Accidental Healer-Chapter 140 - 54 - Sentience?

"So you're saying that at the very least, the Chaos Spawn experience base emotion?" I rubbed my chin.

"It would appear that way." He confirmed slowly, watching me closely.

"What?"

"Oh, nothing."

I chuckled. "Why does everyone think I'm going to try and save the Chaos Spawn?"

"Basic observation skills probably."

"Ok, well we can drop the topic, I'm not. Alright?"

On one hand I guess I could see why there was some concern. Our faction was built on strays that we'd convinced to join under our flag. But they weren't Chaos Spawn. Even if we could communicate, their purpose here was clear.

End the scourge trial by eliminating my faction.

Mischief must've sensed my feelings and together we reclined atop the roof of the town hall. From here, the entire village lay beneath us. Homes crawled up the sloping mountain side, bordered with high wooden walls. If you were coming to the village from the outside you would find rocks creeping up the wood planks.

Grey smoke billowed constantly from Damon's forge and today was no different. Mining efforts, much like every other industry outside the protection of walls, had stalled. We just didn't have the manpower to spare. Our reserves were strong though.

It made me think of Trasnik and his mountain people. How were they dealing with the scourge?

"Do you know how Trasnik's faction fights the Chaos spawn?"

Mischief scoffed. "Like turtles."

"Really?"

The sad truth was, I really wasn't sure how they were dealing with the Chaos Spawn. But when I asked Jared if we should be worried he just said they had things handled. He was the only one who they allowed into their caves and that was just to bring supplies like food.

"They can't just hide can they? I saw their levels increasing, so they must be fighting…"

At the end of the day, I really didn't care how they made it through the wave—so long as they were safe. Their strategy of locking themselves away wasn't my cup of tea and wouldn't even be possible if they didn't have us on the outside. But they weren't even really supposed to get dragged into our mess.

We needed marble and they helped us get it.

That was enough and I didn't give it any more thought.

Neither of us felt the need to maintain the conversation and we enjoyed the brief respite between the next horde of Chaos Spawn.

Fall had arrived in full force and I felt the kiss of cool evening mountain air on my cheeks. It was moments like this, where the world was quiet, that I imagined my parents sitting with me.

They'd sit with me and we'd talk about how beautiful misty mountains were, the way the lights in the cozy mountain homes brightened the dreary grey. I could almost hear my mom telling me how cute our town was with its many cottages and handsomely built shops and stalls.

She was like that. She had a way of savoring simple things. It had always been contagious.

My body felt stretched and a deep exhaustion tugged on my mind. I hadn't let myself rest much since Mitchell was killed. I felt my eyelids drooping. Maybe if I just let them close for a few seconds that wouldn't be so bad.

The world disappeared and I felt sleep taking me. I jerked awake, heart skipping as if I'd missed something important.

"We're getting close."

I nodded my head in the direction of the teleporter. Scaffolds surrounded the wide grey white pillars that supported thick lumber cross beams. Inside, men and women were hard at work completing the intricate details of the pavilion. The entire structure sat on polished marble with a forty foot circular platform situated at its center where the teleporter would rest. Even unfinished, it felt built to endure the ages.

"We still have a few weeks." Mischief's head rested peacefully on his paws, eyes closed. "Do you plan on staying awake the whole time?"

"No. I've just been busy."

"Uh huh." He opened a single eye. "You need to learn to relax. Let people take care of themselves for once."

"I let people take care of themselves!" I responded indignantly.

"Uh huh."

"Whatever."

Later that night, two hordes later, I realized Mischief might have a point. Bleary eyed and feeling heavy I shoved open the door to my cabin and collapsed on my bed. Within seconds unconsciousness took me and I drifted into a dreamless sleep.

***

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The next two weeks I was more and more grateful for my single day of rest. The days blurred together. Daytime grew shorter and night arrived far too early. The darkness only helped to enhance the dreary state of our faction. Each day that passed more and more Bruisers joined the ranks of the other Chaos Spawn. And little by little, people began to die.

Bruisers were durable like the Champions and deceptively fast like the scavengers. A deadly combination of strength and speed that we'd yet to face. They presented a dangerous threat to all but our most capable fighters. But that didn't stop many of the eager up and comers from testing their luck.

The losses were heaviest among our two newest factions, the Elder Gnomes and the Blue men.

Ironically, it was those two groups that initially were the loudest about the terrors the scourge trial presented. Now, their mentality had shifted a complete one eighty. They recognized the trial as the opportunity it truly was, but they were pushing it too far.

To them losses became an acceptable risk. No one wanted to get left behind and the lowest levels felt the pressure to push themselves to make up for the stat gaps.

But what could I say?

With so many of our faction members gaining money and experience hand over fist who could blame them for taking risks?

Were other factions around the world getting opportunities like the scourge trial?

Maybe better?

My mind itched to know how our faction stacked up against the others around the world. What waited for us on the outside once the trial was over?

