Greater Heights 6 (1/2)

Once upon a time, over a century ago to be more precise, there used to be a group of adventurers known as the Wild Five. The former half of the nickname stemmed from their seemingly reckless behavior, as they would take on any Quest offered to them regardless of how dangerous it seemed. This was a gross misunderstanding, however. While the Wild Five did indeed take on an abnormally high number of deadly jobs, they meticulously prepared for each one. Though they did not succeed on every single Quest, they never failed to return alive and largely unharmed. It seemed like not even Mortimer himself could claim this bunch’s souls.

These days the Wild Five were an old, obscure story, though not because they were wiped out. The group had merely fallen apart because of interpersonal issues which had inevitably appeared after so many decades of constant life-and-death struggles. Each of them had achieved their first Rank Up by then, which only widened the gap between them as individuals. No longer able to see eye-to-eye on various issues, the Wild Five split up and went their separate ways. With the group officially disbanded, it was only a matter of time before they faded from public memory.

This was, of course, far from the end of their tale. Each member continued to pursue their own passion. Some started up a family, others just retired to some remote place to live in peace, and one even helped establish a new town. None could walk away from an adventurer’s lifestyle for long, though. Whether through intent, luck, or hubris, each member of the Wild Five ended up having to deal with a number of crises over the years. They would, of course, rely on one another for help when the situation allowed it, but it wasn’t uncommon for them to seek aid from fresh faces as well.

This seemingly endless string of hardships saw these mighty individuals grow much older, much stronger, and much wiser. Eventually they had all become double-Rankers, and whatever grievances had forced them apart in the past seemed pettier and more foolish with every passing year. Thus, the Wild Five were able to reconcile and band together one more time. Their aim was to challenge the Dragon Festival and uncover what secret lay at its very center. It wasn’t a pursuit of power or lust for treasure that drove them to attempt such an impossible goal.

What drove the Wild Five forward was, and always had been, their shared sense of wanderlust.

There was more to this reunion than just that, of course. The group had all heard through a certain grapevine that there was something waiting for them at the very heart of the Shattered Isles. Something that might help them reunite with some old faces they’d thought forever lost. Sure, it seemed ludicrous, far-fetched, and even suicidal, but even these world-weary adventurers kindled the dangerous thing called hope.

The leader of the bunch was a man called Therian, a human knight of noble birth and founder of one of the city-states belonging to the Sovereign States Alliance. He looked like a prince that had walked out of a fairy tale - tall, well-built, and handsome, with glimmering armor and flowing locks of luscious blond hair. Beneath that glamorous facade lay a keen tactical mind with a thorough understanding of diplomacy. Admittedly the last one wasn’t going to be very useful out here in the Shattered Isles, but there was always the chance his team might attract the attention of an adult or elder dragon. Should that happen, talking things out with the living calamities was preferable to fighting them.

“Yeah, because it worked so well last time,” the woman next to Therian rolled her eyes. “Need I remind you what happened to Westinder?”

“Look Emilia, I’m just saying,” the man continued arguing his point, “there’s a chance it might work and spare us all a lot of pain.”

“You’ve been talking to Doc about this, haven’t you?” her eyes narrowed.

“Yeah? So?”

“You know he says that about everything, right?” she cautioned.

“That’s because it’s true!” the man in front shouted over his shoulder. “There’s always a-”

“Non-zero chance, I know,” Emilia finished the sentence with a sigh.

The woman shook her head in disbelief. Not at Doc’s statement, but at how he hadn’t changed a single bit over the past one hundred and eight years. Of course, one wouldn’t think Emilia was that old just by looking at her. She was a lovely woman possessing both youthful beauty and mature charm, though that was hardly unusual. Most Rankers had attractive features, regardless of their race or gender. Emilia was a very practically-minded person and never cared much for her appearance, hence why her black hair was always cut very short and she never wore make-up. This sensibility extended to her equipment, which looked rather plain despite its effects being every archer’s wet dream. The only piece of gear that really stood out was her bow, which looked to be gold-plated and covered with arcane sigils that glowed with power.

