The Dark Lord of Crafting

The troll wouldn’t go anywhere near the tower, it hooted, pawing the ground in agitation as I set up my worktable and produced a block of TNT. It’s complaint caused me to look up. Fladnag was watching me intently, Leto suspended in the air beside him. The physics on his arm was baffling. Did all those tentacles not have any weight? How was he even walking around with half a ton of rubbery meat hanging down from one wrist? Compared to that, the burden of carrying Leto was a non-issue. My son took after his mother, and probably weighed around a hundred pounds, but even that should have been too much for him.

Was Fladnag himself strong, or just the tentacles? He wasn't a Survivor, so I could reasonably assume that he didn't receive the same achievement bonuses that I did. There were two ways for me to trigger an achievement that would enhance my body, living a long time, or dying over and over. I'd gotten more boosts to my attributes from dying than from living. It seemed like the System rewarded me for continuing to play its game, and that was conceptually aligned with my class. Fladnag, however, was something else. I didn't know what the triggers were for him to get enhancements to his attributes, or if his class even came with that kind of function.

Given how old he was, he could easily have a higher Might attribute than I did. Would cutting off his arm make him a weak old man, or was he secretly a super-soldier?

No, not a super-soldier. He didn’t see Erdene moving around behind him.

"Where do I put them?" I asked, keeping his attention.

"Stop delaying," he sounded annoyed. "You'll need at least four to break the shell. Pick a corner and light it. We're running out of time."

Erdene stopped twenty paces behind him, her mouth moving in a silent prayer. She drew the diamond I had given her from under her shirt, and a knot of golden light blossomed in its core. Her short, white hair lifted as if it was being picked up by a breeze, but the air was still. Fladnag turned, sensing the spiritual surge, his face registering mild annoyance. A few tentacles stretched from the mass around his arm to strike the shaman.

The diamond flashed, and a column of light erupted from the ground around Fladnag, streaking into the sky like a beacon. Her magic could break a demon's spell, or banish the lesser entities, but it wouldn't harm someone who was uncorrupted. The tentacles holding Leto loosened, and he slipped lower as Gastard dashed in with his sword. Fladnag shielded his eyes, and his ox roared, charging Erdene.

Astaroth got in its way, but the beasts knocked him aside with casual ease. With a curse draining my attributes, and without the benefit of a potion, I felt like I was moving in slow motion, but I was still faster than any of them. My boots thudded on the earth as I closed the distance. Gastard hacked at the trunk of a tentacle wrapped around Leto's waist, but his blade barely broke its skin, and it tightened.

Entering the column of light felt like jumping into a scalding pool. It was palpable, liquid, and hot, even through armor. I held my breath, overcome by the feeling that if I breathed it in it would burn out my lungs. Kevin's buster sword appeared in my hands as I brought it down on Fladnag's wrist, the root of the writhing limbs. They were already reaching for me as soon

as I entered their space, grasping at my legs, but the cut was clean.

Gastard dropped his sword, pulled Leto into his arms, and ran. The tentacle remained wrapped around my son's waist, severed but alive. Fladnag screamed, and his monstrous ox bellowed as it trampled Erdene. The light vanished, taking the pressure and heat with it, but I wasn't free to move. A writhing mass of tentacles slapped themselves onto my armor, covering me from head to foot.

With a thought, I returned the buster sword to my inventory and selected a stack of Eternal Torches. As each appeared in my hand, I dropped it, making room for the next. Their gems glowed with Shadowbane, and I felt the tentacles loosen. They weren't strong enough to crush my plate, and without being attached to anything but each other, they lacked the leverage to pull me down. As the torches took effect, I started ripping them off and throwing them off. Astaroth's hands wove an intricate pattern, and red and yellow flames sprang up around my feet, devouring more of the tentacles.

Then the ox hit me.

Knocked through the air, I caught sight of Esmelda wheeling around on Marie, and dropping off the horse to help Gastard free our son. Then I collided with the ground, bounced, and rolled.

Before I could rise, the ox was stomping me. Its hooves rang against my chestplate and crunched my right hand. The heart bar appeared to warn me of the damage. I raised my other to recall the buster sword, intending to skewer the ox, but the blade didn't appear. A moment was lost in confusion as it continued to batter me, pressing me into the soft earth. I'd expected an insta-kill. It had worked on soldiers when I'd been dog-piled on the battlefield outside of Mount Doom. Why not now?

A fireball went off against its side, the flash stealing my vision, but giving me the second I needed to roll out from under its hooves. I drew my blue-edged blade. It was easier to use at close range than the buster, and the beast wasn't letting up its assault. It rammed into me as I got to one knee, and I tumbled back. Its bellow was as loud as thunder as it reared up to stomp me again. I thrust the point of my sword into its exposed throat, dark hide rippling with muscle under stretched skin, and blood poured out over my gauntlet.

