Chapter 11: Attack On Lucian

Deep within the recesses of a formidable cave, shrouded in the mysterious embrace of nature's labyrinth, a clandestine refuge existed—an ideal sanctuary for those seeking concealment from prying eyes. The chosen location was more than a mere hiding spot; it served as the nucleus for a burgeoning enclave.

In the heart of this concealed enclave, a rudimentary base emerged, boasting a singular hut meticulously crafted from interwoven branches—a rustic edifice that doubled as the community's town hall. However, the true bastion, the very soul of their clandestine operations, lay in the fortress that was the cave itself—a sprawling expanse of darkness veiled in secrecy.

Within this subterranean realm, an expansive and dimly lit dome loomed overhead, its massive silhouette harboring the spoils of daring exploits—piles of looted raw materials, trophies seized from the world beyond the cave's concealed entrance. The atmosphere pulsated with an air of secrecy, and the stolen resources underscored the tribe's resilience and resourcefulness in the face of adversity.

Amidst the troves of pilfered riches, the core of the cave housed a modest yet purposeful interior. A lone table stood resolute in the midst of the dim glow, bearing the weight of whispered strategies and clandestine meetings. A bed made of carefully arranged leaves offered a semblance of comfort in this hidden realm, a testament to the ingenuity required to thrive within the clandestine confines of their covert stronghold. The dichotomy between the rugged exterior and the carefully curated interior underscored the delicate balance struck between survival and secrecy within the cavernous expanse.

Summoned Characters meandered with purpose, diligently engrossed in their assigned tasks. These spectral beings, akin to automated machines, executed their duties with an unwavering commitment that mirrored a well-oiled mechanism. However, beneath the facade of efficiency, a disquieting emptiness pervaded their essence.

Devoid of a discernible soul, the characters moved with a mechanical precision, devoid of the spontaneity that defines sentient beings. Their actions, once vibrant with individuality, had been reduced to a monotonous choreography dictated by the stringent guidelines of their Character Class duties. Each movement seemed orchestrated solely by the strings of duty, rendering their existence a mere puppetry of obligation.

Yet, amid this choreographed dance, a subtle melancholy lingered—an elusive hint of the vibrancy that had been eclipsed by duty's formidable grip. The characters, in executing their roles with mechanical precision, unwittingly masked the void that echoed within. It was as though the very essence of their being had been eclipsed, leaving behind a hollow semblance of life.

Thus, in the vast expanse of summoned realms, where duty reigned supreme, these characters moved with an almost eerie grace, their actions a testament to the sacrifice of individuality at the altar of obligation. And so, they continued, their existence a paradoxical blend of purposeful motion and the quiet yearning for the lost vitality of their spectral souls.

In the heart of the cavern, presiding over the stronghold, stood the commanding figure – Lucian, a man whose essence seemed to embody authority. His blond locks cascaded with a regal grace, framing a countenance marked by a pair of eyes, once dull, now etched with a tinge of ennui.

Cloaked in a pristine white tunic, the garments themselves a testament to the craftsmanship of a skilled tailor, he cut a figure of both elegance and power within the subterranean domain.

Leaning casually against the sturdy wooden chair, Lucian nonchalantly spun a finely crafted flintlock in his hand.

His disdain for the weapon surfaced as he remarked, "This contraption demands bullets meticulously forged by a skilled blacksmith—such a convoluted prerequisite for a rather impractical tool." With a contemptuous gesture, Lucian tossed the flintlock aside, asserting, "Only a fool would resign themselves to wielding such a high-maintenance instrument."

Gazing up at the rocky ceiling of the cave, a sly grin adorned Lucian's face as he recalled a fond memory.

Lucian's grin widened, revealing a sinister satisfaction. "That base harbors a skilled ensemble—a Builder, Miner, Wood Collector, and Blacksmith. Remarkable stroke of luck, I must admit." His smile took on a sadistic edge. "Regrettably, I had to dispatch his builder. The challenge was formidable—so potent that it resembled combat against a living, breathing adversary."