As for Doc, he was a curious, pint-sized Druid that bore the name Donkakleeze Squigglecount. It was difficult to say while keeping a straight face for most people, hence why it was usually shortened to just ‘Doc.’ The man himself was aware of how silly it sounded, but he embraced it rather than trying to fight it. Just looking at this bald, hunched-over, baby-faced midget in his patchwork robes and crooked walking stick of a staff would make one think he was a loony bin. They weren’t entirely wrong, of course, as most of his kind were at least slightly touched in the head. However, this particular one also happened to have such a ridiculous command of nature that he could make dogs fly and pigs bark.

Doc was also, as his size would suggest, a gnome. Well, a former one, technically speaking. When gnomes Ranked Up, they turned into welchlings. These looked exactly like regular gnomes, only with slightly paler skin and more vibrantly-colored eyes. They also gained a racial ability called Welchling Luck, making it easier to obtain and raise the LCK Attribute. Another Rank Up would see them become surfblin gnomes like Doc. These had skin that was either porcelain-white or midnight-black, and their eyes would appear to lose their irises. The overall effect was a doll-like appearance that was either adorably cute, or nightmarishly creepy, depending on one’s tastes. Surfblin gnomes also gained the Skill Detach Thoughts, which essentially let them literally pull certain memories or thoughts from their heads and store them as magical ribbons. These could be shared with someone else or stored away safely should the original thought slip their owner’s mind.

As for Therian and Emilia, those two had achieved the status of so-called perpetuals, the next evolution after ascendant humans. Aside from being rejuvenated to their youthful vigour, the Rank Up had also given them an enviable Skill called Limited Immortality. With this, perpetuals would reconstitute themselves back to life a mere three days after being killed… so long as their brains and hearts remained mostly intact. Putting it bluntly, that wasn’t likely to happen should the team be wiped out in a region full of bloodthirsty dragonoids.

The reunited Wild Five naturally wanted to avoid that, and the best way to do so was to avoid walking into an elder dragon’s lair. This was where the team’s scout really shone. Another perpetual human by the name of Argos, he was a Level 100 Rogue and Level 100 Ranger. Nothing escaped this guy’s notice. Whether it be invisible dragons, land-sharks, or even souls drifting onto the afterlife, he’d see it all.

A big part of this awareness was the combination of Ultimate Skills he had at his disposal. First was Eyes of Truth, an ability he unwittingly shared with Edward Allen, the former Imperial Spymaster. With this, he could instantly spot any visible or audible deception without fail. His Ranger Ultimate, on the other hand, could read the lay of the land around him. Called Primeval Awareness, it filled his head with information regarding all natural terrain within five kilometers of him. Better yet, he could use the Skill at will, provided he spent at least a few minutes concentrating on it. With this ability, he could easily determine the quickest and easiest way to move forward.

The last member of the Five was another woman, this one towering above everyone else with a head of oily, black hair and a blank stare. Dagna was a half-breed born to a big-hearted giant mother and an extremely brave human father. Though she wasn’t as tall as other giants, she still stood at an impressive two-and-a-half meters. Her race had advanced to that of colossus and then to titan upon reaching Level 100 in her Lightbinder and Cryomancer Jobs. Each Rank Up gave her a racial skill, of course. She obtained Colossal Vigour from the first one. It raised maximum HP by a good chunk while also increasing the effectiveness of any healing magic received. The second racial ability was called Starseeker, which allowed one to read the stars in hopes of reading the future. These divinations were… decently accurate, all things considered.

Dagna herself seemed entirely removed from what her people were supposed to be, however. She was gloomy, severe, and had zero sense of humor. Though some might point fingers at her human heritage, the cause for this negative attitude could be traced back to the fall of Percepeia. Dagna was one of the few beings still alive today that had witnessed the Boneshaper’s rise to power firsthand, though she had been powerless to stop it at the time. She still tried, of course. Even went as far as dragging the rest of the Wild Five into it. In fact, the group’s failure to save the giants’ homeland from turning into the Blighted Lands had been one of the major reasons why they had disbanded in the first place.

Regardless of the circumstances, the event had left Dagna with a broken spirit that had yet to fully heal. She had, however, gotten word from her former student Orrin that this rowdy bunch were going to attempt to reclaim it. Apparently, they’d gotten their hands on some occult artifact from a disreputable mercenary that promised to give them the power they needed. It seemed like a desperate move doomed to fail, but Dagna wanted in on it nevertheless. Orrin’s group wouldn’t be ready to move out for another few months, and the Dragon Festival seemed like the perfect way for the giantess to get her head back in the game.

