The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] Chapter 40: Chapter 40: The First Name on the List

Read chapter 40 of The Crack In Heaven [A LitRPG Progression Fantasy] by Adamus_Auguste on NovelPedia.

Chapter 40: The First Name on the List Amidst the screams and stench of blood, Kael inhaled sharply. The sensation of wrongness spread within him. It tugged at his mind from two opposing directions, as if his anchor showed him that continuing to oppose it would eventually tear who he was in half. For three heartbeats, he clasped his arms in cold shivers. From his memories, the anchor-ghast Giovanni had become glared at him. Its eyes begged for answers it couldn't grasp anymore. You didn't pave the way for me to fail. The memory faded at the slight chip of his anchor, and the thug's corpse replaced it. Clangs and whistles grounded him on the roof. The stress should have reached 50%... Good. I'll let it rest for a while. Huffing, he turned when Tonio patted his back. The rat-man pointed at the corpse with a genuine grin. "Kael learn. Strong soon. Heal. My turn." He pointed at his own chest a little too quickly, and Kael returned the grin. "I have your back... Well, do you even need it?" With a lifted palm, he checked the thugs on the surrounding roofs. Perhaps over forty. "Hmm. Stop after killing five, or they'll notice." Tonio's grin twisted into a vengeful smirk. "Five little. But Tonio understand." At Kael's nod, he leapt over the alley, landing on the next roof. The man he rushed didn't have time to scream. Tonio's fingers dug into his jaw and plugged his mouth shut. He pulled, forcing the thug's back parallel to the ground as he snatched an arrow from the quiver with his free hand. The diving projectile reflected in the thug's wide eyes. The arrow jabbed into his heart carved that expression on his face. Forever. Before the stiffness of death crawled in, Tonio snatched half the coins from his pouch. Only after pocketing them did he allow the corpse to crash on the roof. But his gaze was already on his next prey. While he reached for his third archer, Kael scratched his head. It wasn't killing anymore. It was a lesson from someone whose mind struggled with notions but trusted him to understand them from action. Flexibility and fluidity that made strength irrelevant, adaptability that allowed for hundreds of ways to do the job. He's showing me the next step. He pressed himself against the roof. I'm too far to dream about it yet. I'll keep it in mind during training, though. He forced himself to look away from Tonio. On the street below, Silma still smirked at the tannery in a circle of split arrows. Like him, she glared past the trail of corpses to her men pressing the door. Arrows poured from the windows above, rattling dark, long shields raised overhead. Those who didn't protect slammed their shields against the metallic doors, while spearmen shoved blades between hinges and pulled in a chorus of organised screams. Others lit cloths jutting out of glass bottles and hurled them at the windows. They burst into flames, smearing scalding oil or grease through the bars. The Sump Dogs wailed inside the building, and Kael covered his nose when the stench of burned flesh replaced blood. What were these weapons? Only chaos answered him. The Sump Dogs answered by hurling glowing coal down and scalding water. More corpses littered the street with each minute crawling by. New men charged to fill the gaps in the formation without glancing at the wounded wailing on the way. Errand boys followed: a couple of teenagers his age. Many younger. His blue eyes locked on three of them. Their faces reddened as they dragged the wounded behind Silma. But it was their faces that made him bite his lip. He knew them. Clove, the fourteen-year-old boy who almost fainted when Kael used the soot-coated stick to write on his scavenged paper in Sister Harrow's night shelter. A kid who smiled whenever he could, even though his parents dropped him off one day and never came back. Now he struggled beside Bram, his best friend, both dragging a wounded man, both shivering enough for their tears to fly each time an arrow drilled the pavement a little too close. L