Siren’s Cry [A LITRPG Adventure]-Ch. 12
A/N: Sorry yall, exams have been kicking my ass this last week and I forgot to post! Have the chap, just a little late!
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A creature about the size of a large dog unfolds itself from the center of the ritual, slitted blue eyes peering around curiously as the system dings in my ear.
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Skill Gained:
Summoner's Pact
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Name Familiar?
_____________
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I take a moment to check its gender, much to the confusion and discomfort of the small drake sitting before me. Confirming that he is indeed male, I input the name as his status is pulled up.
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Name: Ouro
Race: Seafang Drake
Level: 1
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Strength: 20
Dexterity: 15
Speed: 10
Vitality: 25
Magic: 10
Will: 20
Intelligence: 10
Mana: 20
—
Active Skills:
Blighted Venom
Basic Hydromancy
Passive Skills:
Rapid Regeneration
Mana Powered Physique
Mana Condensation
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Traits:
Familiar
-==×==-
I smile happily, hugging the derpy lizard as he hisses in confusion. Before long, he's purring contentedly as I stroke his smooth blue-grey scales. Scratching his chin like a dog sets his tongue lolling and eyes closing, the purring going up a notch as Ouro leans into my palm. Chuckling to myself as he flops down on my lap, I continue to scratch and pet him as I look over the new skill.
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Summoner's Pact (Passive)
You have formed a Pact with an entity not originally from this plane. You can now call them into being to assist you.
Familiars: Ouro
Contracts: None
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Focusing back on my familiar, I check his trait.
-==×==-
Familiar (Trait)
This creature is a summoned familiar of Siris. If slain, it will enter a dormant state and return to life after 24 hours.
-==×==-
I whistle, impressed that he only just started existing and Ouro already has functional immortality. Scratching behind the stubby horns on his head makes Ouro melt, puddling like a large scaly cat. Laughing softly, I curl up with him as the exhaustion of the day catches up to me. I drift off to sleep as his rumbling purr fills the room.
—
I wake the next morning to violence.
Ouro is repeatedly stomping on the mangled corpses of a revenant squad, and checking his status show that he leveled up twice from the fight against four level tens. He growls and whips around as I move, but he calms down quickly as he notices that it's just me.
“Hey Ouro, are you alright? Did you get scratched or bitten anywhere?”
I check him over while he preens at the attention, finding only a few small patches of black that are rapidly vanishing. Giving him a quick scratch, I stand and purse my lips at the massive hole in the wall. It looks like the revenants smelled or saw me through a gap, and rather than finding an entrance made one instead. As usual, looting the revenants gives nothing at all, and instead I use Summoner's Pact to desummon Ouro. He fades into sparkling cyan motes, sinking into my left arm. A sprawling tattoo forms, depicting a dragon curled up and breathing a wave of water.
I chuckle to myself as thoughts of Pokémon come to mind, but quickly banish those thoughts as a shriek comes from somewhere close.
Need to find a new place to stay… or I could go after the heart of the hive.
A second scream from somewhere opposite the first spurs me into motion, taking to the sky with a heavy flap. My tail flicks behind me, nudging my course and keeping me stable as I circle the ruined town from above. It's laid out in a tight grid pattern, with small side streets and two main ones criss-crossing the houses. It doesn't take very long to find where the revenant queen probably is, a massive spire of what looks like melted bone spearing out of the ground to the east. Wondering how I missed it even from the ground, I circle around it a couple times just to be certain. The earth around the spike is shredded, boulders and clumps of dirt sprayed everywhere as if it truly just burst from beneath. And everywhere I look, I find more and more revenants of types I haven't seen before. Bulky ones that seem plated in massive slabs of bone, thin ones with large barrels replacing all four hands, and several other types including the scouts and magi that I've already seen.
I'm momentarily tempted to bombard them from up here, but it would leave me a sitting duck for the mages and ranged ones. Then disaster strikes before I can come to a conclusion. One of the scouts, perhaps sensing my presence, looks up with a feral scream. The other few hundred revenants immediately look up as well, joining the hellish chorus echoing from below me.
Well fuck.
I barely have time to dodge before a barrage of fire, ice, and globs of acid tear through where I just was. Diving quickly while spouting every curse I can think of, I curse the gods for dropping me into such a hellish location. However, I can't suppress a smile as my heart pounds with adrenaline and I slam into the roof of a house, temporarily out of view. Flooding my body with mana, Ouro bursts into being with a thunderous roar, already sensing my intent through the familiar bond. He dives off the roof into the swarm, high pressure burst of water tearing through everything around him as he paves a path of destruction. Dozens of constructs follow, each around the size of a shortsword and joining Ouro on his rampage. Shrieks and screams fill the air, nearly deafening me as my blades hack and slash, focusing on the mages and other ranged units. Peering over the edge of the roof, I take stock of the situation I find myself in.
