By now everyone who wasn't a fighter class was within the wooden walls.
Near the center of the outpost was a structure that resembled a classic style farmhouse. The main entrance was wide enough to accommodate even the tallest faction mber. Inside were lines of stalls where crafters labored using their different skills to perform a variety of tasks.
One stall in particular always seed to get more attention than the rest.
Jessie's farm had borne fruit, or more accurately, grain. And lots of it. We'd need to build more storage by at least double, and that was if we didn't expand the size of the fields.
That wasn't even the only problem.
The first was seasonal.
Days were growing colder making it impossible to plant more grain. And although the yield this year was more than anyone expected it was far from enough to support the nearly 10,000 people in our faction. Which wasn't actually the end of the world.
Between the raids and strange anomalies our faction had piles of exotic ats. And so long as they remained in a spatial storage, never seed to spoil.
Also, water was a virtual non-issue. Shards were easy enough to craft that could draw from ambient mana. With a full shard mine at our disposal, most hos already had working water sources.
No, the real problem was that people just didn't want to eat only at. Especially now that they'd had a taste of skill produced breads.
Faction Layton Mischief had a bakery.
And so long as we could keep it stocked with grains and other ingredients, our faction would be blessed with so of the best bread I'd ever tasted. And it wasn't just delicious.
Anyone who ate the bread would also earn bonuses to mana and stamina regeneration.
We just needed a way to keep it stocked. Jared was already hard at work with Jessie to find solutions ranging from greenhouses, to altered plant variants. He was convinced they'd have a solution in no ti. Especially with the existence of mana.
I munched on a loaf, crusty flakes crackling to expose the fluffy interior. With a sigh I savored the bite while I waited atop the battlents along with the other fighters at the outpost. I watched and listened to the crafters below engaging in pleasant conversation munching on their own bread they'd purchased from the baker stall.
Laughter carried over the walls and it struck just how casual everyone was. In just a few minutes, hundreds of chaos spawn would co rushing through the trees hell bent on tearing each and every person here limb from limb.
And yet if there was any anxiety below, it was impossible to tell.
If anything there was a buzz of excitent.
It was hard to believe that not all that long ago chaos spawn, just like these, had killed so many. Now they were reduced to an inconvenience. We'd all co such a long way in such a short amount of ti, and it wasn't just levels either.
People were adjusting to their new way of life, adapting.
I could still rember when Maddux looked ready to puke before the first raid we did together.
Now, he'd probably been in twenty different battles, gained over thirty levels, and hundreds of chaos spawn weren't enough to make him sweat.
What was the rest of the world like? How did our faction stack up? We're humans everywhere thriving?
There had to be so real powers in the more populous dense area of the world. Would they be better off then the little community we'd started?
I tried to imagine the United States governnt in action. How had they reacted? Without tanks and guns it must've been chaos. Would the secret service ever allow the president to enter into a trial dungeon?
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Scenarios ran through my head as I turned my attention to the trees.
From my vantage on the wall I had a clear view of the road in both directions. We were making progress.
"Here they co." Soone along the wall calmly warned.
Ti had been spent to clear a line of sight for about thirty yards surrounding the outpost. Right on cue, chaos spawn began to erge from deep within the thick pine and brush.
Huh.
"A Gremtaur?"
Alex cocked his head. "A Gremtaur?"
Oh right. That wasn't actually their technical na.
"Look." I gestured towards the edge of the trees. "It's one of those gremlin centaurs from trials."
Alex whistled.
"Well would you look at that."
My mory flashed to the final wave of the wave trial Mischief and I faced together. The Gremtaur was the last challenge in that wave.
Back then, all I had was a club and a prayer. By so miracle and by miracle, I ant Mischief, I'd survived. But it wasn't easy. I still distinctly rembered the feeling of getting blasted and pinwheeling head over heels bloodied and bruised.
Gremtaurs were no joke. The scourge trial was gearing up.
I stepped up onto the lip of the walls.
"Hey, what are you doing?" Alex asked, drawing his sword.
"I'm just curious about sothing. Feel free to tag along, but I want the Gremtaur—okay?"
I stepped from the wall and the ground rose up to et , a split second later there was a crunch of dirt announcing that Alex had taken up the invitation to follow.
