Forged Legacy

Chapter 155 - New Tactics

Harvey awoke to Max, his little brother, climbing into bed with him. It was something he’d done ever since he was old enough to walk, and the rest of the kids had all learned to either lock their doors at night or be ready to snuggle. The older they’d gotten, the more the doors were locked, so Max spent most mornings with their father.

He was like a human alarm clock, always getting up around 5 AM. That meant he’d barely slept for 2 hours, but it had felt a lot longer than that.

Maybe I should get started on Dad’s shield. The thought melted away as Max draped the small blanket he’d lugged around since he was a baby over both of them, giving Harvey the lion’s share. Harvey could feel the vibrations in his chest as Max began to gently snore.

It can wait.

When they finally did wake up, Harvey took a quick shower, scarfed down a plate of sausage and eggs, and lit the forge. The half-finished bat lying on the workbench was slightly lumpy in places, but it was nothing a hammer couldn’t solve. That was fast becoming his favorite part about blacksmithing. Instead of scouring thousands of lines of code for a missing semicolon, all he had to do to fix the bugs in his work was heat ‘em and hit ‘em.

“Morning,” Tyler said, appearing in the doorway and picking at his own small mountain of eggs.

“Morning,” Harvey replied, gripping the handle with his leather glove and slowly turning the barrel inside the forge like it was a rotisserie chicken. A flash of concern appeared on Tyler’s face when he pulled the red-hot metal out and positioned it over the anvil.

“Geez, it’s not done, is it?” Tyler asked.

Harvey froze mid-swing, hammer held high over his head. “What does it look like?”

“Like someone hit one too many mailboxes with it,” Tyler winced.

Harvey shook his head. “No, it’s not finished yet. My armor, on the other hand, is. When you’re done stuffing your squirrel cheeks, can you take it into Elysium and get it fitted?”

“Nope. Can’t teleport without Cash. And don’t make fun of my cheeks, it takes a lot of acorns to stay this swole,” Tyler said, disappearing into the house before Harvey could say anything.

He chuckled, thinking back to all the times when they were little that his brother would stuff his face so full his cheeks bulged out. For some reason, Tyler was always worried about getting enough food, especially when the kids were supposed to share. He’d stuff three bites into his mouth at once before chewing them one at a time, a practice that usually made him eat slower than if he’d just eaten normally.

By the time Cash arrived, Harvey was finishing his last round of tempering for the bat. Perfect Finish made the whole process much more efficient, and it should be cooled down enough by the time they got back for him to add his inscriptions.

“Tyler said you want to run into the city?” Cash asked.

“If there’s time,” Harvey replied.

The leatherworker was quick, rushing Harvey in and out in a matter of minutes. He still marveled at all the ways essence affected the world. Projects that would have taken days or weeks were done in a matter of hours, the minutiae all replaced by skills. Sure, that was only true for things that were actually possible in the old world, but he was sure any blacksmith would be happy to trade the monotonous parts of the craft for the increasing complexity that came with adding magic.

“How’s it fit? Good?” Cash asked.

“Great! I’ll get to work on yours soon,” Harvey exclaimed.

“Oh, I wasn’t trying to rush you,” the angel wavered as they got in line for the portal back home. “The inscriptions look good, too. I’m not really used to the runic patterns you like to use, but I’m starting to see the appeal.”

“The effects are all the same, but I agree. Sometimes the artsy ones look weird.”

“What do they do?” Cash asked.

“Just some holy reinforcement and self-repair arrays,” Harvey replied. “I used some new ink I made from holy water and dragon bones, and the stats bonuses are even better than I expected.”

He didn’t know if it was the higher quality ink, the resonance synergies, his ever-improving skill in his craft, or some combination of all of the above, but infusing Soulforge in the silver covering him from head to toe netted him 46 points in Vitality and 22 points in Endurance. The spread made sense considering all the materials, and he was happy to see his Vitality finally getting some love. With all the free points he’d been putting into Dexterity, Vitality was about to become his lowest stat. The armor itself made up for that somewhat, but he didn’t like the thought of his worst trait being survivability.

