The Last Warlock

Mack kept practicing runes everyday and trying to understand the ones that were a bit more complex.

Runic circles in the end tended to look a lot like programming languages from Earth. But Mack didnt knew that. He was only guessing using his logic and what the database in his eyes provided.

But there was a limit of what Mack could learn from that single Cube, and today, Mack reached a bottleneck.

He felt like he was progressing almost nothing.

~sigh~

"I need a break."

Said Mack, rubbing his eyes. .

It has been more than 20 days already since Mack started to learn rune circuits by himself.

"And yet, I can't figure other runespells for attack apart from the initial three"

The first one was supposed to be a fireball and become a flashbang, the second one was supposed to be a forcefield of 10 meters around him and become a 'Power up' kind of runespell.

And because of this two failures Mack didn't felt confident enough to carve the third one, The Blast runespell. And neither he tried that crazy idea he had, it was better for him to learn more before.

The problem was that he needed some ranged attack runespell.

"Time to go with Plan B"

Said Mack, standing up and grabbing his sword by the side.

Mack looked at the ground around him one last time to see the hundreds of rune circuits carved on the ground.

For a second, all felt surreal.

He learning rune circuits in the middle of an alien tower.

A cube.

A voice in his head.

Thousand of NPC fighting a 'simulated' battle.

And he, In the middle of all this.

For a few seconds Mack only wished to go back to Earth and eat a barbecue while drinking a beer.

Mack shake his head.

He needed to be focused.

He was only at the fourth gate of Hel's floor. And he knew there were at least 9 gates in total.

"If this gate is this hard. I can't imagine how the last one will be."

Said Mack, before quickly looking at the gate a few meters behind him and taking slow steps in the direction of the warlock camp.

Today was the day to have mages for dinner.

Approaching the familiar small hill, Mack could already hear the noises of battle.

The warlock camp had retreated to its maximum, and they were about to retreat to the hill where Mack was now.

A timed rescue?

Mack doubted. He was far more stronger than before but to change the flow of this battle alone he would need another miracle.

And miracles, like lightning strikes, don't tend to fall twice at the same place.

Mack went to the top of the hill and could see the warlock camp retreating his backline while the frontline gave cover.

They were pressured by the mages. They could not let the mages reach the backline, but they needed to use people to move the backline too. Thus, they were in a desperate situation. They could not use the full army to defend and they could not retreat too.

Mack looked at the far horizon and saw mages moving mage towers.

The mage army was solidifying their advance.

And worse than that....

The warlock army had reduced a lot, because now Mack could see in his field of view the entire warlock army. Something impossible in the early days.

It was still a huge battle, but had reduced a lot compared to before.

And the mage army let only one path for them. The back. All the sides and the front were surrounded by the mages.

And the mages were moving those towers to the back of their attack line.

In a few hours they would be done and the warlock would have no way to cut the lines to have a small advantage.

They only had one possible move left. And that was to retreat.

"What a pinch. It's going to be a hard day."

Mack stretched his muscles and resumes walking in the direction of the warlock camp. Now, less than a hundred meters below the small hill.

As Mack slowly walked to the front line of the battle, warlocks passed by him carrying boxes or tents or barrels.

Some stumbled in a hurry.

Some yelled and pointed to Mack to retreat too.

Some threw a few things in the ground and just run.

Humans were humans, after all.

In despair and seeing no way to win, they left their pride behind and run for their lives.

Mack kept walking.

Drew his sword out of the belt and rested it on his shoulder while holding the handle.

The non existing screams and panic in the face of the warlock did not faze Mack.

He was a man that almost died countless times already.

He was a man forged by despair and pain.

While most would scream Mack would laugh.

Where most would panic, Mack would take popcorn and watch.

Mack didn't even cared for his own life.

Why would he despair?

One warlock passed by Mack while holding his own guts and with a pleading face.

But no one stopped to help.

Three worlocks run to the front with enraged expressions and holding their swords high.

Mack could guess the reason. Someone close to them must have died.

A tent in fire with two warlocks lying on the ground at the exit.

And Mack kept walking to the front line.

The same pace as always.

With his sword resting on his shoulder.

Fire started to consume a trench by the side.

A fireball hit the ground 10 meters by the side of Mack.

One warlock stabbed himself in the neck while holding another female warlock.

Both dead now.

An acolyte run behind an alone warlock and pointed his staff to him.

A pointed metal hit that warlock in the chest. But he did not stop running.

Mack's gaze went to that acolyte, and saw another warlock throwing his sword at him.

One less acolyte now.

Mack's gaze changed back to the front and saw two warlocks crawling on the floor.

Both without their legs.

"War. War never changes."

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