City of Fallen Souls: A LitRPG Adventure (UnderVerse Book 3) by Jez Cajiao (fb2 epub reader .txt) 📕

“I’m gonna fuck you all up…” I whispered, the flaring, crackling light of the mana infused into my weapon dissipating. “I don’t need magic to do it, either” I said, releasing the charge as they started to spread out, both sides waiting for the other to make the first move.

“Who…” the Promethean started to snarl at me, and I moved. He was dressed in the fashion the Skyking’s favorite pets seemed to love, an Egyptian schenti. Gold and copper bangles glittered on its wrists and ankles, and brilliant blue lazurite jewelry against his pale, blue-tinged skin made him look like he’d spent too long outside in the middle of winter.

I stabbed at him at him; his nose was broken, his upper lip had split, and he was missing a tooth from being struck in the face by my physical shield earlier. I had to think that would work in my favor by helping to slow his reactions. He brought up his shield and sword, while I braced the naginata with my left hand and yanked it downwards, changing the thrust from aiming at his face to slicing through his unarmored thigh. I ripped the weapon back hard with my left hand and pushed with my right, bringing the metal clad butt around to smash into his hastily raised shield.

I spun it again, the blade dipping down to deflect the sword strike while I stepped backward. A flash of fire from the corner of my eye warned me just in time to avoid the Firebolt aimed at taking me in the back.

I glanced around quickly as the Promethean staggered, glowering at me as blood ran thickly from the deep cut in leg. I saw three spells being charged, one Imp levelling a crossbow, two that looked to be caught in indecision, and one who grinned at me as it spread its needle-tipped claws wide as a black net flashed into existence, hurtling toward me.

I reacted instinctively, charging the naginata, then releasing it and flicking the blade up to slice through the net. The blade effortlessly tore its structure apart, though the outer edges still trailed across my skin as it passed. The contact made me shudder instinctively as I felt my strength being leeched out. I hissed, seeing the thin threads that led back to the caster, and watching it shudder in pleasure.

I lunged forward with a growl, slashing at the ugly little beast, but it dodged, and I had to dive aside as I saw another Firebolt heading for me. A Lightning Bolt hit me unexpectedly, making me twist and thrash as I shouted in pain.

I needed my shield, either magical or mundane; hell, I needed my fucking armor. My whole plan of taking it off and using the tattoos was an act of desperation that had somehow turned into a demonstration of how I was ‘Billy Big-Balls’ and how I didn’t need them. Idiot…

I rolled, just managing to avoid the Promethean’s sword as it slammed into the ground where I’d been, and I stabbed out in retaliation, the blade bouncing off his shield.

I grunted in pain as another Lightning Bolt hit me, making me shake and shudder, and I saw the look of triumph on the Promethean’s face as it lifted its sword high… only to be hit from the side by a charging Lydia.

She drove it from its feet to the floor, rolling over to come out on top and headbutting it. Considering she was both furious and wearing a heavy steel helm, it worked out badly for the Promethean.

She’d lost her mace, and her shield was strapped to her arm, making movement awkward on that side for her, but she just grabbed a fistful of hair in her left hand, hauled back, and punched him in his perfect face.

She kept beating him, screaming incoherently as she did so, until he was dead beyond any healer’s ability to bring back… including a necromancer, who was basically just a really slow healer, my brain dazedly informed me.

I forced myself back into action and lunged forward, grabbing the little Imp that had been draining me by the ankle, then shifting to grip it by the throat as I activated my ‘Necklace of Vampirism.’ I’d kept forgetting about the damn thing, despite being a gamer. In the middle of a fight, you always went with instinct; in my case, rage, as much as anything else. The frightened creature gasped and squirmed, health and mana being drawn out as I throttled the little fucker. In that moment, I demanded of myself that I do more, that I learn, and damn well evolve as a fighter. The little bastard’s use of a similar spell on me had been all that had reminded me that I had it, and while the few dozen points that I drained from him wasn’t much, I reflected that every bit helped, as I snapped his neck.

Dropping the limp corpse, I checked the rest of the room to find that the fight was almost over. Following on Lydia’s heels had come Jian, Yen, and Grizz, with Miren and Stephanos firing their Drow-made arrows. It was clear immediately that the small, flying Imps were no match one-on-one for us, let alone in lesser numbers, or when they were already distracted by a screaming Valkyrie who was smashing their leader’s face in with her bloody gauntleted fist.

I shook my head and sighed, clambering to my feet. I checked my party icons, relieved to see that Bane’s symbol was still there, and thank the Gods it was yellow now, rather than red or black.

“How is he?” I asked Oracle through our bond.

“He’ll live, but it was close… thank you for not using your mana. I really needed it,” She said, and I pushed a nonverbal sense of dismissive gratitude in response.

I had thirty-six mana left. I’d walked into this floor with my mana full, five hundred and