It jerked its head back, eyes bright with pain and fury, refusing to relent. Jumping to my feet, I was able to avoid its next charge. Its horns scraped against my chestplate as it went by, and I slashed its flank. Erdene was down, and Fladnag was moving toward the monument, clutching at his stump. The tentacles followed him like worms, rising to fend off the harpies that dove in to harass him. Gastard and Esmelda were with Leto.

My duel with the ox prevented me from going after him. The beast circled, charging again, and I played the part of a matador, hopping out of its path at the last moment and jabbing with my sword. Bullfighting was an awful sport, but in this case, it was justified. One of my hands was broken, but I didn't need them both for this. It made three more passes, growing weaker with each as its wounds multiplied.

Hooves pounding, lost in rage, it came at me for the last time. Sidestepping, I drove my sword in between its ribs, and its legs gave out. I looked up just in time to see the explosion.

Fladnag had lit the fuse of the block of TNT before shuffling away. Shards of rock peppered the surrounding field, and a plume of smoke briefly blocked my view of the base of the tower. Beyond it, a line of horsemen were approaching at a gallop, maybe a mile away. The tentacles were withering in the grass, but more had already sprouted from Fladnag's stump.

"There's nothing you can do!" He shouted. "Give up. Or your boy is going to die."

For a moment, I was caught between pursuing him and checking on Leto. But one of those was more important than the other. I rushed over to kneel beside my son. Gastard had removed the tentacle, throwing it aside, and Esmelda was cradling Leto in her lap. There were red welts on his arms and face, sucker marks, and his breathing was shallow.

"I feel sick," he said, barely able to open his eyes.

Gastard's face was grave. "I gave him your healing potion. It didn't help." The sucker marks were fading, but there was something beneath them. Purplish veins appeared on his skin where the limb had grasped him. Poison, disease, I didn't know what. Fladnag's twisted power. The air whooshed at a second explosion, but it wasn't the tower. Astaroth had hit Fladnag with a fireball.

The old man's robes were in tatters, his hat was gone, and his face scorched, patches of skin missing. Wriggling tendrils grew out of his exposed flesh, and his eyes had changed. Putrid green, bug-like, they bulged from his sockets as he sent a rippling tide of limbs at the demon. Astaroth had positioned himself well outside of the melee, but whatever Fladnag's appendages were made of stretched and grew out of all reason, covering the distance in a few seconds.

Astaroth countered with a wall of flame, but they punched through, snapping around his legs and dragging him back to Fladnag.

"I'll send you back to your master," Fladnag snarled.

Astaroth squawked as he struggled against the tentacles ensnaring him, but they had bound his arms. I placed my hand against Leto's cheek. His eyes were glassy. How much time did he have? A Potion of Regeneration might help, but it wouldn't cure him. There was no antidote in Maincraft. Instead, you drank a bucket of milk, and it ended all status effects. There was nothing I could brew, nothing my powers could do to help him. In the game, poisons and curses wore off over time, and you could wait them out by healing yourself to keep up with the damage until they ended.

"What can we do?" Esmelda asked, her face pale. We had agreed that we had to get Leto away from Fladnag. But now? If he was a hostage, at least he was alive.

Leto didn't have my abilities, but some things worked for him. He could use the brewing stand. What if my food had the same restorative effect for him as it did for me? I dropped my pack beside me and dug out a few coins, slapping them into my palm to produce fresh loaves of bread.

"Try to eat this," I said, and Leto looked at me in confusion, but didn't argue. He tore off a chunk with his teeth and slowly chewed. Swallowing looked difficult. As soon as he did, a little color returned to his cheeks, and his next bite was more vigorous.

"Stay with them," I told Gastard, and he grunted his assent. Astaroth was not having a good time. The demon had summoned a few more spurts of flame, but they only delayed the inevitable. Fladnag had drawn him in and was preparing to take him apart like a sadistic child tearing the wings off of a fly.

Standing, I extended my arms and highlighted the bow in my inventory. It appeared in my hands, followed by a Shadowbane arrow already notched, and I loosed. The arrow whizzed through the air and struck one of the thicker tentacles holding Astaroth aloft. It shriveled instantly, and I shot again. Killing Fladnag was out of the question until I knew Leto would survive, but I could at least try to help Astaroth. I felt like the demon had done enough to deserve that much.

Fladnag moved his tentacles to put the demon between us.

"What are you doing?" He shouted. "Are you willing to let your son die?"

I lowered my bow. "Call a truce," I said, buying time. "You win. We can stop fighting, but we need to the demon. The Atlans are here."

The horsemen were approaching swiftly. The group wasn't as large as the army we had faced before, but there were a hundred riders at least. More had appeared in the south, though they were too far away to make out clearly. Fladnag flung Astaroth toward me like an unwanted toy. The demon landed hard, his limbs askew, and lay still.

