Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

Lieze couldn’t follow the duel with her eyes. Certainly, she could see that Baccharum and Mime were locked in combat, but the particulars of their movements, especially the speed with which they exchanged blows, was beyond her martially challenged mind’s ability to comprehend.

Mime was slow and cumbersome, but each swing of his mace carried the full force of his weight behind it. Even a glancing blow would be enough to knock Baccharum down. On the other hand, the Elf was nimble to an absurd degree, such that his movements were more like an elaborate dance than careful footwork. His daggers slipped under and over every one of Mime’s blows, but the thickness of his armour made it impractical to target anywhere else but the Dwarf’s partially-exposed face.

Blood ran freely from the iron bars obscuring Mime’s feverish expression, like the jaw of a fearsome beast biting through the worst of its injuries. But unlike a wounded beast, Mime had no need to lick his wounds. Every pinpoint strike from Baccharum was healed not a second later. If he had been facing anyone else, Baccharum would have made short work of them, but even after a dozen stabs, Mime’s face remained unblemished by punctures.

“Isn’t this just frustrating?” Baccharum brandished his daggers, “No matter how clean my strikes are, it just isn’t possible to break through that armour of yours. What’s more, even if I do land a hit or two, you heal yourself without a second thought.”

From an outsider’s perspective, it would have appeared that Baccharum had the advantage despite his complaints. Mime’s sluggishness made striking the Elf a matter of pure luck, and his short limbs guaranteed that he would always be outranged.

“It would only be natural to arrive at that conclusion.” Lieze thought, “But the hidden truth is far worse.”

The outline of Baccharum’s ribs could be seen through his chest as he took in laboured breaths.

“Assassins are trained to kill in a single blow and avoid dragging on fights.” She continued, “If Mime was an ordinary Dwarf, there wouldn’t be a problem. But his powers as the Scion of restoration allow him to fight for as long as he has mana to spare.”

She had been keeping an eye on his MP for the duration of the duel. Not only was he rationing his mana efficiently, but Lieze could spot a number of flasks at his waist filled with cerulean liquid. If he was allowed to imbibe those mana potions, she realised, then it would be hours before a conclusive victor would be decided. Hours she didn’t have.

Another clash disrupted her thought process. Baccharum lunged forward and planted a gash on Mime’s face. She could see the speed of his attacks dwindling with every attempt, only to end up back at square one when the wound knitted itself.

“Growing tired, Star-Eater?” Mime raised his mace, “A battle is no place for an assassin!

He closed the gap between them, making to strike with a predictable blow that Baccharum sidestepped without issue. Only, he didn’t stop running there - Mime’s paces carried him beyond the realm of their pitiful duel and straight towards Lieze, who had been observing the fight from the safety of Baccharum’s silhouette.

“Why bother wasting time on an Elf when the real prize is hiding herself away!?” He yelled, “Die, Lieze Sokalar!”

The mace came at her faster than she would have thought physically possible. Blocking with her focus was just about the only defensive technique she could employ, feeling the metal vibrate in her grip as the staff buckled under the weight of Mime’s assault. In that cowardly way, she diverted a small amount of potential damage, but the strike still sent her reeling when it broke through her weak guard.

Lieze’s HP - 73 / 384

She was winded by the blow, unable to muster anything resembling a counterattack as waves of pain thumped through her chest. Doubled over and short of breath, she couldn’t focus on the act of communion swiftly enough to conjure another barrier before Mime was halfway through another strike.

Something ripped across the weapon’s flared head, sending sparks cascading across the jagged landscape of pulverised iron. In one moment, Lieze was prepared to accept her imminent death, and in the next, Mime was pushed back by a precise deflection from an unknown ally. ‘Unknown’, that was, for the briefest of moments, when the ally in question was still half-formed from shadow.

The Void Beast’s prehensile tail roiled with activity, forming into bladed implements so impossibly sharp that they could have sliced through solid steel. Mime’s worrisome gaze was equal parts repulsed and intrigued, as if unsure of whether the beast was allied with Lieze or simply an opportunistic predator who had somehow slipped onto the battlefield.

“What manner of abomination is this…?” He raised a shield, “No matter - if it’s undead, then my brother’s enchantment will make short work of it!”

He swung his mace with no intent to strike anything but thin air. In its wake trailed a golden light which soared through the air in a crescent arc. The holy enchantment’s mere presence was enough to give the Void Beast uncharacteristic pause. After a moment of preparation, it pounced into the air, allowing the wave to pass harmlessly underneath. Lieze felt a distracting itch across her body when the light enveloped her.

The Void Beast descended with both shadowy talons outstretched to rip Mime’s throat out. He raised his arm, causing the beast’s claws to scrape against his shield with a terrible ring. Mime extended his elbow to push the creature back, prepared to unleash another enchanted projectile, but found himself resisting the urge to scream in pain as something sharp sank into his spine.

Baccharum twisted the dagger and retrieved it alongside a spurt of blood. Before his opponent could react, he ducked low and slid the second knife under the carapace-like plates of Mime’s armour, rewarded with the pleasant sensation of the dagger slicing through his flesh.

