/n/jackal-among-snakes-1520/c-195
chapter-194

There was a simple principle in many RPGs, action or otherwise—don’t kill what the summoner summons, just kill the summoner, and then all the problems will go away naturally. Their strategy hinged on that simple principle.

There were obstacles, of course. There always were.

The puppeteered lord and his two mages stayed near the vast heart that was Waqwaq. At once, their party of three conjured wards each and all—B-rank, judging from the golden color alone, and working in tandem to create multiple layers. It served as a great protection against ranged attacks.

Yet Argrave and his companions did not blindly rush forth. The tunnel they had entered from had been sealed by Silvic, and they had time. Instead, they stepped backwards, heading for the edge of the room. Galamon discarded his wind-enchanted greatsword and pulled his bow from his back, nocking an arrow quickly. The three spellcasters of the party prepared spells, and attacked the lord’s honor guard of four knights, unprotected by the wards.

Though the elven vampire still had enchanted arrows made in Jast, he used mundane ones—deliberately so. Argrave, Anneliese, and Durran all used spells of lesser ranks, some even E-rank. It was a simple onslaught of attacks that could not be considered deadly but was nonetheless unignorable.

And the knights did not ignore it. All four rushed towards Argrave and his companions in a side-by-side pursuit, as dogged as the dead could be. While they pursued, their party’s attacks continued as ever, barely denting the well-made armor of their opponents. The gleaming enchanted blades of their opponents grew ever closer…

“Now’s a good time,” Argrave called out levelly, an iron focus on the scene before them.

Silvic placed her uncorrupted arm to the ground, and the roots in the ground spurred to action. Two hands of roots burst into the center of their small formation, then pushed them aside as though opening a curtain. The knights were thrown aside a great distance, entirely disrupted. A clear path led to Waqwaq and its mage guard.

No one needed a command to begin the charge forth. Galamon discarded his bow, kneeling to the ground and dropping it as he rushed forth while pulling free his Ebonice axe from its loop on his belt. He tossed it to Durran, who caught it while setting down his glaive in one smooth motion. With both hands freed, the elven vampire drew the Giantkillers once more, still slightly sparking with electricity from defending against earlier assaults.

Anneliese and Galamon slowed—she charged the Giantkillers with potent lightning magic, firing again and again. Durran and Argrave moved forward. With one hand, Argrave conjured the D-rank [Gore Scalpel], and blood from his wrist formed a knife. With the other hand, conjured [Electric Eels] jumped to the sky.

Durran slammed the Ebonice axe against the first B-rank ward—it cracked heavily, golden chips of light scattering, but did not shatter entirely. Argrave finished it with his Black Blooded [Gore Scalpel], and then the tribal carried onto the next barrier, roaring mightily with each blow. Once the second broke, roots descended from the ceiling, wrapping around the heart-like body of Waqwaq and lifting it up into protection ever-so-slowly.

Once the third ward broke, the puppeteered lord of this fortress drew a rapier at his side, lunging straight for Argrave. He could only fall on his back to dodge. The pair of mages chose to attack Durran. The tribal narrowly dodged a spear of ice, but a ball of fire struck his helmet, casting it off. His hair and much of his face caught aflame, and he fell to the ground screaming.

Argrave willed all of the electric eels he’d conjured to attack Galamon—the elven vampire received them with his Giantkillers and sprinted forth towards the retreating Waqwaq. The puppeteered lord moved to intercept him. The tip of the rapier attempted to impale him with his own charge, but Galamon nimbly dodged and planted his foot on the lord’s shoulder. He used the dead man as a springboard and launched up towards Waqwaq.

Both Giantkillers struck home. All of that potent electricity surged through the foul Corpse Puppeteer, creating a spark so blinding that Argrave felt he’d lost all sight. His ears hurt terribly, and he could hear nothing. Seconds passed, and only then did things begin to fade. His vision was stained white, yet slowly recovered.

The heart-like body of Waqwaq had been burnt so badly that charred flesh and roots alike collapsed down onto Galamon, who clung to the Giantkillers while shielding his eyes. Argrave saw Durran still writhing in agony as the flames spread across his head. Though he could barely feel his limbs, he knew how to move them—he rushed to Durran, removing his duster and smothering the flames.

Argrave looked around, still unable to hear, his vision stained white from the blinding light. The seven puppets they’d been fighting had fallen to the ground, well and truly dead. His gaze jumped from companion to companion, ensuring all were at least alive… and so they were.

Exhausted, Argrave settled his head against the ground. As adrenaline faded, pain set into his bones and his skin earnestly. But he was well used to persisting through pain. Argrave was the first to rise to his feet, still deaf as ever. He pulled his duster off Durran and set to work healing the burns.

It seemed the first day was over.