150 Southern Front 2
Matheson critically dodged the treant as it charged into the mound of smouldering corpses.
Almost like a choreographed dance, he dipped to the side at the last second as the treant came charging past, its menacing antlers pointing forward as they searched for his flesh.
He sneered at it with a sly smile as it charged harmlessly by, directly into the pile of corpses – of course, he did tap it with his sword as dashed by.
*CRACK!!!~*
For a moment Mathesons ears were ringing, his vision all white as power from the spell-storm descended before him.
Right in front of him, lightning had suddenly crashed down onto the treant, a pure white flash crackled through its body for a moment as it was stopped in its tracks before collapsing helplessly onto its own kind.
“Only a few more steps forward and that would have been me,” he thought as he looked whimsically at the steaming wood.
He was glad that he got some easy exp from simply tapping his rapier on its ass as it passed by.
The small cloud spread out left and right, it was long and slender, wrapping around the edge of the village.
“Surely it doesn’t wrap around the whole village?” he thought as he gazed at the strange long cloud.
Unfortunately, he couldn’t see past the ever-growing mound of charred wood bodies, so he couldn’t wave at anyone on the other side of the cloud for help, while the rumbling crackles of energy stopped and chance of them hearing. He would simply have to walk around.
After hearing some deep booming sounds coming from the left, he simply turned right and began running.
“There’s no point wasting time thinking about which way to go. Just make a decision and go with it.” he nodded to himself.
Similar to the cloud, the wall of charred wood elemental corpses continued around the south side of Losla, trailing under the crackling cloud.
Since there was no path here, Matheson had to periodically slash down small plants and young trees to keep running at a reasonable pace. Eventually he found the end of the cloud, it stretched to the very south-west corner of Losla.
The first person he saw was a lone guard, standing near two corpses of the treant’s – but compared to the pile of dead treants Matheson saw before, this was nothing.
It seemed that the guard was simply here to kill the odd wandering treant that made it around the defensive storm; he immediately looked up at Matheson.
“Hey, what are you doing? You’re not supposed to be here!” a guard yelled, seeing the young adventurer run around the side of the dark cloud.
“I was in the feral plains dungeon. What’s happening? Why the monsters? Why the death cloud?” Matheson pointed up.
“Ah shit, the feral plains dungeon…” the guard looked down in frustration, “I knew we had forgotten one!”
Immediately, the guard pulled out a short range communication crystal, ignoring Matheson as he channelled some mana and spoke into it.
“Michael, south east corner here. No one was sent to the feral plains dungeon.”
The guard held a single finger up at Matheson, gesturing to him to be quiet.
…
It was completely silent for a moment as the guard stared at the crystal.
“Go. Now.” A gruff voice finally answered him.
Without hesitation, the guard stashed his crystal and began charging off into the forest.
“Hey! What about me?!” Matheson called out – only to deaf ears.
The guard completely ignored him and kept running. He was on a mission.
“…well, I guess someone has to watch this part of the town.” he pursed his lips with a shrug.
This was how Matheson came to be where he was now – guarding the south east side of Losla.
Every now and then, a treant hectopede would come charging, but Matheson would simply stand in front of the spell storm before dodging to the side.
The treants would continue charging recklessly; confusion was their last thought before their existence was ended by a fearful blinding flash.
Of course, Matheson would always give them a light tap with his rapier as they charged past.
“Mmm.” he nodded “Easy exp.” he smiled as another treant was filled with crackling flashes of energy and executed by the unrelenting storm.
Despite the easy exp, a part of him was annoyed that he had to do this, since the guard just ran off without anyone else to come and replace him.
“Just how stupid was this guard?” He wondered.
Countless rumbles and cracks of lightning sounded out from somewhere else on the battlefield; the storm seemed to be claiming the lives of many helpless treants that dared to pass under it.
But this was when he noticed something, something that caused a tight feeling in his chest: Each time a rumble or a cracking sound rang out, the cloud would shrink slightly.
Matheson only noticed it after he baited another treant into the cloud – he literally was standing on some charred wood remains – somewhere that the cloud was covering earlier.
“It’s definitely shrinking,” he thought.
For the first time in a while, a sense of fear gripped his heart.
Matheson’s response to fear? – He clenched his sword tightly and controlled his breathing.
“This is nothing but a fleeting feeling. What matters is strength.” he told himself, repeating it a few times until his heart and breathing were both under control. Any emotions at a time like this would only cause problems; he had to think clearly.
As time went by and the battle raged on, Matheson still had no clue what was happening.
It was clear that the storm was a defensive spell, that the adventurers had been evacuated from the dungeons, and that they were under attack from some strange wooden creatures.
For all he knew, the village was being evacuated right now and he was foolishly standing here defending alone.
What made matters worse was that the storm was shrinking even faster now – either the spell was wearing off or the mana in it was close to running out. He couldn’t be sure.
At first he had to move at a few steps every few minutes to stay next to it, then a few steps every few seconds – soon a slow walk, and now it was a brisk walk.
“Hmm, I’ll be running soon enough.” he gave a concerned look at the quickly-shrinking cloud.