《In my Defense: Turret Mage [LitRPG]》 Chapter 1 - Throat Punch Goblins Chapter 1 - Throat Punch Goblins I woke up drowning, face-down on a concrete floor. The rancid puddle that had been my pillow up until now, shallow enough for sleeping but just deep enough to be inhaled, rushed into my mouth and nose. Traces of copper, rust and something¡­ chunky were in the mix, but my barely functioning consciousness didn¡¯t register the idea of rolling over to spit the stuff out until it was too late. I aspirated it all before I was fully cognizant and found myself coughing violently as I flopped limply onto my back, vaguely registering the harsh sound of metal scraping against stone. I was much too busy trying to expel the nasty water from my lungs to pay much attention to a little detail like that, though. My body felt alien, like my bones and organs had all been scrambled around in my sleep, and they hadn¡¯t bothered filing for a change of address. The long, warbling cackle of some kind of bird is what made my brain finally sit up and take notice. I was familiar with birds, at least in an academic sense. Terrabiology was one of those subjects only referred to second hand these days, mostly when somebody came across some unknown species of flesh-ripping lizard or sentient goo, and said somebody needed to compare it to something in the scientific record. I¡¯d never actually heard a bird call in person, but there it was, clear as day. Much too quickly, I raised my head to listen, immediately regretting all of my life choices, especially this one. A wave of dizziness threatened to overpower my stomach, and the world waved and wobbled in my vision. I blinked. I was in what remained of an office, or at least that was my guess. The elements had their way with this place sometime before my arrival, wearing things down to a nearly unrecognizable ruin. The walls were made of cracked, moldy concrete with flaking paint flapping in the sluggish breeze that whistled through the building. Piles of rotted wood and rusted metal sat against either wall, except where the entirety of the floor had broken and fallen away, leaving a gaping chasm that swallowed most of the room. The wall opposite me, far out of reach, still maintained a tenuous grip on its part of the floor, so the remaining slab formed a sagging concrete ramp down into the lower levels that disappeared out of sight. Empty window frames lined the wall to my left, beyond which the world was a kaleidoscope of swaying greenery. Mossy carpets grew on the sills and draped down to puddle on the floor, flourishing by following the natural flow of precipitation. What used to be a sheet metal ceiling had long since rusted away, leaving only brown scraps, but, high above, spiderwebbing tree branches, fat with teal and brown leaves, grew over the building like a natural roof, blocking the sky completely. What sunlight there was, filtered in through the canopy, bathing everything in a greenish shadow that wobbled like I was below the waves of an ocean. The wind was slow and quiet. That felt strange to me, though I couldn¡¯t put my finger on why. A chipper, female voice shattered the moment. ¡°Greetings, Chosen!¡± ¡°Gah!¡± I shouted, half in fear, half as a warcry. I shot to my feet, or I tried to, at least pulling off a moderate stagger followed by a near case of nausea. Whirling on the voice, I got my hands up and ready, the act of which felt significant. The translucent figure of a woman stood in the corner of my room, a polite smile on her face. She was short and stocky with a strong jaw but inarguably feminine in shape with generous curves her work uniform and leather apron could not entirely hide. ¡°I apologize for frightening you, Ch- Chosen,¡± she said with a hitch, raising her hands and showing me her empty palms. ¡°Integration always causes some mind- mild- -disorientation.¡± She froze, not like she was waiting for a response from me. More that it was like she was on a video feed from a distant satellite, and the signal had been interrupted. ¡°¡­and I¡¯ve always found it best to get the initial greeting out of the way and get d-down to it.¡± Her harsh consonants and awkward, drawn out vowels sounded old Earth to me, but I wasn¡¯t entirely sure. Integration. That tickled something at the back of my mind. There was something there, something important, but my thoughts were seeds on the wind, so fast and fragile I couldn¡¯t hold onto one without damaging it beyond recognition. I shook my head uselessly. I was having a hard time stringing thoughts together. How, exactly, did I get here? She seemed to take my confused silence as her cue to go on. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have many questions, but if you allow me, I think this tutorial can establish a b- bas base level of understanding so that your questions are more productive. What say you to that, Chosen?¡± Chosen. That felt like a proper noun. What¡¯s more it was tied to something I knew. Images flashed in my mind. A burning circle. A faceless man. Breaking bones. Cold metal through my chest. My heart hummed into overdrive. Wait. ¡°Wh-¡± I began, but as I lowered my head to look myself over all rational thoughts fizzled and died. I was wearing plain white clothes, a shirt and belted pants along with some black boots, all pristine except for what¡¯d I¡¯d done to it by laying in a puddle. All of it looked strange, like it was a cut and style I¡¯d never encountered in my life, but that¡¯s not what short circuited my brain. Inside my shirt, where I expected to find the left side of my chest I saw black, segmented metal. It rose and fell in time with my breathing, the folded joints clicking and adjusting quietly to give me full range of motion as my lungs expanded and contracted. In a panic I reached up with my hand and ripped my shirt down the middle, my eyes bulging wide and blood rushing through my ears. Half of my upper torso, from my pectoral to my shoulder to my¡­ to my arm. All metal, black as Proxis¡¯ night. My arm. I have¡­ ¡°Chosen? Are you alright?¡± The glowing woman asked. She¡¯d taken a tentative step closer, but didn¡¯t seem to know whether to reach out or keep away from me. My voice came out in a trembling whisper. ¡°Uh. I have a metal arm,¡± I said, not able to look away. I blinked moisture out of my eyes. The hologram raised her eyebrows and adopted that long suffering tone one might use when speaking with a child. ¡°Yes. Yes, you do.¡± ¡°Why?¡± I couldn¡¯t think of what else to ask. ¡°What do you mean, Chosen?¡± ¡°I mean why is it here¡­ on me?¡± I asked. ¡°It is your arm,¡± she replied, slowly like I was simple. I rotated the offending appendage back and forth to give us both a really good look. The fully articulated wrist and fingers made little clicking noises as they responded to my will. The motion was so smooth, unlike any prosthetic I¡¯d ever heard of. ¡°No, it¡¯s really not.¡± I declared with confidence. ¡°A-are you sure?¡± She asked, incredulous. ¡°Yes!¡± My voice was high now, bordering on a shriek. ¡°Who forgets they have a metal arm?¡± ¡°How am I supposed to know?¡± ¡°You said to ask questions.¡± ¡°It would be more productive if you asked questions relevant to the tutorial,¡± she admonished but bent forward to examine the alien metal to humor me, going so far as to sniff it, which struck me as odd and pointless. ¡°D-Did you not have it before?¡± ¡°No! I mean. Maybe not?¡± Oh, God, she was breaking me down. I wasn¡¯ sure about anything. ¡°I don¡¯t think so, at least.¡± ¡°Quite the mystery,¡± she declared, flashing white, then she was upright again, her eyes brightening with something akin to glee. ¡°Also a p-perfect segue into the tutorial.¡± I narrowed my eyes at her. I may have hit my head, but a smooth segue that was not. Still, the lady loved her tutorial. Her expression was expectant, as if my willingness to go along with her tutorial would make her day. I stood there, flexing my hands, first the fleshy one then the metal one. I felt them both but differently. Things seemed more muted in the sensory department on the metal side, but there was something else there too, something different, like a tickle that ran deep through the core of it. The hologram cleared her throat, apparently deciding that my silence was a tacit invitation to begin her tutorial. ¡°Ahem. As I was saying earlier: Welcome, Chosen, to the Animator Class tutorial. I am Nali, the administrator of this tutorial since the Class¡¯ inception. I am a System created, satellite intelligence, whose sole purpose is to get you ready for your new life as an ascended member of humanity. Here, you will be taught how to interface with the System, use your Class¡¯ unique abilities, and grow in power. Any disorientation you might feel right now is a normal part of your Integration and should pass with time. Any questions so far?¡± I had so many. Everything she was saying felt right or at least familiar, but I couldn¡¯t seem to connect them with the appropriate parts of my memory. So, I settled for the basics. ¡°Where are we? How did I get here?¡± ¡°You are on Ralqir, on the outer edge of the Bera maelstrom. The System created a temporary insertion point for you to come here and will return you to your point of Integration upon completion of this tutorial. Insertion points take a great deal of energy and can only be done on an event of great significance. In this case, that was your Integration.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never heard of the uh¡­ Bera maelstrom.¡± ¡°It is not a phenomenon possible in your own universe. Ralqir was chosen long ago for its potential in training new Animators like you, and I think you will find the environment quite advantageous for your training.¡± ¡°So, I¡¯m an Animator, and this is not my universe.¡± It sounded so stupid when I said it like that. Shouldn¡¯t I know? Should I be freaking out at least a little? ¡°Yes, of course. Please, keep up. Pull up your status screen and focus on your class. Merely think about what you want to happen. Even though the System gifted you with it, this status screen is yours, and it will always respond to your will. It is a part of you now, and as you grow, so will your understanding of it and yourself. You will find this true with many parts of your new life.¡± Before I could do as she asked, a brightly outlined box appeared in my vision, green text on a black background. New Quest: Tutorial Tutorial: Learn of your new capabilities Accept? Y/N It was a simple message, short and easy to understand, but something inside of me lit up upon reading it, a giddy sort of joy as if I¡¯d been waiting for this moment for my entire life. I chose ¡®Y.¡¯ Ryan Kotes - Level 0 Animator Type: Artificer (Common) Class: Animator (Uncommon) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 25/25 MP: 30/30 Body: 10 Mind: 12 Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. Spirit: 9 Abilities: Shape Consume Skills: Affinities: Seeing my name in print like that was nice at least. Everything in my head was a chaotic mess right now, but having something concrete right there telling me who I was felt comforting. ¡°My name is Ryan, by the way,¡± I said. ¡°Says here on my sheet.¡± ¡°It is not unheard of to forget one¡¯s own name upon Integration, but it is unusual,¡± Nali replied. ¡°Not sure if forgot is the right word,¡± I mumbled defensively. ¡°I needed reminding is all.¡± I focused on the Class like Nali had asked me to. Class: Animator: Craftsmen, builders, and engineers, Animators shape the future. Where typical Artificers cut and hammer material into shape, Animators infuse their mana into material and make it temporarily a part of themselves, giving the Animator a perfect awareness of its dimensions and capabilities. Powerful Animators are at home in workshops and laboratories, advancing Human quality of life or forging terrifying weapons of war. ¡°It says I¡¯m some kind of crafter,¡± I stated. Complicated feelings swirled around inside of me when I said it aloud. I was, at once, sad, afraid, and giddy. I wasn¡¯t sure where it was all coming from. ¡°Not just any kind of craftsman, Chosen. The best kind.¡± Nali declared with a proudly raised chin. ¡°In your unbiased opinion,¡± I said. ¡°Absolutely.¡± I glanced at the screen again. ¡°It says it¡¯s only uncommon.¡± ¡°Vanishingly uncommon, I would say,¡± she opined with a scoff. ¡°According to my internal clock. I haven¡¯t been activated in many years, so many I thought the Class might have been phased out.¡± ¡°Is that why the place is so¡­¡± ¡°It does appear that things are not where the last Animator left them, it is true,¡± Nali observed, looking around and shaking her head. ¡°but we cannot let that get in the way of your tutorial can we? Let¡¯s move on to your Abilities. These a-are the bread and butter of your Class, and you wouldn¡¯t be a full Chosen without them. The first thing we need to do is find something to Shape. Normally, I would have something laid out here for you, but my house is in somewhat of a state of disarray-ay. Let¡¯s head downstairs and find some malleable materials. Metal is the easiest to start with.¡± I nodded, ready to do as she asked, but there were problems with that plan. The room had two doors, both feeding directly into the big hole in the floor, and the crumbling concrete in both doorways looked like it was just barely holding on. Rusted brown rebar jutted out from the edges, twisted and sharp from being stretched and eventually snapped by the stress. I was tucked into the far corner of the room on an isolated platform with nothing but air between me and the exits. Just looking at the exposed rebar jutting out of the walls and the floor made me feel all tetanus-y. ¡°Getting downstairs might be a challenge,¡± I said. ¡°Your place looks how my brain feels.¡± ¡°Again, I apologize for the s-state of things,¡± Nali said, flashing forward to examine me carefully. My skin tingled as she traced my body with her eyes, ending her scan at my face. ¡°You are more affected by the Integration than my previous students, and I have made a note of it. If I were to speculate, I would say you were in a bad way before you were inserted into Ralqir.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Yeah. Maybe so.¡± ¡°Concerning. Everyone starts their tutorial healthy and alert as a rule. The energy required to heal you once was already budgeted for this quest when it was initiated, but that energy is expended now if you weren¡¯t in good health before. Be careful from here on out. You are more durable than you were prior to Integration, but you are not immortal.¡± Quest Update: Tutorial Tutorial: Find material. The quest box was back. ¡°Are you doing that?¡± I asked. ¡°Doing what, Ryan?¡± ¡°Just got an update on my quest. It says to find material.¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s not me. The S-System is in charge of quests and rewards. I am just a teacher. We should do as it asks if we hope to finish your tutorial and get you home.¡± I didn¡¯t like my chances jumping from where I was to one of the doors. I felt heavy and not just because I was tired. I was pretty sure I was literally heavier than I used to be. Having a significant part of your body replaced with metal did that. I got on my stomach and crawled to the lip of my little platform. Down below, it was dark, made darker by the contrast between my windowed room up here and whatever conditions there were down there. Water dripped and splashed somewhere in the ruins, echoing harshly off of the hard surfaces and confusing my mental picture of the place. ¡°How far is it to the next floor?¡± I asked, craning my neck to be able to see my glowing tour guide. ¡°Approximately twenty feet.¡± ¡°Wonderful,¡± I groaned. No way was I jumping down there. I would need to monkey over to one of the doorways using the tetanus sticks. An idea flashed through my mind. ¡°You wanted metal, right? To get me to use my abilities.¡± ¡°Yes, it is generally the easiest material for new Animators to shape, and most Animators have at least one Affinity for a type of metal.¡± Nali replied with a raised brow. ¡°How easy is it?¡± She considered a brief moment before answering. ¡°It depends on the student. Some have a higher affinity for the material than others.¡± I narrowed my eyes. My status screen had an Affinities section, but it was empty. ¡°What about that?¡± I asked, pointing at the rebar. ¡°Heavily oxidized but still iron. An imperfect medium for your tutorial, but if you insist.¡± I did insist. I edged forward, toward the crumbling edge of my floor. Little bits of loose rocks and dust tumbled down into the hole as I crawled as far as I dared and within reach of one of the longer, duller bars of iron. Nali lapsed back into tutorial mode as I got close enough to touch the metal. ¡°Reach over and place your hand on the metal. Good. Look at your character sheet now. Under Abilities what do you see?¡± ¡°First one on the list is Shape.¡± ¡°Very good. Focus on activating that Ability. Will it to happen and pay attention to how it feels.¡± I wrapped my fingers around the rusted metal bar, gritty and brittle to the touch. Flakes of rust came off in my hand and dripped down through my fingers, but I did as Nali instructed. I willed the ability to activate. It didn¡¯t take much. Soon, I felt a trickle of something icy like snow melt travel from the center of my body, under the flesh and muscle of my arm, and out through my palm only to stop, momentarily, as it hit the outside of the rebar. The cold liquid pooled and coalesced until I felt it wrap around the bits of the metal I was currently touching, pressing in. Then, like a barrier had broken, the icy stream flowed through, mapping the entirety of the iron bar, inside and out¡­ ¡­and I knew. I knew where the imperfections were. I knew where the rust had almost eaten through. I knew how far under me the bar went. Where the mold that originally made this bar has a chip in it. I knew it all. ¡°Got it. I¡¯m- I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m inside of it?¡± ¡°Good. Good. This state is called saturation. Notice how doing so cost you MP. Certain materials are more able to accept mana. Some are more mana hungry. Others are resistant.¡± She was right about the MP thing. I was down a few points, and I felt taxed mentally, like I just finished doing several complex math equations simultaneously in my head while reading philosophy textbooks aloud. ¡°What do I do now?¡± I asked, my voice straining slightly. My mind felt like it was being stretched between two very distant points, and my bandwidth for everything else suffered. ¡°Now that you have the material saturated it should respond to your will. What purpose would you have it fulfill?¡± The goal here was to get out of the room, so I guessed my purpose was pretty simple. ¡°To not slice my hand open when I grab it, for starters.¡± ¡°In that case, focus on reshaping it to fit that purpose.¡± At first I tried to do it with my hand, squeezing the metal and bending it up until it looked like the end of a candy cane. That didn¡¯t work at all. The rebar bent slowly and not in the ways that I wanted, and it had the unfortunate habit of returning back to its original shape. With physical might not getting me anywhere, I tried a full mental approach, just lightly touching the iron and sort of bending my mental picture of it, taking what I knew and making it into what I wanted. No force. Just will. Slowly, little by little, I flexed my new iron stick. No. This metal was me now. *I* bent. I bent the bar up, curled the end, and blunted the sharp edges to the point where I was pretty sure they wouldn¡¯t cut. The end result was like a toddler-sized, metal tube sock, but it was my toddler-sized metal tube sock. You have created: Crude Knob You have been awarded 5 experience points. [10 base, -5 quality] When I let go and sat up, I was sweating, yet the chill of the air left goose pimples on my flesh. MP: 20/30 Ability: Shape is now level 1. Quest Advanced: Tutorial Tutorial: Learn of your new capabilities (continued). Nali was right there, looking over my work with a discerning eye. ¡°Very good, Ryan,¡± she said, a pained, sympathetic smile on her face. ¡°It is not how I pictured your first time, but I guess it could not be helped. I imagine your Affinity for iron is quite low, considering the amount of time you took. Take note of how much MP this cost you. Certain materials are easier to work with than others depending on its purity and your affinity for said material. We will go over your Affinities and find suitable material for practice later. For now, remember that MP regenerates slowly, depending on your mental state and an assortment of other factors. You may want to rest- ¡° ¡°Oh no! Look out!¡± she shouted, not so much in fear or concern. This was more indignant like someone just tracked mud in on the carpet or left the door to the hab open all night. I, on the other hand, felt the danger acutely. On instinct, I tucked my knees up to my chest, brought up my shoulders, and raised my arms up to protect my head, just before something slammed into me from behind. Sharp talons dug into the flesh of my back, followed by something warm, wet, and sharp clamping down on my shoulder, the fleshy one. Unknown attacks you for 5 damage. Status gained: Bleeding (0.3 HP/sec) ¡°Gaaah!¡± I screamed in an octave I didn¡¯t realize I could hit anymore. Stabbing pain erupted from the flesh of my back, drowning out most rational thought. Like you do when something is chowing down on your back, I immediately entered panic mode. I got to my feet and flailed my arms, hoping the motion would fling the thing off. I spun in a circle, arched my back, and flexed to try and land a blow on whatever was raking me, but I couldn¡¯t get at it. Whatever it was, it felt small, bigger than a house cat but smaller than the bigger breeds of dog, and it was stuck in, its claws dug way down into my flesh. Meanwhile, its jaws sawed back and forth on my shoulder, tearing at the muscle and scraping bone. Blood ran freely down my chest and my arm. You take 1 bleeding damage. The thing on my back burbled happily, reveling in the pain it was causing, or at least, that¡¯s what it sounded like to me. ¡°Nali, what is it?!¡± I screamed. She sighed, the picture of matronly disappointment, hands folded in front of her, frowning at her unruly children. ¡°One of the locals. You¡¯ll need to get it off your back soon, or the blood loss will kill you. This is going to put us further behind schedule.¡± She reached up to rub one of her temples. ¡°Thank you! So helpful!¡± I had no weapons. All I had was my size. My attacker felt small. I was big. I needed to use that. Bending my legs, I jumped as high as I could, into the air, doing a sort of abortive backflip that would bring me down on my neck. Every instinct I had told me not to do this very thing, but I ignored them. My upper back and neck muscles tensed for the landing. Contact with the ground came with a hollow *thud.* A pathetic sounding one, if I¡¯m being honest. I¡¯d landed how I wanted to, but the creature shifted its weight at the last instant, angling the impact with the concrete floor and rolling us to the side. You take 1 impact damage. (-1 mitigated) Unknown takes 3 impact damage. Unknown is stunned. Skill unlocked: Unarmed Combat. Your current skill level is 1. The move still had its intended effect. The thing¡¯s claws retracted, and its jaws seemed to relax slightly. I heard a muffled gurgle accompanied by a long hot exhalation of breath on my back. I scrambled to disentangle myself from the little monster and get some distance. You take 1 bleeding damage. The front of my body was covered in blood, and I had to assume the back wasn¡¯t much better. Sticky redness dripped from my shoulder and ran down my elbow. Desperate not to let the thing get on my back again, I spun around, getting my feet under me afterward. That¡¯s when I got my first good look at my opponent. Its back was to me, but I took in a few things. My size estimate was correct. The creature was about the size of a small child of five, but that¡¯s where the comparison ended. It had midnight black, oily skin, at least on the parts that weren¡¯t covered in dried leathers and jangling bits of bone and teeth. The arms were long and spindly ending in elongated hands with hooked claws that drug along the ground. Jangling hoops of metal clinked together on its thin, protruding ears as the creature shook its oversized head. You take 1 bleeding damage. Scourge Touched Goblin is no longer stunned. When the ¡®goblin¡¯ shook off my stun, its head spun around to look directly at me, so fast I didn¡¯t even see it move. The motion turned it almost 180 degrees around like an owl. It crouched low on thick, overdeveloped legs that bent in too many places, coiling to... Then it was airborne, claws out, teeth bared on a collision course with my face. The goblin¡¯s gaping jaw nearly split its already comically large head in half with how wide it was, showing off little shark teeth that had already done a number on my shoulder. I threw myself to the side, almost catching an outstretched claw as I did, but the goblin only came away with a piece of my shirt. It hit the wall, face first with a wet little slap, but apparently that was part of its diabolical plan. It clung there on pitted concrete like the feat was nothing. Again, its head turned fully around, locking onto me with tiny, black eyes. It yowled, and flicked its tongue in my direction just before it launched itself at my face yet again. You take 1 bleeding damage. This time I had no room to dodge, not that I didn¡¯t try. I stumbled backward, my arms windmilling in front of me, but somewhere in the quarter second it took for the goblin to angle itself and get airborne, I got a bead on its trajectory. *THONK* Critical hit! Scourge Touched Goblin takes 6 bludgeoning damage. (Base 3 + Bonus 3) By chance or through some innate combat reflex I hadn¡¯t realized I had, my enemy¡¯s face collided squarely with my new prosthetic. The move wasn¡¯t a proper jab, since my feet weren¡¯t set, but no one would complain about the results. The goblin¡¯s inertia carried it into the blow. My fist crashed through the monster¡¯s teeth, through its enormous mouth and down the back of its throat until I¡¯d fed the goblin my entire metal forearm. The monster¡¯s beady little eyes widened slightly with panic, and its jaws furiously worked back and forth on my arm trying to tear, trying to bleed. Its claws raked over my shoulder, but, again¡­ that part of me was no longer made of meat. It never even occurred to the creature to stop trying to kill me. It just bit and bit and clawed until it died, probably of asphyxiation or some internal bleeding. It took a disturbingly long time. Scourge Touched Goblin defeated. You have been awarded 6 experience points. [10 base (+2 level, +2 nemesis, -8 non-combat class)] You take 1 bleeding damage. Chapter 2 - Glitch the Tutorial Chapter 2 - Glitch the Tutorial Choking a nightmare creature to death from the inside was not how I¡¯d envisioned this day going, not that I¡¯d had any time to envision anything since Integration. ¡°Nali?¡± I croaked as I let my arms slump down, my fist still caught in the dead goblin¡¯s throat. Instantaneously, the hologram was there, a polite distance away with her hands folded in front of her. Her cheery disposition was back. ¡°Yes, Ryan?¡± I looked down at the twitching, black, oversized fingertrap dangling from my fist. The muscles in the creature¡¯s jaw held on tightly, even after death. I shook the corpse, letting the gangly arms flop around bonelessly. The goblin¡¯s charms and earrings clacked and jingled with the motion. ¡°What the hell is this?¡± I asked in a calm tone I wasn¡¯t really feeling. You take 1 bleeding damage. Status removed: Bleeding. HP 13/25 ¡°You will need to be m-more specific, Ryan. What can I help you with?¡± Her face froze, mid-blink, and the program seemed to play the frames of the animation over and over again giving it a surreal blur. ¡°Is this,¡± I pointed at my disgusting new bracelet. ¡°a part of your tutorial? Do you keep, like, a stable of goblins around for people like me?¡± Her head flashed between tilted and straight a handful of times, but then whatever glitch she was experiencing passed. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did you say something?¡± ¡°Scourge. Touched. Goblin.¡± I pronounced every word carefully. The adrenaline was ebbing now, leaving me a little giddy. ¡°Is it-¡± Nali¡¯s eyes shot down to the goblin, and her expression turned from eager and helpful to horrified in a flash. Then she was gone. Stunned, I blinked the Nali shaped tracers out of my eyes. ¡°Nali?¡± I called out, turning to see if she had reappeared somewhere else, but the room was empty and a shade darker than it had been. I was alone. The leaves rustled overhead and cast moving shadows over the walls and through the windows that seemed to hold more dangerous potential than before. It was still eerily quiet here, something that unnerved me greatly and for reasons I couldn¡¯t articulate. Then I was far away, in a domed hab with tin patched walls. I was small, a child maybe. In my lap there was a little device with a screen where I played some game or another. Terratech or an emulation of it. There was a bin of discarded wire and circuit boards beneath my bed where I¡¯d hidden my recycled toy sword I wasn¡¯t allowed to have anymore. The wind howled outside. Gusts slammed into the walls over and over again bowing the metal, little pops of loose sheeting shifting in their frames, but I wasn¡¯t worried. The hab walls would flex and bend, but the engineers that designed the building knew their stuff. No, my eyes were only for the screen. For the game. I coughed, suddenly remembering to breathe again, where I was. My mind was a mess. Nothing in my head connected with anything else in a way that made sense. Disorientation, as Nali put it. Sure would be nice to have something like a tutorial admin here to ask questions. ¡°Nali?¡± I called again, but no holographic woman appeared to help me. I waited for a silent minute, hoping she would return. Nothing. Just alien birdsong. I closed my eyes and let out a slow breath, nodding as I turned the situation over in my head. Obviously, I couldn¡¯t wait around for help to come to me. Nothing about this place was conducive to my continued existence, from the age, to the structure, to the fauna. First order of business was safety. Then I could worry about the little stuff like who I was and what happened to me. Of course, I couldn¡¯t go about my business dragging a dead goblin around on my arm. Despite its size, the extra poundage was starting to weigh me down, and the metal parts of my body were already doing that before Chompy came into my life. I reached over and slid my hand under the goblin¡¯s jaw to try and pry it open, slipping my fingers into the gaps where the teeth had been knocked out. As I touched the creature¡¯s gums, a text window popped up in my vision. Loot Scourge Touched Goblin? Y/N This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. I felt my eyebrows climb way, way up my forehead. Loot, you say? The word sent a tingle through my body, but the feeling was tainted by general disgust. While I enjoyed the concept of loot (who didn¡¯t?) I was currently rubbing the gums of a dead monster stuck to my arm. Plus, I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted to know what kind of loot this thing would produce. It already produced more than enough, mostly mystery fluids and foul smells. Even so, my curiosity won the day. My quest was to learn what I was capable of, afterall, and it would delay me having to pry the little chomper off my arm. Why not? I chose ¡®Y¡¯ There was a colorful distortion in the air between me and the corpse, a kind of warp in the light like you might see while staring through oily stained glass. Just above my hand, the smudge of light coalesced into a single cohesive shape, a long cylinder tipped with a triangular bit. The shape solidified into something crooked and pointy, then fell to the ground, rattling and clattering over the floor. I was also ¡®gifted¡¯ a dirty leather loincloth, a necklace of tiny bones, and a handful of earrings, all of which appeared over my hand and fell, one after the other to bounce off the goblin¡¯s cranium then to the concrete. Something in the corpse gave way. The goblin, now free, slid wetly off my metal fist and plopped down to the ground next to its loot. Squinting, I raised my wet metal hand up to my face and examined it for any damage, of which there was none. The surface looked slimy but unmarked. Okay. New arm is made of tough stuff. Noted. I crouched down and examined my ¡®booty,¡¯ carefully so as not to reopen the wounds on my back. Though I could not see them, I was pretty sure my injuries were merely seeping blood now instead of the free flow of before. Whatever the System did to help me heal, it was great. I just didn¡¯t want to move too quickly and end up with the bleeding status again. Goblin Spear: A spear crafted in the style of goblins. That is to say, poorly, using whatever was lying around. Damage: 1 to 4 (Piercing) Quality: Poor Style: Primitive The System wasn¡¯t lying when it said the quality was poor. The haft was crooked and too thin for me to comfortably grip, and the head was made of teeth fastened with leather cords and glued with some kind of resin. The length was all wrong too. It felt more like a prison shank than a real weapon. The rest of the loot was of the ¡°why would I want that¡± variety, from a dirty loincloth to various bones and crude jewelry. I turned my gaze back to the goblin, lying on its back now with its mouth wide open and arms trapped beneath it. I hadn¡¯t put it together before, but the looting process had stripped the little guy naked. Yeah, I¡¯m not touching that loincloth. Don¡¯t care if the System magicked it up for me. Testing the spear, I gave it a tentative thrust and confirmed that it was far too small to work in a way with which I was accustomed. The shaft was practically a twig, too small to grip. I tried it again in my metal hand to see if it was any different, clutching it hard so as not to let it slip, but I gave up after another couple test thrusts. Changing tactics, I held it up to see if I could disassemble it and use the parts for something. Core ability: Consume Consume Goblin Spear? Y/N The message hadn¡¯t come up until I¡¯d held the thing up in my metal hand. What¡¯s more, now that I was doing so, I could feel something in my chest, the metal part where my heart was supposed to be, a faint emptiness that¡­ wanted. Do I have a heart anymore? I shook my head, dispelling any inclinations I might have to go down that road. I needed to change my situation, then think about the implications of all this. Consume. On the one hand, my inner dragon said I¡¯d just gotten this stupid spear, a trophy hard won through mortal combat. The goblin tried to kill me, but I killed him. I deserved it. Furthermore, it was my only weapon, terrible as it was. Then again, I couldn¡¯t imagine killing anything with my shiny, gross, tooth-spear. It wouldn¡¯t be much of a loss to see it go, and I needed to explore what I was capable of to advance the tutorial quest. I held the spear up and selected Y. *FWOOMF* The entire spear disintegrated into glowing orange embers that streamed down into a starburst-shaped aperture in the palm of my metal hand. I felt the heat from the process on my face, hot enough to make me flinch away. Then it was gone. Goblin Spear consumed. Gained status: Engine [1 MP/sec] You gain knowledge of material: Mendau Wood [1/10] You gain knowledge of material: Goblin Teeth [1/10] You gain knowledge of material: Resin [1/10] Core Ability: Consume is now level 1 A tiny thrill passed through my body, warm and energizing. Quest Advanced: Tutorial Tutorial: Learn of your new capabilities (continued). ¡°Greetings, Chosen!¡± I practically leapt out of my skin, exploding to my feet, arms in a guard position and ready to fight. My heart burned in my chest. ¡°I- I apologize for frightening you, Ch- Chosen,¡± Nali chirped. She¡¯d appeared behind me again, slightly to my left. She looked exactly as she had before in her work uniform and with that stupid, polite smile. ¡°Integration alwayssssss causes some disorientation, and I¡¯ve always found it best to get the initial greeting out of the way and get- get to it.¡± I dropped my hands to my sides and took a cautious step forward. ¡°Nali, what¡¯s going on?¡± I asked. ¡°Ah, so you know my name, Defile- Ch- Chosen, so I can assume you know my purpose then. This will make things faster. Let¡¯s begin the tutorial, shall we?¡± ¡°Uh. Nali what are you talking about?¡± My head did that confused tilt thing, as if leaning on that side of my brain would help me cognitively. ¡°Your tutorial, Chossssen. Let¡¯s begin by bringing up your st-status screen.¡± ¡°Nali,¡± I interjected, taking a cautious step forward. ¡°We¡¯ve done this before.¡± ¡°Oh?¡± Her eyes flashed back and forth, reading something I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Yes- Yes- I see an emergency restoration in my logs. I apologize for any confusion. What s-step of the tutorial are we on?¡± ¡°We- uh. We went over Shaping and then this.¡± I gestured down at the goblin. ¡°This happened.¡± Nali did that flash-step thing where she went from standing in the corner to crouching down next to the corpse without the in-between steps. ¡°I-I-I- No-¡± Nali began, but she never got to finish. In a flash of light she was gone again, and I was back to being alone. Chapter 3 - Dispose of Chompy Chapter 3 - Dispose of Chompy I ended up throwing the goblin¡¯s corpse from the ledge, not because of the smell, though that was certainly a factor, but because I also needed to gauge the distance to the floor below. I wasn¡¯t about to trust Nali¡¯s estimate of 20 feet, not when I had *science* on my side. The plan was to count the seconds it took for my goblin corpse to reach the ground below, which would accomplish a couple things at once. I would know how much a drop from my platform would hurt, for one. Additionally, it seemed that the corpse upset my AI tutorial lady, and I needed to be rid of it to get any answers. So, Chompy had to go. Before my little friend took the tumble, I made sure to strip him of the valuables the System didn¡¯t use to make the loot, such as the teeth and claws. The teeth were easy, since they were barely rooted in the gums at all. I¡¯d read somewhere that some types of predatory fish were like that, losing and growing teeth all the time. Maybe goblins were similar. The claws were a different story. The first one I tried, I simply pulled to get the entire thing, but they must have been an extension of the goblin¡¯s bone structure. They absolutely refused to be separated from their owner without taking the entire finger with it. If my stomach had been anything but empty, things would have been even more of a mess. Consuming the stuff was a learning experience. You gain knowledge of material: Goblin Claw [7/10] You gain knowledge of material: Goblin Teeth [10/10] Core Ability gained: Detect Goblin [Radius: 10 feet] Affinity Type: Goblinoid is now level 1 Goblin material now burns more efficiently. [5%] Apparently, Consuming enough of something gave me bonuses. Good to know. I didn¡¯t know what Goblinoid affinity was. Under Affinities on my Status Screen, it was the only one on the list, which I was sure was empty before. Consuming additional teeth didn¡¯t do anything for me except adding a couple seconds to my Engine buff, so I saved the rest in a pile to use later. After getting all I could out of my slain opponent, it was time to dispose of him. The couple seconds it took for the corpse to reach the ground below felt far too long, and the sound it made on impact was a rolling series of cracks and thuds that told me the terrain down there was extremely uneven. If I tried to make that jump, I¡¯d break an ankle or a leg, and that would just be the beginning of the fun. The idea to climb up and out of the windows and into the trees had occurred to me, but if the goblin¡¯s initial attack trajectory was anything to go by, he hit me from above. That probably meant he came in through a window, and the thought of fighting another one of them while dangling from a tree just felt like asking to fall to my death but, this time, with company. No. Chompy Drop told me my original plan was the way to go. I needed to climb my way over to one of the doors that fed into my room and find a different way down, preferably a stairwell. The distance from my isolated ledge to the nearest exit was about twenty feet, and to make that distance I would need to Shape maybe eight or so rebar handholds like I did before. I checked my status screen. Ryan Kotes - Level 0 Type: Artificer (Common) Class: Animator (Uncommon) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 14/25 MP: 30+/30 Body: 10 Mind: 12 Spirit: 9 Abilities+ Skills+ Affinities+ Current Stat Effects: Engine (Duration: ~18 min) My HP had regenerated only a point over time, but my MP was back to full thanks to my ¡®Engine¡¯ buff. Nali hadn¡¯t had a chance to tell me about that, but if I was going to get mana for destroying my loot, I wasn¡¯t going to argue. It was only right that I be compensated for feeding my hard won stuff to my arm, which I suspected was part of the Core in my status screen. I was at my cap on MP at this point, so wasted time would be wasted mana. Okay. Enough stalling. I got down low on my belly again to reach the first handhold I needed to Shape. The floor had some give to it this close to the edge. It bounced up and down as I slithered forward. Below me, little crumbles of concrete debris rained down into the pit with hollow clacks and snaps as they made their landing. With a reverberating twang, something gave way as I reached out to touch my first target, and the platform suddenly dipped half an inch. My heart leapt as I experienced the sudden sensation of falling, only for the floor to quickly find its new equilibrium and stabilize itself. Reason number two it¡¯s not safe to stay here. I blew out a shaky breath and reached out again, slowly, to grab onto the iron bar. Again, I concentrated on the Shape ability, letting the icy flow of power leave my center and travel down my arm to permeate the metal. Then it was a part of me. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. I didn¡¯t try to physically bend it this time. Instead I willed myself to bend, to become the desired shape. This particular bit of iron had it bad, nearly rusted through on the end closest to me, which made working with it more difficult. The rust was positively manaphobic the way it resisted saturation, so I was forced to work around it. In the end, I folded the weak parts of the bar over on themselves again and again until the good stuff and the oxidized bits mixed together like very unappetizing chocolate. The finished product would be theoretically weaker on the whole, but I only needed it to hold up my weight, not a building. By the time I was done, my Engine buff duration was down to five minutes. I was breathing hard, like I¡¯d just run a mile or so, and sweat dampened my hair and trickled down my nose. I had a functional handhold to show for my effort, though. The rebar now had a ridged, ovular shape to it, perfect for gripping. My MP was still at full, which was nice. Engine seemed like a fantastic way to reduce my downtime. I needed to keep it up as much as I could. I slid forward and reached for the next handhold, determined to keep at it at least until Engine ran out. ¡ª--- Thirty minutes later I was on my fifth session of Shaping. My metal arm proved downright handy for extended gripping of things, but it did have its limits. Out of curiosity, I¡¯d tried to use my curious prosthetic to Shape like I did my natural appendage, but the mana inside of me didn¡¯t seem to want to travel that way. I would get that cold, fresh feeling in the arm (odd in itself since it probably didn¡¯t have nerves), but when I willed the energy to leave the arm and saturate something outside of me, I got nothing. Skill Unlocked: Climbing Your current skill level is 1. So, the metal left hand served as my anchor while my right did the magic, which made what I was trying to do an awkward job. Traversing the wall to the left like I was, my leading hand wasn¡¯t the one I needed to do the shaping, so I had to do a sort of crossover that diminished my reach to just a couple feet at a time, slowing my progress and increasing the number of Shapings I had to do. Physical and mental stress were taking its toll upon me. I was down to 9 MP, and this particular rebar was proving more stubborn than the last, practically made of rust as it was. My mind was entirely occupied trying to get Shape to do what I wanted, folding and massaging the workable material and dodging the impurities, but something made me stop. I paused, drawing my conscious thoughts out of the rebar, letting my senses take priority in my mind. My eyes slid over the moving fingers of the shadows cast by the trees, deeper now that it was later in the day. I felt the chill in the air on my sweat drenched body and soaked clothes. There was nothing. No birdsong. No insects. The world was practically still. I shuddered. Then I heard it. A sound down below, in the pit. Faint, wet, slurping, tearing. The muffled crunch of bone. Wheezing breaths punctuated by basso gulps and grumbles as something was swallowed. The noises echoed through the building, bouncing off the trembling bones of the place. I didn¡¯t dare move. I held my breath. I hung and waited. Skill Unlocked: Stealth Your current skill level is 1. ¡°Greetings, Chosen!¡± My heart sank and the ability to breathe left me momentarily. Slowly, I turned my head to my right, to the platform where Nali stood in all her stupid, glowing glory. ¡°I apologize for f-frightening you, Chosen,¡± she beamed with wide, unblinking eyes and a toothy smile. ¡°Integration always causes some dis- dis- tribulations, and I¡¯ve always found it best to get- get the initial greeting out of the way and get to the m-m- ¨C eat of it.¡± The ensuing silence was deafening. I peered down into the pit, squinting to try and get some more use out of my eyes. The contrast between the light levels on the top floor and down below were too great, and my eyes couldn¡¯t adjust. Just a hint of motion was all I caught before a rock the size of my head sailed out of the darkness and smashed into the underside of the floor in front of me. Unknown attacks you and misses. The structure groaned and shifted with the blow, leaning sideways and shedding some of the brittle concrete blocks that it had been holding up all these years. Nali continued, oblivious to my troubles or her own. The smile never left her face as the platform she stood upon gave way with a snap and twang. The slab folded in half as the edges let go of the supporting walls, and the whole thing slid downward, slowly at first but picking up speed quickly. ¡°I¡¯m sure you have many questions, but if you allow me, I think this tutorial can establish a b- bas base level of understanding so that your quest- questions are more productive.¡± Nali kept speaking even as she passed by me and slipped down into the pit with her platform. When the giant slab hit the bottom, there was an explosion of gray dust and the entire structure seemed to shift. I stared down into the pit with horror, mouth agape. My heart skipped several beats. A monstrous groan shook the building. I could feel it through my hands. In light of these new developments, I was ready to call the handhold project a success and try for the door. I flexed my flesh fingers and wrapped them around the rusted metal spike I had yet to Shape. It gave slightly, but I had no other options. The time to leave was now. I let go with my metal hand and swung wide, reaching for the farthest bit of rebar I could, the muscles in my arm and back straining with the effort. My fingers caught one of the bars on the first swing, but when I tightened my fist the brittle iron just came off in my hand. The surprise and my physical weakness almost killed me, nearly making me lose my grip. The building rocked and swayed around me. The windowed wall to the outside tumbled outward, coming apart in the process. An avalanche of rubble tumbled toward the ground outside, smashing through ancient tree boughs before reaching the bottom with a cacophonous crash. A deep, ululating cry I could feel in my insides echoed from the pit. There was a crack, and another projectile that probably weighed as much as I did whooshed past me then into and through the canopy of leaves. The air displaced by the flying rock whipped my hair back out of my eyes. Unknown attacks you and misses. It was time to go. I got my hands back on solid holds, braced my legs against the wall, and jumped, propelling myself left with every muscle and new prosthetic servo I could spare. I sailed through the air, reaching, stretching with everything I had. For a moment, mid-air, I glanced down into the pit, and, through the thickening cloud of debris and dust, I caught the reflection of a pair of huge, wide-set eyes. Then it was time to have the wind knocked out of me. My jump had been good, better than I had hoped, and that had placed me in the awkward position of having my upper body on the level with the doorway and my lower half catching on what was supposed to be the support beam for the floor, just a rusted nub after so much time but enough to ruin my day. I landed on said support beam stomach first, doubling over and feeling the wind leave my mouth with a woosh, but I didn¡¯t fall. No, I was too busy seeing spots and scrambling to get up and out of the ruined room. Your Climbing skill is now level 2. I pulled myself through the door and into an adjoining hallway. The imminent collapse hadn¡¯t been kind to the floor of this room either, but I wasn''t in a position to go find another way. I only had eyes for the end of the hall. There, above a vine-covered window, in faded, flaking paint was a picturogram of a set of stairs. My arm ached, and my diaphragm was frantically trying to restart my respiratory process, but I ran. I ran as fast as I could, not pausing as certain bits of the floor gave way under my feet. I tripped and fell on jagged rock, but I was up in less than a heartbeat. The adrenaline had control of me now. I was an animal fleeing a predator. I felt nothing but the desire to be away. I just kept running, scrambling over all obstacles until I stood next to the stairwell. The door had no handle. The building shifted again. Giant cracks crawled vertically up the walls, and the floor rippled. Down. I had to get down. I paused for two breaths and kicked the door to the stairwell open. I wished I hadn¡¯t. The smell of rotted meat, so foul and so strong I could taste it, practically hit me in the face. Even sweating as I was, I felt the moisture in the air like it was a physical thing, thick and cloying. Beyond the little rectangle of light my door allowed into the room, it was pitch black, but I saw enough. Something viscous coated the floor and walls, and stringy tendrils of tar slowly stretched themselves down from the top of the doorjamb. They didn¡¯t rock or sway with the motion of the building. Instead, they reached for me as they stretched, like the tentacles of a jellyfish. The stairwell plan was right the f**k out. No way. With a groan, the floor below me dropped a full yard before having its momentum arrested by something below. I looked to the window, now at chest level for me. Beyond was a sea of green. A tree must have grown right next to this place, not as tall as its brethren but tall enough to reach me up here. Again, the floor sagged underneath me, forcing me to act. I clambered up and onto the window sill and jumped. Chapter 4 - Get Some Answers Chapter 4 - Get Some Answers My entire world was green. Once I jumped from the window sill, out into the open, I was assaulted with green. Leaves batted against my face and branches scratched at my skin as gravity did its thing, helping me barrel, face first, through the verdant beauty of Ralqir. Luckily, several thick branches were there to partially arrest my momentum. I fought the instinct to shrink in on myself and get small so I wouldn¡¯t take too many lacerations from the sharper bits of wood, but I needed to break my fall. I spread my arms wide and tensed my muscles in an attempt to grab onto something. I broke through the first of the larger branches like it was nothing, snapping it under me and bringing it along for the fall, but the next caught me in the right shoulder. The impact slowed me slightly, spinning me around and angling me so that my feet were now falling first. My metal arm caught the next one, snapping the wood but still keeping me from plummeting at terminal velocity. Then I met the big one, the bough of my tree. It stopped me cold, so cold I blacked out long enough to slide off my perch and hit the ground. You take 1 impact damage. You take 3 impact damage. You are stunned. Mercifully, there was no pain on impact. My nervous system was in the middle of a hard reboot after the run in with the tree, and my pain receptors decided they needn¡¯t bother. I came back to my senses sometime later amid a thick carpet of damp, decaying leaves and rotting sticks. Slowly, painfully, and with great effort, I sat up. My body ached in a dozen places, and it took real effort to focus on any particular thing. I blinked something gritty out of my eye, hoping to make things clearer, but it didn¡¯t help. The building collapsed entirely during my time on the ground, probably coming down just as I did. The collapse had expelled a dusty, white haze that hung over everything in sight, tainting the air with an irritating pollution that affected the eyes and lungs. The big creature that had brought the building down was nowhere to be seen, thank Constance. I silently prayed it died in the collapse, but I wasn¡¯t about to go check to confirm. Green and black shadows danced on the ground everywhere. The tree that saved my life and simultaneously tried to kill me was the smallest one I¡¯d seen so far, only about fifty feet tall. Everywhere else, for miles there were tree trunks as thick as entire family sized habs. Their bark, uniformly rough and knobby, was streaked with multiple colors, though it was hard to tell which colors with specificity. Since the building had come down, all was quiet again. The racket probably frightened off all the animals for miles, which I was thankful for. I didn¡¯t need to deal with curious wildlife as well as a severely limited pool of HP. I coughed up something milky flecked with red. Didn¡¯t Nali say something about me being more durable? The silence, heavy and oppressive, still unnerved me, but I was too tired and sore to give it more than a small portion of my attention. It did remind me that I was exposed out here, though. My HP was down to 10 of 25, and I felt that any further fighting or falling would be too much of a risk, at least until I rested. Unfortunately, if there were more hostile creatures out there, the fight would come to me soon enough. What I needed was a weapon or a shield, something to give me a chance against things with claws and teeth. I got to my feet, slowly, holding a particularly tender part of my ribs and staggered over to the pile of still settling rubble that used to be the tutorial facility. The falling upper floors had blown out a good portion of the walls down here, exposing the bones of the building, mangled steel beams and girders as well as a veritable forest of exposed rebar. Okay. If video games taught me anything, it¡¯s to steal everything that¡¯s not nailed down. A gurgling shout sounded out faintly from somewhere in the distance. I held my breath and got low. Okay. Steal everything I can get away with then. Crouching, I shuffled through the underbrush, steering far around the part of the building that had been the slime-covered stairwell. The thought of accidentally uncovering that muck again in my search for metal gave me the shivers. The smell was something I would not soon forget. Eventually, I made my way to the corner of the building and crept until I could put my hand on metal. Before I began, though, I fed something to my core. Consume: Rotting Branch? Y/N Rotting Branch consumed. Gained status: Engine [1 MP/sec] You gain knowledge of material: Mendau Wood [2/10] My MP immediately ticked up from 10 and kept going until it capped out at 30. Saturating the exposed rebar wasn¡¯t nearly as hard this time. These specimens weren¡¯t nearly as rusted like the ones upstairs. The purity of the metal seemed to matter a great deal in how fast I could Shape them. For the moment, I focused on getting pieces of iron free from the rubble, massaging their shape until they were thin enough in the right places to extract. This only worked on the unbent rebar, of which there was depressingly little I made a discovery in my search. Consume: Iron? Y/N Iron consumed. You gain knowledge of material: Iron [1/10] This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. My metal hand that let me use my Core ability seemed to be able to consume other, less organic material than I¡¯d tried before. I couldn¡¯t do it with anything big, just a few pounds of matter. The piece I¡¯d consumed was just a broken bit of iron I¡¯d managed to free from its concrete prison. When I held it in my core hand, the System had given me the option to Consume it. Consuming iron didn¡¯t refresh the Engine buff, but it did let me know that my core really could eat the stuff. Last time I¡¯d consumed a lot of something, I unlocked an affinity, so I had a new immediate goal. I set about finding smaller chunks of metal and feeding them into my Core. You gain knowledge of material: Iron [2/10] You gain knowledge of material: Iron [3/10] You gain knowledge of material: Steel [1/10] The chunks weren¡¯t too hard to find. The collapse had been energetic, and my Core didn¡¯t seem to differentiate between crappy rusted iron and the good stuff. Steel was more rare, probably because it was all on the inside of the building and stronger. Eventually, I got the message I was looking for: You gain knowledge of material: Iron [10/10] Core Ability gained: Detect Iron [Radius: 10 feet] Affinity Type: Iron is now level 1 Iron mana conductivity increased. [10%] Consume is now level 2. Increased efficiency of Consume. Another growl, much closer this time, seemed to echo through the forest. Worse, not one but two other guttural voices picked up the call and repeated it. I was quickly running out of time. ¡°Greetings, Chosen!¡± Nali¡¯s eager voice called to me again. I turned toward where I¡¯d heard her. This time, the projection was on a relatively intact piece of wall that had fallen outward from the building. The cloud of dust made the woman look ghostly, out of focus and indistinct. ¡°I apologize for frightening you, Defi- Chosen. Integration always causes some dis- tribulations, and I¡¯ve always found it b- best to get the initial greeting out of the way and get to the meat of it.¡± ¡°Nali, I don''t¡¯ know what¡¯s going on here, but I really need some answers,¡± I said, glancing over my shoulder, making sure the locals hadn¡¯t arrived yet. ¡°You k- know my name,¡± Nali said with a little smile, no surprise or confusion evident in her expression. ¡°My logs state that I have undergonnnnnne several emergency re-recoveries in a short time. I apologize for any confusion this may have caused. Let ussss-s begin the tutorial, shall we?¡± ¡°Wait! No. Please.¡± I nearly lunged forward in a futile attempt at grabbing the holographic woman before she could continue her script, but I restrained myself. There was no time to go through this again, and the AI woman was a font of useful information, in theory. ¡°How about we start with a couple questions?¡± I asked. ¡°I assure you that the tutorial will answer many of the quest- questions you might have right now, Chosen.¡± ¡°Yes. I understand that,¡± I said, racking my brain for something to say that would get her off track but in a direction I needed. I would probably need to keep it relevant to the tutorial she was programmed to administer. Haltingly, casting worried glances over my shoulder, I posed my first question. ¡°Let¡¯s say you have to do another emergency restoration in the middle of my tutorial. What would cause something like that?¡± Nali, folded her hands in front of her and adopted a lecturing tone. ¡°A satellite intelligence such as myself only needs to restore itself to a previous save state if a significant corruption of function has occurred.¡± ¡°How does that happen?¡± ¡°There are a handful of ways such as major cosmic events, psychic tampering, mutliversal collision, or void corruption. Rest assured, though, that safeguards are in place to make sure I am always functional and here to help you start your new life. Perhaps you would like to start by opening your status screen, and we can go over what it can do.¡± ¡°Hold on. How would you know if you were experiencing the uh¡­ corruption of function?¡± ¡°That is a complic- difficult answer, Chosen. O-One you are probably not qualified to understand. However, there is a s-self check that I perform every moment I am awake that must be passed or the restore failsafe begins. This also happens if I encounter data dat- d- information that indicates my intelligence has been corrupted. This failsafe is hardwired into me so that even if I was ssssseverely corrupted, I would still be restored.¡± ¡°Okay, so something triggered your failsafe earlier, and now I¡¯m speaking with the last good save of your program, right?¡± ¡°C-Correct. If that is all-¡± ¡°I was attacked in the tutorial area. A goblin,¡± I said carefully, tensing in anticipation for when Nali would disappear on me, but she didn¡¯t. I went on. ¡°Can you tell me about them?¡± ¡°Yes, Chosen, but this is also not part of the tutorial.¡± ¡°Humor me, please.¡± She stood up straight and adopted a lecturing cadence as she gave me my answer. ¡°There are certain species in the multiverse that are nearly ubiquitous. Goblins are one of them. If a universe supports life and has any magical potential, goblins will inevitably spawn in some form or another. This universe is no exception, though I have had few encounters with goblins in my time here. They are vicious, jealous creatures with enough intelligence to make them dangerous but not enough to ever advance as a species beyond low-level industrialization.¡± ¡°The one I encountered had ¡®scourge touched¡¯ in its name. Is that-¡± Nali flickered, a look of horror frozen on her face. Then she was gone. I sighed. So that was it. Though I would have liked to get more information out of her, I had accomplished one of my two goals with that conversation. I knew now that the mention of ¡°scourge touched¡± triggered Nali¡¯s failsafe. What the term meant, I didn¡¯t know yet, but I would eventually. Staying here wasn¡¯t an option, not until the heat died down. I¡¯d ticked up to 11 HP, but it cost me that much HP just fighting my first goblin. If these new creatures that were closing in were anything like that, I¡¯d be done. Something fell to the forest floor with a crunch, followed by quiet hooting overhead. Out of time. I cursed my short sightedness for feeding the iron I found into my Core instead of Shaping it into a half-useable weapon. I cast around for one last piece, something I could take with me and work on later, but the shifting shadows and ever darkening conditions made it almost impossible. I hadn¡¯t seen the sun yet on this world, but it had to be nearly over the horizon. My heart throbbed in my chest and my breaths came in panicked, painful wheezes. It was time to go. Howls echoed around me, so close I was sure I would look up and see beady little goblin eyes. My hand landed on something cold and thin. I switched to my metal left arm and gave it a hard tug. Nothing. I put my weight into the next pull, yanking on it with all I had. The metal didn¡¯t come away from the structure. Instead, I disturbed something in the pile of rubble. Near the peak of the pile, a slab of concrete as big as I was cracked and came away from the whole with a wet *SHLORP* before sliding down toward me at speed. I dove backward just before the slab rammed into the ground, kicking up a cloud of dead plant matter and debris. Tiny bits of fibrous mulch hit me in the face and slid down my shirt, and my boots were practically buried under the displaced soil. The strange darkness of the forest floor was playing tricks on my vision, the way the shadows danced over everything, but as I lifted my gaze up to where the slab had been, I instinctively knew there was something wrong there. Hair thin tendrils, blacker than black undulated in the gap left in the wreckage, thousands of them independently dancing on invisible currents of something that wasn¡¯t the breeze. They stretched upward, long and sinuous, slowly rising into the air and slithering about as if feeling for something. Then the smell hit me. The smell of rotting meat so intense it might as well have been an attack. The smell had been seared into my mind earlier in the day, just before my dive out of the window. I looked down at the concrete chunk that had almost broken my legs. A black streak traced its slide down the rubble pile, and it, too, was moving. More inky hairs sprouted from behind the big block, creeping around from all sides. It was definitely time to go. Tearing my eyes away from whatever it was, I turned and ran. The hoots and howls echoed in the dark, following me deeper into the forest. Chapter 5 - Run with Vince Chapter 5 - Run with Vince ----------- Proxis 3 - Before Integration: ¡°Make them hurt, then run for home. No noise. No stragglers.¡± I barely caught the tail end of the conversation over the wind as my head crested the lip of the ridge. My hand shot forward, questing for some kind of handhold in the shallow gravel only to find thorny hagbrush roots that dug into the tips of my fingers. Painful and irritating for sure, but at this point, I¡¯d take anything to hold onto, exhausted as I was. I ground my teeth and used what meager strength I had left to haul myself into position on the lip of the ridge. My payload, or more accurately, my pack stuffed with a pair of silicon promegel bladders, sloshed lazily with the motion of my body. All night, it seemed to randomly oscillate between trying to drag me back down the slope or press me uncomfortably into the jagged rocks. My torture was near an end, though, at least for now. I puffed out a pair of preparatory breaths as I hung there, gathering my courage for the final effort. Then it was time to pull, and pull I did. I strained my muscles hard, rising one tiny, excruciating, victorious inch at a time. My breaths came in shallow, strained gasps, and my pulse pounded in my head. Then my feet left the slope below, and for one heartstopping second, I dangled there, just my arm and a tenuously attached shrub root between me and a long fall. Eventually, an eternity later, my torso reached the tipping point. Then the laws of physics dictated I would now have my face pressed into the dirt as the promegel bladders flowed up to the top of my bag and transferred all of their weight to my head. My goggles ground into the tiny, jagged pebbles of the wind-worn mountaintop, every tiny movement scraping more of the protective coating off of the lenses. My arm shook, and my legs still kicked at open air, but I was there. I¡¯d made it. On some level, I knew I¡¯d arrive late to the party, outpaced as I was and burdened by my precious cargo, but in my heart of hearts, I¡¯d hoped to at least be able to rise to the challenge and finish with the kind of stoic badassery you might see from the action movie stars of old. Well, I made the climb. So there was that. As for the cool factor- I¡¯d seen toddlers do this better, but still, I made it! Someone must have noticed my struggle, because I was quickly hauled up on my feet, easily like I weighed nothing at all. ¡°You okay, Ryan?¡± Vince, my rescuer, straightened me up and put his hands on my shoulders. He had to hunch down slightly to look me in the face, although I use that verb loosely. Neither of us could see much more than vague impressions of the other on a night like this, dark as it was. Vince was an expressive guy, though, having inherited his mom¡¯s high cheekbones and wide eyes and his dad¡¯s generously proportioned mouth that only got more generous when we hit our late teens. I could see the pity in his expression and the guilt. He¡¯d probably wanted to help me earlier, but he knew I¡¯d wanted to do this on my own, if only to prove I could. I nodded and shrugged off the bigger boy¡¯s grip. ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± I declared between gasps, standing up straight and pretending to feel better than I did. My legs burned like fire. They burned like I¡¯d just run all night against the wind, over rocky, untamed wilderness and finished up with a near vertical climb 300 feet to our little mountaintop rendezvous, because that¡¯s exactly what I¡¯d done, what we¡¯d all done. My arm throbbed in time with my pulse, and I felt the hot, bruising sensation of torn muscle fibers in my bicep. It was most likely turning an unhealthy shade of purple right now, but my jacket would hide my shame until it didn¡¯t matter anymore. ¡°Really, I¡¯m good. What did I miss?¡± Behind Vince, a dozen pairs of eyes, narrow and calculating, slid over me, probing for weakness of which they found plenty. I didn¡¯t need a lot of light to guess the other boys¡¯ dirty, wind-scoured faces were set in unforgiving scowls. The others lacked the patience and charity Vince harbored for me, but none of them had the inclination to voice their objections to my presence aloud. Instead, they gripped their weapons protectively with tattooed fingers, uncomfortable with the crippled heretic even laying eyes upon their blessed heirlooms. At least I didn¡¯t slow them down, not that they¡¯d slow down for me anyway. Vince scoffed in that way that said he knew I was lying, but he¡¯d let it be for now. He grinned confidently, turning to make sure the other boys could see. ¡°We were just waiting on the pyrotechnics to get here, cousin,¡± he said loud enough to be heard over the howling wind as he slapped me on the shoulder. Then he leaned in, his voice only for me this time. ¡°Come on. I need your eyes.¡± He didn¡¯t wait for my assent. Instead, Vince loped forward, through the crowd of boys, slapping several on the shoulders on his way past, and then he disappeared into the dark on the far side of the ridge.The scrub brush parted for him the same way people did. It probably never occurred to him that I might not follow where he led. Of course, I followed, or I tried to. My legs were already starting to stiffen up now that the climb was done, making my steps awkward and exaggerated. None of the Clan boys moved to let me pass. They didn¡¯t even twitch. I wasn¡¯t going to let them intimidate me, though. As I wove through the center of the group, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to make eye contact. Instead I made note of what our little band would be using tonight. It was a who¡¯s who of prominent warrior families and their signature weapons. I recognized Brendon as he cradled his father¡¯s antique las-gun like it was a small child, all wrapped in furs and bound with leather cords to keep the worst of the weather from touching it. Pruitt by his knuckle claws. The others could have been from a handful of families with their spears, axes, and straight swords. Their expressions ran from absolute indifference to sneering contempt. To those, I was a stray dog begging for scraps from their tables. One of them spat. He had the good grace not to do it on me (I was upwind), but the sentiment was there. No family heirloom rested on my belt, no specialized focus passed down to me from my parents. All that hung from my belt was a canteen and a multitool. Just seeing me try to wield any of the chosen instruments would send the more devout Clan elders into fits, offering prayers to Constance to intercede with the System on our behalf and strike me down so a more worthy heir could take my place. My face grew hot, and my pace quickened. I reflexively angled myself to hide the side of my body that was missing an arm. It was always worse when they stared. Vince had chosen our spot well. We¡¯d come up on a saddle, a lazy dip in the ridge, out of the worst of the wind, creating a relatively calm spot for us to rest. The air howled overhead from the east as was so common this time of year, kicking up rushing plumes of dust and clumps of transient vegetation that floated and tumbled through the currents. Bristle-barked flycatcher trees with needle thin leaves grew nearly to the top of the saddle where their grasping claws caught unlucky wind borne whipnettle, imprisoning them there until they died. This cluster of flycatchers had thick, bushy crowns of debris that were just asking for a lightning strike to kick off the next big wildfire. The night was as dark as Proxis 3 got. The gas giant that gave our little moon its name was currently on the other side of the planet, and we were on its dark side this week. That meant deep dark with the occasional magnetic flare-up in the atmosphere along with milder wind speeds, which suited us all just fine, but damned if it didn¡¯t make following your best friend to the edge of a cliff an iffy affair. I reached up and wiped at the debris still on my goggles, but it was a meaningless gesture. The scrub didn¡¯t part for me like it did for Vince. I was forced to weave my way blindly in the general direction I¡¯d seen him go and try not to stumble into something thorny or venomous. I squinted and shuffled my feet carefully, hoping to save myself a tumble if I accidentally walked too far. The promegel wouldn¡¯t ignite when in contact with air like its gaseous cousin, but that didn¡¯t stop my brain from conjuring images of my limp body tumbling down the slope as a fiery ball, going out like a true heretic should. ¡°Didn¡¯t even have the good grace to die quietly,¡± they would say. ¡°The boy was bad luck all the way to the end.¡± I nearly tripped over Vince, accidentally kicking him and overcompensating to the point that my pack nearly tipped me forward as the tip of my leading boot caught nothing but air. My arm swung wide to compensate, and I let my knees collapse to bring my center of gravity down until I could touch the ground with my hand. Vince waited for me to get my composure back before he spoke. ¡°Well, here we are, cousin. Take a look,¡± he said, staring intently into the dark. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Below, I saw a valley, barely visible in the starlight, empty but for a shadowy ribbon of thick vegetation obscured by a wind-whipped cloud of mist over a body of water, maybe a river or a bog. I felt thirsty just thinking about it. When was the last time I had a full water ration? A week? I immediately regretted not bringing water extraction tools along, though I knew the feeling wasn¡¯t rational. I¡¯d need to get through the night alive, and that meant traveling light. The water in the valley wasn''t what Vince wanted me to see, though. That was further up on the ridge opposite ours a half mile away. Little pinpricks of light scurried over the far rocks, illuminating vague armored shapes, machines, portable habs, and rough faces. Several men huddled around the warm glow of a firepit, bowls in their hands with not a care in the world. One man shone a work lamp into the belly of a hover bike¡¯s atmo-propulsion cylinder where smoke billowed from the housing into the man¡¯s face before disappearing into the wind. I observed it all in my way, making note of the scale of things, the placement of machines and equipment, what was broken, what was functional, shaking my head as I did. It all seemed so damned normal. ¡°So, this is them,¡± I stated flatly. ¡°Yes.¡± Vince¡¯s reply was a hiss. No poetry in his words like with the others, not now. ¡°Now that I see them, it seems less real,¡± I said. ¡°These people are the ones that burned us out and chased us for weeks, and they¡¯re just¡­¡± Normal. ¡°I know what you mean. The way our dads talk about them, it¡¯s like they¡¯re boogymen, but they look plenty mortal to me.¡± That wasn¡¯t what I meant at all. The way they moved, the way they worked seemed so relaxed, like cattlemen bedding down after a long drive. It seemed wrong that murderers and thieves got to live like this, while we lived in fear. ¡°So, what can you tell me?¡± Vince asked. I frowned, thinking about what to state as factual and what to speculate upon. I went with what I knew. ¡°They brought an expensive looking generator to charge their bikes, and the machines themselves don¡¯t look like they¡¯re in good repair. There¡¯s lights in the habs. The amount of juice being used over there tells me they lean on that generator a lot. If we sabotage that, it might slow them down.¡± ¡°And?¡± ¡°And they look like they¡¯re pretty fresh, still walking around this late at night like they are. It means they¡¯re not straining to keep up with us. We¡¯re all exhausted and barely on our feet. It means these guys could have caught us by now, but they haven¡¯t.¡± Vince paused at that, as if I¡¯d given him something to consider. ¡°Why do you think that is?¡± The question wasn¡¯t unexpected, but I was hoping he wouldn¡¯t ask. It made me uncomfortable to give the answer out loud. I took a deep, fortifying breath. ¡°Hard to say. Maybe they¡¯re wearing us down, so they can swoop in when we¡¯re at our weakest. That kind of tracks, considering the Clan¡¯s reputation. Warriors of Constance and all that. But we¡¯re getting close to the city now. Why not make their move before the Colony could send in air support?¡± Vince nodded but waited for me to finish. ¡°They¡¯re-¡± I cleared my throat and started again. ¡°They might not want to catch us at all.¡± There. I said it. The burning of our settlements. The midnight raids. The murders. The endless chase across the System-cursed continent. Why were we being herded like cattle? Vince nodded as if I¡¯d confirmed his suspicions as well. Then he changed the subject. ¡°You think you can do this, Ryan?¡± he probed tentatively. It was an honest question, one I didn¡¯t actually mind coming from Vince as opposed to almost anyone else. Coming from anyone else, it would be meant to discourage me from doing something stupid. With Vince I knew he considered me a friend, and he didn¡¯t want to coddle me. He just wanted to know if I was capable of doing what needed to be done. The thought of it made my empty belly churn. Things were dire. We were running on fumes. No food, little water, less sleep. I spent most of my nights fixing wheel axles and gluing aging combustion engines back together in preparation for the next day¡¯s mad scramble. The warriors of the Clan had it even worse. ¡°I¡¯ll be okay,¡± I lied. Fear gripped me in the most intimate of places, but I had to push through. I would have felt better had I been allowed a weapon, even if I hadn¡¯t trained with it in the years since my accident, but I¡¯d given up that dream a long time ago. ¡°You''re sure? Out of all of us, your dad is going to come down the hardest on you.¡± Apparently, I needed to be more convincing, or I needed dumber friends. ¡°Even a dog can pretend to be brave if it¡¯s backed into a corner, training or no.¡± The words came out much more defensive than I would have liked. I winced at that. ¡°What good is it being the Headman¡¯s son if you can¡¯t disobey Clan decree every now and then?¡± It must have been so easy for the rest of them with the full might of their families in their corner, mentoring them, cheering on their victories. Constance favored the strong, and these boys were the strongest. They¡¯d take to this like fish to a stream. Me, though¡­ No. That wasn¡¯t fair. We were all in over our heads. This was a plan born of desperation and an unwillingness to watch people suffer. It was the only plan, even if the Elders couldn¡¯t see it. Vince nodded again, accepting my words as true and slotting me into whatever strategy he had in mind. ¡°Alright then. Chris is going to take out whatever lookout they post tonight, and Brendon is going to cover us with the lasgun while we do what damage we can. We¡¯ll hit the generator like you said.¡± Vince¡¯s saber was in his hand now, working the honed blade back and forth, each stroke trimming the mountain brush down centimeter by centimeter with a rhythmic *wisk* *wisk.* The blade hummed in the wind. ¡°Once I give the signal, throw your pack in the fire and run. Don¡¯t look back until you¡¯re with the Clan.¡± ¡°When you give the signal or¡­¡± Vince hesitated but only for a moment. ¡°Or if we get caught.¡± ¡°About that.¡± I had to know. ¡°What is it?¡± ¡°Why¡¯d we bring the lasrifle? I understand all the other stuff, but that thing is a relic from Constance¡¯s time. It¡¯s practically a religious artifact. You¡¯re not thinking of actually tangling with Barrow, are you?¡± ¡°No way,¡± Vince scoffed, a little too quickly, his eyes suddenly very interested in the ground. ¡°Because that would be stupid.¡± ¡°I know. I know.¡± Vince groaned. ¡°I got it.¡± When I didn¡¯t say anything more, he nervously filled in the dead space in the conversation. ¡°We can¡¯t fight an Exotic, Ryan, I know that. We don¡¯t even know what level he is. I just¡­ I wanted a trump card just in case. He¡¯s probably not even here. His goons probably do the chasing for him. An Exotic¡¯s probably got better stuff to do, ya know?¡± ¡°Yeah. Probably,¡± I echoed, trying to sound confident. If Barrow was in that camp¡­ Damnit. There¡¯s so much wrong here. I blew out a breath through my lips, slowly emptying my lungs, hoping the lack of oxygen might slow down my brain activity and make me too stupid to have misgivings. It didn¡¯t work, but I pretended just for Vince. ¡°Either way, it¡¯s got to be done right? We¡¯re doing the right thing.¡± We¡¯re doing the only thing we have left. It¡¯s either this or die tired in a couple days. ¡°I hope so, Ryan. I really do.¡± Vince sighed and let his sword hand relax and the blade¡¯s point rest in the dirt. He turned to me, letting the mask of the leader slip from his face temporarily. ¡°No matter what the others think, I¡¯m glad you¡¯re here.¡± Now he¡¯s just making this weird. I cleared my throat uncomfortably. ¡°Oh, do the other guys not like me? I hadn¡¯t noticed,¡± I replied, a bitter smile tugging at the corner of my lip. ¡°Just don¡¯t go challenging an Exotic to a duel, alright? I¡¯d have to step in and go full limit break to keep you alive.¡± ¡°You¡¯ve been holding back, have you? ¡®Limit break¡¯ sounds like something out of one of your games.¡± ¡°Uh, yeah. It is,¡± I affirmed sheepishly. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what Earth got right, even hundreds of thousands of years before the System.¡± ¡°We learned it in history class, Ryan. Together. At the same time.¡± ¡°I know. I know. Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°Seriously, though. If you do something stupid: Full power. I¡¯m a biter. Ask Bret Wains. We fought once.¡± ¡°He toyed with you then put you down hard,¡± Vince laughed, turning to grin at me. I raised my eyebrows and gave them a waggle. ¡°But I bit him.¡± ¡°You did bite him¡­ He still has the mark.¡± That was a scar that wasn¡¯t going away. I¡¯d left my mark on this world. ¡°Don¡¯t think he¡¯s forgiven me, and the others haven¡¯t forgiven me for being born.¡± ¡°Screw those guys,¡± Vince spat with a surprising amount of venom. ¡°You¡¯re playing a big role in this, even if they can¡¯t see it.¡± I didn¡¯t answer that one. Vince was the only one who really saw who I was beyond the disability and the heretic label. The Clan as a whole didn¡¯t deal well with the weak and infirm, even if they were happy enough to let me fix their tools for them. Vince had been my friend since childhood, and he was way too good to let something like social pressure keep him away from his friends. Vince and I stood up together, taking one last look over the valley at our foes. ¡°Hey, we do this right, maybe the System will finally give us another Exotic in the family. We can¡¯t let Constance be the only one,¡± Vince speculated as he stretched out his back, his confident grin back in place. I rolled my eyes. ¡°Way to keep your goals achievable, Vince.¡± We wove our way back to the group, emerging from the brush side by side. All eyes were on Vince, of course, the natural leader that he was, and a semi-circle coalesced around him as naturally as matter caught in a gravity well. I hung back a step to make sure he stood strong without the crippled heretic there to drag him down. Vince¡¯s voice rang out clearly above the wind. ¡°Gentlemen, once they¡¯re asleep, we¡¯re going in. Our families are going to be pissed, even if we pull this off. If you¡¯re not fully with us, the time to back out is now. No one will judge you.¡± There were no takers. Vince grinned and met each of their eyes one by one. ¡°Alright. Rest up and be ready to move. May Constance and the System judge us worthy.¡± Chapter 6 - Grab Many Spiders Chapter 6 - Grab Many Spiders Morning snuck up on you on Ralqir, or at least that¡¯s the impression that I got. It could have been the speed of the planet¡¯s rotation or the power of its star. Impossible to know, considering how absolutely smothering the greenery of the place was. Hell, I didn¡¯t even know what color the sky was thanks to never even catching a glimpse of it through the thick roof of leaves. Consequently, I couldn¡¯t actually know when the sun rose. The light levels on the forest floor transitioned from pitch black during the night to wavy green in the day, and that happened agonizingly slowly. When it was finally light enough to see, I emerged from my makeshift shelter in the hollow of one of the larger trees. Fog was thick in the air, amplifying the underwater effect of the tree filtered light by a lot, creating a dreamlike world of constant shifting shadows. Hulking building-sized tree trunks stretched on into the distance, seemingly forever, their straight vertical lines only broken by the occasional clump of underbrush or giant fallen log. A carpet of wet, dead leaves rustled under my feet with every cautious step. Despite my tree¡¯s size, the hollow I spent the night in was only large enough to slide inside and tuck my knees in for an uncomfortable night of adrenaline soaked fever dreams punctuated by sudden starts at strange noises. Even so, my mind felt clearer and more cohesive than it had the day before. My dream about home fit nicely into the gaps I had in my mind, allowing me to make connections I hadn¡¯t before and referencing memories that were just out of reach yesterday. Not many of them were pleasant. Hurray. By any standard, my night wasn¡¯t physically restful at all. I was wet, sore, and groggy, but my status screen thought I was doing okay, at least. Ryan Kotes - Level 0 Animator (Uncommon) Type: Artificer (Common) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 25/25 MP: 30/30 Body: 10 Mind: 11 (-1 exhausted) Spirit: 9 Abilities Shape 1 Consume 2 Skills Climbing 3 Unarmed Combat 1 Running 1 Stealth 2 Affinities: Goblinoid 1 Iron 1 Sometime during the night, I picked up the Running skill and leveled up my Climbing and Stealth, the latter of which concerned me. The goblins hadn¡¯t followed me as far as my shelter, though I¡¯m pretty sure they tried. The gurgling and hooting I¡¯d heard from the trees before picked up in volume and frequency from time to time, but eventually I left them behind after who knows how many miles of blind stumbling I did in the weird twilight and subsequent total blackout. I hadn¡¯t received a Skill up message then. What, exactly, was I testing my Stealth skill against during the night? On the bright side, I had a Climbing skill now. The significance of it didn¡¯t hit me yesterday with my brain being a bowl of scrambled eggs at the time, but the disorientation was starting to clear. I¡¯d always liked climbing as a kid, before the accident. It was hard, but I could recall at least a few memories of Vince and me climbing on the boulders behind the Clan¡¯s big greenhouse and pretending we were heroes on a quest or some such thing. I had this cape that would heroically flap in the wind, and Vince would always laugh and tell me I spent more time posing than doing the hero stuff. He was right too. Back then, I felt like I was built for that kind of thing, saving the damsels of the multiverse, slaying the monsters, inspiring the masses to greatness, all while making it look easy. That naivete didn¡¯t last. The accident made sure of that. Well, I was on a quest now, wasn¡¯t I? And I was whole. Or something like whole. I wasn¡¯t one of those transhumanists that believed you could replace your entire body with machinery and still be you, but I¡¯d learned over time that I was not my body. My body was not a reflection of me. If the System wanted to give me a super weird(and kinda cool) prosthetic made of black metal, I wasn¡¯t going to argue. I¡¯d use it and use it well. Holy crap, I could climb again! Craning my neck to look up, I slid my eyes over the gentle, shifting beauty of the forest, imagining myself standing under the great redwood trees of old Earth like my ancestors.It was so quiet and so alive. Vince, I wish you could see this. I rolled my neck and shoulders to get some of the stiffness out. Flakes of dried blood tumbled down from my back and shoulder, but my injuries were gone. I took a deep breath and ordered my thoughts. According to my Tutorial quest, I needed to explore my capabilities. Did that mean the quest would be completed once I knew all there was to know for a new Animator? Yesterday, the quest advanced when I learned about my new abilities, so I definitely needed to do more of that. The only problem was that my tutorial administrator was less than helpful when she was working. Not to mention she was back at the ruined facility surrounded by goblins and infested with black goo. Then there was the big thing that chucked rocks at me and brought the whole structure down around it. I was flying blind. I needed to go back there if I wanted a chance of getting home. That meant dealing with the locals, a challenging prospect considering I was lucky to kill one of them even with a size advantage. What I needed were tools. Alright, let¡¯s get to work on that. Stone age time. Ryan need tool. Ryan find rock. Crouching down, I dug into the rotting vegetation that was pervasive in this forest, down to the top soil. Then I expanded my clear circle wider and wider until it was 10 feet across. The soil was spongy and loose under my feet, moist to the touch when I dug down into it with my hands. Stringy brown fibers, disintegrated leaves, and hollow chitin from yet unencountered insects made up the majority of the top layer. Deeper were the roots, a net of burrowing, shoe-string sized plant mouths so thickly interwoven with each other, I had a hard time burrowing past even with my metal hand, strong as it was. One thing I didn¡¯t find was rocks no matter how hard I looked, at least not ones larger than a fingernail. By the time I was done digging, the hole was deep enough that I had to lay down to reach the bottom with my arms, and I hadn¡¯t found one stone to use as a tool, not even one big enough to throw at a goblin. I got to my feet, filthy and sweating in the humidity despite the temperature. My mouth felt dry after doing so much, and the incidental grit in my mouth triggered my hunger reflex. Angry gurgling emanated from my stomach as it voiced its displeasure at doing manual labor without any fuel to burn. I shook my head and growled in frustration, angry at the expenditure of so much time and energy without anything to show for it. My priorities shifted. Tools would need to wait until I took care of the basics. Now that the morning fog had somewhat dissipated, I could see that the land had a gentle slope down and away from the hollow where I¡¯d spent the night, the vague shapes of gentle hills and valleys only sort of visible at this distance. Low ground meant water. Water meant food. The only problem was my place on the food chain. I was going to be the gazelle to Ralqir¡¯s lions, but there wasn¡¯t much I could do about that right now. On my way to water, I would try to find something to use as a weapon, maybe a heavy stick. I let the slope carry me downward, but I was careful about noise and visibility. The birds were awake now, as well as the bugs. A constant backdrop of squawks, chirps, squeaks, and fluttering wings almost drowned out my shuffling footfalls through the spongy forest carpet. Long, frilled reptiles skated lightly over the humus and leaf litter, away from me, usually darting up the nearest tree or diving into a hollow to hide. Hissing, spitting creatures warned me away from the underbrush when I got too close. I never got to see the actual animal, as they tended to burrow under the leaves and pop up only when it was time to tell the stranger to keep his distance. I only had to walk for an hour before the land changed significantly and for the worse. The gentle slope I¡¯d been traveling down intersected with many others here, forming an intricate series of draws and thin creek beds that cut deep into the earth, so deep I couldn¡¯t see the bottom in the dimness. Waist-thick, hungry roots crisscrossed the gaps in the land, like stitches holding together scar tissue. Some of these stitches grew wildly, up and out of the cracks, catching on my clothes, desperately looking for soil but finding air instead. The sheer walls of the crevices were tightly packed clay or something similar, slick with moisture that would discolor the roots holding them together, giving them a uniformly muddy appearance as they wove their way from one end of the cut to the other. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Generally, I followed the flow that I imagined the water took, next to the draws and deep ravines. I hadn¡¯t spotted water yet, but I was confident I would, eventually, if I kept going down. The footing here was tricky, though. The wet clay and ever present layer of leaves were loose and slippery, and the leaf litter sometimes covered the openings of crevices that my heavy tread would slip into. Another problem was when two separate crevices would intersect and form larger, steeper drops into darkness that I had to skirt around. Eventually, the confluence of draws became so common, I found myself having to leap over the smaller ones to avoid the larger ones, then having to double back if I found one too wide to traverse. Then it was about jumping and climbing to get to ground level again. Skill unlocked: Jumping Current skill level is 1. Climbing is now level 4. It was in jumping over one of these ravines that I ran into my first predator. The terrain was steeper now, and the gouges in the ground were that much more frequent. I was at the confluence of two separate draws that would then combine and continue downhill wider and steeper. One of the giant trees was at my back, keeping me from getting too much of a running start to make my jump. I wasn¡¯t too worried about falling to my death, considering how thick and pervasive the root system was under me, but I most certainly didn¡¯t want to spend time climbing up and out of a ravine, not with so many unknowns about this place. The darkness at the bottom didn¡¯t seem inviting, and I didn¡¯t want to spend any time dangling directly over it. Pressing my back to the tree, I prepared myself for the jump. This was one of the reddish brown behemoths that grew here with intense white lighting bolts growing into the pattern of its wood. I didn¡¯t know what caused it, but quite a few of the trees were like that, two toned with crazy patterns like they had a glitch in their DNA. I just wished this one gave me a little more space to get my jump on. Two preparatory breaths and a handful of running steps and I was in the air, sailing over the crevice, arms outstretched to catch myself on the other side. Only, I didn¡¯t make it to the other side. From my peripheral vision, something fast streaked through the air and slammed into me. I spun from the blow, down, falling straight into the web of roots in the crevice. I landed on my side, my feet suspended by one set of roots and my torso slightly lower on another. The wooden ropes supporting my neck were holding a significant portion of my weight, choking off the cry of pain that would have been incredibly satisfying to let free. Unknown attacks you for 2 damage. Unknown attacks you and misses. You take 3 impact damage. You are stunned. I peered down into the yawning maw of the ravine, at the muddy roots, the slick walls, the thick shadows at the bottom. I coughed, finally able to get some fresh oxygen in my lungs. Then the walls moved. What I thought were clumps of plant matter affixed to the clay, detached themselves from their positions and began to crawl their way up from the deep, pincer tipped feet making wet *thwap* noises as they jammed their way into the ravine walls. My eyes widened in terror watching them take their jerky vertical steps in defiance of the gravity everyone else had to deal with. I wriggled to free my hands and reorient myself until I was semi-upright, then I sprang up the wall like my life depended on it, leaping from one root to the next, clinging to them with everything I had with strength born of desperation. They didn¡¯t always hold, sometimes coming away from the wall, turning loose from the soil like a string being pulled from a seam, forcing me to lose ground and try for another. I didn¡¯t have far to climb, only about ten feet, but it felt like miles. It was a mad dash to the surface, all the while hundreds of hairy legs scrambled up after me. The only sound they made were their powerful legs stabbing deep into the mud. Climbing is now level 5. A bright bordered box appeared, obtrusively, in my vision. Not now! Upgrade paths available: Iron Grip Tireless Ascent Safe Fall Shaking my head to get rid of the box, I lunged for the surface, getting an entire arm up onto the lip of the ravine. Holding onto the slippery leaves proved impossible. I slid backwards, leaves coming away layer by layer, taking me with them back the way I¡¯d come. Then my metal arm was up, digging its fingers into the dirt and giving me enough purchase to swing my legs onto solid ground again. My chest heaved with the effort, and my arm shook from exhaustion. Rolling, I got distance between me and the lip of the crevice just as the forelegs of the monsters crested the ledge. They weren¡¯t huge creatures, maybe just a little larger than the goblin had been, at least in mass. They stood on eight legs, low to the ground, about knee height, but with a wide stance. Their brown hair constantly shed clumps of mud they¡¯d been using as camouflage. A dozen spiders, probably more, climbed out from the depths, slowly fanning out to box me in, their forelegs raised up and out in what I guessed was some kind of intimidation tactic or an invitation for a hug. Where one might expect to find big, black eyes on a regular spider, these seemed to have a sort of visor of carapace over their faces with only slits to look out of with their fangs dangling from the bottom. I backed away, knowing I didn¡¯t want to be surrounded but unwilling to turn my back on them to run, but the spiders matched me. We slowly edged away from the ravine, the circle closing in bit by bit. Then my back hit one of the immovable giants Ralqir had instead of trees. At least the monsters couldn¡¯t get behind me. The standoff broke as a spider in front of me charged forward, forelegs and pedipalps spread wide, its hiss splitting the air, but it was a feint. The real attack came from my left side, a heavy chitin body slamming into me and bearing me down to the ground, its legs curling around my back and digging into my skin. Armor Spider attacks you for 3 damage. Status gained: Bleeding [1 HP/sec] I¡¯d already had my arms up in a lazy guard position when the spider tackled me, and that¡¯s what saved my life. By instinct or luck or whatever decision making process spiders had, the monster tried to sink its fangs into my arm. Maybe it was the easiest thing to reach. I didn¡¯t know. However, the spider¡¯s fangs came down on cold, unforgiving metal, over and over again, the venom meant for my insides, instead, sizzling on the dark metal and evaporating into acrid smoke within a second. I braced myself against the ground, widening my feet and getting my right elbow underneath me. Then I rolled, trying to take some of the spider¡¯s weight off of me. The creature reacted by gripping me tighter and bringing its head down to bite my side, which had a good deal more flesh than I was comfortable losing. Grunting, I reached up with my prosthetic, toward where the spider¡¯s eyes were supposed to be, and grabbed the first thing I could wrap my fingers around: the spider¡¯s ¡®visor.¡¯ Its progress arrested, the Armored Spider kicked out jerkily, jostling my body, trying to dislodge my grip and digging deep grooves into my stomach and thighs. If the stalemate went on for too long, I¡¯d end up dead from blood loss even if it never bit me. All that stood between me and liquified insides was my prosthetic¡¯s strong grip. You take 1 bleeding damage. Armor Spider attacks you for 1 damage. Armor Spider attacks you for 1 damage. My grip! Please let this work! The obtrusive box returned to my vision with a thought. Only one of the options looked like it might have combat applications. Ability unlocked: Iron Grip Iron Grip: Grip strength increased by 30% [.1 MP/sec] Opening my status screen, I focused on my new Climbing related ability and prayed I was right. Iron Grip [.1 MP/sec] Strength surged into my limbs, specifically my hands. My metal arm was already very good at grabbing things, probably much better than my natural one. I¡¯d found that out dangling over the pit back at the tutorial facility, where I could just hang from a piece of rebar seemingly forever with no loss of power or sign of fatigue. Doing this with my new Iron Grip on a living creature produced immediate results. With a crunch, the hard carapace protecting the spider¡¯s vulnerable eyes came away in my hand, stringy connective tissue dangling from my fist. Consume Armor Spider Armor? Y/N Armor Spider Armor Consumed. Status gained: Engine [+6 MP/sec for 2 minutes] You gain knowledge of material: Magnesium [1/10] There was that orange flash of something being Consumed by my core followed by a much brighter, much whiter, much hotter *FWOOSH* It was blinding, so bright I couldn¡¯t look at it, so hot I could feel blisters forming on my neck and face. I closed my eyes and screamed, shoving the spider back and scrambling for distance. Armored Spider takes 15 fire damage. Armored Spider takes 13 fire damage. Ability synthesis discovered: Consume + Iron Grip Synthesize? Y/N The spider let me go, rolling and thrashing on the ground, digging into its own eyes with its claws to stop the burn. I shot to my feet, stumbling back to get away from the flailing monster, the glowing prompt dragging my attention away when I really needed it. I chose ¡®Y,¡¯ hoping I was making the right decision again. Ability synthesis: Consume + Iron Grip New ability: Devouring Grasp 1 Devouring Grasp: Increase grip strength by 50% x E (where E = current MP/s value of Engine). Able to instantly consume grasped material. Cost [5 MP/sec] The next spider was upon me. This one¡¯s jump was less accurate, only catching me with the tips of its legs. The spider was heavy, but I¡¯d braced myself. It ended up wrapping itself around me like the other, but I didn¡¯t go down to the ground this time, instead, stumbling a step to the left before planting my feet. Armor Spider attacks you for 2 damage. I twisted, bringing my metal arm around, practically feeding it to the spider. I let it go to town on the metal, just like the last one. The creatures¡¯ first instinct seemed to be to bite whatever they could get a hold of, and I could work with that, biding my time until I could get a hand around the thing¡¯s head. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] My metal fingers sank into the creature¡¯s armor and carapace like it was a rotting pumpkin, bending metal, breaking through to the soft insides of the creature¡¯s cranium or whatever spiders had in place of it. Viscous fluid and globs of brain dribbled out of the opening I created, sliding down my arm and dripping onto my pants. Critical hit! Your Devouring Grasp does 60 crushing damage to Armor Spider. Armor Spider defeated. This one didn¡¯t get a chance to flail. It just died, releasing its hold on me and sliding down to the ground, its leg pincers taking bits of my flesh with it. Armor Spider defeated. You have been awarded 10 experience points. [10 base (+2 level, +6 group, -8 non-combat class)] You have been awarded 12 experience points. [10 base (+2 level, +6 group, +2 chain, -8 non-combat class)] The Armor Spiders closed in around me, hissing and waving their forelegs still. If they knew fear or loss, they didn¡¯t give any indication. Maybe their strategy was to envenom me then let that wear me down while they waited. I still hadn¡¯t let go of my piece of spider or armor or whatever I had. Consume Armor Spider Armor? Y/N You gain knowledge of material: Magnesium [2/10] You gain knowledge of material: Magnesium [3/10] You gain knowledge of material: Spider Chitin [1/10] That warm thrill spread from my core throughout my body, all the way to the tips of my fingers and toes, and it didn¡¯t stop there. Waves of heat radiated from my center, pulsing, compounding, until my skin burned and my vision tinted red. MP 30+/30 Status gained: Mana Overflow Mana Overflow: Your rate of regeneration far exceeds your rate of expenditure, resulting in an oversaturation of mana in your body. Severe Mana Overflow may result in serious injury or death. Despite the fight only having been going for about twenty seconds, my breathing was absolutely ragged, like I¡¯d run a marathon. I was bleeding all over my back, my face stung from being burned, and there was spider ichor dribbling down my body. I was alive, though. I was alive and fighting, and that warmed my (probably)metal heart more than anything I could feed it. As I swayed drunkenly on my feet, I bared my teeth at the things who¡¯d thought I was easy prey. My dry throat coarsened my voice and made speaking painful, but I didn¡¯t care. ¡°Who else wants to try Mister Grippy?¡± I asked. The fingers of my metal hand flexed expectantly, and I got back into a ready stance. Chapter 7 - Greet the Sun Chapter 7 - Greet the Sun Only two more Armor Spiders wanted to try Mister Grippy. They came on together, from the same part of the semi-circle, but they ended up fighting each other as much as they did me. Once they were in biting range, they seemed to want to grab onto and bite almost anything, grappling with their buddy while simultaneously striking at me. It was then that I realized the spiders weren¡¯t actually working together. Sure, they all wanted me dead, and they went so far as to box me in as a team. However, that was as far as their cooperation went. That meant only the brave or foolhardy made the first move and risked everything. Meanwhile, the ones that hung back would be able to take the prize by force afterwards. Once I got a hold of a piece of spider and activated Devouring Grasp, the fight swung heavily in my favor. Whatever they were using for armor, magnesium according to my combat log, it didn¡¯t take well to the intense heat of activating the Consume part of my core. When I got a hold of a leg and did the Grasp/Consume combo, half of the spider burst into white hot flame, spewing a bitter, metallic flavored smoke that reminded me of nosebleeds. From there it was all about getting clear before I ended up well done myself. Armor Spider defeated. You have been awarded 16 experience points. [10 base (+2 level, +6 group, +6 chain, -8 non-combat class)] The other spider was not so lucky to get away, already tangled with its friend like it was. It caught fire as well, its legs curling in on themselves, dragging the still burning body of the other spider closer. The two went up together, embracing like¡­ No, I wasn¡¯t going to go there. Spiders were not allowed to get down like that. Armor Spider defeated. You have been awarded 16 experience points. [10 base (+2 level, +6 group, +6 chain, -8 non-combat class)] After that, the remaining nine spiders retreated back into their crevice. One ambitious little guy tried to drag one of its dead friends underground with it, but I put a stop to that by charging at the creature with Mister Grippy. The spiders were not particularly smart, but they¡¯d learned that I wasn¡¯t prey. The monster dropped its corpse and backed away with its forelegs spread way out. As they retreated, I stood as straight as I could, in a pseudo boxer¡¯s stance with my right arm guarding my face and my metal one slightly out and ready to grab. There were no more takers though. My status had shifted from ¡®food¡¯ to ¡®not worth it¡¯ in the span of a minute. As soon as the last monster was out of sight, my strength left me. I wobbled and fell to my knees, my lungs working like bellows. I unclenched my hands and let the adrenaline drain away, leaving me cold and shivering. Sweat beaded on my skin and dripped down my nose to fall to the leaves below. I knelt there for a few minutes, eyes wide, not daring to blink lest something else jump out of the shadows to eat me. Nothing did, though. Status Lost: Engine Status Lost: Mana Overflow My HP was down to 12, which wasn¡¯t all that bad, but whether from dehydration and undernourishment or from the act of having to bluff a swarm of spiders into submission, I was feeling the strain. The adrenaline crash had me shivering and drowsy, but there were things to do. I shook my head and slapped my hand against my chest with a metalic *ping.* Oh, right. Going to need to set aside some time to come to grips with that soon. Time was ticking by, and I couldn¡¯t stay here. The spiders could rally and overwhelm me if I gave them time. But first¡­ Starting with the least damaged corpse, the one with the crushed brain that I didn¡¯t need to set on fire, I collected my spoils. Upon closer inspection, the Armor Spiders weren¡¯t actually brown and covered in hair. Their ¡®¡®armor¡± appeared to be attached closely to the carapace or maybe grown onto it, then covered in a patina of dried mud that, when I scraped it away, revealed a gray, almost lustrous sheen. The bristles, similarly, were made of metal so fine the gentle breeze could shift them slightly. The spider¡¯s splayed limbs and broken visor, askew thanks to its now deformed head, gave it an almost hung over look. Loot Armor Spider? Y/N Again, the light warping rainbow of colors obscured the corpse, and the System did its thing. Once the process was done, the armor spider looked significantly smaller and less imposing, deflated almost. On the ground lay my loot. Armor Spider Armor x 12: A piece of protective shell grown by a Ralqiri variant of Armor Spider. The metal used in its creation is dependent on where the Armor Spider makes its nest and the availability of material. Armor Spider Poison Gland: A venom gland of a Ralqiri variant of Armor Spider. Contains highly corrosive venom meant to digest its prey as well as the metals the spider consumes to grow its armor. So, the spiders made their nests around sources of metal and used it to grow their outer shells. When I got a piece of spider armor and consumed it during the fight, my logs said it was primarily made of magnesium. Did that mean there was more around here somewhere? What could I do with that? Did I want to carry around a bunch of magnesium? Carefully, I prodded the burns on my face with my fingers, wincing at how tender it was. While the stuff certainly worked well with Devouring Grasp, I wasn¡¯t sure I was ready to carry around something that reacted so violently to me¡­ also the air¡­ and water. Yeah. No thanks. It also occurred to me just how lucky it was that I didn¡¯t blunder into a colony that used something like tungsten or iron. If circumstances were even slightly different, I¡¯d be dead of my own carelessness. Especially galling was all the experience I seemed to lose from being a non-combat class. What the hell happened to 80% of my base experience? Did it just vanish into the ether? Would I be level 1 or even 2 by now if I was a flavor of warrior or mage? My only saving grace were the multiple bonuses the System was awarding me for special circumstances, but I couldn¡¯t count on that to continue. I shook my head. I just needed to roll with it. Consume Armor Spider Armor? Y/N Status gained: Engine [+6 MP/sec for 2 minutes] If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. You gain knowledge of material: Magnesium [4/10] I repeated the process for all the corpses, Consuming all of their armor. The two that had died in a ball of fire didn¡¯t have any salvageable loot on them according to the System except: Spider Meat x 2: Overcooked meat from an Armor Spider. The prospect of eating meat from a giant spider didn¡¯t appeal to me, especially considering what the System implied about their habit of digesting metals to grow their armor. What would that even do to their bodies? I decided to err on the side of caution and leave the meat behind. I buried it and the two venom glands I had received in a hole about a quarter mile away from where we fought. I didn¡¯t have a way to carry anything currently, and walking around with a corrosive sac of venom in my pocket did not appeal to me in the slightest, especially not in the front pocket. While it would be cool to chuck a venom sac at a big nasty and watch it work, I had no way to guarantee it would burst upon impact. Unfortunately, my consumption of all that magnesium and its massive +6 MP/s was also enough to give me Mana Overflow again. Twice. That was a rough ride, forcing me to sit down, back against a tree and do my best not to explode. I could feel all that potential inside of me, burning to do something. Eventually, the thought came to me to activate Devouring Grasp and just let my fist clench for a while, and that alleviated the symptoms somewhat. Then it was just about riding it out until the 2 minutes of the Engine status ticked down. Skill unlocked: Conduit Your current skill level is 1 Conduit: Your body grows more able to conduct mana freely and direct its flow. +5% resistance to mana overflow. +5% speed of mana flow when using abilities. My suffering netted me an affinity for magnesium, at least, and then some. The next tier was going to take an additional 50 pieces of the stuff, so that wasn¡¯t happening today. Magnesium Affinity gave me the ability to detect magnesium within ten feet, which I was starting to realize was the bog standard F grade reward, but it also gave some additional mana conductivity, whatever that meant. For the hundredth time, I wished I had a working tutorial to help me out with some of this stuff. Experimenting as I continued my trek toward water, I willed Detect Magnesium to life, but I had to stop moving soon afterward due to the ability being extremely disorientating. It wasn¡¯t that the world looked different to me. Visually, everything was the same. The giant trees, the ever present green blanket covering the sky, the mottled browns of the forest floor, all of it was the same. No, what I was ¡®seeing¡¯ wasn¡¯t with my eyes, and my mind had a hard time processing that. I had magnesium all over me. It glinted painfully in my new perception, not so bright that it was blinding, but as if someone was using a signal mirror to get my attention. My shredded shirt and filthy pants shone with little flakes of magnesium probably shed from the spiders that had tried to wrestle me down. There was even some dusting in my hair, the presence of which forced me to stop and reorder my brain around being able to ¡®see¡¯ the top of my own head. What¡¯s more, my bones sparkled. Yes, I could see.. Or sense¡­ the vague outline of my bones. I brushed all the magnesium bits off of my body that I could and watched it sail down to the forest floor and filter into the soil. That didn¡¯t stop it from being extremely visible, despite it being obscured from my normal vision. Looking away didn¡¯t help either. It was all too much for me to process. When I deactivated the ability, everything went back to normal, that is to say, green and alien, but at least I could blink that uncomfortable reality away every now and then. With this new knowledge, I filed my Detect abilities under ¡®weird but probably useful.¡¯ A part of me wished I had saved a piece of armor to see what that looked like under the effects of Detect, but my reasons for consuming it all were sound. I resisted the urge to rub the blisters on my neck and jaw. No one likes being on fire, especially me. ¡ª---------- Hiking ever downward, pausing to check every crevice I passed now that I knew what could be down there, my pace was a slow and cautious one. The humidity jumped up at least an order of magnitude, but the temperature remained the same temperately cool I was used to by now. My blood felt thick in my veins, and I¡¯d stopped sweating sometime in the past hour even with all the moisture in the air. My steps also became more difficult and less careful. I just didn¡¯t have the energy for it. Then I heard something beautiful: the sound of rushing water. Close. I smacked my lips and tilted my head to try and pinpoint the sound. The desire to rush in and drink until I was full to bursting was strong. So strong it nearly overrode my good sense, but I wasn¡¯t so desperate yet that I would risk my life for a drink of unsanitized water. I hadn¡¯t forgotten where I was. Crouching low, I continued my descent. The ground here was rough. The entire thing was a network of creek beds, washes, and exposed roots where no piece of ground was flat anymore. I could actually see the bottom of these, which made me feel better about clambering over them to follow the sound of the water. What¡¯s more, I was starting to see honest to Constance stone now that I was low enough. I hadn¡¯t realized how much I¡¯d missed it until now. My head was still cracked glass, but I remembered home well enough, if not how I ended up here. I could call up parts of my past, which made Ralqir feel even farther from home. Proxis was all rocks and wind. Harsh but beautiful in its uncompromising, unapologetically brutal nature.You could bet any living thing you encountered earned their way into existence, constantly struggling against the elements and each other. The tan and gold banded rocks were ancient, forever. They were there before you were born, and they would be here long after your entire civilization was nothing but dust. You could count on them to be there and shield you from the wind and airborne sand. Here, on Ralqir, everything was transient. The sky was a living tapestry of green and the ground was littered with corpses or discarded biomatter. At least it seemed so until now. Now I saw the foundation of the world, and it was something I knew. That fact gave me some comfort. The water I¡¯d heard was, in fact, a waterfall. Not a tall one, only about a six foot drop from the raised lip of a basin of sorts, a slightly tilted slab of brown stone with a dip in the middle that held a roiling pool. After a short drop, the water continued on swiftly down the hill, in a ribbon of white that ran far into the distance. The ¡®bowl¡¯ was maybe a few hundred feet across, its clear water shining brilliantly in the noonday sun which stabbed down through the curtain of mist to illuminate the place so brilliantly, I had to shield my eyes. So this place does have a sun. Nice to see at least. My perch, a jagged boulder stabbed through the heart and held in place by a particularly ambitious tree root, was slightly above the basin, up the hill where I could get a good view of everything. I deduced the basin was some kind of spring, since nothing flowed into it, but it was constantly overflowing to create the river. Strangely, though, nothing came down to drink. Birdsong and insect chirps everywhere, but nothing flew over the water. No land animals either. No cold blooded lizards sunned themselves on the warm rocks. I didn¡¯t like it, but I was getting to the point where my thirst would be debilitating soon. I needed water to move and to think, and I wanted to see the sun, get into some natural light for a change. Cautiously, I picked my way through the rocks and trees, careful not to make much noise or disturb the landscape. I landed heavily on the flat stone that formed the lip of the basin, staying in the shadow of the trees in case something was watching. The rock was porous, rough to the touch, and easy to walk on without slipping. Above, the gargantuan trees reached desperately across the clearing to try to smother the sun like they did everywhere else, but the gap proved too wide for them. The resultant hole in the canopy reminded me of the entrances to flood caves during the dry season back home, where my friends and I could go explore the depths as long as we stayed near the light. I stalked forward, eyes up in anticipation of the next surprise, but it never came. All was still except for the burbling spring. Stepping into the sun for the first time since I came here, I felt like I was finally doing something familiar, though water on Proxis would never be in the open like this. I could ignore that for now. The light was blindingly bright and surprisingly hot considering how cool the rest of the forest was. So damned bright. Ugh. Slowly, cautiously, I edged toward the spring, my body tingling with renewed sensation in the delicious warmth of the clearing. Step by step, always on guard, I neared my prize. However, before I knew what was happening, my body reached a tipping point of some sort. My exposed skin felt increasingly hot, so hot it felt like I was on fire. My eyes welled with tears, and my vision blurred. Subcutaneous blood vessels burst and roiled inside my body. Everything was a white blur. Something was very wrong here. Blindly, I whirled, turning to run back to the trees, to the green, rolling shadow. Everything was light now, incandescent to the point of agony, but I kept moving, sprinting for the safety of the shade. I knew I made it when the cooling chill washed over my skin. I flopped down on the porous stone, blinking tears from my eyes and willing my log to appear. You take 1 light damage. You take 1 light damage. Status gained: Exposure (Radiant) Exposure: You are more vulnerable to damage from all forms of light. You take 1 light damage. You take 1 light damage. You take 1 light damage. You take 1 light damage. You take 1 light damage. You take 1 light damage. The sun¡­ It was poison. The edges of my vision started to feather with cool, soothing blackness. I shuddered, sighing. Anything was better than the light. The blackness overtook the rest of the world, shrinking it down to a pinprick, until I felt my consciousness waver. ¡°It still lives. Finish it quick.¡± A voice, high and rough, spoke from somewhere nearby. You take 1 light damage. ¡°No! It is man. We take it. We take it.¡± Then the world slipped away on a tide of dreams. Chapter 8 - Unstab my Heart Chapter 8 - Unstab my Heart ----------- Proxis 3 - Before Integration: For the second time in the night, I was charging headfirst into the wind behind the rest of my party. They were going low and slow this time, which I appreciated. Their sedate, stealthy pace was still enough to have my lungs burning. It would be a slow dawn, a gradual rise in ambient light levels that would extinguish the weakest of the stars. That gave us some time but not so much that we could take things easy. The ridge we were on now was more exposed. Dust and small pebbles scoured our skin, forcing us to don our masks and slip on our gloves before we were even close to the enemy camp. Getting here was a slow, tense process. As I¡¯d suspected, the source of the mist was a river, guarded jealously by plant life, covering the entirety of the water with green. A thick carpet of floating strawlops gave the river the look of a calm oasis in the middle of the desert, but that was an illusion. The greenery wasn¡¯t thick enough to bear any of our weight, and the current was quick. We had to use the meter thick tree roots as bridges, and we had to find them all by feel. By the time we were across and heading up the opposite ridge, we were soaked to the bone and our clothes a few pounds heavier. We were all uniformly brown with stuck on mud by the time we were up top, camouflaging us as we drew up to the camp. Their lights were mostly extinguished, and all but the lookouts were asleep. There was a slight rise in the terrain in front of us, just a shadow against the night sky unless you knew what you were looking for, but we knew this is where the lookout would be. Vince held his arm up and gestured to get down. I sank to the ground amongst the bristly scrub, contorting myself to not jostle the plants and give away my position. My arm, stretched out in front of me, was nearly perfect in its camouflage, blending into the rocks and sand like I was made of the stuff. Around me, everyone else disappeared and became one with the mountain as well. We waited there for a long while, long enough for my heart to slow down and my brain to engage again. If we were spotted by the lookout, we¡¯d be screwed. There would be a mad dash to get away, but the reavers had hover bikes and range and drones and Constance knew what else. Would any of us make it? What was I even doing here? How did I think I could do this? A whistle, soft in the wind. So soft, I almost thought I¡¯d imagined it. Then the boy next to me rose into a crouch and started forward, up the hill. I followed suit. Everyone gathered at the top of the hill around Vince and Chris who were hunched over something. A body. It had the face of a young man, stubble on his narrow jaw, his mouth open in a silent scream. An acrid taste rose in the back of my throat, and I fought not to be sick. The dead man was about my height. His choice of thick, dusty leathers and hard armor plating on the torso and shoulders gave him a stocky figure like a yard worker with a penchant for drinking. His eyes seemed comically big thanks to the insect-like spherical goggles he wore. His weapon, still strapped to his shoulder but now angled awkwardly above his head was an oblong shaped lasrifle. Though I didn¡¯t have much experience with Colonial weapons, I thought the chassis appeared manufactured, while the rest was slapdash as hell, sporting a stubby grip and rubber coolant tubes jacked into the weapons guts and secured with tape . On the man¡¯s wrist was some kind of display cuff, smooth and shiny, but the screen was dead. Chris looked as sick as I felt, goggles off, eyes wide and unfocused, holding his bloody knife in a shaking hand. Seeing the boy in distress, Vince reached over and put a hand on Chris¡¯ wrist, leaning in to make eye contact. ¡°Hey. You did good,¡± Vince cooed as he slid his hand forward and got his own grip on the knife. Chris was clutching the weapon hard. Even in the dark, I could see his knuckles were white. ¡°You did your part, Chris. Let¡¯s clean the blade, yeah?¡± Chris blinked, refocusing, coming back to us. Slowly, his fingers loosened their death grip on the knife¡¯s handle, allowing Vince to take it and wipe it on the dead man¡¯s clothes. Once the blood was gone, Vince held it there, staring at it for a moment before deciding to give it back. Chris took it without looking, sheathing it again without much conscious thought. Nodding, Vince got us moving again. ¡°Chris is going to stay here with Brendon on overwatch. Chris, watch Brendon¡¯s back.¡± Chris¡¯ head twitched in the slightest of nods, which we would just have to accept as agreement. ¡°The rest of you, stick to the plan,¡± Vince continued, turning to each of us one by one. ¡°The generator has to go. It has to go.¡± A sudden lightning flash of pain split my skull like an injection of ice water directly into my brain. I bowed my head and collapsed in on myself, curling up like a dying insect and nearly tipping myself forward onto the corpse, but then the moment was gone. The pain seemed to wane, shrinking, diminishing until it was just a dull ache behind my eyes. I came back to myself staring at the dead man¡¯s blank wrist display with little multicolored fractals dancing across my vision. Not now. What the hell? When I looked up, the group was already half way down the hill and nearly to the ring of illumination cast by the generator¡¯s running lights. To my side, Brendon was settling down on his stomach and unwrapping the protective furs on his dad¡¯s lasrifle. Chris was next to him. His knife wasn¡¯t in his hand anymore, but his hands shook in his lap as he stared down at the camp, unblinking. I made to follow the group, getting to one knee, but something made me stop and look down again at the dead man, his gear, specifically the dead wrist cuff. Something about it tickled that special part of my brain that overrode good sense a lot of the time, the one that kept me up at night playing old Earth games or trading for heretical tech on the sly so I could crack it open. Something was wrong here. I reached down and grabbed the lookout¡¯s arm. Not a mark on it. Chris took him down fast, probably at the throat or through the heart. There were no buttons or other visible hardware anywhere on the device. Any panels to access the guts were probably on the inside of the cuff. I resisted the desire to take the thing off the arm, though. If there were some kind of security feature to prevent it from being stolen, that could complicate things. ¡°Why are you wearing dead tech, buddy?¡± I whispered. The dead man didn¡¯t answer. His poker face was impenetrable as well, though I considered the tinted goggles tantamount to cheating. The seed of something terrifying began to germinate in my brain. Oh. With twitching fingers I reached up to the man¡¯s face and removed the goggles. The night was extremely dark this time of the month. Therefore, before I even flipped the goggles around, the faint glow of a heads up display cast the corpse¡¯s wide eyed expression in a ghoulish blue. Oh¡­. shit. I put the goggles on, slipping them over my own. The world lit up in a cascade of bright blue, so bright it stung my dark attuned eyes. Ambient radiation sparked and swirled in the air like a summer rain. Brendon and Chris stared down at the camp with black eyes, directly into a wall of pulsing blue stretched between strobing pylons, pylons that formed a perimeter fence around the camp. Beyond that, the camp stood bright in my vision. The tents were a neon sort of white against the dull background of the dirt. Strobing lights trailed up a spindly, wobbling cable tethered to an armored tractor in the center of camp. I followed the cable upward, high into the sky where a glider drone bobbed on the air currents. Previously invisible search lights shone down from the underbelly of the machine, two searching and one fixed directly on the gaggle of boys around the generator. I sprang to my feet, a wordless cry crawling out of my open mouth. As I took off, I spared a look down at the lookout¡¯s wrist tech again. Through the goggles, the cuff¡¯s screen flashed frantically: BREACH. BREACH. BREACH. Oh SHIT! Then I was moving, full sprint down the hill through the infrared security fence. ¡°They know!¡± I shouted over my shoulder at our overwatch. The wind howled past me drowning out whatever their reply had been. When I caught up to the group, they were already gathered around the generator¡¯s trailer, grunting and swearing as they tried to realign the angle of the wheels. Vince, along with two others were at the neck of the trailer, arms and backs straining to drag the monster machine into place. The ice pick in my head scraped around in the inside of my skull in time with my steps and seemed to hit something in the part of my brain that housed my volume control, because when I called to the others, my voice was shrill, bordering on panicked. ¡°They¡¯re coming!¡± I shouted. ¡°They know!¡± All activity stopped for a second as every head turned toward me. ¡°Shut up. You¡¯re going to get us caught.¡± Mel growled through clenched teeth. He had a hand underneath the wheel housing closest to me, and he was pulling for all he was worth to try to get the behemoth to move. This close to the generator, I realized how I¡¯d underestimated its size. They must pull this thing with something big. I got Vince¡¯s attention, which was all I needed. ¡°What is it, Ryan?¡± I ran over to stand next to him and tried to get my voice under control ¡°We¡¯re caught. They have a silent alarm and a drone.¡± Fear touched Vince¡¯s eyes for an instant, but then the moment passed, the fear giving way to stubborn determination. ¡°We have to finish it. If we run now, they¡¯ll just chase us down.¡± ¡°We can steal the bikes.¡± I turned to four tethered up to the generator, one of which still had its atmo thruster half disassembled. ¡°Can you do that? How fast?¡± Vince asked, doubt evident in his tone. I groaned. He was right. I didn¡¯t know enough about Colonial tech to hotwire four hover bikes before we got shot. I¡¯d be lucky to figure out one if given the rest of the night. ¡°Fine!¡± I was back to shouting now. It just felt natural at this point. My headache threatened to split my skull in two. ¡°Fine!¡± I shouted again, bounding away from Vince and heading to the wheel housing, crouching down and shoving Mel to the side as I felt around next to the wheel. ¡°Hey! Vince, call your dog before I have to slap him!¡± Mel shouted from behind me, but I wasn¡¯t listening. My fingers found what I was looking for: the brake line. I pulled it out, so I could see it, then I drew out my multitool, opened the blade with my teeth and severed the hydraulic line. Cold, clear liquid streamed out of the tube and down my hands. That¡¯s when Mel hauled me up and threw me. I spun around in the air and landed on my stomach, all my air leaving me in a whoosh. I gasped, pushing myself up to get on my knees, my hand balled into an angry fist. Mel wasn¡¯t paying me any mind, though. He was back in position, pulling hard with the rest. The trailer spun in place slowly, maybe an inch at a time. It would take time for the fluid to fully drain from the braking system. Until then, I had more to do. I got to my feet and stumbled toward my next goal, sucking in shallow gasps of air as I went. Tough guys didn¡¯t have time to catch their breath. Got no time to breathe. I¡¯ll breathe when I¡¯m dead. ¡°Hey! It¡¯s starting to move!¡± I heard faintly from behind me. A mad, hysterical giggle bubbled up out of my throat. We were all going to die. The iron spike in my head chose to reassert itself at that point, but my brain was overloaded. I just didn¡¯t have the capacity to stop and pay any attention to my head or my sore muscles or my wounded pride. I knew where the firepit was thanks to our scouting earlier, but my shiny new goggles would have let me know regardless. It was a pulsing, flickering beacon for me, the only one at ground level that I could see. The camp was quiet still, quiet enough that one could almost forget the situation. The habs I passed were deathly quiet, like there was no one inside at all. I knew better though. No doubt they were waiting for their chance to spring their trap all at once instead of trickling out of their shelters and alerting their guests before it was time. The thought occurred to me to knock out a few of their supports, but I couldn¡¯t imagine that being more than an inconvenience to the occupants as they shuffled their way to the doors. No. The only way I was going to create a sufficient distraction was right in front of me. The fire had burned down over the night, but it still gave off plenty of heat, noticeable even in the wind. They¡¯d used super-dense carbon bricks that lasted for extended amounts of time and didn¡¯t give off more than a few sparks as they burned. Smart if you like your camp not on fire. Unfortunately, their camp needed to be on fire. I slipped the pack from my shoulders, easing it down into the dirt at my feet right at the edge of the firepit. I needed to time this right. I turned my head to check the others¡¯ progress, but I couldn¡¯t see them from here. That¡¯s when something hard and cold pressed into the back of my neck. I froze. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Get down on your knees, kid, away from the bag,¡± A gravelly voice ordered from behind me. ¡°I see you touch it, and I¡¯ll plug you. Nod if you understand.¡± Bright blue flooded my vision through the enhanced vision of the goggles, causing a sympathetic reaction from the spikes in my brain. I winced, looking up to see one of the searchlights was pointed directly at me now. My captor didn¡¯t like me doing that one bit. Faster than I could react, he hit me squarely in the temple with something hard. I flopped bonelessly down onto my knees, just like the guy wanted. Rough hands ripped my goggles off my head, bringing the world back to the appropriate level of light. Spots floated in my vision, and my ears rang. ¡°Stay down and stay quiet,¡± the voice ordered. It sounded like an excellent idea, the way my vision swam. If I¡¯d had anything in my stomach, I might have lost it. The sound of metal scraping on gravel saved me. The trailer the other boys had been trying to roll toward the cliff must have hit something on the way over, making the most horrific screeching sound, the kind that sounded expensive and painful even if the thing in question wasn¡¯t yours. Then that screech was followed by an echoing *BOOM* that filled the valley and rattled my teeth. ¡°What th-¡± I shot to my feet, dizzy and nauseous, but I had the wherewithal to pause and do my best mule kick back into my captor. I hit something and heard a sort of squawk from the man, but I didn¡¯t pause to see what I¡¯d done. I kicked my pack into the fire. Sparks blazed up out of the pit and shot off into the wind. Then I was running into the dark. My night vision was shot thanks to the goggles that I¡¯d now lost, but I knew I couldn¡¯t stay where I was. I sprinted forward, just hoping to get some distance and space to figure out the next part of my plan. *CRACK* *CRACK* Two lasrounds flew past me to burn ugly, smoking holes into the hab I was about to use as cover. Voices cried out in alarm from inside. I changed course but never broke stride, bounding, gazelle-like, over hab anchors and diving past opening hab doors. Without my pack I was much faster. I might even be able to make it to- *CRACK* *CRACK* More lasrounds, their tempo slower this time, more deliberate. The first two went wide into the dark. *CRACK* They say when you¡¯re hit by laser type weapons, the heat boils the blood and sears the nerves too quickly for the trauma to be truly appreciated. I disagree. One second, I was running for my life, pumping my legs and dodging lasfire, then suddenly my right leg collapsed, and my body did a sort of involuntary flop and roll maneuver. When I came to a stop, my leg felt like it was dissolving from the inside out. I held onto the sizzling holes in my quadricep and stifled a scream. Back the way I¡¯d come, armed and armored reavers were pouring from their habs, their need for subterfuge gone now that gunfire had been exchanged. *FWOOSH* *BOOM* A massive ball of liquid fire erupted from the center of the camp, blown high into the air by the long-awaited explosion of my promegel pack. Proxis¡¯ energetic wind currents took it from there, providing the flames with oxygen and sweeping the sticky yellow gel to cover half of the camp, specifically, the half that was down wind. It was a tidal wave of conflagration, one that I was hoping to be much farther away from before it went off. The wall of fire swept in my general direction, luckily not directly towards me. Though it hurt my wounded body, I curled into a ball and rolled, doing my best to shield myself behind one of the nearby habs. Blistering heat blew across my back and stole the oxygen from the air with a *woosh* Then the initial wave was past. Around me, little globs of unignited gel splatted onto the roofs of habs or down into the dirt with weighty plops. Everything was on fire. People were shouting. Lasfire echoed in the night in fits and starts, mingled with the sound of steel ringing on steel. Vince and the others were fighting. Battle cries replaced the screams of the burned. Shouts and orders I didn¡¯t understand. A pair of reavers found me sometime after things quieted down, and I was forced to hobble between the two of them until we came back to the center of camp, where the other boys knelt in the blackened dirt, hands bound and under guard. Several were in the process of being beaten and cursed even as they sat there silently. There were too few of us here. As they dragged me past, I frantically searched for Vince in the group of bruised and bloody faces. Please let him be alive. My two escorts lined me up next to the rest and kicked my good knee out from under me to force me down. I wasn¡¯t bound like the rest. The reavers hurled curses at us and rained blows down on those of us that showed even a spark of defiance. Some of us cried out. Others wept. Then the atmosphere changed. All voices went silent, even those of the reavers. Heavy footsteps clomped through the gravel behind us accompanied by the clank of metal. What came into the circle of firelight was a hulking, black figure, clad from head to toe in thick plated armor. Its pace was slow, methodical, almost lazy, its boots thunking down onto the gravel and crushing the pebbles into dust. Its arms and legs were thick as tree trunks, the plates of its segmented armor making grinding, scraping sounds that set my teeth on edge. The figure¡¯s broad shoulders and deep barrel chest gave it the look of a walking tank instead of a man. Its gauntleted hand hung on the handle of an automatic with a barrel as thick as my thumb. The black winged helmet it wore had no visor or slits, but we heard its voice all the same. Barrow. ¡°How many more?¡± It asked with a voice deep and clear. No one answered, whether too brave or too afraid to speak. Barrow let the question hang for a moment, but when it became apparent no one was talking he took a different tack. He strode down the line where we knelt. He had a deliberate, almost sluggish type of walk, like every step was an imposition. He stopped in front of Mel, crouching down to get close to the boy¡¯s face. ¡°How many more of you are there?¡± Barrow asked again. Mel, for the first time in his life, stayed quiet when challenged, Constance bless him. It cost him his life. Barrow''s hand shot out faster than a striking snake and took hold of Mel¡¯s face, the strong, armored fingers wrapping around the top of Mel¡¯s skull. Then Barrow straightened, standing up to his full height and bringing Mel with him, the boy¡¯s feet dangling just above the ground. Mel cried out, muffled against the palm of Barrow¡¯s hand. He fought to free his arms from behind his back. The bonds were strong, though, and his feet kicked desperately as the weight of his heavily muscled body wrenched his neck painfully with every second. Barrow¡¯s arm didn¡¯t move more than you might expect the branch of an ancient tree to move, even as Mel kicked at him and tried to squirm. It took a full minute for Mel to stop struggling. A wave of something cold passed through me. The ice in my brain crackled. Barrow dropped the body like a discarded garment and took a step to the right, crouching down in front of the next boy. ¡°How many more?¡± ¡°Stop!¡± Relief washed over me only to be replaced by cold terror as Vince¡¯s voice shouted over the roaring wind. ¡°This is all of us, and this was my plan.¡± Barrow stood up slowly and plodded over to Vince, crouching down to his level like he did with Mel. ¡°Am I addressing the man called Barrow?¡± Vince asked, loudly enough to be heard by us all. ¡°And what if you are?¡± Barrow asked in return. ¡°I-¡± Vince¡¯s confidence seemed to waiver staring into that blank helm, but he found his voice again quickly. ¡°I challenge you. For the freedom of my men here.¡± Barrow leaned in until Vince had to look up to keep ¡°eye¡± contact as the big tank loomed over. ¡°A fine idea if you were an Exotic,¡± Barrow stated. ¡°I could use the experience, but I can sense that you¡¯re not one of us.¡± Barrow stood up again and addressed the rest of us. ¡°You made a fatal mistake, children, in not going for the kill when you had the chance. Your elders failed to impress this lesson upon you.¡± ¡°Killing someone in their sleep is something a reaver would do,¡± Vince shot back. ¡°Not one of the Chosen. Not one of us.¡± ¡°Chosen¡­¡± Barrow mused, sounding out both syllables slowly, going deathly still for a long minute. When he continued, his tone had changed noticeably. He sounded pensive, far away. ¡°Any man worth killing is worth killing in his sleep, boy. Your clan has been too long at peace if they¡¯ve forgotten that.¡± With a sharp *CRACK* and a red flash that wreathed Barrow in light, the Exotic stumbled forward a singular step, catching himself with his black armored boot. Then he was gone, the forward rush of displaced air the only clue that he¡¯d been there at all. There was a heavy thud we could hear even over the wind and the crackling flames, a desperate scream, cut short. Then silence. A long, tense few minutes later, Barrow came back into the circle of firelight. In his hands he held what was left of Brendon¡¯s lasrifle, snapped in half. The bulky artifact looked like a toy in the Exotic¡¯s hand. ¡°Well planned. Well struck.¡± He looked down at the remains of the lasgun. ¡°Now you can die knowing you tried everything.¡± Everything was wrong. Something had to happen. Something needed to change, or this would be it. Panic filled my mind. Every thought that raced through my head came with a thousand needles of ice. Vince rose to his feet and turned to address us, his natural gravity drawing all of us in as it always did. ¡°Our people live another day, and he can¡¯t take that from us. The Clan lives on, and Constance will judge us worthy.¡± ¡°If your clan was worth a damn, they would be here instead of their children,¡± Barrow replied as he strode over to Vince calmly like he was taking in the weather. ¡°The System will judge us worthy!¡± Vince shouted defiantly. There was a sword in Barrow¡¯s hand. He didn¡¯t draw it from anywhere. It was suddenly just there. It was as long as I was tall, thick as my wrist, and the ambient light around the blade died on contact with the metal. Barrow placed the tip against Vince¡¯s chest. The boy raised his chin defiantly to look the Exotic in the eye. The big man nodded, almost respectfully. ¡°In a just universe, the System would have chosen you.¡± Then he ran the blade through Vince¡¯s heart. Someone screamed. I think it might have been me. Vince just hung there, head slumped, arms behind him. I was up and moving, red rage tinting my vision blurred by tears, that primal, desperate scream still leaving my body. I leapt at the man who just killed my only friend in the world. Barrow caught me casually by the throat with his free hand. I swung my fist wildly, trying to strike something that would hurt the man, but the Exotic¡¯s arm was too long. I was shouting, cursing, gibbering like a demon, scratching at the Exotic¡¯s impenetrable armor with cracking, bleeding nails. Eventually, I had to breathe in, and when I did, I turned to Vince just as he died. He seemed to diminish in that moment, when the light finally left his eyes. His eyes sunk back into his head and his skin turned ashen. His frame grew gaunt, and his body collapsed in on itself like a dead insect husk left in the sun for weeks. When Barrow withdrew his blade, Vince¡¯s body fell to the ground lighter than it should have been. Barrow¡¯s evil sword was at my chest now, his faceless helmet staring into me. ¡°There is no divine hand. No blessed ancestors judging our deeds.¡± With a wet pop, the blade pierced my chest cavity and took me through the heart, just as it did Vince. ¡°You people pray to a rotting corpse.¡± Life left me quickly, almost rushing out of my chest. Something gave way in my skull, finally giving me some relief from the migraine. I slumped forward as my vision dimmed, but not before taking one last shot at the man¡¯s face. Somehow, this one connected. My fist hit with a meaty *GONG* accompanied by the sound of my breaking bones. Wrath. The world stopped. The fractals were back, dancing around in my vision, a jumbled mess of¡­ Wait. Something snapped into place. Welcome to the System, Ryan Kotes. Your integration is the first of many steps on the path to ascension. Please stand by for initial assessment. I blinked, or at least I tried to. Nothing was working. My fist was frozen mid strike on Barrow¡¯s ¡®face.¡¯ I could even see the shock of the impact as it traveled up my arm. The pain was still there from being impaled and from my broken hand, though it was a distant thing. I could tell it was there, but it was muted. Assessment commencing¡­ What the hell did I have to offer the System? The Constance Clan had been waiting for generations for the next Exotic to appear in their bloodline. They built their entire lives around honing their bodies and minds to perfection, training their kids from birth to fight, and¡­ What? The System chose me? The defective guy that wasn¡¯t allowed to train? My mind felt clearer than it had been a few heartbeats ago, and the questions piled up. Why not any of the paragons of physicality literally kneeling a few feet from me? Why not Vince? Despair bubbled up again from the dark places of my mind, but I forced it back. I needed a clear mind. People talked about this moment of first contact with the System like it was a religious experience, and I should at least try to be present for it. Error: Bodily Integrity Compromised. Anomalous material detected¡­ In all fairness, there was a sword through my chest. Hopefully the System wouldn¡¯t hold that against me. Error: Spiritual Integrity Compromised. Anomalous presence detected¡­ That was as or more concerning than the previous message. What was draining my spirit? The text started to fly by, faster than I could absorb its meaning: Assessment complete. Ryan Kotes HP: 1/23 MP: 0 Body: 1 (Amputation: -3, Physical Trauma: -6) Mind: 9 (Blood Loss: -1, Concussion: -2) Spirit: 7: (External Drain: -2) Initiating Emergency Protocol: Life Preservation¡­ Eligible Classes: 4,602 List of eligible classes curated due to Emergency Protocol: Life Preservation. Eligible Classes: Animator (Uncommon) End of list. Initiating Class transition. Integrating. There will be some discomfort as your body is modified to synergize with your class¡­ What? I¡­ No. Everything¡­ collapsed in on itself. One second, everything was frozen in time, and all the pain of dying was a distant worry, but then the world dissolved. My broken fist, my arm, my body, the sword through my heart, even the light around me collapsed around each other, broken down at a fundamental level and fused with blazing, blasting sun-fire. I felt all of it. Whatever was keeping me from experiencing pain in the time stop, it wasn¡¯t working anymore. I felt myself melt away, scoured and disintegrated, then condensed. Then there was nothing except a single mote of dim light that was, at once, so small yet infinitely complex and unique. I saw it against the massive, swirling chaos of the cosmos. Then there was a rushing sensation, the kind you get when you fall out of your bunk in your sleep, just before you hit the ground. The world came back into focus, and time resumed its normal flow. I didn¡¯t come back the same way I left. I had the sensation of floating. The world seemed narrower, everything closer. No. Wait. One of my eyes was shut. That side of my face felt hot and too big. Spots danced in what vision I still had, blurred as it was. Everything sounded tinny, like it was being projected through a can on a string. I had a hard time making out individual words. -¡±id you do?!¡± Barrow¡¯s fist smashed into the swollen side of my face. I¡­ blinked. What? The rushing sound in my ears abated, letting the sounds of utter chaos reach my brain. Gunfire. Shouting. Explosions. Engines. It was a cacophony of violent action. I tried to turn my head, but Barrow had me by the throat. I wasn¡¯t floating so much as being held in the air and beaten to death. ¡°What did you do?!¡± Barrow erupted. His voice was strained, manic. He hit me again, and the world flashed white. ¡°What have you done to me?!¡± The man practically screamed at me. Process interrupted. Protocol: Life Preservation: Synthesizing Core from available material¡­ Synthesis Complete. Bodily integrity restored. Integration complete. Initiating travel to class tutorial. Stand by¡­ Everything rushed away from me, or maybe I rushed away from everything else. Then I was gone. Chapter 9 - Meet the Slavers Chapter 9 - Meet the Slavers Gasping, I jolted awake, eyes wide open before my brain kicked into gear and registered I wasn¡¯t back home anymore. Orange flickering spotlights stabbed through my retinas, forcing me to blink tears from my eyes. I would never talk to Vince again. I thought back, attempting to recall the sound of his voice or how he looked, but the scenes faded and dissolved when I tried to hold them. In every memory I had, there was nothing but the surreal finality of Vince¡¯s last, pained sigh played over and over again as he died. It played on loops through my mind, echoing through every memory. The one person in the world that didn¡¯t think I was a burden, and he was gone. What are the chances he fought the reavers to save me? What are the chances I killed him? I buried that thought, afraid to entertain the possibility that the others stayed to fight because I¡¯d been wounded, even Mel. That would be too much. Sharp, penetrating pain in my shoulder brought me back to the present again. I was lying down on something hard. My legs and arms were bound with rope, rough and, judging by the raw sensation I felt in my wrist, wet with my blood. All sources of light, of which there were a handful, assaulted my vision from multiple angles, tiny suns all of them. I howled, contorting my body and trying to bring my arms up to guard or to swing at whatever it was, but my bonds held fast. ¡°It dreams still.¡± Why was I alive when the others were not? Why didn¡¯t the System make Vince the Exotic? He would have done something great with this. I needed to move. I needed something to¡­ I don¡¯t know. I wanted to lash out, to rage. To hurt something or be hurt. ¡°You poke it again. Make sure,¡± a raspy voice commanded from somewhere. Someone stabbed me. Pain shot through my hip on entry as the blade ripped into the meat of my quadricep and buried itself deep, the reflexive motion of my body making the weapon wriggle around in the wound before it was ripped out. Unknown attacks you for 2 damage. Status Gained: Bleeding [.1 HP/sec] I didn¡¯t scream, per se, mostly because I was out of breath at the precise moment I was stabbed, but I did manage a quiet groan. Blurry shadows resolved into semi-distinct shapes in the light, humanoid-ish. Large heads atop small bodies with long arms and stubby legs. One of them crouched low, poised to thrust its spear into me again. I tried to focus on them, but the light was too intense to see anything detailed. ¡°Awake now,¡± the one with the spear announced flatly as if he were talking about the weather. A higher, softer voice joined the two. ¡°Yes. Yes. I tell you already. It is awake. Now I fix a new cut, stupid Hunty.¡± ¡°Hey! I do what he says!¡± The one with the spear, Hunty, held his arms out indignantly. The raspy voice came back, clear authority in its words. ¡°Now we are sure. It is light burned. Needs fixing.¡± ¡°Now it is light burned and bleeding, Kuul. Yes, it needs fixing,¡± the softer voice admonished as something was stuffed painfully into my leg wound. I could feel the familiar burn of some kind of antiseptic agent go to work, before numbing the wound as it cleaned it. ¡°The stories say they heal fast,¡± the commanding one replied. ¡°Hoof¡± I said, though it¡¯s not what I meant to say. My lips felt dry and cracked, and my swollen tongue was an entity entirely separate from the speech center of my brain just now. I tried to work some saliva into my mouth, but I had none. ¡°Washel¡± Kuul didn¡¯t seem to appreciate that. ¡°It speaks. Stab it again.¡± ¡°No, Hunty, you don¡¯t stab it again!¡± The healer shouted. ¡°I leave you bleeding when next you come here if you stab it!¡± There was a pause, then a fist cracked across my chin, hard. Unknown attacks you for 1 damage. ¡°It does not speak,¡± Kuul rasped. ¡°It does not cry out. Understand?¡± I worked my jaw around, making sure it wasn¡¯t broken. Pulling up my status screen, I checked. My HP was at a respectable 20, but I had some status effects. Exposure (Light) [18Hr] Bleeding [.1 HP/sec] Restrained: You are bound. Dehydration [-1 Mind, -2 Body] Underfed [-1 Mind, -1 Body] ¡°It understands, yes?¡± he asked again, his dangerous tone telling me more violence was to come if I said no. I nodded, slowly, consciously not flexing against my bonds anymore. The emotion from the memories were slowly slipping back into my subconscious, but something in my heart ached with the helplessness I felt, not just at being bound and beaten. I was back to being powerless, a feeling I¡¯d forgotten when the System scrambled my brain and sent me here with a whole body and magic powers. I wanted another Barrow to punch. This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. I didn¡¯t want to capitulate to Kuul¡¯s command. I wanted him to hit me again. I wanted to spit in his face, laugh at him, force him to hurt me, make him bleed me until I drowned him in my blood. Everything was wrong. I was one of the System¡¯s Chosen now, and I didn¡¯t get that way by being exceptional like I¡¯d always been taught. I became an Exotic by being weak, by being a victim. It felt like a consolation prize for being the most pathetic thing on Proxis that morning. I didn¡¯t want it. Kuul bent forward, uncomfortably close to my face, bringing with him the smell of woodsmoke and unbrushed teeth. ¡°Good. I believe it.¡± I turned my head to peer at him through the stinging pain of the light. Goblins. Of course, it¡¯s goblins. I knew it as soon as I brought him into focus. Kuul wasn¡¯t like the monster I¡¯d fought in the tutorial building, though. The proportions and bone structure were similar, the same way I was similar to a gene-fused spacer or an orangutan. Where the oily, black goblin I fought was animalistic with powerful muscles, sharp teeth, and claws, Kuul had a mottled green, weathered face that didn¡¯t seem to fit well on his skull, slicked back hair with a touch of gray, and the few teeth he had, while pointed, were noticeably duller than his scourge-touched counterpart¡¯s. His mouth and jaw were a little more reasonably sized for his face as well, and his pointed ears were drawn back on his head. His clothes were some kind of rough spun fiber, but it was far better than a leather loincloth. Kuul reached into a pocket on the side of his shirt and retrieved something small, clutching it in his fist before pressing the object into my hand. ¡°It makes something,¡± he ordered. I blinked, confused. The old goblin¡¯s eyes bored into mine, searching for something. I got the feeling he was coldly analyzing every expression I made like my dad when he knew I¡¯d done something wrong. Though his species was alien to me, I could still sense a keen and disciplined intellect behind those eyes, also much like my dad. This old goblin had authority here, and he didn¡¯t get that way through chance. ¡°You would do well to remember that,¡± his wrinkled frown seemed to say. The object in my hand, no bigger than a throwing stone, felt lumpy and cool to the touch. I ran a thumb over it in an attempt to figure out what I had, but it didn¡¯t take a genius to figure out it was ore of some kind. Kuul leaned in closer until his nose was practically touching mine. ¡°It makes something or Hunty pokes it again.¡± I opened my mouth to tell him to poke his mother, but my self-loathing was mostly under control now, sublimated by a more immediate concern: Kuul knew I could Shape. How, exactly, did he know I could Shape? Thinking back, Nali, as unreliable as she was, told me there hadn¡¯t been a new Animator in a very long time. She hadn¡¯t been specific, but I got the impression the time would have been measured in decades or maybe centuries. Kuul mentioned ¡®stories¡¯ about man, implying his people had come into contact with mine before, only now it was a campfire story as opposed to actual history. That would make sense if they passed down their history in the oral tradition. Perhaps we were a local legend, like unicorns. Seeing Kuul¡¯s cold stare, I did, indeed, feel like a unicorn, and this thing wanted my horn¡­ But not before I granted some wishes. Putting that unpleasant thought aside, I closed my eyes and reached for my mana, drawing it out of my core and channeling it to my hand where I held the lump of metal. I mapped the contours of the thing, surrounding it as I did the rebar, then squeezed. The material accepted my mana easily, much more easily than the rusted iron from the tutorial building. MP 26/30 I saturated the metal with my mana until it was a part of me. There were imperfections here, bits I couldn¡¯t reach easily, but otherwise Shaping it felt relatively effortless. I bent my will to change it. Kuul hadn¡¯t told me what to make, but I¡¯d gleaned from context that this was more of a proof of concept for him than a specific demand. He wanted to know I could do the things his stories said. I could have made some kind of weapon, but, despite this ore being more pure than rusted rebar, my Shape ability was slow and unpracticed. No, for now, I decided on making the ore into a sphere. I dove in, rounding off the edges, massaging the structure until the imperfections sunk down into the metal and were gathered at the very center of the construct. Shape gave me perfect knowledge of the material, which allowed me to make the outside perfectly round and smooth. Without actually looking at it, I knew the finished product shined. When I opened my eyes again, I was breathing hard, and my head pounded with my thundering pulse. I clenched my teeth with the pain of my ever thickening blood struggling to bring oxygen where I needed it. My clothes were damp with sweat yet again, and I desperately needed that water given how dehydrated I was. You have created: Tin Marble (Common) You have been awarded 12 experience points. [10 base, +2 new design] Shape is now level 2. Despite the circumstances, it was nice to see an experience message pop up in my log without any penalties attached. Being a non-combat class seemed to have some drawbacks in life or death situations, but¡­ An electric tingling crawled over my body, starting in the center of my forehead and building, swelling into a crescendo of sensation that activated every nerve ending I had all at once. It drowned all conscious thought in a tide of intense stimulation. It felt¡­ great. My muscles didn¡¯t ache anymore, and my mind felt clear and focused, more than it did before at least. I still had all of my negative status effects, but they felt less severe now, like I¡¯d gotten a pep talk and an energy drink to power through. A deluge of messages scrolled through my log. Level up! You are now level 1. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Ability: Spatial Storage unlocked. Quest advanced: Tutorial Tutorial: Return to insertion point. It was my first level as an Exotic, bittersweet considering what I had to give up to get it, yet I felt a sense of fading euphoria. In the back of my mind, I knew the emotion didn¡¯t come from me. I was tied up, stabbed, beaten, blind, and I¡¯d just lost people I loved, but there it was, a gift from the System. Achievements awarded this level: Victorious: You have defeated your first foe. [+1 body] Ambitious: You have defeated a foe above your level. [+1 to lowest level ability] Nemesis: You have encountered your first Scourgeling and lived. [+1 Spirit] All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] Near Death Experience: You fell below 10% of your HP this level. [50% bonus experience gain for next level] Baptism by Fire: Your first defeated foe was an agent of the Scourge. You have been noticed. [+3 to highest combat abilityERROR] While the level up was nice, it seemed that my real jumps in attributes came from what I did to earn my new level instead of just reaching it. Achievements. Everyone back home knew about levels. Exotics loved to talk about them when they were being interviewed or while comparing themselves to other Exotics. Our patron saint, Constance, was supposedly level 40 before she died, and it was a major point of pride for my clan to be loosely tied to her by blood. Achievements, though, I¡¯d never heard about. As obsessed with the System as my clan was, there was nothing in our culture that mentioned them. ¡°Something happens.¡± I heard the stabby goblin say, accompanied by scraping chairs and multiple tiny feet slapping on stone as they came to my side. ¡°Is it done?¡± the soft voice of the healer goblin asked from somewhere I still couldn¡¯t see. The figures crowded around me again, their forms and color a little clearer this time. My eyes were getting better. I checked my debuff timer. Exposure [16h] ¡°It looks better. Stronger.¡± The healer said with evident concern. The one with the spear stepped forward and snatched the oversized ball bearing out of my hand and passed it over to the hunched shadow whom I guessed was Kuul. The old goblin brought the metal ball close to his face, turning it this way and that, tapping it with a fingernail as the other two goblins watched him, and awaited his verdict. ERROR: No valid combat abilities found. Resolving¡­ Ability awarded: Volatility Volatility is now level 3. Kuul put my metal ball back in his pocket and nodded to the other two. When the old goblin spoke, there was something different about his voice, a lightness to it that made him sound younger, more hopeful. ¡°The stories speak true. Now, Tiba heals it, and Hunty guards it.¡± ¡°What do you do?¡± Hunty asked, tilting his head sideways while leaning casually on his spear shaft but still keeping me in his peripheral vision. Kuul turned back to me. I couldn¡¯t see it, but I imagined that calculating scowl back on his face. ¡°It needs a special cage,¡± he said, turning on his heel and marching out of sight. Chapter 10 - Get a Job Chapter 10 - Get a Job Once Kuul was done testing me, he left in a hurry, hobbling out of the room and shouting at someone outside. The other two goblins, Hunty and Tiba, set about nursing me back to health, which mostly involved giving me water and dried meat. My body took care of itself thanks to my new Exotic status. Back home there were stories about Exotics that could survive in the vacuum of space for hours and come back for more after a good nap, and apparently I had something of a healing factor myself. It wasn¡¯t so impressive that I was immortal, but given enough time, my wounds would close and my body would come back to health given enough fuel and rest. That didn¡¯t stop Tiba, the village¡¯s healer and herbalist, from taking care of me in her ¡®clinic¡¯ where I¡¯d woken up, and she turned out to be a lovely little goblin, if you didn¡¯t cross her. Much like the medics and doctors I¡¯d already met during my life, Tiba was just interested in fixing what was broken. Much younger than Kuul, she had distinctly feminine features with a pointed chin, button nose, and long hair she kept tightly bound in a side-bun. Singing tunelessly as she worked, Tiba cleaned my wounds with wet cloths as my body mended itself. She *tsked* over my stab wounds and fussed at me if I choked on my water, taking care of me much like you would a small child or an animal. Mostly, she made declarative statements, speculations, or observations in soothing tones, not expecting me to understand or answer. ¡°Oh no. This hurts, I think. You don¡¯t go near spiders alone, yeah?¡± when cleaning my back, or ¡°I like this arm. This is my favorite arm of yours,¡± when she set about cleaning the debris off of my metal side. Maybe she enjoyed not having to use any of her herbs on that part. My bonds were never loosened or untied. Hunty made sure of that. Hunty was built powerfully for a goblin, thick in the arms and chest with a short mohawk type style to his black hair. Multiple scars marred his neck and shoulders from what was, no doubt, a harrowing battle with a monster or something equally cool. He watched me closely as Tiba went about patching me up, always poised to act, pointing the tip of his spear at my throat from a distance but not so far that he couldn¡¯t lunge forward and end me. Hunty almost did just that when my reflexes got the better of me, and I jerked away as Tiba packed one of my more tender wounds with chewed herbs. In a flash, he was between me and the healer, stone spearpoint digging into the side of my throat. Tiba talked him out of killing me multiple times, calling him an oaf and a flitskizard, whatever that was. Soon enough, I was on the mend, full HP and mana, debuffs gone. I¡¯d taken to watching the minutes on my debuffs tick down, measuring the time with it. The Exposure debuff got less severe as the timer approached zero, which I very much appreciated. Being able to observe my captors even as they sat at the crude table in the corner of the hut was a welcome relief from the unknowing blindness of before. With nothing better to do than bide my time, I took a while to explore my status screen and poke at some of the terms I hadn¡¯t had time to mess with before. Ryan Kotes - Level 1 Animator (Uncommon) Type: Artificer (Common) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 32/32 MP: 35/35 Attributes: Body: 12 Mind: 12 Spirit: 13 Free attribute points: 1 Abilities: Shape 3 Consume 2 Iron Grip 2 Devouring Grasp 1 Volatility 3 Skills: Climbing 5 Unarmed Combat 1 Running 1 Stealth 2 Conduit 1 Affinities: Goblinoid F Iron F Magnesium F My status screen turned out to be pretty flexible in how it was structured. I changed the order of things, what to display and what to not. The same thing was true of my logs and quest boxes. I¡¯d had them be a distraction in the middle of a fight before, and I needed that fixed, especially if I was going to try to escape from this place. Taking some cues from games I¡¯d played in the past, I chose to keep the text logs minimized unless I called them up, and I made my HP and MP visible to me at all times along with my status effects. I poked around at some terminology as well, starting with my new Ability. Volatility: Temporarily overcharge an object with mana. At your will or upon energetic contact with other matter, the charged object will explode violently. Damage: Dependant on amount and type of mana used, Range: Touch If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. I could already think of a few useful applications for Volatility, juicing up rocks and throwing them at Kuul being one of them. Even though Hunty was the one that stabbed me, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to stay mad at him. Kuul ordered Hunty to do the stabbing, and the warrior goblin seemed legitimately afraid of me or maybe afraid I¡¯d hurt someone like Tiba. I could understand where he was coming from at least. In all the media I had ever consumed from books to games to sims, people never really came together and decided whether goblins were tribal nomads of the wilds or deep dwelling monsters with an aversion to sunlight. One story would have them as mischievous little thieves who couldn¡¯t help but covet shiny things, and another would depict them as world devouring hordes of barbarians. Sometime during the dark years of Exodus II, after Earth went silent but before my ancestors woke from cryo, that mystery was put to bed by the discovery of the multiverse: It was both. Goblins, a lot like us, were adaptable creatures, willing to put up with a lot in order to live. Our universe didn¡¯t have them, as devoid of magic as it was, but almost everywhere else, goblins lived wherever they could fit, usually in a place where they could steal from others. These goblins, the ones that held me captive, lived underground in a cave system, somewhere in the lowlands of Ralqir, where water had exposed bare rock and carved immense branching tunnels that went down and down and down forever. