(Second Book Complete!) Runeblade: A Delving & Skill Merging LitRPG

A carapace of heavy metal snapped into existence, sealing Porkchop within. The sudden weight of it was comforting, like the crushing embrace of a long-missing friend. Shouts of alarm rang out from a dozen mouths, the gathered bandits shocked at the sudden appearance of his true form.

It was time for this charade to end. He’d done his part, and drawn a wealth of bodies into the grinder. Now he just needed to weather what his enemies could not.

A growl rumbled free from his chest as he lunged forwards, slamming aside one of the men that surrounded him. His target screamed, and the crunch of bone was joined by the clang of axes and swords as a half dozen others struck his plate. Sparks flew from their edges: he was something far more indomitable than simple iron.

Starfall ripped open the sky, bandits yelling in shock. The void burned, mana shining so violently it stung Porkchop’s eyes. He could feel the pressure of it — the presence of burning fury in the dark, coming to deliver spite and ruin.

There was a violence to the spell that sparked a savage joy within him. More potent than the tang of spilled blood in the air, or the fading ache of the rents in his flesh, it came as pure knowledge that destruction would be wrought, and he had no say in the matter.

Burning lights swelled large overhead, joined by a subtle flash of lunar mana high on the cliff. Ianmus jumping to action. A field of grasping lilies erupted from the ground around him, tangled growth seizing the limbs of the men who stared in horror at the void above.

Porkchop let out a savage howl and braced, power surging through The Stone that Weathered Time.

As the first screaming stone hit the ground in an eruption of rubble and viscera, Porkchop felt only a bright certainty that it would hurt their enemies far more than it did him.

…

Lunar power erupted from the woven seal atop Ianmus’s staff, its cold shine sealing the fates of thirty men.

The cost in life would be terrible, but his thoughts were only with his friend that hunkered low in the centre of the warband. Starfall was centred on Porkchop, and he was surrounded on all sides — there was no escape.

Knuckles whitening as he gripped his staff, uncertainty gnawed deep in his belly. It was a sound move — but no amount of familiarity with his friend’s fatalistic confidence would wear away the ache when he watched Porkchop throw himself at yet another blade.

Beside him, an arrow ripped from Kenva’s bow. A bandit manning the camp’s wall fell, fletching sprouting from his eye. The crunch of his body hitting the stone below was lost to the din of battle, replaced by the twang of another arrow being loosed close by.

Ianmus watched the slaughter, wishing he could act. His old teacher was right there! Trapped in a den of vipers, and surrounded by swords, Ianmus wanted nothing more than to set the world ablaze, ripping through bandits with the might of the sun.

But he could not — that was not his position in this battle. The bandits they faced were weak, but so was Kanmost. It would be on him to keep the Archivist breathing, and the bandits slow and weak. Limited to two keyseals, that meant he could only rely on free casting if he wanted to join in on the direct assault.

He couldn’t — that would sap his focus.

So he stood and watched the racing hive of activity that was Brokenlight’s camp. The earth rumbled and men screamed as Starfall wrought death, but not even that could tear him away.

Not when he had to witness yet another friend be thrust into the middle of deadly battle — one far less durable than Kaius and Porkchop.

The main marque stood strong, canvas walls rustling as a cold wind rolled through the gorge. They may as well have been solid steel walls, sealing away Kanmost. Without line of sight, he could not use his new Triage spell. Kaius would need to cut a path, and until he did, Kanmost would be vulnerable.

Another man collapsed on the walls as Kenva blew a hole through his forehead. Brain and bone erupted from the wound, drenching the face of another archer who stood in front of him. The surviving bandit dove for cover — only to tumble down from the tangle of deadwood and stone, a quarrel sunk into the back of his skull.

Ianmus snapped to the opposing cliff, spotting three men in light plate slipping out of the bushes. Lord Steelroot met his eyes as he wrenched back the string of his arbalest with one bulky arm. The man gave him a nod, knocked another bolt, and took aim once more.

So the lordlings had finally decided to act. The blue-blooded sure did like a dramatic entrance.

Another man died, the only screams torn from the mouths of the bandit’s surviving allies.

“Breathe, Ianmus,” Kenva said, fluidly drawing another arrow from her quiver. “Kaius will get him.”

That much was true, but his friend’s reassurance did little for the anxious knot in his belly. He felt naked without the Keysealof the Rising Dawn, no matter how much the situation called for other magics. Until The Night’s Watch had gathered enough mana for another Sanctified Lily Field he had little else to contribute to the battle.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

Still, he gave her a nod — and saw Kaius appear at the entrance of the camp, surrounded by five men. It was as far as Fractured Warp could take him. Blood erupted from Kaius and the nearby bandits, ripped open by his Spell. His crystalline blade was already in hand, slashing savagely even before he appeared. It cleaved through the neck of the nearest bandit.

In that same moment, eight mounted men charged from the far end of the ravine, right over the cliff’s edge. They rocketed down to the stone below at lethal place — only for mana to burst from their mounts. Dense clouds billowed beneath the hooves of the horse-like beasts, their descent levelling out. They charged, gliding towards Brokenlight’s camp.

A little of the tension left Ianmus. Even with a few low Silvers of their own, the bandits were up against fifteen hardened veterans. Kanmost would be fine. All Kaius had to do was give him line of sight.

