As the man’s hand shot up, the first volley ripped into officers and guarding soldiers alike. The woman and the man who had criticized Liora’s uniform dropped instantly.
The other one raised his pistol—but Liora was already rushing him.
She punched, and a green-purple flash extended from her hand. The man jabbed the pistol barrel into her stomach. He tried pulling the trigger, but Liora’s hand had already grabbed his arm.
Decay rippled up the man’s arm, locking his muscles into instant rigor. He could not pull the trigger. His eyes went wide, and his other hand reached for a dagger—but Liora exhaled, blowing necrotic energy in his face.
The man collapsed and Adarin saw the text running in the Eye of the System over Liora's arm.
You have defeated a Senior Officer, Level 11.
Average normalized strength difference: 95%
Levels gained: 0
The undead spread out while Adarin assessed the key points on the square with the fountain.
The town hall held one side, its windows barricaded, lightly manned by musketeers. Two makeshift walls blocked the paths deeper into the city. Panicked soldiers scrambled around campfires as the undead rushed them, pikes at the ready.
The first real volley from the musketeers shredded the densest concentration of enemy soldiers. Not much more could be expected from muskets at this distance. The square was a hundred by a hundred meters.
The musketeers at the town hall’s windows began stirring, readying their matchlocks for a volley. Adarin wrapped one of his manipulators around Liora, threw her onto his back, and began running. “Mages, shoot at the windows!”
Too late. Flashes of fire erupted.
Several of their men—mercifully few musketeers and none of the mages—were cut down. Reloading. Forty seconds till they fire again. Get to the well—use the statues, use the walls.
The undead surged forward, spreading the chaos, and soon orcish war cries rang out behind the barricades. The orcs behind the barricades were realizing something was off—too soon. They took the bait. But we did too little. Too late.
Liora was screaming and thrashing. Adarin whacked her over the head. And dragged her on top of him, like a horse kidnapping an unwilling rider.
She groaned in a daze. “Use your fucking magic! Shoot at the building! Shoot. Shoot. Shoot!”
Clinging to his back, Liora growled something unintelligible and thrust out both hands. As he jumped over the well’s stone wall, twin beams of sickly green fired toward the town hall. Necrotic killing gas spilled inside.
Choking. Vomiting. Screams. The windows rattled with the sound of death.
The battle at the barricades had become a three-way free-for-all. The Marholians and Seaguardians were taking the worst of it. When they turned against the undead, the orcs climbed the barricades and slaughtered them from behind with axes. When they held the barricades, undead pikes reaped their price in blood and sinew.
Then a pulse of wind blasted out from the building—and a voice boomed: “Cease the assault at once! This is an ammunition depot—the biggest in the city. I will blow us all to the hells! To the seven hells!”
He saw the figure. A man stood at the town hall’s entrance beneath its ivy-covered facade. One flaming orb aimed at the square, the other angled back into the depot—ready to take everyone with him.
Adarin also sent a signal to the spiders he had deployed across the battlefield. Some had been assisting at the barricades—amputating feet and distracting men. But the group tasked with infiltrating the building hadn’t made it inside yet. Fuck. Even if I get close, I’ve got no way to kill him fast enough.
If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
For a split second, he considered the remaining gas grenades—but vomit gas would be too slow. If he isn’t bluffing... Depending on the amount of powder stockpiled inside, this could vaporize the whole square. Forget Liora—forget the other soldiers. Even mages and musketeers were a scarce resource.
‘Does anyone have a shot on him?’ Adarin sent the message through the neural link to the musketeer officers.
One laughed bitterly. “A single man at that distance? I’ve got a smoothbore, not a rifle.”
Another chuckled grimly. “I ain’t no bad shot, but even my best man would be lucky to hit the door. You want us to try?”
“How many?”
“We’re reloading—”
But the next words cut down any hope. “Any musketeer moves and I blow it. Drop the guns. Lower the guns. Give up the fucking guns! In the name of the Demiurges, you bastards!”
Adarin groaned. Well, so much for that plan.
Slowly, he let the spiders advance into the ivy. Maybe... maybe... maybe...
