Infinite Farmer-Chapter 145: Sleeves

Finally, painfully, Tulland made it to his farm. It was intact, which he had guessed. It was still hidden between the trees, safe from any prying eyes that didn’t have a specific lead on where to find it. In that, at least, The Infinite had proven itself fair.

He tumbled down right in the center of it, surrounding himself with silver caltrops and passing out. As the System had said, he’d get some advance warning from his plants if anything hostile stumbled in. With his Farmer’s Tool in his hand as he slept, it would probably be enough for him to spring up and fight rather than getting stabbed to death in his sleep.

Eventually, that warning did come. He had slept for some unknown amount of time before his vines asked him for permission to open fire on something. The fact that they didn’t have permission already meant one thing and one thing only.

“He’s not back.” Necia’s voice sounded frantic. “He’s not here. And those things are still after us.”

“For heavens sake, girl, I know.” Brist’s voice sounded exhausted and weak. “But he must be alive. Someone’s been cutting those bridges. Must be him. Nobody else is alive to do it.”

Tulland sprung up in a split second. His friends were there, filthy and exhausted, but alive. Some of them, anyway. Brist, Licht, and Necia had all made it. There was one more swordsman Tulland had never become close with, and one more rogue. That, apparently, was everyone who had survived.

Necia rushed him, tackling to the ground and kissing him all over his face. They barely missed his caltrops as she wept into his face and hair, then lifted him to his feet.

“Don’t you ever make me worry like that again. Ever,” she said. Tulland reached up to wipe her tears from his face and found a good deal of the drops were his own. “I will kill you. I can do it, too. I have this sword.”

“I’ll try.” Tulland steadied her. “Are you safe? What even happened?”

“We aren’t safe. They are tracking us.” Licht looked out into the woods. “We don’t know how. We cut the last bridge you left and stranded them on the other side, but we don’t think that will actually hold them. We probably have hours, at most, before they find a way.”

“Then rest.” Tulland pointed at the farm. “Sleep for an hour or so. I’ll keep watch.”

“They’ll catch up.”

“I think…” Tulland sighed. “I think they are going to anyway. At least here, we can fight them in the farm. I killed one of those elites earlier.”

“By yourself?” Brist’s eyebrows arched. “Not a small thing.”

“Well, I had some lucky breaks. But taking it down was worth a lot of points. Maybe if we can kill all the elites, even if we can’t kill the champion, it will be enough.” Tulland shrugged. “It’s better than getting chased around until we die.”

Brist shrugged himself and went and laid down.

“Just like that? No discussion?” Licht looked after the boxer in confusion. “No planning?”

“Hell, Licht, just sleep. It’s that kid who dragged us through this far, and you know it. If it’s his idea, it’s worth betting on. Planning isn’t going to change that.”

“But…” Licht got out that one word of disagreement before giving up and going and laying down himself. “Fine. Nothing better to do, anyway.”

Tulland took Necia by the hand and ordered his farm’s Chimera Sleeves to assemble into a hammock of sorts for her. He held her hand as she laid down, settling into a crouch from which he could still keep watch for them. With any luck, they would get that hour of sleep. They’d need it.

It’s a big bet to make. You are sure?

I’m sure. Tulland thought about explaining why, but realized he couldn’t. Not really. It was just time to make a stand. I really am.

And just like that, you are finally a warrior. You grew up fast, Tulland Lowstreet.

When the first elite broke the border of the clearing, Tulland didn’t wait for the others to get up. He sent a command to his plants to shake them awake, but the elite hit one of his caltrops at the same time his entire satchel of Acheflowers blew up in its face. There was a good breeze blowing, and whatever advantage those two things together gave Tulland would only last a second.

But what a second it was. His Chimera Sleeves were fully healed and even a little stronger now, courtesy of the soil in his farm and the small growing patch he had for excess seeds he brought with him. He had a good dozen of them crawling on the ground as patrols, three of which were tripping up the elite when he got to it, keeping it off balance just enough for him to take a full downward hoe strike at the crown of its head. Ripping the hoe out, he shifted the tool into a pitchfork, jabbing the elite four times in the chest before it died.

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In the meantime, the other enemy warriors had arrived. There were four elites left, plus the champion, who announced its presence with a roar. It was massive, much larger up close than Tulland had remembered. Every ounce of its body looked strong, compacted and carved into a representation of pure power and fear. As the elite crumbled, it decided to swing a massive war-hammer downwards straight at Tulland head, as fast as lightning and twice as lethal.