A horde of revenants fill the streets, scrambling over each other in a bid to get a piece of my adorable little killing machine that's currently ripping apart scouts by the dozens. Shards of ice are caught midair by his hydromancy, and fireballs burn away swatches of scales only for them to regenerate in moments, each attack dealing less damage as he levels up rapidly from the sheer amount of kills. By the time his momentum is stopped by a wall of the armored hive, Ouro has reached level 13 and can hold his own against them. The numerous floating swords continue their own massacre, but my leveling seems to have significantly slowed past level 10. I only gain a single level from the slaughter, so I can only assume that killing things of lower level than yourself gives reduced experience. Even despite that, the vast amount of kills that I get still pushes me up to 13. The remaining revenants retreat, a distinct change from their normally mindless movements. All of the hundred or so misshapen beasts pile into a small opening in the spire, armored revenants blocking my constructs and Ouro. I'm forced to dispel most of my blades as the mental strain builds, despite the whole battle barely lasting twenty seconds. A set of seven of them return to me, growing to the size and shape of greatswords. I can feel my mana trickling upward, but it's not going to be enough for any spells to get me out of here.
I reach into my bag, knowing what I need to use here. Being thankful for my decision to sleep before doing this, I put my mask on and summon the wyrmling. Once more, runes flare and the beast leaps into the fray, over triple the size of Ouro and hitting twice as hard. Working together, the pair of drakes break through the wall of heavier revenants just in time for Ouro’s mana to run out entirely, wounds no longer healing and ice actually reaching him. It's not too much longer before a lucky strike from a fireball blinds him, and a following ice spear slams into his skull. He bursts apart with a violent torrent of mana, shredding the two revenant scouts that had been on his back. The mana returns to me, the tattoo reforming but much duller than usual.
My blades return to the battle, slower but carving through scouts with ease. Cracked cobblestones are thrown everywhere as three figures leap from the spire, barely missing the wyrmling as it twists unnaturally to dodge. These revenants are significantly more… normal than the warped monstrosities I've been killing until now, appearing as insectile humanoids with four arms and chitinous plating. The one on the right holds four curved sabers, held close across its chest. The central one holds a massive tower shield and an equally massive sword, more of a slab of iron than a functional weapon. The final member of the trio was… strange, as they didn't match anything I've seen so far.
Standing at a height slightly shorter than me, around six-foot if I had to guess, they are wearing a hooded cloak that conceals every detail about them other than their feet, which are hidden in thick leather boots. The only reason I know for certain that it's a revenant is the four orange eyes glaring from the cloak's depths.
I don't get long to inspect them before the battle continues, the greatsword user slamming it into their shield as mana flares from them. Intense hatred bubbles up as a red haze covers my vision, an inhuman snarl slipping from me before the effect disperses harmlessly.
Must be some kind of taunt skill.
My phantom isn't as lucky as me, and throws itself at the warrior with a roar. Spectral claws clash against tarnished steel, sparks flying as they brawl. The duelist with the sabers glides toward me, flowing across the ground and closing the distance in a single moment. Warning bells flare in my mind, and I take to the skies as four wicked daggers rip through the space I just occupied. Cold sweat beads on my neck. I hadn't even noticed the cloaked rogue move until it was ready to kill. Splitting my attention as my constructs harry the duelist. Another pulse of mana tries to get me to focus back on the warrior, but I fight it off before it can take hold. The wyrmling and the warrior seem to be in a stalemate for now, with neither having the upper hand. I duck under another blade as the rogue fades away into the shadows once more.
Wait. Shadows.
I grin, rolling away from where I think the revenant is as I pour magic into my dress. The response is instantaneous, a shadowy dagger blocking the next strike. The rogue's own shadow stands up, taking physical form to battle its original. Daggers meet dark mirrors of themselves, flickering faster than I can keep track of. My own shadow rises as well, the only color the pale blue eyes. I nod to my shade, its flickering black head mirroring the movement as dark imitations of my construct swords flare into being and join in harassing the duelist. The warrior's shade joins my draconic summon, breaking the stalemate and forcing it back. The final shadow to come to life is the duelist’s, four black swords joining the assault on the rogue as the fight turns on its head. From a three-on-two, it's now a six-on-three, soon to be less as wounds start to build on the swordfighting duo. The warrior is the first to fall, black blood leaking from shattered carapace as it sinks to its knees. A final strike from the wyrmling sends them both to oblivion, the power fading from the phantasm moments after splattering bug brains across the stone. The remaining two scream in fury, and I feel the remnants of the warrior's mana flow into the pair as the kill notification rings out.
-==×==-
Revenant Hive Royal Guard Lvl 23 Slain
No Experience Gained (Oathbound)
-==×==-
OH FUCK THIS.
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!
Ch. 12
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