Chapter Seventy – Incantation – Part Three

Moments before the battle begins are the worst, don't second guess yourself or the plans you have laid out.

- Former UWO General Nowska -

The stack is becoming very impressive.

10,589%

Over ten thousand percent right now. Meaning my attacks will do more than one hundred times the original damage. A strike that would have bruised would now obliterate. There is something I had wondered about the Witherbrand base class skill Brand of Withering, whether its damage would be improved or not by the stack. Fortunately, someone, or something already balanced that. It cannot be improved, nor do I think it can be reduced. It is one percent regardless of outside variables. My plan isn't dependent on the brands doing damage. In fact them not doing more damage is good, and my lack of luck now is why I am able to do this. If the brands were activating faster, I'd likely already be dead. So far, only a single brand has burned me. Without her luck blessing, this class is certainly problematic at low levels.

I don't need luck though. All I need is my plan.

Colonel Greymore stands next to me, his soldiers not far behind. His lip is lined with a thick portion of chewing tobacco, giving him a slight lisp as he talks.

"Wanna tell me why the hell we're sitting in a wheat field," he points to the gate, "Next to a damn gate that already churned out hostiles?"

"Not particularly, sir."

"That wasn't rhetorical," he spits on the ground, "You will tell me, specialist."

I turn and look at him through the transparency of Aegis, it's good that he can't see my face right now.

"Sir, my plan is sound, and that is all you need to know."

The vein on his forehead bulges as his jaw clenches, the next spit could ring a metal plate. It's not that I want to piss him off, I don't actually, especially since he will likely be my commander going forward. However, if I explain it in a way that he will understand and agree with the soundness, then Red might also hear it. Sage says that their connection should be strained because of the Curse that Jaledi left on me, but I don't want to take chances. Not when it might mean failure.

"I just don't understand why you need this piece of shit for it," Greymore growls, standing over Lieutenant Gaspers, his mouth is gagged and his hands and feet are bound. Greymore's soldiers caught him and brought him back earlier, apparently one of them is a decently leveled Pathfinder class with the Track skill.

"You'll understand soon enough, sir."

"I really don't like you," Greymore grumbles.

The time crawls by, I tried to convince Greymore to leave the entire situation to me, the best he managed was getting Cortez, Dorliac, and Mwangi to stay at the castle with Tenny. He is a determined old bastard, I'll give him that. His soldiers seem to respect him highly too.

Greymore's on his third chew by the time a flicker in the gate catches my eye. It's time. The skies above begin to crackle with authority, lightning arcs, and thunder booms.

Meatsack… Red is overriding the gate again. There is still time to run.

"I'm right where I need to be."

The first time this happened, Tenny had been in charge, and she had the sappers put ordnance around the Gate. Greymore did not share the sentiment, he's seasoned, he placed them around a ridgeline where our forces will retreat if the battle was lost. That way they will be trapped in rubble and stuck behind terrain. Clever.

"Red Gate," Greymore spits, "Well then, finally getting interesting. Your plan still going to work?"

His expression is chastising and yet very calm considering the Gate change. I suspect he's been through a Red Gate before. Special Operations often clear high yellows by themselves.

This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

"Oi, we getting extra hazard pay, sir?" one of his Sergeants asks.

"I'll put it in," Greymore replies, stretching his neck.

"Hooah!" they all yell, "Beers on the Colonel!"

Even with their bravado, I can tell they're focused, each one is doing a check on their equipment. Readying themselves for a fight they won't need to lift a finger for. If the forces from last time come through this time, I am enough to change the tide. Even the ones that Azeroc will send to counter me specifically will not be enough to challenge the plan. A single life of these soldiers lost will feel like a failure. I repeat the incantation.

30,768%

I wonder if the system has a cap on the amount that it will expend? It's the system that has to make up the difference in energy required after all. Otherwise, this plan would never work. There must be a cap.

As I wait for the wave to begin, I peer at one of my skills. Another that requires incantations.

