Chapter 29 â Floor 3: Part 3
Snapping his fingers, Mathew created a towering inferno of flames that engulfed two more of the small Goblins who were distracted by a fallen player. Satisfied with the results, he was just about to look for a new target when a shout next to him shattered his focus.
âLook out!â Greg shouted, shoving Mathew from the side.
Not able to maintain his balance on the slippery tiles of the roof, Mathew began to slide down toward the street, over ten feet below. Scrambling to grab onto anything to stop his fall, he had just gripped Greg when another explosion rocked the building beneath them.
Shattered clay tiles, debris and dust covered them as a giant object, likely hurled from one of the catapults outside the city, struck the side of the building they were using.
Not able to halt themselves, the pair fell over the side as the building began to rumble, shake and groan.
Mathew landed heavily on the paved street, knocking the wind out of him. He was struggling to recover when a weight hit him from behind, driving him back down onto the ground. He heard Greg curse when the deafening roar of the collapsing building silenced them.
Crawling on hands and knees as hard as he could without catching his breath, Mathew nearly made it to the other side of the street when half of the building they were just on crashed to the ground. A massive amount of dust obscured everything, and he could hear nothing but the striking of stone and brick around him for long minutes.
Huddled against the opposite building, the pair waited for it to stop while shielding their heads with their arms.
After a few minutes, it finally stopped, and Mathew cautiously lowered his arms to look around them.
The remnants of the building were sprawled across the street, nearly reaching where they had been huddled. Mathewâs arms and hands were cut and bloody. The amount of shattered stone and brick flying about had been too much for the Cowerâs Brand to protect him from.
Coughing from the amount of dust in the air, he looked over at Greg. The man was grey from the dust, matched with bright red from the blood running down his face from a nasty cut over his eye.
âYou alright?â Mathew asked, cautiously regaining his feet.
âYeah, Iâm good.â Greg replied, climbing to his feet only to fall back against the wall and clutch his head.
âWoah, hold on! You took a knock to the head. Weâll need to get you a potion for that.â Mathew said, wincing as he examined his companionâs wound. Carefully, he wrapped an arm around him and helped Greg stand upright.
âWeâre blocked off from the front. Weâll go down to the end of this street and cut across to the Temple.â Mathew whispered. The debris had effectively blockaded the way to the gates. They could probably climb their way over, but with Gregâs injury, it was better to retreat and take the long way back to the Temple.
One step at a time, the pair returned to the Temple just as the morning sun was cresting the horizon.
Page Break
Name: Mathew Larson
Discipline: Coward (Level 2) -> Coward (Level 3)
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Charlatan (Level 5)
Level: 7 -> 8
Aether Required For next Level: 28000
Aether: 33854 -> 5854
Attributes
Body: 2.1 -> 2.3
Mind: 2.7 -> 2.8
Spirit: 0.3 â 0.3
Blessings
Create and Control Flames III (Max Tier)
The Cowardâs Brand (Tier 1)
âConfirm.â Mathew said.
The familiar rush of a level-up swept across him, driving away his tiredness and healing his wounds. He felt refreshed and healthy, revitalized in a way that made him feel like he was back at his peak.
âDone?â Greg asked, looking equally pleased with the results of his own level-up.
The man from Vermont had gone from âPoacherâ to âTrapper,â but Mathew still didnât know the specifics of his Blessings. Greg said they were passives for his crossbow and ability to track targets, but he didnât go into depth about them.
âIâm good. Level three Coward.â Mathew replied, and his companion scoffed.
âCoward! I canât believe you thought that was a good Discipline to choose.â Greg mocked.
âHey! It already saved my life. Itâs worth a little embarrassment.â Mathew responded.
âWhatâs embarrassing is what youâre wearing. And I donât just mean the absurdity of wearing a suit in a warzone. Youâre wearing rags.â Greg said, pulling on Mathewâs open jacket.
It was riddled with holes and tears. One entire sleeve was gone, and even though he had used a âlaundry tabâ to remove the dirt and blood, there was no salvaging the outfit.
âLike youâre one to talk.â Mathew retorted. Greg was in no better shape. They both looked like they had pulled clothing out of a dumpster, with barely a whole piece of cloth between them.
âAt least mine was functional.â Greg said, already pulling up the âshopâ function of the wristband. Following suit, Mathew was soon going through the tabs.
Clothing began with mundane, small items like underwear and socks before going to complete outfits at increasingly absurd prices.
With only a little over five thousand Aether remaining, Mathew didnât even bother looking at the magical items that cost well over fifty thousand Aether a piece for the most basic enchantments.
A t-shirt, jeans, and a heavy and padded jacket with comfortable boots cost him the entire amount he had left, but it made him feel like a human again. Greg, rather than switch things up, bought nearly the exact thing he was wearing before. Only the green camouflage was now blacks and greys.
âBetter?â Mathew asked sarcastically as he led the way out of the Temple. The battle had ended only a short while ago, with the results being the same as they were the previous night. A whole plazaâs worth of dead in front of the gates, both human and Goblins, and the stalemate unbroken.
Already, Mathew could see new players arriving from the lower floors, their dazed and confused expressions a dead giveaway. He wished he could help them, maybe do something decisive to turn the tide, but he was out of ideas.
He had thought of a repeat of August City, maybe by stacking combustibles and barrels of tar in front of the gates to ignite, but Greg had warned him that they were trying to âprotectâ the city. The last thing they needed was uncontrollable fires spreading everywhere.
Besides that, it had been raining every day for hours, ensuring the ground and everything in the city was soaked.
âWe need to do something. We need an edge, something to make a difference.â Mathew mused out loud.
âThe only edge we can get is gaining enough levels to push through these bastards. I donât think thereâs a level cap, not like on the first floor. We survive long enough, and we should be able to end this.â Greg replied.
âYou mean âifâ we survive long enough. Weâre going to need a new place to fight tonight. Any ideas?â Mathew countered
âNot on a rooftop. Iâm not fond of falling. Maybe we set up on that pile of debris we left behind? Stack some more, and make it into a fortification. If things get hairy, we can always retreat through a nearby building or down the streets.â Greg clarified.
âItâs better than nothing. Iâm a Coward, remember? Anywhere that I can run away is perfect for me.â
âCome on, letâs check it out and then get some rest.â Greg said while chuckling at the comment. He led the way to where they had nearly died the night before.
The wreckage was sobering to see in the grey light of day. The rain had removed all the dust in the air, leaving everything plain to see. Large chunks of the building were on top of a hill of debris, with the smaller and more loose materials on the bottom.
After a few hours, they had a setup they could live with. A steep slope led to a large beam and some stones they had placed together that they could hide behind. If a Goblin wanted to reach them, it would need to climb up six or seven feet of loose debris so that they would have difficulty finding footing.
Tired but content, they returned to their borrowed home to rest for the coming night. Hopefully, the Goblins wouldnât have any new surprises for them.
It was a naïve hope.