Hive Knight: A Dark Fantasy LitRPG (Trinity of the Hive Book 1) by Grayson Sinclair (poetry books to read TXT) 📗

soldiers would’ve been adequate for guarding the Compass Kingdom, but they were far too low level to pose a serious threat to us. I guessed them to be level thirty or so, impressive for an NPC, but unless they had an ability to throw at me, they wouldn't be a threat.

 A pang of guilt rose at killing them. They were following orders, most likely on behalf of the Alliance, who could never be bothered to get their hands dirty, preferring to hide behind their meat puppets. As distasteful as I found it, it wouldn't stop me. They chose to stand against us and would die for it.

Fighting them was nothing short of a cakewalk, but as easy as I found it, I didn't need to get cocky. Wilson’s words echoed in my head, and I had to acknowledge that he was right. I needed to keep my guard up. There were over five hundred troops to contend with, more than we had ever faced at once before. Even if they were low leveled, I couldn’t take them by myself. They would drown me in sheer numbers alone.

Guess I'll need help. I pulled up the guild chat in my interface. “Not saying I could use a hand down here, but where’s the fun in sitting in the castle where it’s safe?”

Everyone would already be geared up and ready to go. They knew me as well as I knew them and were just waiting on me to admit defeat and call for backup. Besides that, the twins would hate sitting this out and would already be chomping at the bit to join in.

”Standard siege tactics, everyone.”

A torrent of affirmatives resounded in my ear, and I fought back a smile. We may be the most raucous guild anytime else; however, when in battle, we have the efficiency of a well-oiled machine. The gate slammed open, hitting the ground and sending a tremor rolling through the grass.

Within a minute after the gate came down, Gil’s War Cry echoed out onto the battlefield. The effects of the ability caused my health and damage to increase when the shout reached me. The other side effect of the cry is that the small amount of battle fatigue I’d begun to feel washed away in an instant.

Having given the orders to the other members to the guild, I knew what my job was going to be. I was going headhunting for the leader of this invasion force. There was, without a doubt, either a high noble leading the men or a general of some standing, though if this was the Alliance, I knew they wouldn’t risk losing one of the aristocrats or generals. They would contract out the job.

The other, more likely option was using a high-leveled player. To command an army of more than a few hundred, you had to have high levels in the Military Commander skill. Commanding this large a force would put their skill level above sixty. Which meant the player should be around level seventy to eighty—either that or they were the best leader the Alliance had.

I ran further from the castle and deeper into enemy lines. I spared no wasted effort, moved no more than necessary. Soldiers who were in my path fell beneath my blade, my sword stained crimson with the blood of many.

Most of the troops I left to die from their injuries. Every thrust or slash struck a fatal, if not immediate, wound. Several men outside my reach turned to follow me as I passed. Fast as the wind, I flew through the troops, scanning the plains for any sign of a commander, but I only found more soldiers. I dropped several more as I started up the grassy hills.

I rounded the hill and came upon a large white tent, surrounded by several guards. I surged forward, heedless of the soldiers in my path. Quite a few of the foolish men turned at my approach. I paid them little mind, and their heads rolled to the ground in my wake.

The tent was within a stone’s throw of me, and the commander's bodyguards bolted up in alarm, moving to intercept me. Four of them advanced on me, while two others ran inside the tent to alert their master.

I slowed my speed, letting my momentum carry me within a few yards of the men. A small cloud of dust kicked up into the air as I stopped and faced my newest opponents.

They charged me together—a completely unfair and dishonorable tactic, which I immensely approved of. Two of the men were faster than the others and drew their swords as they closed the gap. One was a hand and a half longsword, not dissimilar to my own, while the other came at me with a heavy claymore.

I ducked the swing of LongSwordsman to parry Claymore’s overhead cleave. Metal clashed as I angled his strike to let the overused momentum carry his blade into the dirt. With a dull thud, his sword sank deep into the earth, giving me a few seconds to focus on LongSwordsman while Claymore pulled his weapon free.

Wind whistled as Longsword’s namesake sailed through the air towards me. I couldn’t bring my steel up in time, so I passed it to my off-hand and caught the base of his sword on my vambraces. Pain radiated through me as the blade struck. My armor held easily, though the vibrations from the impact completely numbed my arm. His sword fell off-center; taking advantage, I slugged Longsword in the face.

His head snapped back as I shattered his prominent nose, delighting in the satisfying crunch of cartilage. He howled in pain and dropped his blade to clutch at his ruined face. My sword, awkward in my off-hand, cut deep into his neck. Blood poured as though a dam burst as I sliced through his artery, and he fell to the ground, grasping his spurting neck.