Rising from his seat, Lucian pondered aloud, "What piques my curiosity is the lifelike essence his characters exude. They don't merely function as soulless dolls; instead, they emulate the behavior of genuine individuals." Striding towards the cave's entrance, he mused, "Perhaps I should inquire about his technique." Leaning down to retrieve his bow from the ground, he contemplated his next move. "Before I deliver a fatal shot to his head."

•••••

In the shadows beyond Lucian's stronghold, a formidable Lizardfolk warrior prowled the outskirts of its territory. The dense, dimly lit forest provided cover for its vigilant patrol, the sinuous movements of its long head betraying a watchful intensity. The warrior clutched a wooden sword, a testament to its readiness for any intruder daring to challenge its domain.

With an instinct honed by the wild, the Lizardfolk's darting tongue sampled the air, detecting the subtlest of scents. Suddenly, a distant whistle pierced the stillness, prompting the warrior to freeze in its tracks. The once tranquil forest now held an ominous undercurrent as the Lizardfolk's focus sharpened, eyes darting to and fro.

Undeterred by the darkness, the warrior maintained a stoic stance, prepared for the unseen threat. The forest echoed with the haunting melody of approaching whistles, each note a portent of potential danger. The Lizardfolk's muscular form tensed, every fiber attuned to the encroaching presence as the whistles grew louder, closing in with an unsettling deliberateness.

The Lizardfolk swiftly turned, discovering an unexpected presence looming behind it. To its surprise, Kageko stood there, her gaze piercing through the air with an absence of emotion. Unfazed, the creature instinctively adopted a defensive stance, raising a wooden sword in preparation for what lay ahead.

In a moment of tension, Kageko broke the silence, her voice cutting through the air like a blade. "It was not me who was whistling," she declared, challenging the assumption hanging in the air.

A sudden revelation disrupted the standoff as Allan's voice resonated through the scene. "It was me," he confessed, shattering the Lizardfolk's preconceived notions.

The creature turned to face the unexpected source, only to be met by the force of Allan's determined fist, a decisive action that brought a swift end to the escalating confrontation.

Allan's powerful punch sent the Lizardfolk sprawling onto the unforgiving ground, rendering it unconscious. As it lay there, its tongue protruding in a defeated gesture, Allan quipped, "Having a good sleep is paramount for one's health. You're very welcome."

John emerged from the shadows, acknowledging Allan's feat with a nod. Following him were the formidable trio of Hagan, Migul, and Sylvia. With a commendatory tone, John remarked, "Good job."

As the group proceeded, John took the lead, his eyes scanning the surroundings, fixating on the concealed cave nearby. "This serves as a well-hidden base," he mused, his voice carrying an air of determination. "Let's accord the ruler of this base a greeting he'll never forget."

In a strategic move, John activated Nebula Mirage, enveloping their group in a dense shroud of thick black smoke, effectively concealing their presence as they prepared to confront the formidable adversary lurking within the covert confines of the cave.

John unsheathed his gleaming sword, its blade glinting. "Preserve their lives if you can," he declared with unwavering resolve. He raised his sword, a symbol of both power and mercy. "Yet, when faced with the stark choice of survival—ours or theirs—know that sparing them might not be an option." His command resonated with authority, echoing in the ears of his loyal allies.

Emerging from the mouth of a sunlit cave, a formidable warrior materialized, armed with a primitive yet menacing wooden club. A tangible air of tension enveloped the battleground, the anticipation of impending conflict palpable.

This warrior, a hybrid of humanoid and wolf, possessed a strikingly majestic presence. Its body and head adorned with a mantle of sleek gray fur, combining the strength of a predator with the intellect of a sentient being.

The warrior emitted a primal growl as thick smoke billowed around, shrouding the once-clear surroundings. The wolfkin warrior, possessing a heightened sense of smell, instinctively raised his head, nostrils flaring to discern the source of the ominous haze. Yet, before he could unravel the mystery enveloping him, a forceful punch struck him, sending the warrior wolfkin tumbling across the ground in a disoriented roll.

