Squad Games [Squad Building LitRPG] [Book One Complete]

Bletcher stopped. "Up ahead."

Valnor darted forwards, peering around the edge of the barn. He turned back to Seregin and nodded in confirmation.

Lothar drew Slayer. This is it. He didn't know whether the sword would be any use with what was to come, but it made him feel better.

The elves took the lead, striding with confidence towards their target.

And there he was, staff in hand. Almost alone. With him was a tall warrior wielding a beidhander. Despite having added him to his roster of mercs, Lothar had never actually met Vytenis Ringaudas Dravenis, known as The Harvester. But he knew this was him. Probably the greatest warrior in Gal'azu, and he'd been enslaved by the man next to him.

As for Amotken, he was almost hidden by a hooded, fur-lined cloak. But Lothar could see a sunken, haggard face. The eyes that stared out were blue, with whites stained yellow. As might be expected from a necromancer who had lived hundreds of years, Lothar could see a haunted mania in those eyes.

Time to put him out of his misery.

Amotken looked taken aback at their arrival. It was as if he hadn't expected opposition—and now it was here, he wasn't prepared to deal with it.

"Who are you?" he asked Seregin, as if the rest of them were unimportant.

Maybe we are, at that.

"I am the Lord of Ossilion. I am here to end the horror you are inflicting on Gal'azu."

"Horror?" Amotken repeated, confused by the accusation. "I am merely restoring the glory of the Sargassian Empire, destroyed by vicious and malevolent enemies years ago. Humans have returned to Gal'azu. Even elves, it seems. You fail to realise that this activity will attract greenskins and other monsters, who will come to tear your civilisation down. Only Emperor Sahale and his loyal followers can save you from that fate."

"You just said you failed to stop them last time," Rosalind noted.

Amotken's gaze rested on her. "Things have changed since those dark days. I am more powerful. The emperor himself, and others, are now immortal. We won't fail again. There is a place for you in his empire. I suggest you submit to me here. Trying to stop me would be foolish. It is impossible."

"Not with this, it isn't." Fortune held Blueblade before him, and its light blazed.

Amotken's eyes widened. "You dare threaten me?" Suddenly his voice was deafening.

Lothar knew little of magic. But he saw Seregin and Rosalind tense. There was a crackling energy in the air.

Amotken strode towards them. Beside him came The Harvester, his great sword held high as if he were the gods' executioner, come to deliver Their judgement.

ACTION ROUND

Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

Amotken

Necromancer Sargassian Sorcerer

Action Stats

Exp Level 13

Action Points 10

Hit Points 37

Staff of Dominion

The Harvester

Ensorcelled Human Livanian Warrior

Action Stats

Exp Level 9

Action Points 10

Hit Points 45

Beidhander (Deliverer, +3 to hit, 5-50), Knife (5-20), Plate, Helmet

"Now is the time," said Seregin. The elf lord went to meet them. With a flick of his wrist, he used the Wand of Paralysis. The Harvester stopped, mid-stride—frozen in place. Another flick, and Amotken was held in place.

Next to him, Lothar sensed magic flow from De Cheney's staff, adding a second layer of containment onto the necromancer.

Fortune ran at Amotken, ready to make the kill. He was thrown backwards, nearly losing his feet. An arrow protruded from his chest, and he was down to 7 hit points.

Lothar hadn't seen where it came from but knew it must be Clamor.

Clamor

Ensorcelled Human Hargon Scout

Action Stats

Exp Level 8

Action Points 9

Hit Points 38

Shortbow, Knife, Studded Leather

Valnor reacted, firing an arrow beyond Amotken and The Harvester, to wherever Felix was ensconced.

Fortune recovered quickly, driving Blueblade into the sorcerer. The sword's bonus helped to deliver a massive 31 points of damage, bringing Amotken down to 6 hit points.

The sorcerer screamed. The world seemed to rip, and he rose into the air.

"The paralysis has broken!" Seregin cried. "Hold him!"

Rosalind strained with effort, while Seregin added another layer of holding magic onto the sorcerer.

Clamor revealed himself, taking a risk. His second arrow struck Fortune, dealing 19 points of damage. Eddie dropped Blueblade to the ground; then collapsed, dead.

Valnor got him. Dragon Spine helped the elf deliver 22 points of damage, dropping Clamor to 16. The scout, his deadly work done, withdrew before Farsight's next arrow reached him.

Lothar heard a muttering, just on the edge of his hearing. There was more than one voice. It put his hackles up. A faint glow built around the sorcerer, still hanging in mid-air. He saw Seregin and Rosalind's fearful faces. He knew he had to do something.

He rushed for Blueblade. One more strike and Amotken would be dead, and those voices—whoever they were—would go away. Probably.

But as he closed on the weapon, the glow around Amotken intensified. The sorcerer screamed, and a bright white light expanded outwards.

"We need to go!"

It was Seregin's voice. But it sounded distant. As if the elf was in some other place. The white light filled nearly all of Lothar's vision. The only exception was a faint circle of blue. Lothar lunged for it. His fingers found the hilt. He gripped Blueblade.

The while light blinded him now. He could feel it covering his mouth and nose, suffocating him.

Then he was moving. He couldn't see where to, but he knew he was escaping the necromancer's magic. A swirling circle of muted colours and lights appeared before him. He passed through and landed in the dirt.

He blinked, his eyes adjusting.

"Are you alright?" It was Rosalind.

"I think so."

"Let me help." It was Oripione. They took his arms and pulled.

Lothar was on his feet. The world span around him, and then his battered mind was able to right itself. He could see. They were at the entrance to the farm. They were all there—Rosalind, Seregin, and Bletcher; Valnor and Oripione. Rosalind had hither-thithered them out of there, just in time. Not Fortune, though. Lothar glanced at the ground and there was Blueblade. At least we didn't lose it.

But they'd failed. Failed to overpower Amotken. Failed to kill him, despite being so close. One more sword strike…Lothar shook his head. They'd failed. Near enough is not good enough.

He glanced across at the Lord of Ossilion.

"Fuck it," said the elf.