Citizen Malice

“K-Kim!” Moira half-shouted as she stepped away from John, but the Slayer had already raised a hand in disinterest.

“Save your rutting for later, when the Blessing leaves your knees weak and your will weaker,” Kim said, waving her hand dismissively at them. “We have a proper opportunity for training now, and I will not see it wasted on copulation.”

“S-so vulgar,” Moira grumbled, though she was too busy making sure that her outfit was on straight to properly lecture Kim. “Very well, I assume you’re already prepared?”

“I have been prepared for over a year. Good to see you, John,” Kim said, her tone dry as she stared at him.

“Good to see you too. I’m sorry again for-”

“Apologies are not needed. You have been dealing with things in the best manner for yourself. That is all any of us can do in these times – and right now, the best manner for all of us to defend our homes is to grow stronger as quickly as we can. Conjure your strongest foes, John. We will cut them down as surely as we shall rend the Northern Ashes.”

“Strongest foes? No warm-up or anything?” John mused. He didn’t actually expect Kim to agree to a warm-up, but it gave him a moment to glance over and Observe both of their stat windows while Kim was giving him an arrogant retort about always being ready for the harshest of combats.

Moira Brighton
Level 68 Paladin
<Warden of the Golden Rose>
3,950 / 3,950 HP
Relationship: 123
Alignment: +92
Status Effects: Blessing of the Golden Rose

Kim Moon
Level 62 Slayer
<Silver Crane of the Moon Clan>
2,395 / 2,395 HP
Relationship: 62
Alignment: +38
Status Effects: Slayer's Precision

"You two have been training hard," John said, the observation somehow both obvious and shocking. "I knew you would, but still..."

"Hardly a day's rest since you departed," Kim agreed. "With your abilities, we will make much more progress - so long as we stop wasting time!"

"We are prepared, John. Conjure us a Barrier and we will conquer it – with haste, however strong it may be."

"Alright, well, here goes,” John said, still a bit shocked at the numbers he was seeing. At the rate she was improving, it wouldn’t be long before Moira stood as strong as her father did – at least without the remnants of the Rose. And Kim might not have the health pool that the Warden did, but John was sure that her strength and speed would be ferocious – and she was still almost as durable as he was. John cast a quick glance behind him, but was met only with confident nods and the familiar sight of Shishun pulling daggers from seemingly nowhere.

Choosing their foes and levels wasn’t particularly difficult. John couldn’t afford to be tired of Undead already while preparing for a war against them, and given what he had seen of Kim and Moira’s improvements, John had little choice save to crank the dungeon to the maximum level available – the same as his own current level cap, 70.

“Stay close to me,” John warned Sophia and Shishun as the Barrier formed around them. “This is going to be tougher than the Barriers we were training in the past few days. We can handle it.”

The Barrier that formed around them was so similar that John was momentarily confused, blinking at the familiar yet foreign feeling that washed over him with the new settings. It took him a few double-takes to confirm that the strangely old-fashioned trims and garnishes to the barren room they arrived in were, in fact, not the Order’s.

“This is a new one,” John admitted. “Don’t think I’ve ever been in a proper residence when one of these formed. A factory, a couple of warehouses, some cityscapes… but this looks like the Order Manor.”

“Disgusting,” Moira said, curling her upper lip. “Not only does this manor resemble some strange mixture of mid- and late-19th century architecture, but it reeks of undeath. Brighton Manor was built during the Gothic era, rebuilt nearly from ashes during the Tudor period, and renovated by taste through most of the Victorian era. Do not befoul our history and relics by comparing them to whatever this abomination of nature is.”

“That’s… a lot of history. Was that all architecture?” John asked, eyes still washing over the myriad trims and garnishments of the walls around them. John heard an exacerbated sigh before Moira fully voiced her displeasure with him.

“I pray that one day we can achieve a measure of peace enough that you can study history in the manners that I once did, before our entire Order was uprooted…” Moira bemoaned, one eye twitching as she no doubt fought the urge to rub away the migraine John tended to inflict on those around him.