He dove into the limited protocol database. Ivy. Ivy... Common plant. I remember it’s toxic. But what can I use? What can I use...
Adarin focused on the database. There. Ivy. He ran through the saponin reactions in his head, the database flashing formulas across his mind. Then, he saw a structure that looked familiar. A tentative smile creased his tight lips.
Hederagenin (C30H48O4, a triterpenoid saponin aglycone found in common ivy; weakly toxic, soap-like, forms the structural base for further modification).
It was similar enough to Veratrum alkaloids. They would activate neuronal sodium channels and overload them. A perfect, fast-acting neurotoxin.
Just what I need to take care of that fireball suicide bomber and his friends. I sure hope he ain't got no backup plan. But we rushed them—this is probably half-arsed.
He snorted out loud and Liora gripped his widened skin tighter. “I'm working on something. Keep him occupied.”
Liora began talking, but Adarin ignored her next happy attempt at diplomacy. He went through the reactions the saponin needed to undergo in his head. And let the database display the substances.
Saponins:
- α-Hederin (C41H66O12, a glycosylated form of hederagenin; found in ivy, contributes to membrane irritation)
- Hederacoside C (C59H96O26, another ivy saponin; hydrolyzable to hederagenin)
Veratrum alkaloids:
- Protoveratrine A (C41H63NO14, a steroidal alkaloid from white hellebore; potent neurotoxin that opens sodium channels)
- Veratridine (C36H51NO11, binds to voltage-gated sodium channels; causes persistent activation and neuronal overload)
That's what I have and where I wanna go.
His biochemical warfare database told him the required steps. Take the saponin. Strip the sugar side chains. The result:
Hederagenin aglycone (C30H48O4, now without glycoside side chains; lipophilic and bioactive).
Good. It was an aggressive steroid-like molecule. A good base. Now I just need to add spice.
He briefly focused on Liora's shouting match. The orcs, humans, and undead had all frozen—even behind the barricades the orcish leadership understood the mortal peril.
Adarin focused on tweaking the nitrogen metabolism, forcing nitrogen chains into the exposed ring structures.
Nitrated hederagenin analog (C30H47NO4 or similar; one hydroxyl group converted to an amine or nitro group; forms the neuroactive core needed for alkaloid mimicry).
Now he focused. This step nearly made his brain explode with the required complexity. But Adarin pushed through the pain. Suppressed the neural signal. Then coaxed the allowed factors in the cells to produce acetyl- and methyltransferases, creating the veratrum mimic.
Veratrum mimic (C31H49NO5 or similar; modified hederagenin scaffold with amine and acetyl substitutions; now acts like veratridine—disrupts sodium channels in nerve cells).
Adarin took a few precious seconds to breathe as the ivy began churning out the neurotoxin. He gave a vicious grin.
As for a delivery mechanism... No need to complicate things. He made the stomata of the transforming leaves open wide, and a milky white sap began to bleed out.
His spectral analysis protocols confirmed his plan was working.
Water, ethanol (C2H5OH), resin glycoproteins, and dissolved alkaloids in emulsion.
All carrying vaporous death.
Adarin concentrated on the small area of the plant he had transformed. Where his spider sat, providing the contact.
Adarin braced himself, and the pain engulfed him. The ivy shivered as Adarin's real body went down in agony, seizures ironically mirroring the plant he was transforming. Leaves curled up and spewed white vapor. Men gasped and pointed. But the transformation was inevitable—and fast.
The mage with the fireball looked at Adarin, pointing with one hand. “What are you doing? Stop it! Stop it!”
Liora scrambled back, dodging Adarin's thrashing limbs.
The mage turned, fireball warping in his palm like a molten claw—then the vapor hit. He choked, staggered, his spell flickering.
“What have you...?”
He began to shiver. The fireball wavered—and flew from his hand.
Thanks for reading — let me know in the comments what you thought about the chapter!
Upload Schedule: Mon–Fri at 4:47 PM EST / 10:47 PM CET
Want more? Want to support my journey towards being a full-time writer? Join my Patreon for 30 extra chapters (6 weeks ahead):