Burnout Reincarnation [SLOW BURN COZY 'MAGIC CRAFTING' KINGDOM BUILDING PROGRESSION] (LitRPG elements) [3 arcs done!]

Archmund was doing something stupid again. He had vanished into and up a cubicle, leaving them to fend for themselves.

Rory smiled, pained. He was starting to understand Archmund a little bit better.

No doubt he had some inscrutable but perfectly logical plan that would work on paper but would fall apart if anyone challenged it even slightly, but he would find some way to make it work out anyways, but he always went about it in a way that made him kind of look like a dick.

Honestly, he didn't get it. After a few fights and a few months, he felt like he had some idea of who Archmund was.

Beatrice scowled. "Why is he playing the coward now?" she said.

"'Playing' the coward, milady?" Mary said, timidly.

"Shut it," Beatrice said. "No way he's actually running away tail between his legs. You know what he's doing better than anyone, don't you?"

"Focus," Rory said, his voice filled with reproachful warning. He started spinning his hand, one over the other, blurring his Quarterstaff into a translucent disk as the Undead Clerks shambled towards them.

"You don't seriously think they're a threat? We outnumber them," Beatrice said.

Rory wasn't so sure. Animals and warriors he could deal with, but these Undead Clerks had tricky-looking weapons. One was a Flailclerk: it held a hinged flail with two spikes at its tip, like some sort of venom injector. One was a Slingerclerk: it swung a pair of tankards around its head upon a set of chained looped ropes. The last was unpredictable, concerning, worrisome: it held a knitting awl or tent spike made of Gemstone in its fist.

It was easy enough to track the movements of a sword, but less orthodox weapons were harder to defend against. They were harder to learn, but that wasn't a problem for Monsters, because they fought using base instinct anyways.

"And he told me I'd jinxed us," Rory muttered.

"It's only three of them, come on," Beatrice said. "Gelias, you want to handle this?"

"Gladly," the elf boy said. He drew his bow.

"Fly Straight My Arrow!" he shouted as he fired an arrow towards the Flailclerk.

The worrisome unknowable Undead Clerk turned its sunken eyes and pale visage towards Gelias. Its Gemstone spike pulsed bright redactivating an Enchantment — a spell innate to a Gem, requiring little skill on part of the user.

A red splotch flowed from the tip of the spike, between liquid and smoke, splurting and smoothing into a solid red barrier that hugged Gelias's incoming arrow. The arrow slowed, its momentum stolen, and fell to the ground.

"It's not a spike," Mary said. "It's a wand."

And then the Clerks attacked.

The Wandclerk brandished its wand. It rapidly flashed black, . With each pulse, a dart of shadow erupted, flying towards the party. It hit Rory's Shielding Spin, splashing into black ink, flying haphazardly in all directions.

Rory was safe, since he'd flung the black goo away from himself. But Beatrice, Gelias, and Mary scattered. Gelias leapt atop the rows of cells, balancing between them, doing the same thing as Archmund. Beatrice and Mary slipped into two cells on opposite sides.

The Clerks were surprisingly fast despite their decayed appearance and their staggering gait. They were coordinated.

The Slingerclerk slipped to the right after Beatrice. The Flailclerk, to the left after Mary.

Both past Rory. Despite the relatively narrow corridor, there was more than enough room for them to both slip past.

Rory was not the kind of guy to ever panic. He prided himself on his level head. His earliest memories involved keeping two squabbling children, a boy and a girl, both with black hair, from killing each other either through fighting or recklessness. One of them, he was sure, was Beatrice.

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But he did panic a little. Beatrice was facing down a Monster on her own.

And Mary too, he guessed. But Mary was Archmund's problem.

A shrill and girlish shriek, followed by a panicked "Begone!"

A gust of wind pierced the jaillike air.

The Slingerclerk was flung from the left cell to the right.

Another girlish scream, this time from the right cell.

Betty!

Mary ran up next to him. "I didn't mean for—"

But he brushed that aside. Everyone made mistakes. He could forgive this one if it ended up not mattering.

He ran up to Betty's cubicle, fearing the worst, Mary nipping at his heels. The Wandclerk waved its wand, a ball of blue ink beading at its tip. He threw his quarterstaff at it. His staff flew, still spinning, until it hovered, a rotating disk, intercepting whatever spell the Monster might cast.

Beatrice had been cornered, her back against a desk, the two Monsters brandishing their weapons at her.

She wasn't scared. If anything, she looked pissed.