“Our past is always stuck in the past, but this dalliance only wastes the present,” Kim interjected, the sound of her hard heels striking the tiled floor echoing as she strode for the far door. “Let’s see what awaits our blades.”

The nearest door opened with a miserable creak, loud enough to wake the… ah, right.

“This place seems to share a similar layout as our manor, at least in terms of the floor plan,” Moira noted, glancing up and down the corridors. “Corrupt as it may be, that gives us some idea of how to proceed. Let’s move quickly; this Dungeon Barrier could stretch on for quite some distance.”

“In that case, it would be best for us to split into two groups. The Order Manor is vast, and we need not waste time combing its depths together.”

“Too risky. When all the fodder dies off, we don’t know where the boss will spawn, and since this is the highest level dungeon I could make, that could be dangerous,” John pointed out.

“No, Kim is right, it would waste time to backtrack across the entire manor, especially if we then missed an enemy in our haste,” Moira said, nodding firmly.

John glanced toward his companions and saw no sign of agreement or disagreement. Cursing himself for bringing his two most poker-faced creations, John decided to change his approach since he had clearly been outvoted.

“Alright, we can split up. Moira, I’ll go with you.”

“We shall clear the eastern wing. Since there are four of us, we should finish quickly enough to unite with Kim before she finishes.”

“I can easily match the four of you,” Kim spat back at the clearly pleased Warden.

“Actually, I want Sophia and Shishun to go with you,” John said, gaze locked on Kim. He couldn’t see anyone else’s expression, but he was hoping for shock… and maybe a hint of approval from Sophia. “You shouldn’t be alone in a dungeon that’s over all our levels.”

“Are they strong enough to keep up?” Kim asked, the question sounding surprisingly non-hostile considering the wording.

“Very much so. I’m stronger than either of them individually, but together they’re very powerful. Sophia can take a hit if need be, and Shishun can use her abilities to teleport to my location if things get out of hand over there. You have plenty of offense, you don’t need my blade to go with your own. You need defense and utility, something they can provide. And Moira’s shield pairs nicely with the blade your clan forged for me,” John said, giving each of them a nod in turn.

“A well-thought out plan. Perhaps unnecessary… but if it will get us moving, I’m all for it. Assuming your companions have no issues leaving you behind?” Kim said. “Or fighting alongside me.”

“It would be a pleasure,” Sophia said, pounding her chest with a closed fist. “Let us put the fear of the living back into these undead abominations.”

Kim smirked, though she didn’t reply before turning away and pacing down the corridor toward the western wing of the manor. Sophia and Shishun followed behind dutifully – though John didn’t miss the forlorn glance that Shishun threw back his way just before they rounded the nearest corner.

“Bold of you. Aside from the safety of the manor, I cannot recall the last time you were separated from your creations, outside of your private world,” Moira noted, a genuinely impressed tone in her voice.

“Maybe I just wanted to get to spend some more time alone with you,” John said, trying not to let his nerves show through. For all his bravado, for all his attempts to grow, his heart was beating a little faster ever since Sophia had disappeared around that corner…

“Kim’s right, save the charming talk for later. Let us liberate this place of its corruption so that we might be free of it sooner, rather than later. Its mockery of my family home offends my senses, and so too does this odor of undeath that permeates every corner of this dungeon," Moira noted, offering John a small smile before striding forwards into the winding hallways.

“Well, I don’t know about mockery or odors, but it’s definitely not the friendliest,” John agreed, quickly following behind the Warden. He twisted two of the rings on his fingers – Sophia’s and Shishun’s – but heard nothing for now other than background thoughts drifting across the mental leylines.

The two of them made their way through the halls slowly, opening every door they passed and clearing every room. They alternated which one of them stood guard, remaining in the hall to ensure no undead could sneak past them and hide somewhere or catch the other three from behind. It took them a half-dozen rooms before they finally stumbled upon something dangerous instead of just spooky.