As part of her getting ready for the upcoming Steel Crusade, as Orrin called it, Dagna also took up a Job that she’d been considering for a long while. It was the easiest way for a Caster with an already developed mana pool to achieve a quick power spike, and this seemed like the perfect opportunity to take advantage of it. This method was simple on paper, but could backfire in a major way. Dagna’s former teammates weren’t exactly thrilled about it when they found out, but they trusted the ‘Keeper of the Light’ to maintain control.

This was how and why the Wild Five had obtained a sixth member to their troupe - Dagna’s new demonic familiar. Indeed, though her Warlock Job was only at Level 25, and her Summon Familiar Skill was barely Level 5, the sheer weight of her MP pool made it so the demon could stand almost on equal footing with the rest of them. It also helped that said demon could make the most of the power given to them since she was also a Ranker. More specifically, a spire archfiend by the name of Freallausiz Aurphoirriz Zalathraxas de Thotealphiol.

It was naturally no mere coincidence that Tol-Saroth’s former ‘employee’ was on the Shattered Isles at this point in time. It was also, for once, not orchestrated by the God of Gambling. Dagna wanted the most powerful type of familiar she could get when challenging the Shattered Isles. Frealla wanted a rematch with Kora, and knew Boxxy would be attending the Dragon Festival. All it took was a little bit of luck and a hint from the giant’s Starseeker Skill, and the two were instantly matched through the Demons ‘R’ Us agency.

Frealla, for her part, had barely changed in appearance since her Rank Up. She still wore the same type of highly impractical ‘armor’ and held an almost identical oversized battleaxe. This would change as she gradually grew accustomed to her new, higher state of being, but for the moment the only significant outward difference was that she had four spiraled horns instead of two. Ability-wise she was nothing like her former self, and not just because of the absurd mana that went into forging her conjured flesh. Having recovered mentally from her centuries-long imprisonment in Tol-Saroth’s lab, she now had full control of her faculties and could fully utilize her vast combat experience.

That said, Frealla wasn’t exactly having fun at present. Sure, she had a blast cutting loose and bullying those pathetic dragonoids that got in her master’s way, but that didn’t last long. Once Argos had figured out how to avoid treading over any more of their nests, the group had yet to encounter any significant resistance as they made their way forward. The dull drudgery of having nothing to do but obediently walk around as her master directed was bad enough, but having that insufferable gnome ride atop her head? It was insulting. The way he held onto her horns and pulled on them as if to steer her was especially infuriating. Frealla had signed up with Dagna for the chance to put that red-skinned upstart in her place, not to play babysitter to some loony midget that smelled of dirt and manure.

Whether she knew it or not, the newly-ascended archfiend was about to get her wish, for Boxxy’s troupe was closing in. The mish-mash of monsters and demons were a few kilometeres behind the Wild Five-Plus-One and closing in fast. They weren’t following the adventurers’ footprints, though. The veterans were so loaded up on Levels and magic items that it would be surprising if they didn’t have something to completely cover their tracks and mask their passage. Combined with the fact that they’d stopped leaving dragonoid corpses behind, this meant it would be nigh-impossible for anything to track them within this mostly-barren wasteland. Even clairvoyance magic wouldn’t spot them because of Dagna’s Veil of Refraction, an illusory Lightbinder Spell that rendered herself and her allies invisible to any would-be observer that was more than five hundred meters away.

Unfortunately for the adventurers, and through no real fault of their own, there was something they had failed to take precautions against. The news that there was a new Skill called Relic Hunter’s Pact available to Level 60 and up Warlocks hadn’t spread quite yet. Even these thrice-hardened combatants couldn’t prepare for something they had no idea existed. And, as luck would have it, they were currently in range of a certain something that had the freshly-minted ability.

Boxxy had been maintaining its Shiny Sense™ by ‘feeding’ it a series of Masterwork-class items it had pilfered from that expedition once every two hours. It figured that if there were any similar objects around, they’d belong to its target. It doubted the whole group would be decked out in Artifacts, so this seemed like a good way of doing things. The abomination had, however, failed to consider the dragons’ tendency to hoard things. The Shiny Sense™ was telling it there were a whole bunch of magic items deep underground, but Boxxy ignored those and followed after its initial target.