[ Skill: Wither Guardian ]

[ Usage: Allows the user to exchange Wither Charges to create Guardians. ]

[ Effect: Creates a Guardian pulled from the Well of Souls. ]

[ Duration: Each Guardian lasts until Wither Charges are expended, or the user releases Guardian. ]

[ Activation: Spoken. ]

[ Incantation: Come forth from beyond the veil… rise and become my Wither Guardian. ]

[ Cost: 10 Wither Charges per Guardian. 1 x Wither Charge per minute, per Guardian. ]

[ Unique Passive: Wither Charges gained from Guardian's actions have a chance to extend Guardian's summon without consuming a charge. ]

I'm keen to try it, especially with all these excess Wither Charges lying around. Still, I don't want Red to know how prepared I am. Not yet. There's something written in the skill that I find intriguing… Wither Charges gained from a Guardian's actions… meaning if they destroy something, I automatically get the charge. Which I think means they are beacons to my own body, portable charge collectors. I tested the same theory with Abyss, if my consciousness is tied to Abyss's vines, I can even apply and recollect a brand, I tested it on Gaspers earlier. He didn't even notice Abyss crawl up his boot. I suppose all the thieving made Abyss more deft at hiding itself.

With all of that in mind, and the thousands of mana stones in a ring inside Abyss… I can be nearly anywhere and operate on the entire field. With the amount of mana I have stored, I could make thousands of branching tendrils.

Meatsack… the numbers you've stacked are actually ridiculous, you realize that right?

"Has it changed your prediction?" I whisper, so that Greymore doesn't ask yet again if I'm talking to him.

Not in the slightest. I know things that you do not after all.

Ominous wording. That's fine, I have faith in the plan.

"Look alive!" Greymore shouts, spitting out his lip of tobacco.

We're about two hundred meters from the gate. I see the first shimmer of movement coming from it, black as night, obsidian-colored armor. Flaming red eyes. It's the knights that Adaraic brought last time. Everything is going to plan.

Hundreds step out in perfect formation, and I feel a chill run up my spine. Remembering the slaughter that brought death to many here, the very same that are here now. Almost every single person that was here the first time is here again. Even Trevanius the old elf is here, I saw him earlier when I left the castle. I remember all of their deaths, my hand trembles until I clench it tighter.

I see him at last, hooded atop a large skeletal beast. The Lich Adaraic.

Carry the torch.

It's more than just him and his Knights this time, I see hundreds of other types of creatures, ones that are not undead. Clever Azeroc. He knows as well as I that Witherbrand is also known as Necromancer's bane.

The metal knights do not advance, they wait, just outside what they think is the maximum distance of my wither charge collection. I planned for that. See, when I felt the undead souls being converted, I realized why Sage said that Witherbrand was Necromancer's bane.

Regular undead are bodies which souls have been crudely tethered to by a Necromancer class. Witherbrand collects stray souls. Sage told me that Lich are different from regular undead, their bones are runed by gods with power over death, giving them a much stronger tethering. One that Witherbrand cannot automatically convert. However, if any of his black-clad knights come within range of me, and I have space for a charge, they will automatically become converted into a charge.

Hence why I have Lieutenant Gaspers at my feet, a living battery for my brands, letting me cycle them even faster back and forth… making even more stacks. The normal me would think this cruel even for a piece of shit like Gaspers, but I am bound by the logic of it. Among the living that I can easily control, he is the most deserving of being used. The stink of piss and shit from him wafts into the torrential air of the dark night. Red flare light and the glow of the gate awash us all. The traitorous Lieutenant Gaspers sealed his fate by doing the same thing in two timelines, running from the battle and forcing a medic to go with him. Leaving the forces undermanned. Tenny's Platoon showed up as backup, though in truth, they were better off than the first time, seeing as policy changed to have two platoons per gate from the start.

Adaraic steps forward on his large skeletal beast.

"I am Aderaic, High Apostate of the Order of the Undying Flame, bow before your death, as I am its messenger. Weep not, for soon you shall have the privilege of basking in the eternal glory of Azeroc, the God of Death."

I repeat the incantation again, the stacking is so much easier with Gaspers holding more brands. He's too busy pissing himself at the lich to notice the blue flames tracing up his leg.

42,789%

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