“Any idea what’s coming today?” Harvey asked.

“The scouts watching the border hadn’t seen anything last I checked, but I can run and ask Celeste while you finish up that baseball bat,” Cash offered.

The angel returned an hour later, walking through the open garage door just as Harvey finished inscribing the last rune of holy reinforcement array that would ensure the silver bat didn’t break the first time Tyler introduced it to a hellhound's skull. The offensive inscriptions he planned weren’t finished yet, but the look in Cash’s eyes warned that they might have to wait.

“We have a problem,” Cash said.

“Should we grab the others?” Harvey asked.

Cash nodded gravely, pushing past him and shouting for Tyler and Steve to come out. They appeared down the hallway, both already fully armored. It looked strange against the backdrop of their quaint little home, but he knew the explosion of ink, soot, and metal strewn across the garage was probably worse.

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“What’s going on? Are we under attack?” Steve asked, glancing up at the gargoyles perched upon the still silent bell tower looming over the neighborhood.

“Soon. The scouts have spotted their army, and it’s not a good matchup for us,” Cash explained. “So far, they’ve been charging their numbers advantage right at us. Now, they’re trying to set up a killing blow.”

“What?” Harvey asked, handing the bat to Tyler, who began testing the weight.

“They’re sending an army of long-range artillery and ranged attackers with a horde of gluthogs to hide behind. We need to get out there and try to intercept them before they can dig in.”

As if answering his call, the gargoyles began to shriek as bells tolled ominously. A group of kids playing in the street all scattered, darting home to join their families in the basement bunkers under every home.

“Come on!” Cash shouted, running down the road without checking to see if they followed. Harvey pulled on his helmet and scrambled after. It appeared the rest of the angels were doing the same, dozens streaming out of the large gates before the army of heavenly creatures had arrived. Harvey could see them ambling in the distance, the normal mix of Nephilim giants, eagles, lions, and rams with a smattering of Ophanim floating above for good measure. Normally, the angels would never leave the safety of the gates without their summoned creatures acting as meat shields.

This is bad. Harvey thought.

Looking out over the battlefield, Harvey couldn’t see any signs of the enemy. It was only the remains of ruined homes and smoldering churches, all pounded into the mud under the feet of armies, yet the host of heaven charged as if their lives depended on it. Harvey worried the others couldn’t keep up with their frantic pace, but they managed even with their lower dexterity.

The line in the sky separating dusk from dawn, and by extension heaven and hell, was fast approaching. There was still no sign of any demons, making him wonder if this might all be a trap. Hell hadn’t seen any large-scale fighting since the early days of the trial, and there were risks that came with this type of urban warfare that didn’t exist on any open battlefield. They hadn’t run into many traps during their short excursions into the city, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there.

Right as he was about to warn the others to hang back, he saw them. Pigs. Giant, grotesque, angry creatures that made the stonetusks from the last trial look like toddlers. Each was the size of a tank with four stubby legs that seemed barely able to hold its weight. They walked in a line, trudging forward as they formed a wall of flesh spanning the entire street. Gunshots rang out, sending ripples across their skin like the bullets were raindrops falling into a pool of fat. A wave of divine flame followed soon after, bleaching their black leather a shade lighter as they squealed in rage.

“Shoot! Shoot!” Cash urged, pulling his own golden Desert Eagle and unloading a magazine into the closest swine.

Rupture appeared from the ring, five heaven’s wrath bullets appearing inside the empty chambers.

Bang!

A burst of golden flame erupted from the wound inside the same pig, but it kept stumbling forward. He aimed for its face, hoping there was a brain under there somewhere he could hit instead of its thick walls of fat. But it was hard to aim on the move, and neither of his next two shots landed anywhere close to its glowing red eyes.

A few of the pigs had fallen, plopping to the floor and causing tiny earthquakes as the asphalt cracked beneath them. The Earth itself was no better than their stubby legs when it came to carrying their load, and he could see a geyser of water shooting up from the street where one of them had cracked a water main.

