The Merchant of Tiqpa: The Bathrobe Knight's Sequel Read online

  Eliza seized the opportunity and shot out from behind Sparky’s protection to lunge in and pierce the fallen White-Wing with both of her blades. The White-Wing was impaled multiple times in the span of a breath before she stepped around him and cut off both of his wings with two vicious attacks. Strangely, neither of the other two White-Wings bothered to so much as even glance up at their fallen comrade, and their evident lack of concern made it seem as if his death was completely unnoteworthy.

  Sampson tried to swing around and slam the main White-Wing with her fiery axe, also hoping to capitalize on the fact they were kneeling in prayer, but instead of making contact and cleaving the kneeling man in half, one of his golden-edged wings folded around his body and effortlessly blocked the attack. Sparky also tried to attack him, stabbing at his chest, but his other wing also swooped over and covered him up, creating a barrier that harmlessly rebounded her attack as well.

  “Let their life be forfeit, their hearts be rent, their hope be dashed upon the altar of your glory,” the golden-winged leader prayed, his voice deeper than an ocean as it shook past Locke and left him stunned from the aftereffect. As Locke shook his head and regained himself, he watched as the leader stood up and summoned a giant, glowing metal sword. The weapon manifested in front of him, materializing from a radiant ball of light. He stood up and unfurled his wings as the weapon appeared, calmly reaching out and grabbing the two-handed, claymore-sized blade.

  Katherine and Bianca had taken to the air as soon as the others charged, and it appeared as if they had been trying to flank around to the right, aiming for the remaining White-Wing soldier. As soon as the voice struck them, however, they appeared to have been momentarily stunned along with everyone else. The effects may have lasted for only a moment, but they were knocked out of the sky and sent spiraling downward before they were able to catch their balance and return to flight. Then, hanging in midair, they dove down at the White-Wing in unison, daggers at the ready.

  Unfortunately for them, a second sword manifested in front of their target before they were able to reach him. The soldier grabbed ahold of the blade and blindly thrust the point upward, using the momentum from their dives against them. Unable to slow herself in time, Katherine impaled herself on the long blade.

  Bianca’s eyes opened wide in shock as she caught sight of Katherine’s now-limp body for a brief moment. She practically fell into the White-Wing as she completed her dive, managing to bury a dagger into his shoulder as he went to kick Katherine’s corpse off his blade. He struck out with a backhanded blow, trying to catch Bianca with the slash, but she rolled free from him just as quickly as the two had collided with one another. As soon as she was back on her feet, her whip snapped out and wrapped around his hands like it was one of the zip ties used to restrain a shoplifter at the supermarket. The White-Wing struggled against his restraints, but before he could regain his balance, Bianca leapt into the air, pulling him off the platform and into the sky. Despite his hands being bound, he did his best to sever the whip with his sword, which he had somehow managed to retain his hold on. Bianca twisted around in the air, jerking the whip around from side to side and wrenching his hands even more tightly together. It may not have been the most graceful maneuver, but she was successful in stymying his attempts to free himself.

  he White-Wing began using his own wings to maneuver against the Succubus, and their airborne struggle looked like it was going to shift in his favor. The two fought against one another, each trying to gain control over the other in their battle for dominance in the air. They pulled against one another and flapped their wings in furious combinations, erratically fighting to gain the upper hand.

  Very quickly, they ended up in an odd spiral heading toward one of the pillars of light. Bianca let go of the whip in an attempt to fling the White-Wing into the pillar, but as soon as she did, he used his newly-freed hands to hurl his blade at the Black-Wing. His momentum shot him into the pillar of light and his body disintegrated just as his claymore pierced directly into Bianca’s right wing, slicing it off and sending her plummeting to her doom.

  Locke watched on in a combination of awe and horror as the fight in the center of the platform escalated between Sampson, Sparky, Eliza and the leader. Defying all logic, the larger White-Wing was able to maneuver his golden wings and large, glowing claymore to seamlessly parry and block every attempt by the trio to hit him. Eliza’s lightning-fast blades weaved through the air in a myriad of different patterns as she tried desperately to hit the opponent, but they may as well have been moving through molasses for all the good her speed did. No matter how fast her attacks were or where she aimed them, the White-Wing was always there to thwart her attacks.

  Locke wished that he was able to get a better look, to watch the fight up close, but between their movement speed and the distance from which he was viewing the fight, everything seemed to blur together into one smooth blob with its colors constantly shifting around as the fight moved back and forth across the platform.

  With his wounded arm now healed up from the potion, Tubal began firing flaming arrows at the leader, but it was clear that he wasn’t going to be of much help either. Most of his arrows ended up having to be blocked by Sparky, who was already showing fatigue from the strain of trying to defend both Sampson and herself from the leader’s attacks. Tubal’s extra shots just added another level of danger that she had to constantly be aware of, lest one of them accidentally pierce through her or Sampson instead of the boss.

  Locke watched on, desperately hoping that someone eventually would land a hit, that Reginald would cast a snare or shield to help them, and that everything would somehow go as planned. The fighters were holding their own just fine for the most part, but Reginald hadn’t even gotten a serious spell off on the golden White-Wing yet.

  No sooner had that hope crept its way into Locke’s heart, however, than several light beams sprayed across the field and ran Reginald, Sampson and Tubal through, turning the three players into swiss-cheese-esque statues. It happened so quickly that Locke didn’t even have time to register their deaths or process what had happened before the leader seized the opportunity. Now that there was a break in attacks, with Sampson and Tubal no longer assisting, he was able to mount an offensive and slam his claymore so hard into Sparky’s shield that it sent her sprawling back toward the doorway.

  Eliza managed to hold her own as Sparky stood back up and charged once more into the fray, but Locke could already tell this was going to be a bust. Crap, I have to do something. He stared at Sampson, now riddled with holes and crumpled on the floor. Wait . . . is she still alive? Despite her injuries, Sampson appeared to be struggling back to her feet.

  “Looks like your plan failed even without letting me go. Garbage will simply always be garbage,” Anthony taunted from where he was on the floor. He had been humiliated, beaten and held captive, but he seemed to be in good spirits as he laughed at Locke.

  I have to do something, but I can’t just leave him . . . If he left Anthony to go help the group, then there was a good chance that Anthony would bring reinforcements. If he stayed and didn’t help the fight, there was a good chance it wouldn’t matter at all to begin with.

  Screw it. They can’t win on their own. Locke pulled out several red potions and charged toward the battle. He knew that Anthony would probably start making his way down the stairs as soon as he was gone, too injured to actually participate in the fight, but he didn’t have time to worry about that. If he didn’t do something to help, they were going to die anyway.

  Locke actually felt lighter when he stepped inside the room. Even with the impending sense of doom caused by the awe-inspiring, golden pillars of light and the golden-wing White-Wing leader, who had proven to be both deadly and terribly quick, he still felt that struggling sense of hope flicker somewhere inside of him.

  As soon as he crossed through the doorway, he realized that the platform was suspended high above an indoor forest and that there was a hole in the center of
the roof just large enough to allow the sun above them to be completely visible. That it was magnificent was his first thought even as his body forced its way through the motions of bombarding the barely-breathing Sampson with as many healing potions as he could.

  Sampson's wounds mended instantly, and Sparky and Eliza, who were both nearby and caught in the blast, looked revitalized. Sampson, now back in good form, bounded to her feet and immediately picked up where she had left off. She renewed her attack, swinging fast and hard in curved arcs, hoping to catch her opponent off-guard. Despite their renewed vigor, however, the trio of fighters was quickly caught back up in the same stalemate they had been in before and all their efforts appeared to be in vain.

  No longer able to rely on outside assistance from Tubal or Reginald to tip the scale, Locke pressed forward. He gripped his sword so tightly that his knuckles went white as he did his best to maneuver around and get behind the golden-winged leader.

  “Shy, don’t get close,” Sampson warned between parries as Locke passed around her, “he’ll kill you instantly. We’re doing everything we can just to keep him from going on the offensive.”

  Yeah, I know. I’m useless. Got it. Locke understood the message, even if it wasn’t put in such harsh language. When he finished rounding his enemy and was directly behind him, he went to throw a vitality debuff at the boss. As soon as he tossed it, however, the leader dodged to the side so that the poison struck Sparky instead. Does this guy have eyes in the back of his head? Locke watched in horror as the potion squarely hit the fighter, shattering against her shield. The area of effect was large enough that it struck both Sampson and the White-Wing as well, but it was clear that Sparky suffered the brunt of the attack.

  Locke instantly panicked. There was a good chance that he had just done some real damage to their chances of winning. The leader grabbed onto Sparky’s shield and pushed off with his wings, taking to the air and dragging Sparky in tow. Sparky clung to her shield as she was pulled up two, three and then four stories. She started going crazy, flailing her legs and swinging wildly with her sword without a clear target until, somewhere around six stories into the sky, the leader let go of her.

  Locke watched on helplessly as she plummeted downward, but Eliza reacted instantly. She jumped onto Sampson’s shoulders and then vaulted directly up into the air in one swift motion. She collided with Sparky midair, and the two crashed to the ground in a tangled-up heap at Sampson’s feet. Before either had a chance to regain their senses or push themselves to their feet, the White-Wing leader landed blade-first on Sparky’s chest, skewering her like a street vendor's shishkabob.

  “For, Ho--” Sparky couldn’t even muster more than two syllables before the life faded from her eyes.

  “Cra--” Sampson started as she saw Sparky die, but the White-Wing leader pulled his blade from Sparky’s body and fluidly beheaded Sampson with a backhanded slash. Even without the element of surprise, there was no way that she would have been able to block the leader’s attack without Sparky there to act as her defense. Sampson simply wasn’t able to do anything in the face of the leader’s overwhelming speed and power except gasp in shock and horror for the briefest of moments before being slaughtered.

  Locke watched, dumbfounded, as the Minotaur’s head rolled off of her body, and he could have sworn her lifeless eyes stared at him as it fell to the floor.

  “Get out of here,” Eliza barked at Locke. “This fight is over.”

  “An insect that knows its place. It’s a pity. Your eyes burn with the fire of the Sun God. You would have made a good acolyte.” The leader shook his blade, splattering Sampson and Sparky’s blood onto the glass platform. “Your death shall be a sacrifice to honor our God.” He readied his blade and then charged at Eliza. His speed pushed him into flight as he narrowed in on the Demon, hitting her so hard that, even though she blocked his attack, she was sent sprawling back twenty feet. She slid across the platform, leaving streaks of blood behind her that made it look like she had been dragged across jagged asphalt behind a car.

  Even though Eliza hadn’t been able to stop the attack, she was at least able to recover from it rapidly, rolling backward and bouncing back up in a Bruce-Lee-style martial arts move without ever dropping her swords. She rolled out of the way as the White-Wing leader came in for a second charge, not even bothering with blocking the attack a second time. She came up out of the roll and assumed a fighting stance again, once more facing her opponent.

  She’s going to die . . . She’s going to die, and I’m just sitting here watching. Locke’s frustration built up as his feelings of ineptitude pushed their way to the surface like bile in the back of his throat, and there wasn’t anything he could do to swallow them back down. The mission will fail, she’ll be dead, and I’m not doing anything about it.

  He stashed the decent sword he was using into his inventory, the one he had purchased at the market when he was with Sampson, and took out the one he had started with, the one that Ash had given him. It was a perfectly normal starter sword, other than the fact that he had prepared it for just such an eventuality. While everyone had been busy making preparations earlier, he hadn’t been just standing by idly. He had wrapped the entire blade in strung-together bottles of pre-activated vitality poisons. There were enough potions attached to the blade to make sure that, the second the sword hit anything, it would explode and absolutely shatter the vitality of anything in Tiqpa within one meter of impact--himself included. He equipped and activated a single Deadly Poison in his other hand, readying it to explode on contact as well.

  He couldn’t stand the idea of having to use it. His reticence was mainly due to the fact that, even if the explosives went off properly, there was still a chance he wouldn’t succeed. There was also the almost certainty that he would die, and any hopes he had of turning the day’s losses into a gain would be gone along with it. This sword, which now looked like an incredibly-large balloon-blade, held on it his entire fortune: the remainder of his hard work, the poisons that were supposed to be sold to help pay for his sister’s education. Is a game really worth it? The thought floated through his head. Even if the Holy Alliance wins, you can just take it all to another city, find new clients, and make new money. Why are you risking your fortune for her? For them? For revenge? Revenge is petty. Let the group wipe. Don't waste it. The thoughts rattled through his head in a moment of indecision.

  After all, there would surely be other alchemists by tomorrow. If he had been able to achieve all this in a single day, who is to say that other people couldn’t do the same? As great a farmer as he was, he had spent a better part of the day fighting. Sure, he had started off in the perfect zone and didn’t have to compete with anyone for the resources, and there was also the fact that someone had loaded his inventory with more empty bottles and crafting supplies than he knew what to do with, but that didn’t mean that a guild couldn’t sponsor and assist an alchemist till he or she was dead even with him. There would be competition, and even if he could refarm all the poisons, they wouldn’t be worth anything compared to what their value was today. And he was throwing it away.

  On top of all that, there was also the fact that this would surely leave him dead and at Ash’s mercy. He had absolutely no idea what was going to happen when he died or even where he was going to respawn. Putting his fate into Ash’s hands was something that didn’t sit well as it held its own set of unknown consequences--and he wasn’t eager to find out what they were.

  Yet, even as all of those facts and feelings mounted against the idea, one look at Eliza as she struggled to stand against the leader alone, battered and bruised to the point that her once-beautiful sundress was torn in places and stained red in others, told him what he had to do. He just couldn’t stand by and watch. I’m going to kill you! he yelled at his conscience as he ran forward with his balloon blade.

  “And here I thought you would scurry away like a cockroach when the lights come on,” the leader said, holding his own blade up to block Lock
e’s. “Come, then. Be cleansed in fire.” Rays of golden light suddenly shot off his wings and sword, and the White-Wing was so illuminated from the blinding pinions of light on his back that Locke had to turn his head to the side and look away as he charged. “Meet death, brave one!” the boss said, charging forward to strike Locke.

  The White-Wing’s sword pulled back and stood ready to strike Locke the instant he came within range. Locke felt his heart stop. Time felt like it had frozen as he watched what could only be described as a train wreck in slow motion. Locke heaved the giant, bottle-covered blade forward in a horizontal slash, and the leader responded by contracting his wing around his body as Locke had seen him do so many times before to block the heavy axe attacks from Sampson or the quick, piercing thrusts from Eliza. One of his wings, which was as larger than Locke’s entire body, glided alongside the leader’s blade, moving forward to clear away the nuisance of Locke's unimposing attack and connected with Locke’s weapon, completely going against Locke's expectations.

  At that moment, the poison bombs activated in a chain reaction, rippling into the largest explosion Locke had seen. One after another, the potions went off, stripping Locke of his vitality so fast that he plummeted to a single point of health and was sitting on the cusp of death in the time a hummingbird could flap his wings. Explosions continued going off as his sword pressed onward into his enemy’s now-vulnerable wing, bringing each of them both closer and closer to death.