"Very well," Fladnag said. "Prepare another bomb, and I will save the boy."

A deafening crack from Salenus interrupted his statement. The block of TNT had blown off a chunk of one corner of its foundation. It didn't look like enough to threaten the integrity of the monument, but fissures in the stone had branched off from the break, and they were spreading.

Salenus was not a solid pillar, but it wasn't hollow either. Beneath the bluish stones was a different rock. It looked like gravel that pressed together into a coherent shape, only it was moving. Whatever it was pulsed, boomed, and the fissures grew.

"What the frack is that?" I said.

Fladnag's expression was more resigned than victorious. "The beginning of the end. The seal has weakened. I couldn't scratch it last time."

The buzzing of arrows caught my ear, and a volley fell around Fladnag. His tentacles shielded him, and I doubted the missiles would have done much, anyway. Whatever he had become, I suspected it would take a lot more than a lucky bowshot to end his life without the benefit of enchantment. War cries filled the air as the horsemen surrounded us. Gastard helped Esmelda and Leto onto Marie, more bread in their hands, but they were cut off before they could ride away. A shaman came forward from their ranks across the field, raising a blazing gem. His long hair was bound in braids, and a fur cloak hung from his back.

A thin, pure white beam lanced from the gem, striking Fladnag like a laser. His tentacles intercepted it, but it burned through them, severing chunks of steaming purplish meat. He launched himself forward, the alien limbs carrying him at an incredible speed, and horses and men got in his way to protect their leader. An arrow plinked off of my pauldron, but the Atlans weren't focused on anyone but the living nightmare diving into their ranks.

Men with swords drawn had surrounded Esmelda, Leto, and Gastard, but they weren't attacking. Dark hair, and an angular, youthful face; Batu was among them. They sat on their mounts at a safe distance, calling for us not to move. I raised my hands in a gesture of surrender.

Fladnag was a mad whirl of motion, dozens of limbs acting on their own initiative, as eager to defend him as to tear his enemies apart. The horsemen slowed him, but their weapons were either ineffective or the damage was healed in the same instant it was dealt. Men and women fell away from him, clutching at the dark marks on their skin that the tentacles had left behind. Horses fled, masterless, only to collapse moments later.

The shaman's voice rose above the shouting.

"Wings of fire! Heart like the sun! Purge this evil from our land!"

Light streamed from the gem in his hands, swirling around Fladnag. The old man cried out, his host of limbs flailing, and fell. The spell went on, piling power onto power until he was no more than a faint shadow in the heart of a star.

"Wait!" What could I say to them? I needed him, at least for now. His curse would not die with him. But the shaman didn't hear me, and it wouldn't have mattered if he had. The light vanished all at once, leaving a dark spot in my vision. Fladnag had burned away, though the surrounding grass was undisturbed, giving no sign of the tremendous energy that had passed over them a moment before.

Still holding up my hands, I jogged over to Esmelda. Leto was halfway through another loaf, but though the dark lines on his skin had not spread, they hadn't faded either.

"What now, Dark Lord?" Batu said, his face hard. "Despite all that you said, you came here to wound Salenus."

"Milk!" I demanded. "Please, I need milk!"

He blinked. "What?"

Esmelda rushed to explain. "Fladnag held our son hostage. He's been cursed. Please, can you ask your shamans to help him?"

Batu looked between us, his anger giving way to confusion as his eyes fell on Leto, who was still scarfing down bread. "That monster's touch is death." He said. "There is nothing we can do."

"MILK!" my voice echoed across the field as I threw up my visor. "Do you have it?"

"We have airag," Batu said. Baffled into compliance, he took a pouch from his saddle and tossed it to me. I caught the soft leather skin, harvested it as a coin, and popped it back out again. Regular food didn't heal me, I had to grow or craft it myself. This was the closest thing to processing it with my System I could think of, and I had no other ideas.

Leto accepted the skin and guzzled. I knew from experience how difficult it was to chain-eat my bread with nothing to drink. He downed almost half the skin before pulling back with a sour expression.

"Tastes weird," he said.

"It's fermented," Batu supplied. The horsemen were watching us like they had stumbled into a nonsensical dream.

"Finish it." I pushed the skin back to Leto's mouth, and he grimaced but powered through. The dark, spidery veins on his skin were already growing lighter. A moment later, they disappeared.

Esmelda breathed a sigh of relief, nearly slipping from the saddle. Gastard said nothing, but he pulled Leto down and wrapped him in a hug. It had worked, my insane System had come through, and Leto was going to be okay. For a moment, the world grew still around us. Sounds faded, and all I could see was my son.

"Ugh," he said, his face pressed against the diamond covering Gastard's chest. "I'm fine, let me go."

Then Salenus broke in half.