Emerging from the obsidian haze, Allan strode purposefully toward the formidable wolfkin warrior, a glint of determination in his eyes. "Kindly refrain from olfactory scrutiny without our consent," he asserted, a genial smile adorning his face.

The wolfkin warrior, undeterred, gracefully crouched low, its majestic fur ruffling in the ominous breeze. With a swift motion, it expelled a cloud of dust from its snout, a menacing display of territorial prowess.

In Allan's wake trailed Migul, brandishing a formidable stone sword with unwavering resolve. "Creatures endowed with extraordinary senses prove to be quite the challenge," he mused, his voice resonating with a mix of admiration and apprehension.

As Allan and Migul prepared to confront the formidable wolfkin, an electrifying sphere hurtled toward them, prompting swift evasion from both warriors. Amidst the charged atmosphere, a human mage emerged, stoically wielding a staff, exuding an eerie emotionlessness.

Allan, expressing his disapproval, clicked his tongue. "You handle the girl, and I'll address her canine companion. I have no inclination towards inflicting harm upon a delicate girl."

Migul chuckled, retorting, "You speak as though I'm the harbinger of harm myself." With a deft spin of his sword, he conveyed both readiness and confidence, poised for the impending clash of elements and strength.

As John advanced toward the cave entrance, Kageko, Hagan, and Sylvia trailed behind him, their anticipation palpable in the air. Abruptly, John halted, a premonition coursing through him, sensing the imminent presence of a specific individual.

Without warning, the cavern was engulfed in a thick shroud of smoke, obscuring the surroundings and creating an atmosphere of suspense.

A resonant male voice echoed from within the cave, uttering the words, "Gale Strike." The command hung in the air, charged with an ominous energy that set the scene for what was to come.

The tense silence was shattered by a forceful gust of wind unleashed by the invoked Gale Strike. This tempest, akin to a fierce deity's breath, swept through the cave with unparalleled might, dispelling the dense smoke and revealing the hidden secrets concealed within. The cavern, once cloaked in obscurity, now stood exposed, its secrets laid bare by the elemental force unleashed.

John's grin widened, a sardonic twist shaping his lips. "Not bad," he quipped, his approval evident as he took in the scene unfolding before him.

Before John stood a formidable human figure, brandishing two gleaming swords. The stranger's vacant eyes bore into John, an unsettling intensity emanating from his gaze.

[Swashbuckler (Uncommon).]

Silence hung heavy in the air, pregnant with anticipation, as the Swashbuckler abruptly lunged towards John. The onslaught commenced with a swift and expertly executed Slash, the blades cutting through the space with deadly precision.

The Swashbuckler executed a swift and menacing movement, expertly slashing his blade toward John's vulnerable neck. John, however, remained an unmoving spectator, standing with an enigmatic smile playing on his lips.

Before the Swashbuckler could reach John, Kageko materialized from the shadows, intervening with a deft and precise maneuver using her razor-sharp dagger. The clash of steel echoed in the air as she thwarted the impending attack with unparalleled finesse.

As tension hung thick in the air, a synchronized onslaught unfolded. Sylvia, with her unparalleled archery skills, released a barrage of surging arrows that sailed through the atmosphere with deadly accuracy. Simultaneously, Hagan summoned the elemental forces, conjuring a scorching Fireball that crackled and roared to life.

Caught in the crossfire, the Swashbuckler was compelled to leap backward, evading the impending onslaught. The battlefield crackled with an electrifying energy, a dance of blades, arrows, and arcane fire shaping the destiny of the impending confrontation.

Kegeko assumed a formidable battle stance, her dagger gleaming with anticipation. "Leave this one to us, my lord," Kageko declared.

"Then don't mind me," John nonchalantly replied.

Without hesitation, John strode forward, brushing off the Swashbuckler's attempts to impede him.

