Free The Duty (Play to Live: Book # 3) by D. Rus Page A

must," the Fallen One said with a deadpan face.
    Snowie stepped toward the statue and reached out, his powerful fingers closing gingerly over the rough barrel all scratched and dented.
    The Fallen One stooped to the statue's ear and whispered something persuasive—pleading and commanding at the same time.
    "Holy shit," I managed, watching the petrified fingers open slowly and jerkily, releasing the ancient artifact.
    Snowie gasped. He picked up the club and held it in his outstretched hands, staring at it.
    "It's rightfully yours!" the Fallen One proclaimed. "The heroes' weapon has chosen its new owner!"
    Confirming his words, a fine runic inscription ran along the tank barrel, sparking, casting invisible buffs.
    The skies thundered their indignation. A sonic boom assaulted our eardrums. The Fallen One scowled, throwing his head back. "Rightfully his! This gift pleases the Gods!"
    The skies thundered again, the second clap weaker and, if I may say so, rather insipid. With a smile, the Fallen One winked at me: we're a force to be reckoned with!
    Macaria, too, added her two cents' worth. She lay her delicate hand onto the rough barrel. A wave of green poured from her fingers, adding detail to the runic writings. Some of her magic didn't find a place to stick to and thudded down onto the flagstones, immediately absorbed by what seemed to be an impenetrable granite. The stone swelled; a net of gossamer cracks ran across it, green tendrils of some clingy plants forcing their way through. Divine magic was nothing to sniff at!
    Again the skies trembled warningly. The Fallen One raised his hand, stopping his overenthusiastic girlfriend. "Enough. We shouldn't try the patience of the universal equilibrium."
    Snowie was choking on his emotions. He held the divine artifact in his strong but gentle hands the way a young mother holds her baby for the first time. The sight was so striking that I couldn't help it: I took a screenshot of the scene, naming it Only death will us part . I wanted to keep it for the clan's archives. I just knew that one day, Snowie would show us all what he was made of; then the historical snapshot of his appropriation of the wonder weapon would take pride of place in our Hall of Fame.
    "One... two... zero," Snowie uttered slowly, reading the markings on the barrel. "What does that mean, Sir?"
    I very nearly blurted, Caliber , but stopped myself just in time. "That's the number of the enemies slain. A hundred and twenty enemies died by his hand in the last battle."
    The troll gasped his admiration. The Fallen One chuckled, then snapped his fingers. The digits glowed crimson as the font changed. Did it mean they were from now on going to keep count of the broken skulls?
    Right. It was all good and well, my warrior acquiring an artifact weapon co-created by ancient technologies and modern divine force. Still, making my green ladies wait wasn't the right thing, especially in view of their razor-sharp goblin tongues. I hurried to pull off some of the more eye-catching gear, stuffing it into my bag as I instructed Snowie,
    "The day of surprises isn't over yet, for you at least. I've got two more bits of news for you: one good and the other good as well. Which one do you want to hear first? The good one? Good choice. The first good news is, you'll be going with me on a long-distance raid. Don't jump like that, please, you'll break all the stonework! Lurch is already chewing my ears! Secondly, I know of a lady who would like to make your acquaintance. She is quite portly but rather shy. Yes, yes, your size, level-176 warrior, half a head shorter than you but even plumper in certain areas. Belly? It's perfect, twice as big as yours. Cool?—you could say that! Now: get yourself smartened up, here's your armory and storeroom access, just make sure you look like... Oh, I've no idea who your crowd prefer to model yourselves after! Make sure you impress the socks off her. I'm off then, be ready in half an hour!"
    I wrapped a