Athena in Tower Defense Game! [LitRPG]

The swarm of rats recoiled in fear of Athena, yet the Ratman’s command soon drove them back into the fray.

These creatures were infuriatingly persistent! They even formed a living wall of rats, hindering every step Athena took. Her pace slowed dramatically, as though she were trudging through a boundless swamp, though the mire beneath her feet was very much alive.

To make matters worse, a few rats clung to her now and then, clawing their way upward. She shook them off quickly, but their incessant harassment was grating on her nerves, filling her with frustration and helplessness.

She tried every method she could think of to rid herself of the wretched vermin, but they stuck to her like shadows, impossible to shake off. Sensing her struggle, the rats grew bolder, their fear of her diminishing with every passing moment.

Fortunately, Athena’s body had been strengthened, her resilience bolstered. Otherwise, she would have been covered in bite wounds by now.

But this couldn’t go on forever.

Her axe could only do so much against the swarming masses. It would be better to deal with the Ratman first.

The Moonlit Bow appeared in her hands, its mysterious, cold light shimmering in the dimness.

She seemed to merge with the bow itself, entirely unbothered by the rats crawling madly over her body. With unwavering focus, she nocked an arrow and drew the string taut, aiming directly at the Ratman ahead.

The Ratman’s eyes widened in terror as he felt an icy chill stab through him. His heart raced, cold sweat beading on his brow. An unprecedented fear gripped him, sending shivers down his spine.

Most men would quail before such a horde of rats, yet this woman stood her ground.

The rats that had been obstructing Athena’s path began to scatter, retreating towards the Ratman. They burrowed beneath his black robes, melding with him.

Some of the rats formed another wall between Athena and the Ratman, attempting to block her attack.

Several arrows flew from Athena’s bow, each one intercepted or dodged. Only one managed to graze the Ratman’s shoulder, merely scratching the surface of his defences without causing any significant injury.

Not only was the Ratman adept at commanding the swarm, but he was also a formidable foe in his own right. However, his instincts leaned more towards flight than fight.

Their speed was extraordinary; to the average eye, they were nothing more than fleeting shadows. The Ratman, familiar with every twist and turn of the sewers, led them through a maze of passages.

This wretched creature was absurdly agile, but once struck by the Moonlit Arrow, its power would slowly devour him from within.

The Ratman could already feel his body stiffening, his speed waning. He summoned more rats to rejoin his body, attempting to regain his momentum.

Meanwhile, with the rats no longer obstructing her, Athena’s pace quickened once more. Yet this was merely a temporary reprieve.

The Ratman, undeterred, never ceased his frantic flight, knowing he was mere moments from reaching the palace, where victory would surely be his, and Athena would fall.

As they pressed onward, the Ratman, ever cunning, guided their path closer to the palace.

A creature of the Ratman’s calibre would undoubtedly lose in a direct confrontation with Athena. But if he focused solely on escaping, even she would struggle to catch him.

Above ground, the monsters were retreating, and even the rats were beginning to thin out.

With courage restored, the common folk took up arms against the remaining rat-monsters. Their initial terror transformed into righteous anger, fuelled by the loss of their loved ones.

No longer was this a one-sided massacre; it had become an even match, with the humans slowly gaining the upper hand.

Duke Babron, leading the people and the army towards the palace, moved with a steady, unhurried pace, unconcerned by the chaos around him.

Now and then, he would exchange a few words with those nearby, his speech laced with subtle hints, guiding the people to believe that perhaps their emperor truly had abandoned his people and his realm.

They were like a powder keg, needing only a spark to ignite an explosion.

The surrounding soldiers treated them with leniency; if someone fell behind, they would be carried or left in place to wait.

Duke Babron refrained from looking towards the palace, his thoughts unreadable.

By now, the affair at the palace should be nearing its conclusion.

In the underground chamber of the palace, a mysterious and potent force was quietly awakening. In the pitch-black darkness, a massive magic circle began to glow, its eerie and ominous light filling the space with a sense of foreboding.

At the same time, the once vibrant flowers blooming in the palace gardens began to wither, as though drained of life. Their once radiant petals shrivelled, as if consumed by the surrounding darkness.

In an instant, the garden was left lifeless, a scene of death and decay.

The sight was enough to send a chill down one’s spine, yet the guards stationed nearby remained unfazed, their eyes fixed unwaveringly on the royal chamber.

As the light from the magic circle flickered, the prince, who had been lying motionless on the bed, slowly opened his eyes, only to see the lifeless body of the old emperor beside him.

His gaze, initially filled with confusion, quickly turned to excitement, then to a wild, almost maniacal joy. He sat up abruptly, clutching his head as he broke into hysterical laughter.

A figure in black robes watched silently, pulling his hood lower over his face before offering his congratulations. “Congratulations, Your Majesty, on your rebirth.”

The old emperor, now in the prince’s body, caressed his smooth, youthful face. Among all his children, only the prince had survived the selection.

This was his last hope. Though the prince wasn’t a perfect match, the soul transfer had been a gamble he was willing to take.

And it seemed that even the heavens favoured him, for he had survived the ordeal.

Lowering his hand, he looked up, his golden hair framing eyes as cold as a thousand-year-old glacier.

“Our cooperation ends here,” he declared, his voice chilling and authoritative. “You’ve received what you came for. Now, be gone.”

His tone was distant, commanding, just like the new emperor of forty years ago, who had once conquered the world with ambition and fervour, fearing no monster.

The figure in black remained unperturbed, merely raising his hands in a gesture of compliance. He had no intention of lingering. What happened next was none of his concern.