Death Smith - Book 1 - Chapter 20

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Blood knife

Several hours ago.

February, 14 AR.

Inside Rift 7.

Thomas groaned as he got up, his mind foggy and his body protesting throughout the process. The ground beneath him felt unstable and soft. Looking down, he noticed he had landed on a pile of corpses, both goblins and Steve. Light barely reached this low into the cavernous section, making the small mana stone deposits appear like small blue stars in the night sky. There was a dampness to the cave in this region, collecting in certain spots to form small puddles.

He slowly recalled what had happened, his eyes searching his surroundings until he spotted Lance behind him, unconscious and still. At first, he feared the worse, but when he placed two fingers on Lance’s neck and felt a pulse, he finally let out a breath. Thomas nearly broke down in tears at that. His knees buckled underneath his body. He dared not move Lance, fearing his friend might have broken something.

‘Everything hurts,’ Thomas thought, his gaze shifting until he noticed his discarded shield to his right. The defensive tool dented and had bits of it broken off at the bottom. It barely resembled the shield he had bought from the Workshop. ‘Perhaps I can place Lance on top of the shield and drag him back to camp?’ Thomas thought, stumbling towards the shield and grabbing it. He was about to return to Lance when he noticed movement a few paces away from them.

An armoured figure slowly rose from the ground, its left arm hanging limp and mangled at its side. The once impressive armour of the monster appeared broken in several places. The goblin-leader roared as it got up to its full height, its yellowish eyes wide and filled with rage. Claws for fingernails, broken teeth, snarling, slobbering. It was almost comical. But there was nothing funny about its intent. It was vicious, enraged and now had its eyes set on Thomas.

Fearing for Lance’s safety, Thomas faced the goblin-leader head-on. He crawled and stepped over the corpses of the fallen, rushing towards the monster. Thomas stopped just in time to dodge a swing from the monster’s right arm, the claws screeching as they nicked Thomas’s shield. He tried to block as best he could, but the creature simply kept hammering him, barely giving Thomas a way to counter. Eventually, the monster hit Thomas with enough force to send him flying backwards. He landed a few inches away from Lance.

‘This won’t work,’ Thomas thought, realising that the shield was useless against the goblin-leader. It was stronger and had fought people with shields before. Thomas got up to his feet, ignoring the pain in his knees and at his side. He dropped his shield and let it fall to the ground with a loud clang. A second later, he stored his damaged breastplate in his inventory.

[You have stored an item in the inventory.]

Thomas watched his opponent. The monster had a strong build, and there was a sizeable gap in their levels. Still, Thomas had him beat in terms of height, reach, and the use of both his arms.

Thomas took a fighting stance. He knew he had no choice but to use his fists. His boxing experience as a teenager and the many weeks he had trained with Daniel would be vital now. The monster glanced at Thomas before it took on a defensive stance, clearly displaying caution and intellect. Thomas made the first move, rushing him. He threw a left jab, hitting the monster against its fist, momentum forcing the monster’s own fist against its face.

Enraged, the monster lunged at Thomas with its claw. Thomas narrowly dodged it in time, stepping in closer as he did so. Thomas pivoted to his right, then threw a powerful uppercut that hit the monster right in the gut. The punch passing between an opening in the armour. A split second later, Thomas’s left fist slammed into the monster’s temple. Thomas then backed off quickly. The brutal combination from Thomas had nearly forced the monster to give in to its pain. It forced itself to keep standing, letting rage fuel it.

‘How is this thing still standing? I can barely keep my arms up,’ Thomas thought, surprised at the sheer tenacity of the monster. Those punches should have put the monster on the ground for a few seconds at least, but it continued to stand and radiate hatred.

The monster lunged once more, which Thomas ducked underneath, rushing past it.

[You have retrieved an item from the inventory.]

“Bull… Rush!”

When the monster turned around to face Thomas, a thick iron breastplate suddenly rammed into its face. Thomas had used all the strength he could muster behind the strike, ruining the piece of armour and the monster’s face in a bloody unison.

The severely disoriented monster stepped back, but Thomas rushed in again. This time Thomas went in low and delivered an uppercut to the monster’s chin, sending blood, spittle, and teeth flying. The goblin-leader fell to its knees this time, his knees turned unstable because of the last blow. Thomas might have been at the same strength level as the monster, but he knew perfectly well how damaging a blow to the chin could be. Thomas was about to go for the finishing move when he felt the sudden sharp pain in his left side. Looking down, he could see a knife embedded there, right up to the hilt. A bony green goblin was holding onto it. The smaller goblin let the knife go with a yelp when Thomas made eye contact with it.

The fighter in him wanted to yank it out and stab the goblin with it, but years as a trained nurse suppressed that urge. He’d only bleed out quicker if he pulled it out. ‘Pull it out and I die,’ He thought, telling himself that repeatedly. He took an unsteady step towards the smaller goblin when he heard the goblin-leader slowly get up again. Its broken jaw and nose were not enough to stop it.