Mime’s HP - 1,509 / 2,122

Baccharum ducked to avoid a desperate backswing from the Dwarf’s mace. All it took was an instant for the wounds to heal of their own accord, but mending such a critical injury took a toll on his MP.

Mime’s MP - 1,600 / 3,910

“Shit…” His breathing quickened, “You damnable cowards! Where’s your honour!?”

“You’re speaking to a necromancer, an assassin, and a wild animal.” Baccharum shrugged his shoulders, “I don’t know what you were expecting. The mountains’ previous enemies may have faced your armies head-on, but the Order is only interested in one thing: victory.”

Lieze’s ears perked up as the deafening sounds of battle continued to grow. In leaving the army behind, she had left Marché and Roland in command of the assault. Based on the number of blood curdling screams bouncing from the cavern walls, they seemed to be doing an excellent job of it. The static fuzz of lightning coursing across the checkpoint told her that the Deathguards were putting their new toys to good use.

“...You will not take this Dwarf’s head!” Mime declared, “Alberich!”

His plea came deadly close to being drowned out by the chorus of death. It was a testament to how highly Alberich thought of his own brother that, despite the chaos, it only took a few seconds for the tiny king to leap over the partitions of iron separating Lieze and her cohorts from the rest of the battle.

Alberich’s armour had been dyed a deep crimson. Not one inch of his face was free from grime or blood. Despite his insistence on weathering the front lines, however, one look at his statistics was all Lieze needed to know that he had yet to suffer a single injury.

Alberich

Level 68 Enchanter

HP - 3,972 / 3,972 MP - 2,030 / 2,030

BODY - 31 MIND - 25 SOUL - 12

“His MP is back… he must have used a mana potion.” Lieze thought, “This isn’t good… Mime was one thing, but we aren’t in a position to fight two Scions at once.”

“Mime… forgive me for being so blunt, but you look like shit!” A hearty laugh escaped from Alberich’s throat, “And what do we have here? A necromancer, a Star-Eater, and some kind of shapeshifting monstrosity from beyond the stars? I was beginning to think that the Order was lacking in originality.”

Exploiting his overconfidence, Baccharum lunged towards the king and drew his dagger along Alberich’s eyes. The cut was so pristine that a victim wouldn’t feel any pain even as their vision disappeared. But where Baccharum had expected to meet no resistance, his blades were instead repulsed by some sort of barrier protecting Alberich’s face.

The moment of confusion caused by his failure didn’t go unexploited. Alberich’s hammer rose up from below, catching Baccharum in the chin right at the apex of its upswing. Lieze recoiled as the sound of something crunching sent shivers down her spine, and watched as the Elf was sent careening onto his back, both daggers flying from his grasp and clattering against the floor.

Baccharum’s HP - 331 / 1,099

“Did you really think that would work on me!? What part of ‘invulnerable’ did you not understand!?” Alberich taunted, “The Gods have granted me the means to stand against any foe! To weather any attack! Even if my countrymen fall, the spirit of the mountains shall burn in my heart until naught remains of me but ash!”

Lieze turned her attention back to the battle. Her army drew closer. The Dwarves were being pushed back to the checkpoint’s rear, and at that point couldn’t have been any more than a few feet away from the barracks’ stubborn walls. Between screams and moans, she heard another sound - the rusted screech of some metallic contraption in the direction of the magma chamber.

“Drayya…” She thought, “Did she find the winch? The portcullis must have closed…”

“Now…” Alberich turned her way, “You’ve proven yourself to be rather troublesome, Lieze Sokalar, so let’s dispense with the pleasantries and cut right to your execution, shall we?”

She pressed her back against the wall and sidled across until she was squarely behind the battle on the other side. “I’m afraid dying isn’t an option for me.” She said, “There’s too much at stake for me to fail here. But not to worry - this battle won’t go on for much longer. The Dwarven Mountains are approaching their end, just as the Sovereign Cities met their own.”

“Let’s see how confident your lackeys are when I present your head on a pike!” Alberich yelled, “-That is, if I can help myself from crushing it like grape!”

There was nowhere for Lieze to run when he began his charge. Between the imminent death in front of her and the hellish screams behind, it was like she had been drawn into some kind of purgatory. It was only at the last moment, when the fighting reached its peak, that the Dwarves’ spirit was finally broken.

“Retreat! Retreat! Back to the fortress!” She heard, “Save yourselves!”

Like common hooligans, the soldiers leaped over the walls one-by-one. Lieze kept herself hidden while they retreated unbeknownst to her presence, cutting Alberich’s chance to take her life short as he was caught up in the ensuing stampede.

Not one to pass up an opportunity, she peeled away from the battlefield and ventured through the barracks’ remnants, shoving aside sheets of iron plating on her way to the checkpoint’s relatively peaceful flank.

“Lieze!”

Marché, accompanied by Roland and Drayya, ran up to her as she limped back to the entrance.

“You actually survived!?” Roland blinked.

“I don’t have time to recount the particulars.” Lieze replied, “We’ve pushed the Dwarves back to the magma chamber. They might think themselves invincible in that fortress, but I’ve been planning for this all along.”