Hive Knight: A Dark Fantasy LitRPG (Trinity of the Hive Book 1) by Grayson Sinclair (black authors fiction txt) 📕

By the time Harper and Yumiko finished their opening move, the effects of Stun Shout wore off, and the Dawn shook off our opening sneak attack. We’d surprised and panicked them, but they were professionals and quickly recovered, attempting to regroup in a defensive formation. We didn’t give them the chance.

Having used up the poison arrows, Yumiko followed Harper's lead. She took the gloves off and chained Tempest Shot with Multiply.

The salty scent of the ocean filled the air as she drew back her bow and released her arrow. It took on a pale blue ethereal light as it flew through the air, ice forming in its wake. When it reached the halfway point between us and the Dawn, Multiply took hold, and six identical copies of Tempest Shot struck home with the fury of Poseidon.

Ice rose in great sheets to tear into the guild. The jagged icicles ripped through the mages’ cloth and the light leather armor of the archers with ease. The ice steamed as warm blood poured down it like an ocean adding to the rapidly growing lake of blood.

While painful, the attack wasn’t as debilitating as I’d hoped. Tempest Shot, if you got lucky, could spear through weaker armored players with ease, but we hadn’t managed a lucky kill.

The added blood loss only helped, though, and it was time for the frontline to go to work. Our archers gave us an opening, and by the nine kings of Hell, we were going to take it.

I rushed forward across the field, blades of grass trampled underfoot as we charged ahead. Gil and Evelyn nipped at my heels. I was faster than Gil by far, but Evelyn could outpace me at every turn. With her watching me, I let my pride cloud my judgment and decided to make a big splash for my opening move.

I activated Dance of the Immortal.

Immediately, the world came to a standstill. My vision was awash with a score of every hue of gray. Everyone froze in place, it seemed, but not exactly—their movements were painfully slow. So slow that I could barely tell they’d moved at all.

I leapt into action. Leaving my comrades frozen behind me. As I reached the forefront of the Dawn’s formation, I had two of the warriors and an archer to deal with.

My sword slid into the heart of my first foe with ease. The warrior was a dark skinned, well-built man with long dreadlocks, his handsome face set in a scowl as he bared his teeth at the rest of my frozen guild. My blade sliced through his leather armor and pierced his heart. With Dance active, he couldn’t even cry out as my sword slid through his chest.

When I withdrew my blade, a shock of crimson followed. It was the only drop of color in the gray world. He would bleed out quickly when Dance ended, so I turned my attention to the others.

My next opponent was the second warrior in the group. A heavily muscled man with a shaved head, except for a braided ponytail that stretched down his back. His wide-set eyes lit up with delight, a man whose purpose was on the battlefield. He wore heavy plate mail, but it looked worn from use and not well maintained. Dozens of tiny nicks and dents marred the surface.

I didn’t waste time trying to pierce through his dense metal plating. I slid my blade through his neck. Too-bright blood welled as I cut through his flesh, scoring a heavy, bloody gash.

Only the archer was left. As I got close, I found a thin girl underneath the leather hood. Her hair had come loose from her ponytail, drifting about in wind that no longer blew. I slit her throat and plunged my sword through her heart.

Having dealt with the forefront of the formation, I ran over to the next closest member.

It was one of their tanks; the man was clad in dark steel plate mail, in sharp contrast to the leader’s glittering gold armor. His entire head was covered in a jagged helmet, revealing nothing more than a pair of deep recessed eyes. In his hands, he hefted a giant shield and looked to be mid-charge, one of his legs hovering just off the ground. I was half a second from plunging my sword through the large man’s armpit, the only exposed flesh I could find, when the gray world stuttered and flashed.

The world changed back to color for a split second as a warning. Damn it, I’m out of time. At this point, I did the stupidest thing I could’ve and got greedy. My sword was raised mid-thrust when Dance of the Immortal wore off.

The three players I’d killed dropped to the ground, lifeless, blood bursting like a geyser to pour over the earth. My battle fatigue nearly maxed, and I stumbled as exhaustion set in. My sword was hundred pounds heavier in my hand, and I tripped over my feet and stumbled to the ground. Get up! I thought and rose to my feet, directly into the massive fist of the man I’d been about to kill.

I looked up at the exact wrong moment, as a giant, plated fist slammed into my face, shattering my nose and jaw. It broke and unhinged from my skull along with several of my teeth, which rattled around my ruined mouth. Blood poured from a thousand cuts in my mouth and ran through my torn lips, pouring like a faucet from my nose. My conscious waned, but I didn’t pass out. Even if I wished I had.

The tank lifted me off the ground. I half stared through my swollen eyes at the man in the dark plated armor—the man who would be my executioner. My sword slipped from my unresponsive fingers. My mind was muddled, incoherent thoughts swirled around, and I forgot where I