Chapter 637 (1/2)

Sergeant Platton carefully schooled his expression. He couldn’t show weakness now, not while he was standing next to these three youths and the smashed remnants of his squad. Latta was dead, and with his high Perception, Platton could smell that Daskin pissed himself.

Above them, three tall puppets loomed. But Platton kept his eyes on the strange crystalline beetle that climbed out of the scarred body. That was the true body of the Propagator, and the only way to stop the larger puppets. It was information so classified that Platton had to overhear it to learn, but now he was glad he had. The two months of solitary he received as a reprimand for being where he shouldn’t was worth it.

“...regardless of your bravery,” Platton began slowly. “Word needs to get out. We can send a message, but I am… already considered somewhat radical for my beliefs. Hopefully the lives of you elites will be enough. One of you needs to escape, preferably all of you. You are the young talent of our world. You don’t deserve to die here.”

They had straight spines and burning eyes, Platton noticed with a sad expression. These four would choose to throw themselves into the fire to pursue the pinnacle of their spear arts. The tragedy of it was such that Platton couldn’t remain silent. “...you know if you stay here, it is all but guaranteed that you will die.”

He considered the four geniuses. The charismatic and social Silo, who was clearly harboring a deep darkness born of desperation. The calm and enigmatic Skarch, with the typical overwhelming power of the Spear School. Azriel, whose small body belied the speed and penetrating power of her spear.

Finally… there was the one they called Ghosthound. Bare feet and a spear that seemed more living vine than weapon were his calling cards. His eyes were a brilliant green that seemed to glow. His Class of Spellspear had been unbelievably helpful in their approach on the base. It was exceedingly rare to find such a talented individual in this world that could use spear arts and spells. Platton hadn’t had a chance to witness the fellow’s spear arts, but he assumed that if he made it this far, they were at least passable enough to buy him time to use his spells.

No, these four definitely needed to survive.

But before Platton could say anything further, the enemies around them began to move. The giant puppets took several steps farther so that they cast long shadows across the group. Around them, the lesser Wights were forming up into columns and blocking them in.

When Daskin spoke, the panic in his voice was clear. “We… we need to escape! If someone can distract the big ones… I’ll-”

“You’ll stay,” Platton said harshly. And it even came out more harshly than he intended, because Daskin jumped. “We are the enlisted soldiers, we won’t let these kids be the ones to die for us.”

“You know… it’s been a while since I thought about it. That I could die.”

Platton turned and glanced at Silo. The young man drank a potion and his arm snapped back into place. After wincing, he glared up at the puppets. “But… I doubt I will die here. If I was such a tiny existence to fail here, I wouldn’t have gotten so far. Do you see? Because I have the destiny that carried me this far, a small hurdle such as this… It isn’t enough to stop the advance of a hero. No matter what they say, I’ll prove what I’m worth.”

Azriel snorted at her teammate's words and turned to the Ghosthound. “Can you bind them up? At least one?”

The Ghosthound shook his head. “All of my Mana was consumed making that thing.” He inclined his head towards the huge geyser of flame that was slowly ebbing away. “I can’t believe it lived through it. In terms of durability… well, I guess I already knew conventional attacks wouldn’t work. We need to keep them busy the old fashioned way.”

“This will be difficult,” Skarch said lightly.

Frowning, Platton bellowed, “What are you talking about! You four fools- I’m the superior officer in this situation, you’ll listen to my orders and-”

“No.”

“Denied.”

“A hero never retreats!”

The Ghosthound smiled at Platton, and his smile was reminiscent of a hungry wolf. “...well there you have it. Skarch, you are strong, but not this strong. You are in charge of clearing a path. You… Daskin, right? Lead the other members of your squad and follow through the hole. We three will buy time. Sergeant… assist whoever is in the most trouble, if you please.”

“Humph, your plan is uninspired, but at least it gives me the chance to shine…” Silo said with a wide smile. His whole body began to glow with a pale light. On cue, Skarch flourished her spear and rushed back towards the gathering Wights.

“Don’t you fucking dare!” Platton bellowed, but they were already moving. A pair of long crimson ribbons condensed behind Azriel, stemming from the small of her back. Above the Ghosthound’s head, a strange metal crown emerged that seemed to be made by just soldering vicious spikes to a thin circlet.

The rest of Platton’s squad exploded into motion, following Skarch. The strange crystalline beetle chirped and the three giant puppets of the Propagator surged into motion. One unleashed a booming sonic blast, while the other two just turned into grey blurs as they maximized their huge physical capabilities.