Two arrows slammed into the champion’s arms at the last moment as Necia moved into place under the hammer and hit it with a retribution counterstrike. It didn’t go tumbling like other lesser enemies might, and she took a hell of a hit doing so, but it stopped the mud champion long enough for Brist to bodily grab and throw one of the elites at it. The champion swatted the dirt man out of the air, which didn’t quite kill but damaged it enough that Tulland knew it wouldn’t take much more. He ordered his sleeves to mob it, hoping they could do the rest of the job themselves.

In the next few seconds, he managed to get a good stab in on one of the other elites. His newfound strength and dexterity made that possible, even when they weren’t fully surprised or distracted. As fast as he tried, the champion was right back on him as he got his pitchfork back out. Necia saved him again, as she always had, her joints audibly groaning under the pressure.

“Keep killing them.” She grimaced and held the enemy hammer in place as long as she could. “I’ll block. As long as I can.”

The next few minutes were a desperate race, with Tulland, Licht, and Brist dodging everything the champion could throw at them when they could, and relying on Necia when they couldn’t. Slowly and painfully, they worked their way through the remaining elites. Tulland was now the strongest combatant in terms of damage dealing, apparently by a wide margin. The most Licht and Brist could do for him was holding the enemies still for his strikes.

Still, they did it somehow. Eventually, all that was left was a slightly more cautious champion who looked down from its own towering height at a beaten, bruised, but still living team of warriors who dared to challenge it.

“Not enough,” Necia said. “Killing the elites wasn’t enough to get us out.”

“Can we run?”

“Not like this.” Brist limped up, his leg bleeding from several lucky dirt elite sword swipes seemingly meant to kill his mobility. “We have to fight. No choice. Licht, you can go if you want. You’d be the only one that could get away.”

“I think not.” Licht smiled. “Thanks, Tulland. I would have never come this far without you.”

The champion struck then. For a moment, it felt like they had a chance. It was strong and fast, but there were three of them. Licht was putting arrows around its eyeballs one after the other, while Brist focused on punches to joints that kept it ever so slightly off balance. Necia did the lion’s work of blocking, taking more and more damage from behind her shield as she quietly and grimly absorbed all the punishment meant for the others.

Tulland was able to stab it twice and only twice during that time. It was just too fast for him, still, and his were the only attacks it was trying to avoid. It really was a floor boss, he knew, something he should have never fought at this level, and something he’d ideally have a team of dozens to help him take down. The fact that they had damaged it at all, even to the extent of the very few scratches it had picked up from their attacks, was impressive.

It also meant they were doomed, and when disaster struck, it struck hard. The champion weathered all the attacks they threw at it for a while, waiting until they were all within a certain distance. None of them had enough left to see the trap coming. It finally set its feet off-center from each other, choked up on its hammer, and spun. With all its weight and strength, the blow caught all of them. It saved Necia for last, knowing that she alone could stop it.

The rest went flying. Brist hit the soil hard, followed by Licht, who looked like he might be unconscious. Tulland landed on the crown of his head and rolled to his butt, his ears ringing and with several points of pain in his body indicating breaks and tears. Necia was now taking a full onslaught from the champion alone. She got off another retribution counter, but even timed perfectly, it only bought her a few seconds.

Tulland got to his feet, knowing there was nothing he could do. If he was just a little stronger and faster, he might have a chance. If he was a little better at fighting, he’d have a shot. He looked down at one of his Chimera Sleeves as he closed the distance. They were all around the champion, hacking uselessly at its legs. They weren’t enough to hurt it, and neither was he. Maybe if they could combine everything they could do together, they’d be enough.

Shit. That’s it.

What?

Tulland didn’t answer. The vines were already shooting back towards him. Wriggling underneath his armor as they slithered into place around his upper and lower arms, his waist, and his torso.

That can’t be it, can it?

It must be. It just hit me. Why would it call them sleeves, otherwise?

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The first big jump Tulland took with the sleeves coating his body was terrible. He enhanced them with everything he had to enhance them with and leapt, flying off-center and off-balance through the air with far, far more power in the jump than he needed to close the gap. It was an awkward, horrible looking thing, a testament to the pure lack of expectations he had about how this was supposed to work.

It still got him there, and as he impacted with the champion, it actually staggered.

“What?” Necia looked at him groggily. “How…”

The champion roared and hacked down at her. Her shield was still down from its last attack. Her arms weren’t broken, but it had finally hit her enough times to fog up her thinking and technique. If the hammer hit, she’d die. It would all be over.

Tulland decided not to let that happen. Pouring way too much energy into the vines again, he stabbed upwards. The Chimera Sleeves understood exactly what he wanted, somehow. They moved almost joyfully, like they had finally found their purpose. Between their own targeting and Tulland’s enhanced weapons skill, his pitchfork had no problem intercepting the enemy’s hammer and stopping it in its tracks.

Okay. Time for the real test.