The Holy Human Kingdom had retreated, dragging their remaining forces behind the safety of their walls –and, just as the Floor Seven Quest Panel had described at the moment of their withdrawal, they were now in a full siege state.
Instead of being on the front like usual, Deacon and the rest of Ravenlight hung back, posted up on a muddy rise with a decent vantage point of the castle and the madness unfolding at its base.
They weren't the only ones waiting, several other Parties had the same idea, but most of the cadets on the Undead Kingdom's side had already rushed in alongside the undead soldiers, eager to start the assault and receive contribution points for the tournaments along with the hope of trying to propel themselves further in the eyes of the System in order to be granted whatever reward those who participated in killing General Obi received.
From their position atop the hill that overlooked both sides, they watched the undead army prepare their siege, while the besieged, the humans of the Holy Human Kingdom, fought back from behind their walls.
They watched as the undead soldiers shoved heavy planks across the moat, laying down makeshift bridges while others dragged ladders atop them, braced them against the castle walls, and tried to climb – all of which was done under the protection of cover cast by the Undead Kingdom's mages.
The protections, while vast, were weakening under the constant barrages of arrows, spells, and rocks that rained down from the parapets above, hammering against the shielding domes of mana, forcing most of the cadets and soldiers near the wall to move fast before the barriers collapsed.
"Now do you understand why I said we should hang back first?" Deacon muttered, turning his head just enough to glance at his Party.
As if on cue, one group of cadets reached the midpoint of their ladder climb; however, before they could even crest the wall, the first line of defense struck:
From all along the vertical of that section of the wall, dozens of pikes shot through arrow slits, stabbing clean into the climbers. The ones skewered near the chest were pulled forward until their armor slammed into the ladder and stone, pinning them in place like a paper on a thumbtack board. Blood smeared down the rungs as the defenders yanked their pikes free, letting the corpses tumble backward into the moat.
Then, if there were those who managed to avoid the pikes, they were greeted by the second line of defense: hails of rocks and arrows.
Through their binoculars, the Ravenlight Party watched as a pair of cadets neared the top of the ladder, just beyond the undead mage's barriers – only to take arrows and bowling ball–sized stones to the head.
They died instantly.
Their bodies toppled backward, crashing into the climbers below and dragging them down with them. A few who had managed to survive the pikes and bombardment above were ripped from the ladder in the fall. Screams echoed as bodies splashed into the water below.
Deacon gestured at the scene with a sigh. "That's exactly what I mean; sieges are a nightmare for foot soldiers, aka us. Best way to crack one open is to bring siege engines – Trebuchets, Battering Rams, Flare Towers, Ballistae, and the like."
Glancing at the Quest Panel lingering in the corner of his vision, Deacon skimmed it again, eyes narrowing as the words scrolled across the faint blue screen.
Floor Seven – War of Kingdoms Event 3: The Siege
It has been one hundred and twenty-eight days since the war between the Holy Human Kingdom and the Tyrannical Undead Kingdom erupted in its entirety. The once-mighty banners of both kingdoms are now drenched in blood and decorating the grounds of the battlefield along with the corpses of thousands.
The brutal stalemate had finally broken in a pyrrhic victory for the Tyrannical Undead Kingdom at the death of the Holy General Obi.
After the death of their Holy General, the soldiers and knights of the Holy Human Empire have retreated back to their castle, where the Tyrannical Undead Kingdom's forces have begun to lay siege to the last remaining castle of the Holy Human Kingdom, Dawn's Breath - The home of the Holy Pontiff.
As mercenaries of the Undead Kingdom, it falls upon you to breach the walls of Dawn's Breath and enter the Holy Sanctum.
Floor Completion Criteria:
▸ Breach the walls of Dawn's Breath
▸ Take over 60% of the Upper Bailey
▸ Enter the Holy Sanctum
Time remaining: — ∞ —
Deacon dismissed the panel with a thought after having finished rereading the Quest Panel.