After several hours of forging ahead at top speed, the shapeshifter eventually detected a concentration of Masterwork equipment moving along the surface of the island. Deducing that these were the adventurers it had been looking for, it made a beeline straight for them. In doing so it also disturbed all the steel dragonoid nests the adventurers had skillfully avoided. The creatures surged from beneath the ground at Boxxy and its allies. The shapeshifter dealt with them easily enough, as all it needed to do was hit them with the Shadow Plague and Lethargic Mist Spells it gained from its Necrotic Aptitude Skill. All draconic beings were vulnerable to scourge-based magic, so those steel-scaled pests rapidly found themselves too weak to lift their own bodies. They probably wouldn’t die from the magical diseases, but it kept them from chasing after the monstrous troupe.

Things came to a head when Boxxy was about a kilometer away from its unknown target. The shapeshifter was propelling itself forward using a method of movement that could best be described as a surreal gallop. Rather than rotate its limbs forward after each step, the abomination simply retracted them into its body and sprouted new ones as it rolled forwards. It was more akin to a self-propelled conveyor of flesh than a living creature. Fizzy, Drea, and Xera were riding Boxxy’s lid as none of them could really keep up with the shifting advance, or at least not for long. Kora was the only one able to keep pace on the ground, which she accomplished by going at a full sprint for several hours straight. Jen, on the other hand, tore through the air just above the group on her massive wings.

As the monstrous formation shortened the distance to their target past the one-kilometer-mark, the griffin-harpy suddenly surged to the front of the group. She intercepted a barrage of lightning-bolt-like projectiles, knocking them all out of the air with her metal staff. The volley didn’t relent, however, and she had to summon up her Spirit Guardian to help deflect all of the attacks. The electrified projectiles fell to the ground, revealing they were specially-made mithril-tipped arrows, no doubt fired from some exceptionally powerful Artifact.

This assumption was only partly right, as Emilia’s longbow was actually a Phantasmal-grade item called Raigon’s Roar. Much like other high-end weapons of its class, it enhanced all of its shots in some way. In this particular case, it charged them with enough lightning to chip away at Jen’s HP even though she was deflecting the arrows fired from it. Realizing that the threats Argos had spotted wouldn’t go down with a basic barrage, the marksman decided to employ her Ultimate Skill right off the bat.

“Conjure Volley,” she murmured under her breath.

Though both she and her spotter had Level 100 Rogue and Ranger Jobs, their skill sets were completely different. Unlike Argos, who put all his effort into trickery, observation, and nimbleness, almost all of Emilia’s Skills were focused on maximizing her ranged firepower. Conjure Volley, her Ranger Ultimate, was a reflection of that. Once invoked, it would magically split and duplicate one arrow into thousands, transforming what would normally be a projectile attack into a wave of death and pain.

This was precisely the case when she unleashed it upon Boxxy’s crew. It was impossible for any single Monk, no matter how skilled, to defend against so many arrows that they completely blocked out the sun. And with each one carrying a powerful electric charge, it seemed reasonable that the shapeshifter might not, in fact, survive this. Thankfully for Boxxy, Jen’s reflexes had bought just enough time for Fizzy to finish reconfiguring herself into Fortress Mode.

Still riding atop the abominable box’s lid, she charged up her Static Shield and erected a barrier around the group. The magical charge of the incoming attack was completely nullified and absorbed, while any arrows that punched through the Static Shield were blocked by Boxxy’s own Mana Shield underneath. From the outside, it seemed as though a serpent made out of lightning smashed against the group, only to have them emerge completely unscathed moments later.

Without skipping a beat, Boxxy grabbed Kora by the leg and nearly chucked her at the enemy, but then realized that was a terrible idea. The greed-fiend couldn’t control her air trajectory very well, which against a marksman that skilled was no different from a sitting duck. There was no point to propelling her at the enemy if it would just get her killed before the real fight started, especially since Boxxy couldn’t resummon her on the Shattered Isles’ territory. A plan was quickly formed, and the shapeshifter issued its commands.

“Jen and Fizzy, you’re on defense. Block those shots at all costs. Snack, throw some illusions around to confuse their aim, even a little. All of you, keep going forward!”