It felt like deja vu. Last ti I faced a Gremtaur my hands were clammy and my heart raced and the only thing that got through it was a quote from my father.
If you have sothing to do, but you're scared. Do it scared.
Now?
My feet moved and I started into a loping jog. Tree stumps and trompled foliage were all that separated and the tall centaur like chaos spawn. It waited patiently just inside the treeline, smaller chaos spawn pouring around it.
Just like before, the "Gremtaur" towered over , I crossed the dian distance and powerful arms raised a wooden mace as tall as . The beast opened its ducklike mouth revealing rows of small razor like teeth and let out a high pitched screech that pierced the air.
My steps grew faster, and my knees t with the wave of chaos spawn surging around . I didn't even feel the resistance as my legs t the fragile bodies, crushing them like bugs on a car windshield.
Gripping its mace firmly with both hands its muscles flexed and rippled. I'd seen this before, this was the area of effect skill that nearly killed during the trial.
Tranquility stayed in her ho, she wouldn't be needed here.
A few steps away now, and I knew that when the mace fell a wave of force would explode out in all directions powerful enough to leave a small crater in the earth.
There was a second part to my fathers quote.
I lunged, and the mace fell.
You do it scared—until it doesn't scare you anymore.
CRACK!
Knuckles t wood.
***
Alex watched Layton walk off the edge of the wall and considered if he should take the ti to wrap himself up in his new set of armor. Unlike Durkil's liberator set, Alex had to actually go through the process of clapping each of the many pieces into place. Not that he was complaining of course. It was just inconvenient when Layton didn't want to let him get ready.
Technically Alex knew the wave was coming and he definitely could've gotten ready beforehand, but it felt much better to bla Layton. Deciding to forgo the armor he hopped the ledge and crunched down next his faction leader who set off at a jog.
Layton's robe billowed dramatically with each step and Alex felt a pang of regret. He was not going to look nearly as cool.
"Should've put on the armor." He chided himself.
In an act of desperation to save face he pulled the plate helt from his storage and pulled it over his head. For a brief mont, Alex wondered if he was just making things worse by wearing only his helt without the other parts? But concluded that so armor is always cooler than no armor, and looked up to see Layton already mostly across the clearing of tree stumps.
He was heading directly toward the chaos spawn champion or "Gremtaur" as he'd called it. Alex had to admit that the na was pretty good. He wasn't even born yet when the movie Gremlins was released but based on Layton's description the comparison fit—well besides the four legs ending in webbed feet.
Alex snorted.
He thought it was funny how the chaos spawn were sent flying like bowling pins when Layton highstepped through them. They might as well not even be there, and rather than slowing down, Layton sped up.
Even when with the monster waiting, the club raised ready to strike, Layton just moved faster.
Alex watched the club fall. A move, he realized, that he'd seen before. It had been when Matt tried to tank the Gremtaur from their wave trials, and it did not go well.
This ti?
Layton stepped directly into the path of the falling club, set his feet, and punched upward.
CRACK!
An explosion of air punched Alex in the face, and he stumbled backwards a step.
He blinked.
Bit's of chaos spawn rained down like ping pong ball sized hail drenching him in a spray of sticky black ichor. He closed his eyes, and for several seconds all Alex could hear was the patter of dismbered body parts falling from the heavens.
When the patter stopped, Alex opened his eyes.
Layton was all that remained upright within a thirty foot radius. Even the trees that were unlucky enough to be within the main blast zone were leaning precariously against the others that weren't blown over.
There was no chaos spawn left, or at least, no whole chaos spawn. From Alex's perspective it looked like Layton was at the epicenter of so kind of weird oil spill. Like a plane flew overhead and bathed the world in inky tar.
Black ichor covered everything. Everything, that was, except where Layton still stood, fist raised, head bowed.
Alex glared.
"Hey! Whatever happened to, 'I just want the Gremtuar'?!" He shouted through the grate of his helt.
As if Layton didn't already look heroic enough, the clouds broke, and a ray of sunlight peaked through highlighting the golden embroidery of his healer's robes. Alex felt a swell of pride in his chest, but thought it best that he not allow his fearless leader to get a big head.
"And put your damn hand down, you're not a power ranger!"
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