“Lance, I need you to wake up right now!” Thomas shouted desperately as the two goblins rushed him from both sides.

* * * * *

Connor led the others towards the camp. All three of them had been silent until now, each of them struggling with their own thoughts and emotions. Cold sweat ran down Connor’s back as he did his best to push down the feeling of disgust he felt. Disgust at leaving three people to die and disgust at not being strong enough to defeat all the monsters on his own. To his shame, the latter weighed the heaviest. Just as they neared the large clearing where the camp was, Connor’s attention shifted, noticing Louis stop moving.

“We... We need to go back. We need to help them,” Louis said, his eyes downwards, not wanting to face the others.

“No,” Connor said, moving towards Louis and grabbing him by the shoulder before continuing to speak, “We made our choice. They are dead. All of them.”

Louis swallowed the lump in his throat. They had lost six people today. Most of them they had lost because the three of them ran. All three of them had gotten to know those people. It was easy to see how Louis felt about all of it, his face displaying many emotions that were clashing with one another. No doubt the man felt sick to his core. The lifestyle of a Rifter frequently flirted with death, but this would obviously feel different to all of them. They had sacrificed people just to save their own hides.

Kira remained silent, simply watching the interaction with a blank expression on her dark visage. She held one hand behind her back, her eyes scanning Louis for something.

Connor’s grip tightened on Louis’ shoulder. “We made a choice. We must accept the consequences. They saved us,” Connor said, lying to Louis as much as he was lying to himself.

Louis nodded, but he didn’t agree. They had made a choice. One that resulted in six casualties. Connor was right about one thing. They had no choice but to accept it. Louis finally nodded, looking Connor in the eyes for a moment before he averted his gaze as if he had felt a piece of his soul wither away.

The three of them then continued walking, moving towards the bridge, crossing it as they made their way into the camp. It wasn’t long before other fighters and porters met them. The bloodstains, the damaged equipment, and the look in their eyes spoke volumes about what had happened; they had lost people. A lot of people.

Grace arrived seconds later, taking in the state of what had happened. “A report, now!” She barked, her mind going over a dozen scenarios and trying to prepare for each of them.

Not trusting Louis to keep to the story, Connor spoke first. “We suffered casualties. The monsters ambushed us. The Rift-guardian was amongst them. We were overwhelmed right from the start.”

Louis remained silent while Kira confirmed Connor’s story with a simple nod.

“Did anyone else make it out? There were five porters with you. And what about the other fighter?” Grace asked, her mind going over what was being told.

“They… They all died,” Connor said, swallowing dryly. He suppressed his guilt as he faced Grace. “There was nothing we could do. They were everywhere. We tried, but we had no choice but to pull back and save who we could,” He said, hoping his words were enough. Grace was a hard woman to convince.

A minute passed before Grace finally nodded, instructing some Rifters to help the wounded fighters. The rest of the camp was on high alert, scouting for a potential enemy force and preparing equipment and cargo in case the Rift-event would close on short notice.

Connor made his way back to his bedroll and slumped down, feeling the weight of his conscience on his shoulders. He could see Louis just up ahead, staring into oblivion. A part of him worried if Louis might become a problem, but he did not even want to consider the situation where he might need to decide how to prevent that.

‘This is not supposed to happen to me,’ Connor thought, biting down hard on his teeth as he felt shame and humiliation wash over him. This task he had gotten from his brother should have been a routine job. His brother had sent him to scout a potential candidate, Kira. The job was to see her in action and to assess if she was worthy to join the guild. Instead, he had only proven to Kira his own inadequacies as a Rifter and a leader.

At this stage, he knew only the basics regarding Kira, had lost several men under his command, and would no doubt lose some of his brother’s trust. The latter worried him the most, knowing what it potentially represented. If there was one thing Connor feared more than anything was what his brother might think of him.

It was hard not to, seeing as his brother was the fifth-highest ranked Rifter in the United States.

* * * * *

Lance could hear the commotion near him as he opened his eyes, feeling disoriented as he looked up into the darkness of the cave. He rose slowly, hearing combat. He thought he could hear someone calling his name.

‘Mend wounds’

He activated his skills, letting a wave of healing and invigorating force spread throughout his body at the cost of Magicka. As the pulsing light of recovery washed over him, he could feel the minor wounds staunching, moistening, then closing. Slowly, he returned to full consciousness. The pain in his body came back to him but was not nearly as intense as it had been before.

“Thomas!” Lance shouted. He rushed towards Thomas when he could, stumbling over corpses. He spotted Thomas’s shield along the way and grabbed it as he closed the distance between himself and Thomas. A moment later, Lance crashed into the smaller goblin, using Thomas’s shield as a battering ram. The momentum sent the smaller goblin flying, landing quite a distance away.

