Chapter 616: How can we help?

Guiding a dozen, very vulnerable civilians through a warzone wasn’t Mason’s idea of a good time. Even worse, as he moved them out into the street, other civilians from a dozen nearby buildings thought they saw salvation and came streaming out.

Before he could tell them to stay where they were, he was surrounded by a hundred desperate, terrified people in the middle of a kind of crossroads. He knew telling them to go back was a waste of time. Instead he desperately searched his Wayfinder for some kind of larger, more defensible structure.

There was shit all, that was clear. Jeong or whoever designed this city hadn’t seemed to give two seconds of thought to defensibility if those walls fell. The arrogant bastard. Not only was he still tormenting these people from the grave, his military incompetence in life made it worse. Mason was glad again he’d killed him.

But he saw no choice except to get the civilians to the palace. The only problem was, he expected the exodus to grow as others saw it moving. He had to protect their rear, but he couldn’t lead hundreds of people unless he was out in front like a….God damnit, his first thought was sheep dog…like a shepherd.

Streak was still too far away, and probably too terrifying for the people to follow anyway. Mason winced and loosed some arrows at circling gargoyles, trying to force himself into a decision. He knew he couldn’t linger. Delay was worse than a bad decision.

“Lord…er, King Mason. How can we help?”

A handful of players appeared like guardian angels from a nearby alley. Mason recognized them. He’d seen them fight his people in the Neutral Zone. He’d also nearly killed them a day before. They were some of the elite soldiers who’d fought in the street for House Jeong.

What they were all doing in some random alley he had no idea. But he had no choice but to trust and use them.

“We’re making for the palace. I expect hundreds, maybe thousands of civilians en route. Can one of you lead them, the rest help me guard the escape?”

“We can try, sir.”

The speaker ran out ahead, gesturing for the others to spread out. They listened instantly, their familiarity in obeying the man’s orders clear. Mason hid a very relieved breath, then whistled and shouted for everyone to move before drawing his bow for more flyer kills.

He tried not to watch his mana tick tick tick away. Endless Quiver used mana in a city, and it was moments like this he realized he should probably get himself an actual magic quiver. Maybe there was some arrow-producing item civilians could make.

Having to actually draw again would be strange, and slow his shooting down a lot. But even if it wasn’t ‘endless’ like his, a few hundred arrows or something would sure be nice in a pinch. He’d tell Haley to put it on the list. When there wasn’t a god attacking.

For the moment he just kept on the left flank of the civilians as they crawled away from danger, killing anything that came close. He told himself it wasn’t because the beautiful young woman he’d slept with was on that side. He really did. But he could feel her eyes on him, and he knew he was full of shit.

Their trek across the southern quarter of the city took approximately two hundred years of Mason’s patience. More and more civilians came running, but fortunately more and more players gathered to help guard.

Pretty soon it was bloody biblical, a huge mob of people plugging the streets, magic warriors fighting undead all around them. The curly-haired alley-pack leader was coordinating them without Mason’s help, which pretty much made him Jesus. Moses. David? Mason’s bible studies weren’t much better than his pop culture knowledge.

But after enough time to get comfortable that the easterners were on the right track, he turned back and devoted all his attention to butchering undead. It improved his mood considerably.

And fortunately (embarrassingly?) for the slow-moving pack of frantic civilians, walking corpses were about the same speed they were. The main threat (and the thing causing the most casualties) were the skeletons with bows. There weren’t very many of them, however, and every player had seemed to recognize them as the primary target.

With those neutralized, and more and more support shields starting to flare up, the main problem became the gargoyles. Mason (and many other ranged) took these down, too, until the stragglers screeched and veered off for greener pastures.

After that, there was really only a shambling horde of skeletons and zombie-giants chasing the fleeing civilians like the world’s ugliest pack of lemmings.

Mason made sure his flank was clear, then turned and thumped down the street as he slid his boot meter and picked up speed. He picked the biggest pack he could see, and plowed straight into the middle.