The first foe they finally located was in what would’ve been a storage room in the original manor, though here it was some cobwebbed kitchen, filled with overturned pots and pans and one lonely zombie stumbling through them. They’d actually heard the enemy long before they got to the room’s door, a rather ominous sound for such a flimsy enemy.

“You did say that this was the highest level dungeon you could create, yes?” Moira confirmed as she strode into the room, kicking aside enough kitchenware to easily grab the monster’s attention.

“Yes. I’m not sure why there’s even such a basic zombie here, but it’s probably stronger than it looks,” John cautioned.

“Of course it is! Lesson number one about fighting the undead – much like mages, it’s not about how they look or what form they take, but how much…” Moira paused to heave a grunt of exertion, gripping her hammer with both hands and swinging it in an arc that connected with the chest of the grasping zombie so ferociously that the cracking sound echoed far louder than any cookpot Moira might have jarred.

Party Member: 597 DMG!

“...how much mana they are imbued with,” Moira finished as the zombie bounced off the wall, its chest partially caved in but seeming otherwise unhindered, quickly regaining its footing and stumbling toward Moira once again.

“I suppose so,” John admitted. A glance at his Observe told him Moira’s blow had scarcely taken a third of its health away, in spite of the blow even making John cringe a little.

“It’s best to think of the undead as constructs, similar to golems or the rare elemental conjured by a skilled mage,” Moira continued as she closed the gap. “They are a hard reminder of one of the most important rules!”

Moira raised her hammer and emphasized each of her next words with a blow from her hammer, one-handed yet nearly as ferocious and punishing as the first.

“Never… underestimate… your… enemy!”

The last strike glistened with a golden light that radiated from both Moira and her shield at the same time, shattering the zombie’s body entirely and sending the pieces careening into the far wall. Its rotted remains crashed among the scattered utensils, echoing for far too long and far too loudly. By the time the sounds of its fall had diminished, the deep, guttural moans were already coming from further into the east wing.

“Seems like you’ve really-”

“If you say ‘woke the dead’, you’ll be the next to face my hammer,” Moira warned, already striding from the rotten kitchen. “Let’s make haste; if we hurry, we can deal with the nearest ones before the rest arrive.”

”No one appreciates a good pun anymore. I should’ve just let it fly when Kim opened that damn door.”

John managed to put aside his differences with Moira regarding puns, as troubling as it was, long enough to focus on the threatening hordes before them. They managed to clear the next rooms of a Gelatinous Pus Ooze and two Reanimated Marrow Constructs – a horrifically spongy nightmare – before the oncoming moans came into sight, a small horde of zombies with various armaments shambling toward them.

“John, are you ready for this?” Moira asked, raising her shield defensively as she stared down the oncoming cluster of zombies.

“Yeah more or… less… seriously, why the fuck do undead have to be so gross?” John asked, wiping away the last remnants of the mess that was an eviscerated Marrow Construct.

“Your tepid constitution is no excuse for an absence at the forefront when the enemy’s vanguard approaches!” Moira called out. Though John was only just emerging from the unholy parody that was one of the Order’s barracks rooms turned into a spongy, marrow-filled mess, he still had enough awareness for some quick snark as he gripped his blade in both hands and positioned himself beside the aggravated Warden.

“I see you didn’t spend the last year studying up on how to speak like someone who was born in this century. Or the last one. Or the one before that. Or…”

“By Gaia’s will, I will end you, John Newman!” Moira called out, with all the anger she could muster while beating back a wall of fleshy and skeletal minions. She stood in place, her shield alone holding back a fresh onslaught of variously decayed appendages with golden extensions of light on the sides, hardly able to even muster enough room to swing her hammer. “I am trying to conserve at least some of my reserves for the foe I have grown used to anticipating at the conclusion of your-”

“Seriously, you need a… reverse… thesaurus!”