Lance then tried to aid Thomas, seeing the goblin-leader slash at Thomas, who ducked underneath the swing before Thomas began delivering a flurry of gut punches on a spot where the monster had no armour. That Thomas was going toe to toe with this monster was amazing. The two Rifters were not even in the same league as the goblin-leader in terms of level, but Thomas’s sheer resilience and skill kept him in the fight.

Lance slammed the underside of the shield into the goblin-leader’s unarmoured leg. He tried to sever the leg with the shield but lacked the strength. Still, Lance had wounded and distracted it for a few moments as Thomas launched another barrage of punches. Lance wanted to attack it again when the other goblin latched onto Lance’s back, a bony arm wrapped around Lance’s neck as it tried to strangle Lance.

Lance desperately tried to pry off the goblin’s arm but lacked the strength. Although bony, the monster had Lance in a tight chokehold. Lance rammed his head back a few times, hitting the monster against the side of its head, but never enough to lessen the grip.

Desperate at that point, Lance dropped the shield and rushed towards a small rock as he climbed upon it. Using his legs to propel himself backwards in an arc, he landed hard. He had the force of both his entire weight and the momentum of the jump to slam the goblin into the ground.

Lance could hear the monster groan and hiss, its grip on Lance’s throat slightly loosening. Still, it wasn’t enough to allow Lance to escape. Lance could already feel himself nearly passing out. It would only be a few more seconds. ‘I’m sorry, Thomas,’ Lance thought, realising that if he passed out, then Thomas would die as well. His vision grew dimmer, and he felt his strength leave him.

“Lance! Use it!” Thomas barked, throwing the blood-stained knife near where Lance was.

Lance’s oxygen-deprived mind forced itself to function for a few more seconds as he reached for the knife. His fingers searched desperately for the hilt, uncoordinated and clumsy. His hands finally registered the hardness of the metal. He gripped the blade and, with all the remaining strength he could muster, drove the blade into the goblin’s neck.

Instantly, the goblin’s grip loosened, feeling the fight leave the monster. Lance took in a huge gulp of air, then held his hand over his throat, wincing in pain. He gasped for air, but it only made the pain worse. He forced himself to his feet, seeing the slain goblin before he staggered towards Thomas.

Lance noticed Thomas standing over an unconscious goblin-leader, his right hand still holding onto the rock he had picked up earlier to bash the goblin-leader’s face in with. His other hand clutching his left side.

“You look like shit,” Thomas said, smiling at Lance as his friend struggled to get to Thomas. They both knew the reason Lance had that worried look on his face. That reason poured out of Thomas’s left side, staining the ground red where he stood.

“Don’t move!” Lance shouted, forcing words past his bruised throat as he reached Thomas, catching the man just as he fell to his knees, his face paler by the minute. Lance yanked off one of his gloves and pressed it against Thomas’s stab wound. The wound was a nasty one, both deep and jagged. “When di-”

“The little... stabbed me earlier,” Thomas said, wincing as he forced the words out, “Had to make a choice.” A soft and forced smile appeared on his pale features.

Lance could feel Thomas’s blood soaking into the glove. His friend’s slurred words were getting weaker. He could tell that Thomas was going in and out of consciousness. He did not need his medical training to know that Thomas was going to bleed out in a matter of minutes.

‘Mend wounds’

Lance activated his skill, forcing energy through Thomas’s wounds. The energy staunching and knitting as much as it could, yet the damage was too severe. Still, it bought Lance a moment to tear his sleeves off, tying them together and wrapping it around Thomas’s waist, forcing the glove tight against the wound. His mind desperately searched through every bit of experience and training he had at his disposal from working in a hospital for years.

‘Mend wounds’

More energy flowed from his fingers into his friend, delaying the inevitable. He could see Thomas’s eyes focus again, borrowing the paltry amount of energy Lance had given him. Panic filled Lance’s mind, knowing he was about to lose his best friend. He had to do something. His current skills weren’t enough to help him. Thomas needed a Rifter with a healer class and skills.

He finally noticed the goblin-leader on the floor a few paces away from him. It was badly beaten, but still alive. Either Thomas had lacked the strength to finish it, or Thomas knew that killing a Rift-guardian so far from the Rift-event would lower Lance’s chances of survival.

‘I have to do this,’ Lance thought, helping Thomas to the floor before he rushed towards where he had last seen the shield. He spun it in his hands, holding broken off section downwards as he positioned himself above the goblin-leader, lining the shield up above the monster’s neck.

‘This better work,’ Lance thought, remembering how close he was to reaching level ten. He prayed that this would be enough to get his class before he slammed the shield downwards, screaming as he did so.

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Author: Osirium

Copyright: 2021 OsiriumWrites

Released: 2021