The lightning arrow barrage resumed moments later, but this time Boxxy was going to return the favor. Its lid opened up to reveal the upper half of an alien-looking humanoid figure, its arms already gripping onto its own high-grade bow, the Winter’s Bite. It shot back at the adventurers with as much zeal as it could muster, though it was clearly outclassed when it came to archery. It wouldn’t stand a chance of actually hitting the enemy if not for the heat-seeking properties of the bow’s conjured projectiles. Even then it doubted it would do much, but it was still better than nothing.

Shards of ice and bolts of lightning collided in midair as the shapeshifter’s group advanced on the Wild Five’s position. Argos had already relayed other party’s composition to his teammates. Granted, he wasn’t entirely sure what all of those creatures were, but he was able to identify an abomination, a golem, and a harpy. In other words, the adventurers had to prepare lightning, cold, and water magic to exploit the inbound monsters’ elemental weaknesses. There was little they could do about the three demons, though.

“I knew I should’ve packed my Demonbane longsword,” Therian grumbled. “But nooo, ‘cursed items attract more trouble than they’re wooorth.’”

“If you have time to complain, finish taking your elixirs,” Dagna said sternly. “Those things are coming in fast.”

The knight clearly disliked being talked down to like that, but chugged his potions nonetheless. Even if the giantess was still a bitch, she was right. The group hadn’t expected to run into this sort of trouble on the inner Shattered Isles. It wasn’t unheard of for Festival attendees to assault one another in hopes of getting easy Levels and loot, but a group of monsters and demons doing so? That part was new, even to these world-weary adventurers. And if the inbound creatures were strong enough to survive the inner islands while also tracking the Wild Five, then there was no telling what they were capable of.

That said, educated guesses could still be made. Demons meant Warlocks, and Warlocks meant primarily dark and mind magic, so Therian chugged an Elixir of Shadow Absorption and a Potion of Mind Shielding. These were but the first of about a dozen sickeningly expensive potions the man consumed in preparation for the battle. Something that was only made possible through his Warrior Job’s Ultimate Skill, Combat Metabolism. It drastically increased the number of alchemical goodies he could imbibe before succumbing to potion sickness, though their effects wouldn’t last as long.

Argos was busy acting as Emilia’s spotter and instructing her on how to adjust her aim for maximum effect. It wasn’t as if Emilia couldn’t see the enemy herself, but she trusted her teammates’ eyes more. Especially since that scantily-clad demoness had started throwing around giant phallic illusions. Even if they were clearly fake, they still obscured her vision, and only Argos’ Ultimate could see through them at this range.

Meanwhile Doc had leapt down from Frealla’s shoulders and was helping Dagna fortify the group’s defense and vitality with a series of support Spells while also deflecting the incoming ice arrows. The archfiend had tensed up in anticipation of what was to come, as she was certain this was indeed Boxxy’s group. The giantess noticed her familiar’s anxiousness, but couldn’t spare the time to ask her about it at the moment. She and her allies had dug in their heels to prepare for the rapidly incoming monsters, so they didn’t have much time to prepare before the clash happened.

And Boxxy was indeed closing in. The distance between itself and its prey had been reduced to about two hundred meters over the past half-minute or so. It had also subtly shifted itself and its group’s formation. The abomination was currently rolling along on a set of six organic wheels, a literal wagon of flesh being pulled along by Kora. Xera, Fizzy, and now Drea were riding atop it while Jen flew just behind it. The reason why Boxxy had opted to this method of transportation was that it allowed the shapeshifter to move along at great speeds while focusing on other things. This was necessary because the next step in its assault plan required quite a lot of preparation.

Thankfully preparations were nearly complete. The vaguely humanoid thing poking out of its open lid was now holding the Voidcaller staff rather than the Winter’s Bite bow. It had just taken a dose of Distilled Quintessence of Magic and had Snack use her Amplify Magic on itself. With Power Overwhelming up and running, the shapeshifter began channeling its favorite Warlock Spell.

“Sed risus ex,” it spoke in the language of the gods, “semper a lacus condimentum, molestie malesuada nisi.”

Ideally it would have prepared some Mirror Images in order to employ Synchronous Chant, but that wasn’t an option at the moment. Not to mention it was probably unnecessary.

“Pellentesque sagittis auctor turpis pretium diam!”

After all, unlike a certain towering mound of undead flesh, these adventurers were very likely to dodge something with too much of a wind-up.