"Do you think today's the day?"

Mischief's glare could melt stone. "Maybe I'm not meant to evolve…"

"You're probably just a late bloomer." I teased, although I'd be lying if I said I wasn't a little concerned myself. For over two weeks Mischief had been stuck at the exact same level. Level 49.

And trust me when I say, it wasn't from lack of

experience points either. My best friend the murder cat had become a reaper on the battlefield holding nothing back. The playful taunting had all but evaporated.

His low rumbling growl told me he was in no mood for my shenanigans.

"You have to be close." I said more earnestly. "It'll happen soon."

He ignored me and disappeared in a puff of black tendrils.

"That was rude." Samson's gruff voice said from behind me.

Two days ago, we'd made the decision to withdraw the dark elves, catkin, wolves and the stronghold all back into Layton Mischief township. At first there was a major concern that by doing so we'd be subjecting ourselves to failing the scourge trial. After considerable discussion we reasoned the only way we could really lose was by everyone dying. Sure enough, even after abandoning the territories, they remained under the banner of faction LM.

"I know, right?" I slid Tranquility from her scabbard. "When this fight is over I'll be sure to tell him you didn't appreciate the way he treated me."

There was a long uncomfortable silence.

"Please don't."

It was a good thing Samson was behind me or he might've caught my wide grin.

An explosion rocked the earth and fire light cast jagged shadows against the stone and wooden palisades and I was quickly reminded why I was standing with my people outside the walls. I closed my eyes.

I let the sounds of battle wash over me, breathing it all in.

Just a couple more weeks. That was all that stood between me and taking one step closer to finding my parents.

My eyes opened. I wasn't about to waste that time.

I planted my feet and launched forward, closing a hundred yards in seconds plunging my sword deep into the first thing in my path. The bruiser looked at me confused, my sword buried up to the hilt in its chest.

Between my stats and Tranquilities bonuses against barriers and armor it had little chance. It would've been better if I could use the judgement boosts against the Chaos Spawn but I couldn't find any fault in them attacking us like they were. How could I blame them for performing a function of the system?

I couldn't. And so my sword didn't power up. Not like it mattered really.

With a yank, I ripped Tranquility free and the Bruiser fell.

The explosions died out as our melee fighters engaged the enemies. The last thing we needed was to be struck by friendly fire. It was the same reason why many of our fighters were very selective when they used skills or abilities. No one wanted to accidentally overextend and hit an ally.

Oddly enough, the Chaos Spawn mostly followed the same logic. Of course every once in a while there would be an exception here or there but it was far more controlled then when I faced the hordes alone and just killed everything in front of me.

Not using my skills really didn't bother me all that much though. There was a sense of elegance to the movements that I enjoyed when it was just me and Tranquility and of course Tranquilities summoned friend that buzzed around me deflecting incoming attacks.

My emphasis on improving my sense stat made the battlefield feel like it was moving in slow motion. My mind had no trouble at all keeping up with the information being shoveled in from each direction.

It caught the hiss of Alex's burning Claymore, the crunch of Samson's war ax against steel, the scent of singed hairs and scorched metal, the whistle of air just before an incoming attack. The world seemed to move slower now and I felt no concern whatsoever in the midst of total chaos.

My feet moved in harmony with the rest of my body. I stepped backwards and eyed the Bruisers longsword while it passed in front of me. There was a shattering sound as I lunged forward driving the tip of Tranquility through its barrier, armor and flesh. Another step forward and with a solid kick I un-scewered the monster sending it forcefully into the arms of a passing scavenger crushing it beneath the heavy black armor.

Norso's spear flitted in my vision and a spray of scavenger's black tar blood spattered across my face. I didn't bother to wipe it.

Kill notifications flashed in the corner of my vision in rapid succession.

Level 35,37,34,32.

Even though their levels crept ever closer to my own they were still no match. The next Bruiser attempted to parry one of my overhead swings and the force of my attack drove its own sword several inches deep into its shoulder pauldron. Its groans of frustration were cut short when its head fell free from its body.

Unconsciously I felt my mana dip as I released a wave of healing that swept across the battlefield. I had no way of knowing when people needed healing while I was locked in combat so occasionally I sacrificed my mana pools. Healing wave was by far my most mana intensive skill but with my spirit weapons and high intelligence the drain was manageable if I let it replenish slightly between each cast.

The ground rumbled and an eruption of dirt and rock blossomed overhead. One of the champions used its skill.

I looked to the source and was pleased to see Alex's massive form holding the arm of a Chaos spawn above his head. If the mace had struck the earth the explosion would've been at least twice as large.

One by one the Chaos spawn were cut away.

Congratulations! Level up!

Level 45. Five more to go…

In the back of my mind I wondered—was I going to have time to reach level 50 before the teleporter was completed?

I felt it.

Time was running out.

Fueled by the fear of wasting this opportunity I lowered my head and became a Chaos Spawn lawnmower.