"Yeah, yeah, we get it," Esmerelda muttered, blowing air out of her nose in frustration. Her wind barrier swirled faintly around her as if reflecting her mood. She turned to the others with a pleading expression. "Now, can we please just head back to our tent and rest before we throw ourselves into that meat grinder? We need to come up with a plan, and I need a shower."
"Ditto," Jass said as she tugged at the collar of her leather armor and winced at the smell of dried blood and grime still attached to her, despite having cast Cleanse on herself ten times in the past hour alone.
"Not just that." Bonehead cut in as he turned to look dead at Deacon while nursing his stub of a right arm that was in the process of slowly regenerating. "We're also going to talk about what happened earlier."
The silence after Bonehead's words sat heavy over the group.
Jass leaned on her glaive, arms crossed. Sam lowered his head and looked slightly away as he scratched the side of his head with the top of his staff, and Esmerelda suddenly found the mud at her feet to be very fascinating to look at.
They all knew what Bonehead was referring to; Deacon's absence in the fight against General Obi.
Deacon swallowed once, his throat dry, lips parting but catching no words. Finally, he nodded. "…Yeah." His voice came out low, quiet, almost drowned out by the distant screams, shouts, and falling ladders. "Yeah. I'll explain."
His eyes dropped to the churned mud at his boots, then lifted again to the chaos sprawling below—the undead and cadets swarming to their tasks. Siege engines groaned forward across the broken field, ropes pulled taut as trebuchets were assembled from reinforced lumber. Squads of cadets hauled ballista frames onto high ground while necromancers barked orders, raising piles of corpses into shambling laborers to push the heavy machines. Other groups carried vats of pitch, great rolls of planking, iron-banded rams tipped like battering hammers.
Every cadet down below was in a rush, desperate, and clawing to be the first to hurl themselves against the walls of Dawn's Breath for the chance at collecting more points, while the soldiers and knights pushed for the glory of their kingdom.
Deacon sighed once again as he tore his gaze away, focusing instead on his Party. His Party, who were still staring at him.
"But not here, I'll explain while we're in the tent and with it warded."
They held his gaze for another beat before Jass finally gave a short grunt, spinning her glaive to rest against her shoulder. Sam and Jass let out a quiet exhale and nodded, Esmerelda pressed her lips together but said nothing, and Bonehead… Bonehead just kept staring, silent, before finally turning away.
Together, they began the trek back down from the rise, weaving through the chaotic sprawl of cadets and undead soldiers rushing to move a siege tower atop the mound of mud they previously stood upon.
As they walked past the tent of General Kaius and saw the emblem of their Party burned into the canvas of their tent, Deacon could already feel the pressure of the lies and promises he was told to keep, pressing down on his shoulders like a mountain.
Inside the tent, they were met with a rush of a cool and fragrant breeze – a far change in the horrid stench that wafted all across the battlefield and especially near the outside of their tent as General Kaius's wounds festered and were being healed.
Jass dropped her glaive, her Spatial Sling Bag, and the outer piece of her leather armor onto the floor. She dragged a chair from beside a small table into the center of the tent, spun it around, and leaned on it backward, arms crossed.
Bonehead slumped into the nearest chair, his half-grown arm twitching as it slowly regenerated. Esmerelda sat rigid, back straight, arms resting stiffly on her knees, her eyes fixed on nothing. Sam crouched low, carving a Silencing Ward into the dirt with the tip of his staff while his lips were muttering a silent chant.
Deacon didn't say a word as he grabbed a shredded piece of tarp from his Spatial Sling Bag and spread it in the middle of the circle that the chairs formed. Lowering himself onto one knee in front of it, he reached into his Spatial Sling Bag once again, and when his arm came back out, he pulled out a headless, brutally beaten corpse with it.
Silence sat over them.
Jass squinted at the ruined corpse and tilted her head. "Uh… what's with the body, Deke? And where the hell's its head?"
Deacon opened his mouth, but before he could say anything, Esmerelda turned her head sharply away from the body, her face twisted in disgust along with her answer, "That's Jeremiah."
Immediately after her response, everyone turned to her, even Deacon.
His eyebrows furrowed – How did she know?
"Y–yeah. It's him." Deacon's voice was low as he shifted the body, grabbed the collar of Jeremiah's robe, and slowly pulled it down far enough to reveal a metal and ornate-looking necklace with a bright pink gem in its center.
Item Name: Heart of the Devout
Type: Tool
Rarity: Artifact
Description:
The Heart of the Devout is a Magi-Mental Artifact that produces thin, spectral lavender feathers from the wearer's body. When certain conditions are fulfilled, the wielder of the Heart of the Devout will have influence over the target's thoughts. The influence of the Wearer is determined by the wearer's Intelligence stat versus the target's Willpower stat.
Effect: Allows the wearer to create feathers that can influence the thoughts of others if four requirements are met:
▸ The wearer's Intelligence must be at least double the target's Willpower.
▸ A feather must be physically inserted into the target's flesh.
▸ The target must have previously come into contact with the wearer's blood.
▸ Five seconds before activation, the target must respond to the words of the wearer with elevated emotion.
Duration of Influence: Effects persist until the wearer commands it and the feather attached to the target is removed, or if the target dies.
Requirement: Member of the Flies (Acolyte+)
The reaction was immediate. Jass spat a thick wad of phlegm onto the dirt, her jaw tight. "Motherfucker…"
Esmerelda still didn't look back. She turned her head even farther, glaring at the wall of the tent, her lips pressed tight.
"One of his brainwashed minions jumped me just as I was about to leap in with you all to fight the General," Deacon said with a faint nod before sliding Jeremiah's corpse back into his Spatial Storage and dropping back into his chair. "After I killed the bastard, I spotted Jeremiah on one of those moving siege towers—up on its top drawbridge. He was surrounded by more of his feather-slaves, barraging the Undead General with spells, so caught up in it he didn't even realize I was watching him from 200 meters away."
"Then why would his minion attack you instead of going straight for Kaius?" Sam asked, brows knit as his hand rested on the head of his staff. He leaned forward, tone thoughtful. "…Unless Jeremiah set some of them loose into the battlefield specifically to hunt for you. But why?"
Jass, Bonehead, and Esmerelda all shifted their stares to the spot where Jeremiah's body had just been, the silence around the question weighing heavily.
"Because he figured out that we were the ones who raided their base and stole their map," Deacon said flatly. His eyes flicked upward for a second, remembering something, then dropped again. "…And with the shitshow he pulled when he tried to brainwash Jass and Esmerelda two years back to be his… Yeah..."
"How did he figure out that we were the ones who raided his base?" Bonehead asked before shaking his skull in dismissal of his question. "Never mind, he probably had a device or something set up."
He leaned forward in his chair, skull-face angling down toward Deacon, sockets locked onto him. "But how'd you know he knew? And why the fuck didn't you tell us earlier?"
Deacon met Bonehead's stare for a long moment before his eyes slid across the whole group, then back down to the mud at his boots. "…I got a tip-off from Quinn. He came to me while I was going to Murdren and had him help me get a crowbar fused into Echoform Reliquary."
Sam's brows furrowed. "Quinn? That rat's the shadiest info-broker in our Gen."
"I know," Deacon muttered with a stiff nod. "That's exactly why I didn't bring it up. He came to me and told me it while I was on my way to Murdren. Since I barely knew the guy, the whole thing felt off. I couldn't tell if he was just fishing for a fight, so I kept my mouth shut. No point in throwing extra worry on us while climbing, especially over something that was probably a setup."
His lips pulled tight, eyes half-hooded. "Didn't think it was true, honestly."
Bonehead let out a slow hiss before saying. "…Guess even a broken clock's right twice a day."
That earned faint smirks from Jass, Sam, and even Esmerelda – though she kept hers quick, fading as she dropped her gaze.
The only one who didn't smile was Deacon, who, for a brief moment, looked as though he'd swallowed a lemon after having told yet another lie to his friends.