A Bored Lich - Chapter 342: The Western Hallway: Part 2

After a minute of constant spells and dead demon squadrons, Olpi frowned and said in between deep breaths: “I haven’t seen a shaman in a…in a while.”

“Neither have I,” Menla replied, hands on her knees. “Does your head hurt as much as mine does?”

Olpi sighed and shook her head: “I don’t know. I’m just tired.”

Another minute passed.

“Is there something in your eye?” Menla asked.

“Yeah, something like that,” Olpi said as she rubbed her eyes again, ignoring the burning sensation on her eyelids. Through a near window, she saw pale humanoids fly into the night sky. ‘Are those Undead? No. I must be imagining things.’

More demons rounded the corner, a never-ending tide of ants. She let her sore arms hang by her sides and tried to form another magic circle, which vanished as soon as it formed.

The world went sideways. Red, expanding shapes filled Olpi’s vision. “Menla, cover me,” she said as she tried to hobble away, tripping on her own frozen leg. She smacked into the ground and skidded along the ice. Victorious shouts behind Olpi’s unprotected back turned into mournful wails as several sharp points whistled over her head. Olpi pushed herself upwards but slipped. She cursed, pulled her dirty hair out of her face, and tried again only to succumb to the protests of her shaking arms.

“Don’t worry, I got you,” Menla said. The Dwarven girl’s blistered, gentle hands helped Olpi up, unintentionally wiping warm blood onto her cheek.

Blood. The sobering sensation cleared Olpi’s muddled world in the blink of an eye. She grabbed Menla’s suit sleeve, which was soaked in red. “When did this happen?”

“It’s a nosebleed,” Menla whispered into her pointed ear. “Come on, focus. We’re all depending on you.” She looked over her shoulder at the other Demis resting within the classroom: “Are you guys ready yet?”

“Not yet,” one of them replied.

“I can fight too,” Gilly, the dwarf with an ice covered gash along his chest, said. “Or I can buy us some time using the desks and chairs.”

“No, you’re staying.”

“Hurry!” Menla said. She stepped away from the oncoming enemy and let out a nervous laugh. “I’m out.”

“I can keep going,” Olpi said. With half of her remaining mana, Olpi summoned floating blades of ice and cut down three out of four approaching demons. The last one charged past its fallen companions and stabbed a sword towards Olpi’s throat, instead piercing through Menla’s small arm and into her broad shoulder. The Dwarf had lept just in time.

“You’ll have to go through-” Menla let out a high-pitched yelp as the pain kicked in. She pushed through it and held the blade firm, blood pouring like a faucet. The demon snarled at the interloper, let its weapon go, and swept its razor sharp claws into hardwood – one of the classroom’s chairs. Behind the improvised shield was one of two desperate Demis that had rushed into the melee.

The second of the pair smashed its chair into the demon’s back. Flimsy wood shattered around a metal breastplate. Red life essence burst from the demon’s body. It whipped around, pulled the Demi close, and held a single claw to its throat.

At that moment, Olpi’s magic circle appeared. There was a pause.

“Do it Olpi,” the hostage said, trying and failing to escape the demon’s grasp. The other Demis hesitated.

Distant shouts grew louder. Horned shadows slid up the hallway’s corner.

The demon gestured to Olpi’s magic circle then pressed its claw into the hostage’s neck, just enough to break the skin. The hostage whimpered as fresh blood dripped down her neck.

“Wait,” Olpi said, her rapid heart skipping a beat.

Menla yanked the demon’s blade out, wincing both at the pain and the sight of the gaping hole in her forearm. “What are you doing Olpi? It’s not going to…”

The distant squadron rounded the corner and drew closer. Screaming from behind the classroom’s back wall grew louder. “Fall back to the west!” Lance’s voice boomed. “Let them take the center!”

The demon once again gestured to Olpi’s magic circle then tightened its grip around the hostage’s throat. “Stop yous power, now,” it said, its hostility almost as thick as its accent. It pointed over its shoulder at the dozens of corpses behind it. “Too many brethren dead. Stop yous power, now!”

“Fine,” Olpi said, knowing full well they couldn’t fight anymore. “As long as we can all make it out of here. Now put her down.” She let her magic circle fade.

The demon pulled its claw back and took a breath, but didn’t let go. “Too many brethren dead,” it muttered. It glanced over its shoulder and, for the first time, took in the carnage it had run past. Its pointed ears tilted down. “Too many,” it repeated, its grip tightening once again.

The approaching squadron was halfway across the hallway when he snapped the hostage’s throat and tossed her aside.

The demon charged, its red, slitted eyes wide with a fury. “Too damn many!”

“No!” Olpi cried.

“Protect Olpi,” Menla yelled as she dove at the demon in a last ditch effort.

The demon sidestepped, grabbed the dwarf’s outstretched arms, and swung her into the rest of them. Left dangling in its clutches was a severed forearm, which it raised like a weapon as it burst past the mana-less Demis.

Greeting the demon was a simple magic circle of the water element. Olpi sent a mere portion of her mana through it, relying on the ripple property to do most of the work for her. Eyes, veins, and organs bulged out as liquid traveled from head to toe within a fleshy container. The demon collapsed, shriveled from the torso and above.

Olpi cried out before sealing the hallway shut. The squadron, a collection of black outlines behind the ice wall, skidded to a stop. Dull, reverberating blows threatened to break into their impromptu sanctuary. It was only a matter of time.