Flashes of light shone in the decrepit manor, so brief that even John’s eyes scarcely caught them as he soared over the converging horde. His blade glistened in the dusty moonlight as it slashed through each of the zombies one after the other, often with multiple blows. Despite their superior levels, John had one trick up his sleeve – while Moira’s feet were planted and she was holding their foes in place, John used Siphon to drain away her Agility and add it to his own. The resulting increase in speed wasn’t phenomenal, but it was enough to give him the dexterity and swiftness to strike as he needed. Chunks of flesh and bone fell in large clumps, and though he failed to fully finish any of the undead, their combat prowess was rapidly reduced, along with their number of functional limbs.

As John’s feet touched down on the far side of the horde, he reversed the Siphon, returning all of the Agility score he’d stolen and sending an equal amount of Strength over to Moira. With a good portion of the arms that had been grasping at her now limp on the ground, and with her strength fortified, the Warden shoved her shield forward and sent the partially eviscerated corpses stumbling backwards. Moira then pulled her shield back once again, clutching it against her chest as it began to glisten.

”By the light of the Lady, return to your eternal rest!”

An arc of golden light washed over everything in front of Moira – including John, who had just regained his footing. The light washed over his skin and left a warm tingling sensation, not unlike walking outside on a warm summer’s day, but was notably less comforting to the undead. Their flesh sizzled and burned away, melting as if corroded by acid, and many of their bones shone an intense golden for just a split second before shattering and falling into piles of dust.

Only three of the zombies still stood, each missing at least one limb, but there were sounds of further enemies approaching from beyond the next corner. John conjured enough wind to lift himself over the fallen pile of reanimated corpses, ending his Siphon altogether by the time he touched down next to Moira.

“You’ve grown stronger since the last time we met. Not that I expected otherwise,” Moira noted.

“Hell, I’m only halfway through this Reincarnation. Just wait until the war, I’ll show you some real power,” John replied with an unabashed grin.

“Don’t get cocky. Finish this group off and we approach the next. Are we nearing the end? It has been quite some time since we did one of your dungeons together, but I do not recall there being so many foes in only one half of the dungeon. Have they grown with your abilities?”

“Not really. Seems to be something about the Barriers filled with undead,” John admitted. “It’s kind of annoying. They’re a bit dumber and slower, but still strong enough to be dangerous, and there are way more than normal for a dungeon.”

“Blighted hordes. Seems like your dungeons have taken a few cues from real necromancer armies,” Moira growled, beginning to stride forward toward the source of the oncoming noises. “As if resembling their twisted creations wasn’t enough, they’re even mimicking the endless hordes designed to wear down our defenses. Come, John. Let’s finish this purge.”

John didn’t say anything in reply, torn between a sense of happiness that his Barriers were actually reflecting some measure of the creatures they were up against and the dread that those implications **** him to consider. Eventually he settled for a balanced measure of both, falling in step behind Moira as she led the way down the hall, toward what would hopefully be the end of their wing, if the dungeon continued to mirror the Brighton Manor.

“We’re pressed a bit too hard to risk a phone call, but can you tell how the others are doing?” Moira asked, cautiously advancing down the hall with her hammer raised and shield ready to defend against any foes that might arrive sooner than expected.

John glanced over at his party screen, the action bringing a great deal of relief to him. He wasn’t sure whether it was due to his focus on the situation at hand or if it was because of Sophia’s advice, but John had been avoiding glancing at the health bars in the peripheral of his vision since their split. Finally allowing himself the luxury of glancing at the left-hand section of his own vision sent a wave of relief over him, even as he analyzed the health bars.

“Nothing overly shocking… they’re all still way above half health, and I don’t see any rapid swings downward,” John noted, picking up his pacing so that he wasn’t far behind the well-prepared Warden. “I’d say that they’re doing as well as we are, and hopefully not up to anything too crazy.”

John couldn’t see Moira’s face, but he could picture it as she replied.