Undeterred, the Swashbuckler attempted to halt John's advance, only to be thwarted as Kageko leaped in with swift precision, intercepting the assailant.

In tandem, Sylvia expertly loosed an arrow, while Hagan conjured a blazing fireball, creating a spectacle of coordinated firepower.

As the skirmish unfolded, John forged ahead into the cavern's deeper recesses, undaunted by the chaos behind him.

Observing the clash, John remarked with a hint of amusement, "I believe even Kageko alone could dispatch that adversary effortlessly. Nonetheless, I'll allow them to revel in their own victory."

Venturing further into the cave's depths, John confronted the colossal dome looming at its terminus. The air grew thick with the obsidian smoke billowing from his presence, shrouding the cavern in an eerie darkness.

As his gaze traversed the surroundings, John discerned a mysterious figure obstructing his path. His narrowed eyes honed in on a wolfkin, draped in sleek black fur that mirrored its lupine form—head and body merged seamlessly into a humanoid silhouette. The creature's obsidian eyes, akin to voids, remained fixed upon John, revealing a glint of otherworldly intelligence. Its razor-sharp fangs protruded, evoking an instinctual sense of danger.

Within the creature's grasp, a formidable spear gleamed menacingly, emphasizing the potential threat that lay ahead. John's pulse quickened, and a surge of anticipation gripped him as he prepared to face the enigmatic wolfkin in this shadowed realm.

[Samurai (Uncommon).]

John lifted his index finger, his brow furrowed in discernment. "The samurai wields the wrong weapon," he declared with conviction, nonchalant yet fearless, as he disregarded the looming danger.

Abruptly, a violet arrow hurtled towards John, emerging seemingly out of thin air. In the obscurity of the cave, John keenly sensed the impending threat, his instincts heightened.

Undeterred by the dimness, John skillfully intercepted the arrow, slicing through it with precision using his gleaming sword, effortlessly cleaving it in half. The cavern echoed with the metallic ring of his swift and masterful maneuver.

Emanating from the depths of the cavern, Lucian stepped into the dim light. "Your reflexes are swift, evidently adept at wielding your weapon—a Dexterity stat-oriented player," he remarked, emerging from his concealment.

Unveiling himself, Lucian materialized behind the wolfkin samurai, a sinister smile gracing his features. The dissipating smoke revealed John, poised and ready.

"That's quite the impressive attire you've got. Meanwhile, I'm stuck with these," John quipped, a smirk playing on his lips. "Hope you don't mind if they get a little stained with your blood."

Lucian, unyielding, observed, "You can't even conceal your anger." A chuckle escaped him. "Tell me, how's your builder? Did you personally lay him to rest?" He taunted further. "I imagine you witnessed his agonizing demise until the very last moment of his fleeting life—a squandered Ascension Orb."

Nonchalant, John retorted, "Don't fret, he's intact. My alchemist mended him back to health."

Lucian's contemptuous chuckle resonated through the room. "So, you've chosen this path of revenge," he mocked, fixing a penetrating gaze on John.

In response, John nonchalantly shrugged. "Revenge? No. My Ascension Orbs are dwindling, and I must replenish them," he declared with a subtle edge.

Lucian's laughter echoed ominously, underscoring the gravity of the situation. "Fascinating," he mused, extending a hand toward John. "Lucian Clause, the sovereign ruler of the Invincible base. And you?"

"Far from invincible, I suppose," John retorted with a confident smirk. "As for my name, it matters not. You're destined for demise regardless."

Lucian dismissed John's bravado with a measured response. "Arrogance," he observed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Yet, I extend my gratitude in advance for the Ascension Orbs that shall grace my possession once I've dispatched you." With a gradual fade, Lucian vanished. "Your characters will be my concern once you're a mere memory."

The stoic samurai standing before John finally stirred. With an air of determination, he elevated his gleaming spear and lunged fiercely at John. The charged encounter erupted into a tempest of rapid slashes, a relentless onslaught that pursued John with unforgiving precision.

Each slash birthed a luminous trail, an ethereal blue aura that extended beyond the spear's physical reach. This spectral brilliance not only encapsulated John's immediate vicinity but also carved through any obstacles lingering just beyond the lethal dance. The samurai's technique painted an otherworldly spectacle, transforming the battlefield into a canvas of dynamic movements and radiant arcs, as if the very essence of the samurai's skill manifested in each resounding clash.

Concealed within the shroud of billowing black smoke, John strategically evaded the wolfkin samurai's vigilant gaze, ensuring he remained elusive and unseen.

In a decisive moment, John unleashed the formidable power of Thunderstrike, enveloping his blade in crackling thunder energy, transforming the mundane weapon into a formidable force to be reckoned with.

With a surge of electrifying determination, John surged forward, closing the gap between himself and the wolfkin samurai in a blur of calculated aggression.

The wolfkin samurai, possessing an acute olfactory prowess, keenly sensed the approaching danger as the air crackled with charged intensity.

Swift as the wind, the samurai deftly sidestepped John's thunder-charged onslaught, executing a gravity-defying leap that propelled him beyond the reach of the electrified blade, showcasing his mastery of evasion and agility.

Multiple poisonous arrows surged toward John, unleashed by the invisible Lucian. Swift and deadly, they sought their mark.

With lightning reflexes, John deftly slashed through the onslaught of arrows, his sword dancing through the air like a lethal symphony.

"That samurai is swift," John remarked, a wry smile playing on his lips. His amusement echoed through the tense confrontation.

"What now? You can't even defeat my character, what about me!" Lucian's taunts reverberated, his invisibility adding an eerie dimension to the duel.

In response, the samurai, poised and focused, uttered a powerful incantation, "Aura Sever," as he gracefully squatted in preparation.

The samurai charged at John with impressive speed, wielding a menacing spear. Yet, John remained undaunted, calmly stating, "But not fast enough."

In a display of raw power, John unleashed Thunderstrike, a formidable skill that crackled with electrifying energy. The sword descended with precision, cleaving the spear in half with a resounding clash.

The cave reverberated with a thunderous sound, echoing the potency of John's strike. A dazzling explosion of lightning illuminated the cavern, leaving the samurai wolfkin visibly shaken in its wake.

John focused his energy, directing an intense "Inferno Burst" at the samurai. A colossal ball of fire erupted from his palm, leaving no room for evasion.

The close quarters negated the samurai's reaction time, and John swiftly leaped away. The fiery projectile collided with the samurai, resulting in a spectacular explosion of flames that engulfed the battlefield.

Amidst the inferno, the wolfkin samurai emitted a haunting howl as the flames consumed it, leaving it sprawled on the ground, smoking and defeated.

Surveying the aftermath, John acknowledged the challenges posed by adversaries with heightened senses. "Characters with a potent sense of smell are challenging opponents," he remarked, standing resolute in front of the defeated samurai. "The battle concludes for you. Stay down."

In a seamless motion, John skillfully waved his sword through the air, effortlessly slicing through the incoming poisonous arrows. The special effect of his earring granted him the ability to discern the magical essence embedded in each arrow, allowing him to effortlessly deflect the perilous projectiles.

"Darn it!" Lucian's exclamation reverberated through the cavern, the frustration evident even though he remained unseen.

Unbeknownst to Lucian, John harbored the ability to discern his presence all along, a secret power he relished.

John adeptly played the charade, feigning ignorance about Lucian's elusive whereabouts with a deceptive smile.

Amidst the concealment, John's focus honed in on a particular piece of equipment carelessly strewn across the cavern floor.

Tilting his head, John's narrowed eyes betrayed a subtle curiosity, a silent acknowledgment of the unfolding game.

A triumphant smirk graced John's lips, revealing a calculated awareness that he held the upper hand in this clandestine encounter.

"Flintlock (Common)."