Rolling his shoulders, he focused his full attention on the marquee and took a slow breath. Just a single glimpse, then he could cast.

….

Kaius tore himself a bloodstrewn path, his soul singing as he entered Brokenlight’s camp like a bloodsoaked spirit of vengeance.

Fractured Warp only took him to the entrance — little more than a gap between two piles of deadwood — but that was more than fine. There were no men of the caliber necessary to slow him down. Reaving through five shocked bandits, he left a pile of flesh in his wake. The second the last body fell, Shunt exploded at his back, hurtling him into the camp.

He sailed high, cresting above the walls to gain the broadest possible view of the camp. Three dozen men crawled through the nest, rushing out of tents and running through the central clearing. Some went to reinforce the walls, others gathered ahead of him, planning to hold the gate, most milled in disarray. Their attack had been too sudden and violent — the bandits had yet to rally. The prospect they would seemed to grow thinner by the second as more and more of their number died to Kenva’s arrows and the bolts of Steelroot and his archers.

The bandits numbers were more than they had anticipated, but nowhere near enough to fight them off. Had Brokenlight pulled in every Steel cutthroat and blackguard from the entire duchy? Perhaps he was giving his fellow man too much credit.

Kaius focused on the group that stood between him and the main marquee. Eight men, and only one was low Silver.

He shot towards them with another Shunt, blade sweeping high as he snarled.

Just before he raced below the walls once more, a glimmer of movement ripped his attention to the left. Mounted knights, charging through the very air. Julian and the rest of his men, silhouetted against the towering wall of darkness that swallowed the end of the ravine.

Now there was no chance of someone chasing after Brokenlight to warn the man of the attack.

Kaius put the nobles out of mind as he slammed into the ground, lightning writhing in his grip. The group of bandits charged him, the closest three hacking at him with their blades. A quick backstep took him out of range, lightning snapping forward to bind the Silver bandit. His screams were joined by two more as crackling arcs jumped between the bodies. The rest dived on him. Blades landed heavily on his body, turned by his scale but bruising the flesh beneath.

His retaliation was not gentle. Shearing through one man’s arm, Kaius spun into a thrust. The point of his blade punched through the man’s throat, blood staining it a deep crimson. The bandit dropped, spine severed.

Kicking a bandit in the chest, Kaius gladly welcomed a crushing axe blow to the ribs to gain an opening at the fallen bandit. He plunged his blade into the skull of the Silver that was lying smoking on the ground. Pain welled in his side as bone cracked, and the sheer force of the blow split his flesh.

The bandit roared, axe rearing high for another strike. Kaius put a Nail between his eyes, then two more into the heads of the other bandits that had been brought low by Stormlash.

Five dead men, with three remaining — one of which grew paler by the second as he screamed on his knees, clutching at the stump of his arm.

Dashing forward, Kaius flared Dissolution Edge. Liquid fractures erupted from his blade, dripping with potent power. One bandit tried to block, gritting his teeth as he met Kaius’s sudden violence.

His expression went slack as A Father’s Gift shore through his blade, cold iron screaming. Swift in its ruin, his blade passed through the top of the man’s skull. Blood poured, half of the man’s head splatting to the ground. He carried through the strike, dropping the remaining men just as quickly.

Kaius banished the skill, breaking into a sprint as Slipstep burned on his feet. He had to save his mana — Dissolution Edge was a hungry thing.

More bandits tore through the camp, more than a dozen staring at his dripping form with pale faces full of horror. He ignored them. Julian would be here in seconds, and was more than qualified to deal with the rabble. He had to get to Kanmost.

Spriting straight forwards, the marque drew close. Kaius didn’t bother with the entry flap — Ianmus needed a way to see inside, and the walls were only waxed canvas. Slicing through the fabric with his sword, Kaius dived through the hole. He hoped that would be enough to give Ianmus an angle, but there was no way to be sure.

He didn’t have time to widen the cut.

Touching down on a rich, red carpet with swirling patterns of gold, Kaius froze. The large marquee had been broken up into five main sections centred around a central fire. A plush, four poster bed took up the far left corner, sectioned off by silk dividers emblazed with brawling lions. The right corner opposite it was more austere. A single, narrow cot, with a scratchy gray blanket and a small chest at its foot. A large desk sat between the two sleeping spaces, half walled off by bookshelves bursting with scrolls. Four men watched him from in front of the Desk — all low Silver.

Three were common thugs, and the last was a man in the black robes of the Anthrast library. Stains littered the man’s robe, and his beard had grown unruly. Kanmost. It had to be. Fear and confusion sat heavy in his bagged eyes, back rigid as the Archivist attempted to stay still. One of the bandits had his arm wrapped around the Archivist’s throat, a gleaming dagger pressed tight to the man’s skin. The other two stood close by, a sword and a mace already in hand.

“Nice n’ easy there, friend,” the bandit holding the dagger said, grabbing a fistfull of Kanmost’s tangled locks. He yanked the Archivist’s head back, causing Kanmost to yelp in pain. “Wouldn’t want me gettin’ fiesty, would ya? Why don’t you drop that pretty blade of yours before I give the Archivist a new breathin’ hole, yeah?”