Rupture practically vibrated with power, all three rings of his kinetic absorption array glowing brightly. Skidding to a halt, he used Booster to carefully rise a few feet into the air. He needed to make sure he didn’t accidentally hit any angels who got in the way. Steadying himself, he took a deep breath and aimed right for the closest pig.

BOOM!

The sound could barely be called a gunshot, sounding closer to a stick of dynamite exploding in his hands. A raging inferno joined the exploding hellpowder, sending the long bullet hurtling through the air. A flash of gold briefly obscured the beast’s red eyes, and only one remained when the flames finally cleared. The beast howled in agony, tumbling sideways and knocking over its neighbor. They rolled like living bowling balls, leaving a shallow trench in their wake.

You have slain Level 58 - Gluthog. Essence Gained. 4892 Merit Earned.

He’d killed the first one, but the second still thrashed as the rest of the wall moved without them. Up ahead, Tyler had begun hurling his silver baseballs at the fleshy monstrosities. They gained a burst of speed right as they left his aura, courtesy of the secondary effects of the skill that let him adjust their trajectory at the last moment. He didn’t need any tricks against these things, so he stuck to adding a final burst of speed.

It was an impressive skill, but the giant swine’s flesh was like a big pillow, catching the orbs and letting them fall to the ground harmlessly.

“I can’t get through!” Tyler shouted. Steve stood nervously next to his son, holding his shield at the ready with his head on a swivel. His only ranged attack was a weak, non-magical rifle that Harvey’d looted from the sinners he’d killed when first arriving in the trial. It was hard to shoot with his shield strapped on, so he left it tucked away.

“Take cover!” an armored Templar leading the charge screamed as shield skills appeared all around them. From behind the wall of pigs, a wave of infernal red and obsidian black flames soared into the air. He immediately recognized them as the attacks of brimfiends and those satanic-looking goats that acted as living artillery during the first wave of tortured souls.

Steve raised his shield above his head, conjuring a large golden barrier to hide them like an umbrella.

“No, no, no!” Harvey groaned, using Booster to launch himself like a missile, closing the gap that had formed while he stopped to take his shot. The sigil for Legacy’s Redoubt was already half full by the time he hit the ground, letting the bunker form just before the sky became fire.

Whoosh! BOOM!

The entire world was ablaze, and Harvey found himself gasping for air as oxygen became scarce. Steve’s shield had shattered almost instantly, unable to withstand the dozen F-Grade attacks that crashed down on it. The bunker held, likely only because of Harvey’s last-minute infusion of the Tempered Heart Imprint.

“Retreat! Retreat!” A cacophony of voices hollered outside. Not wanting to waste time opening the bunker door, Harvey willed the skill to dissipate.

“Come on,” he croaked. Cash had a hand on both Steve and Tyler’s backs, pumping them full of vital energy as he pushed them to run. The heat was almost unbearable, and all he could smell was the smoke rising off the singed hair in his nose. He fought back a wracking cough as they fled, and gasped when he saw a second wave of flame shoot over the swine’s backs.

“We’re not gonna make it!” Tyler screamed, nearly stumbling as he turned to face the apocalypse.

“Grab them tight!” Harvey commanded. Cash wrapped an arm around Tyler and Steve just as Harvey did the same around him. For the first time, he infused Booster with the Architect of the Veils End, hoping that the chaotic flames would be just strong enough to send them soaring out of range. Two jets exploded from the soles of his feet, launching the four men like a surface-to-air missile. A fresh wave of heat licked their backs as they flew toward the light, but they escaped the worst of it.

“I’m slipping! I’m slipping!” Tyler shrieked as he held Cash’s arm in a vice grip. The thrashing sent Harvey’s rudimentary flight out of control, sending them hurtling to the ground. Flesh and metal went flying as they rolled, just like the pigs Harvey shot.

The sky was spinning by the time they finally stopped. Rolling onto his stomach, he struggled to push himself up. The others groaned, all alive but clearly in pain.

“Is everyone ok?” Harvey croaked.

Nobody answered.