was enjoying immensely.

But this new Chaos Spawn was something we'd yet to see.

"It must be the next stage." I reasoned. "Nick, let's see how tough they are."

In response, he lifted his bow, knocked a thick wooden arrow and drew back the string. A black bead the size of a pea formed just at the tip of the arrow and grew to the size of a quarter before Nick released his shot.

The arrow disappeared into the blackness before reappearing directly in front of the new Chaos Spawns visor, right where its eye should be. Nick told me his new ability worked similar to his teleportation skill. He shot the arrow through the dot and it would reaper where he willed the destination to be.

We all watched the arrow closely.

To my surprise, it didn't reach its intended target.

The crystal at its chest lit up and the arrow met a faint maroon barrier deflecting the shot harmlessly into the dirt.

Nick and I shared a look.

"Light it up?"

Nick grinned and drew another arrow. This time when the arrow sailed it struck the barrier with concussive force staggering the black armored Chaos Spawn. The barrier reappeared, catching the attack. There was a crack and the red orb split down the middle, barrier fizzing, then fading away. Not even another second later another arrow split the visor burying itself deep. Two wobbly steps later and it fell face first into the dirt.

"Not too bad." I said with a shrug. "What is it called?"

"Chaos Spawn Bruiser—it was level 32"

By this time, the rest of the soldiers had joined in the fight. Skills and spells filled the air from behind the safety of our walls laying waste to enemy ranks.

I searched for the body of the Bruiser but it was already buried by surging monsters.

"You think we'll be able to salvage the armor?" I wondered.

"I don't see why not. We've been able to salvage all the other armor—not that it's good for anything."

Nick was right, most of the salvage recovered had been useless. It was lower quality material then what we mined and it didn't fit any of our soldiers. The Scavengers didn't wear armor, they grew their armor from their skin like finger nails or something.

"I guess, we'll see."

Nick went to work using another skill from his new class evolution where he shot into a black portal that resembled a quarter sized pie chart. It split his arrow into ten different perfectly placed shots with slightly reduced power. It was still enough to delete them from the fight.

The tale has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.

I scanned the chaos spawn. Nothing but champions and scavengers were left.

At level 50 Nick was more than enough to handle a single Bruiser. But what would happen when they were as numerous as the Scavengers? Or worse yet, the Champions? Would our smaller towns be capable of rebuffing an attack like that?

Definitely not in their current state. But more evolutions were happening everyday. Would that be enough? It might be time to consider withdrawing the dark elves into Layton Mischief Township. They were stretched thin already, what would happen if we abandoned the territory to the Chaos Spawn?

It was at least worth a conversation. The walls of LM Township were nearly all reinforced with heavy planks, fortified by skilled carpenters to withstand a direct hit from Durkil's mace. I made a mental note to run the idea by Jared once the fight was over.

"They're piling up Layton." Nick said without slowing his attacks.

Sure enough, bodies of dead Chaos spawn were already piling up outside the walls. To be honest, the corpse piles were probably the most annoying part about these hordes. It was really only a problem for our ranged fighters though.

I rolled my shoulders.

"I guess that means it's our turn."

A chair shifted on wood from behind me and I sensed Norso moving to stand by my side.

"Let's go then." I said, then vaulted the railings of the tower to drop nimbly onto the dirt just outside the town walls, Norso landed with a gentle grunt a second later. Hundreds of soldiers followed my lead and I mentally reinforced them all in a barrier spell.

It was the kind of moment that I was afraid I might lose myself in. People—my people were about to charge headfirst into a horde of deadly raging nightmare spawn—but damn if it didn't feel badass. How could it not?

I turned and recognized Maddux, just a little ways away. I could still remember the day when we faced our first raid together. We were waiting for the gate to open and he looked like he was ready to wet his pants at any second. He was a different man now.

His spear held firm in one hand, posture steady, eager to face his next challenge. He'd upgraded his appearance from blue jeans and a ripped t-shirt to chainmail, a light chest plate and plumed crossguard helmet. No, the quivering, pale pre-mana Maddux no longer existed in this new earth.

That Maddux was dead.

This man had been baptized in blood.

We all had.

***

Mischief moved like a blur, using the shadows of the Chaos spawn to teleport through their ranks like a ghost of darkness and death.

Armor was not enough to protect his foes from their inevitable fates, his claws grated against a steel back plate until he was rewarded with the satisfying feeling of them punching through into warm soft flesh.

The chaos spawn squealed in agony, but Mischief didn't even stop to finish his kill. He was having far too much fun to be bothered by kill notifications.

The scavenger was his first sign.

When he glimpsed the first subtle flash of fear behind those dead black eyes he knew things were about to change.

And he was right.

"Don't you want to stop me?"

Mischief asked the mind of black armored Chaos spawn, as his teeth sank deep into the throat of a particularly large Champion. Thick, sweet, blood oozed down the back of his throat and down his mane.

From somewhere in the thick of the fight a muffled metallic roar filled the air.

Admittedly, it was impossible to tell if his taunts were understood or if the words alone were enough to enrage the beast. Either way, it was better than the monotonous humdrum that was the previous hordes. Of course, he did find some enjoyment in hunting scavengers.

This was still better.

"Do you understand? You're here to die."

More roars.

This time, Mischief could see the source.

Several vines crept slowly up the black armored leg towards the Bruisers midsection, branches forcing themselves between the small gaps to whatever flesh existed beneath—injecting its creeping toxins.

It didn't bother Mischief that Bracken was slowly killing his plaything. It made it better.

Mischief met the Bruisers helmet slits, while dragging his claws through the torso of a scavenger slicing it cleanly into four pieces. The tangled monster fought against its restraints, falling to its knees from the effort. Mischief watched it closely, studying it.

"You didn't like that?"

Intrigued, Mischief gored another chaos spawn. He peered into the darkness of the thin helmet slit. There were no eyes, but the simmering heat was obvious. Gauntleted hands dug into soil, crawling against the pull of the coiled vines.

Bracken's spell was becoming more potent and the creature's life was fading fast.

Mischief was testing a theory.

All around the bruiser catkin tore the Chaos Spawn to pieces, and yet, the Bruiser only focused on him….

The only difference was, Mischief was taunting it. That didn't necessarily mean it comprehended the words. But it did mean—it felt.

Mischief caught a glimmer of movement and Bracken appeared, katana held in an overhead swing. There was a flash and the head of the Bruiser disconnected from its body.

What a pity.

The real question. Should he tell Layton what he suspected?

No, definitely not. Knowing his brother like he did, Layton would overthink everything.

Would he tell him anyway?

Of course he would.