The undead shattered and exploded with crushing bone and bursting flesh. He spun and raked and tore, and the creatures seemed to recognize they were outmatched. The giants gave him the old college try (and died horribly), but the rest just scattered and ignored him, chasing after the civilians with the same dogged pursuit.

Of course ignoring him wasn’t a great idea, either. He chased them hacking, ripping, and eviscerating. Bone and flesh came apart in his violent path of destruction. It was oddly soothing, despite the rotting guts and general stink. His Marilith arms swung around like kids in a candy store, or in what the US army might have called a ‘target rich environment’.

Elemental energy started blasting apart creatures before he reached them, and he realized other players had formed a line and started helping. In what could only have been a few more minutes, the wide street was soon filled with hundreds of broken dead.

He stood and banished his Claws, turning for any more signs of unlife. All that remained were a handful of eastern players staring at him like he was Bigfoot. He gave them a nod.

“Keep moving. Get them all the way to the palace. Then wait for new orders.”

He got a few mumbled ‘yes sirs’. They mostly looked afraid, but he could at least see the beginnings of purpose in a few eyes.

These people weren’t like his survivors in Nassau. They’d been sitting around here with nothing to do but train and imagine some future battle on behalf of a shitty leader. Defending civilians from undead was probably the first real thing they’d had to justify their existence since the demon attacks. He glanced back at the edge of the city, and messaged Haley.

How’s the wall coming?

The little message window dinged with a voice request. Apparently he was close enough to the palace now she could actually ‘call’ him. He accepted it.

“Sorry, I tried, but I can’t do anything with the wall until the ‘Endless’ theme is gone.”

Why wasn’t he surprised?

“So what,” he said, staring out at the massive walls in the distance. “I have to kill everything first? It’s a long wall.”

“Sorry, my love, that’s not my area of expertise. Maybe there’s a central control somewhere? Just tell me when it’s done and I’ll do the rest. I’ll look for other options.”

He was about to leave it there when he realized she had no idea he was sending literally thousands of people her direction.

“Uh, don’t worry about other options. I’m sending half the city to the palace. They’ll be tired, thirsty, wounded, all the things. You might want to get ready. And good luck with that.”

He tried not to smile when he sensed his wife cringe on the other end.

“Anything else I can do for you, my lord?”

“Ask me later.”

He clicked it off, then took a run and launched himself back into the air with reduced gravity. He almost spun out but managed to keep himself steady, then searched his map with half his attention, the edges of the city with the other, trying to find some obvious central area.

The only obvious sites he could see were the gates. Maybe if he took those all down, it would clear it. Three gates. Three different sides of the city. As he flew vaguely towards one, preparing to land for another, better jump, he looked again at the dust rising in the south.

They were getting closer, moving faster than he’d hoped. It would only be a few minutes now. Even at his ridiculous speed he doubted he’d get it cleared in time. He needed help.

One more thing - tell Phuong or whoever to clear the east and west gates, as fast as possible. Really emphasize speed. I’m going south. Tell them to meet me there when they’re done. There’s an army coming.

The response came before he hit the damn ground.

On it. Blake is here now. He said he’ll go West. Phuong and whoever going East.

Christ Mason loved that woman. And he could only hope he was right about the gates, and that the others moved fast enough. He didn’t expect to have time to do more than one himself, so he’d clear a gate then rush out into open ground for that army either way. Whatever was making that dust, it wasn’t going to reach the city without resistance.

He jumped again, and flew by a very confused looking gargoyle with a wink, then dropped and lined up for another jump. He was getting better with the boots, but it was damn hard to time it perfectly, and also to figure how much ‘gravity’ to use to result in the best arc.

He did his best, crossing the length in only a couple jumps. But as he stared at his powers, especially Shapeshifting and Transformation, he couldn’t help but think it would be useful to have wings…