Before he could rush into save her — a tricky feat, given he'd thrown his Quarterstaff to provide a defensive barrier — she became wrapped in cloud-like darkness — her [Shadow Cloak] Skill.

She slipped between the two Monsters, who turned, stuttering, to follow her. Their weapons bounced off of the shadowy clouds billowing about her. She drew her knife, got in close to each, and slashed at their throats, one after the other.

Her flimsy steel knife left shallow cuts, which knit together with clotting black blood.

Rory couldn't see her expression, but he knew her well. He suspected she was angry and about to do something reckless. He leaned in, groped through the darkness until he caught her cloak, and dragged her out of the cubicle by the collar as the Monsters swung.

The shadowy cloak receded from her face.

"Why'd you pull me out!" she shouted.

"It's a better tactic," Gelias called from up above. "This way, he can guard your backs and you can keep them trapped in the cell."

"Never mind that," Beatrice said. "You reached into my Shadow Cloak?"

"He's not a threat," Gelias said nonchalantly. He Let A Thousand Arrows Fly into the cubicle. The two Clerks raised their Gemstone weapons, but only deflected a few. They kept the arrows from hitting their heads and hearts, but their bodies were riddled with shafts.

"And you're out of my way," Gelias said. "It would be difficult to explain if that happened to you."

Their scattering had been awkward, but they'd regrouped. They'd recovered. Rory held out his hand, and his Gemstone Quarterstaff flew back into it. He kept up his Shielding Spin as he took a deep breath.

Magic sparked between his palms as he began to speak, the familiar warmth of the Gemstone Quarterstaff flowing between his body and a place among the stars.

"No matter what happens, no matter how challenging things might seem," Rory said. "We can do this. We're in this together. With the five of us, with all our abilities, we can defeat anything these creatures might have to throw at us. As a team."

"Four," Beatrice said.

"I'm counting Archmund," Rory said. His magic was still flowing, but man, why did she have to interrupt when he was trying [Inspire] them?

"Because no matter what, he'll be watching over us. Keeping track of our every move. Stopping us from messing up, letting us act as much as we'd like, but keeping us from actually being in any meaningful danger," Beatrice said. She sounded somewhat bitter. Each word was like a kick to his gut.

"Milord, milady, please stop flirting in the middle of a fight," Mary said.

"We're not flirting."

That was Beatrice.

"What's flirting?"

That was himself.

"I can't believe you," Beatrice said.

"Then stop fighting," Gelias said. "Beatrice, you help me with these two trapped Monsters. Rory, miss maid, keep the wand user at bay until we can join you."

"Stay behind me, Mary," Rory said to Mary, his staff forming a protecting disk in front of them.

"I can fight," she said.

"I'm sure you can," he said.

"I can! Monsters will keep their Hands Off Of me."

"But against that?" Rory said, staring down the Wandclerk through the beating blades of his Shielding Spin. "Against its weird magic? I…"

"I'm sure it'll be fine," Mary said. "Archmund will interfere if it we're in any real danger."

Her voice held the utmost faith in him. And, perhaps, also love? Well, it was only natural for servants to love the households they served. His own grandfather and great-grandfather had been the same way towards the Blackstone family, and even he had a soft spot for Betty.

He could justify the love, but the faith? Archmund was great at thinking on the fly, but his plans often had some pretty big holes in them. Unless, of course, his goal had been to fight him, Gelias, and Betty in public in front of a large audience of his peasants specifically to humiliate them and show how he was the most powerful of the local noble heirs.

A part of him had suspected Archmund of that when they'd first met, since he'd seemed like a bit of a bastard. But after a winter of training together, that seemed just goofy.

The secret to Archmund Granavale was that he pretended to be a conniving manipulative bastard — but when it came to the serious things, he was actually surprisingly helpful.

Maybe Mary was right. Maybe she would be safe taking more initiative.

"So it's you and me," Rory said. "Glad to fight besides you."

"Likewise."

Mary ducked out from behind Rory's back and shouted "Begone!"

Another blast of wind swept by him, ruffling his cloak, surging towards the Wandclerk. Its wand pulsed red. Again a red ichor splurted out of its wand, weaving and scribbling into a red slope. The blast of wind was forced up towards the ceiling, passing harmlessly over the Wandclerk's head.

Mary attacked again and again, to no avail.

She and Rory shared a grimace.

The best they could do was stall this Monster until Beatrice and Gelias could help them kill it.