Olpi cursed and punched the wall. The skin around her knuckles tore away but she could hardly feel them over the burning pain atop her dead leg. She turned to face the others, who seemed to calm down witnessing aggressive display. “I’m out of mana.”

“We’re all out too,” Menla said, clutching her stump of an arm. She was deathly pale, barely standing. “Eva, can I get some help?”

Eva hobbled over to Menla on a deformed leg, her chubby face devoid of its usual, toothy smile. She carried Menla to a corner, restricted the blood flow with a belt, and dressed the wound with cloth torn off her suit jacket.

“I guess you guys need all the help you can get,” Gilly said as he pushed his bulky body off the creaking desk, careful as not to reopen his wounds. “Like Menla said, Dwarves aren’t that easy to take down.” He joined Eva and Olpi at the center of the classroom.

“So,” Eva said, trying not to look at the crack expanding in the ice wall. “What now? What are three people going to do?”

“I kinda wish we had kept at least one of those Undead,” Gilly lamented while stroking his curly, black beard.

“We wanted to be useful,” Eva countered. “We all agreed. Besides, Cerlius wanted to hold both the western and southern hallways. Splitting the group was the only course of action. If anything, I would question following a dark mage like him. Why would he defend the very people who would otherwise kill him?”

“We don’t have time to theorize,” Olpi said. “If they break through that wall then we’re done for.”

“I don’t know if we should keep fighting,” Eva sighed. “We don’t even know if there’s Demis left here. Maybe we should just run for it and leave those damned instructors for dead.”

“Run where?”

“The window,” as Eva pointed to the window, eyes widened, both theirs and the spectating demons. The window exploded inwards, showering the small group with rubble and shattered glass. In flew three Shamans, all radiating mana, green life essence, and confidence.

“Anyone?” Olpi asked as they backed up.

Pieces of the ice wall fell to the ground and dozens of curious eyes watched the cornered Demis, awaiting for the curtain to fall.

“Keep firing,” Lance’s booming voice drifted through the walls. “Hold nothing back. Trust in me. Reinforcements are coming.”

“They’re running on fumes,” another, much more powerful voice bellowed.

The three shamans smiled at each other and approached.

“Where is that dark mage?” Gilly asked.

“How should I know,” Olpi responded.

“Call for him.”

One of the shamans cut into their palms and waved their bleeding hands. Four, blood-red magic circles appeared in front of each of the Demis, touching the tips of their noses.

“Do it now or submit to your fate.”

Magic circles twisted as mana dove into each of them. “Hellfire…”

Sparks filled Olpi’s vision. Her heart slowed to a stop. She was dead. “Someone, please help me!” she yelled out.

In that moment filled with dread, pain, and anguish, the world responded in kind. The floor shook everyone off their feet. Cracks ran throughout the building. The shallow swamp water rose up in massive waves. Creatures cried out in anguish. Mountains quaked. Stars bled bright red light. The moon split. Concluding the cacophony of chaos was a deep voice, sourceless and sorrowful.

As the small, insignificant group of Demis struggled to get back to their feet they found the surrounding demons standing still, all silently staring at the cracked moon with tears streaming from their eyes.

“W-what happened?” Olpi gasped. All at once the demons snapped back to reality. Hundred let out synchronous, high-pitched screeches.

“I think they’re angry,” Gilly guessed.

The demons rushed forward in a frenzy, practically foaming from the lips. They barely saw a single figure land behind them: Cerlius. With a burst of copper life essence he swept through them like a sickle through wheat. Undead beings charged in and trampled the leftovers.

“Good job everyone,” Cerlius said as he wiped the blood from his spear. “More of you made it than I expected. Now, I’ll take it from here.”

“We did it?” Olpi asked as she sank down.

“We did it!” Eva yelled, overjoyed, and hugged the others. “We lived through it!”

Cerlius glanced past the destroyed ice wall at the single Demi corpse behind it, then back to Olpi. “I’m not going to bring her back.”

“I-I know,” Olpi sighed. “We all asked for this. We have no right to complain.”

Cerlius turned to leave. “It’s good you understand that. I’m leaving a few Undead to hold this hallway. Rest well. You’ve earned it.”

“Wait,” Eva protested. “Are you going to go in the mess hall?” Cerlius nodded. “I don’t think the instructors will react very well when they see your Undead. Even if you win, they might try to kill you when the battle’s over.”

“We all know how backwards the academy’s practices are,” Cerlius said, gesturing to the Demis’ torn attire. “That doesn’t change my plans or my goals. Outside of these walls are things have changed, things that can’t be undone. We can’t afford to bow our heads to this place any longer. It’s time to fight, using our own strengths. Anything that gets in my way, will get no mercy.” With that, he left them behind.

Pale moonlight reached through broken window sills and caressed the horde of Undead. Open-eyed corpses rose, cold blood trickling from fresh bitemarks upon their stiff bodies. Moaning, groaning, drooling, shambling dead stepped in rhythm with their maker. A big-bellied Bulber, a gigantic Guirant, and a boisterous Banshee led the pack. The Pregovian Weeper ensured a constant, pitch-black abyss under their feet. Zombies, Ghouls, and other common creations composed the center.

Cerlius marched at the back with a tight grip on his demonic spear and a calm expression. They rounded the corner and entered the northern hallway. A swarm of demons awaited.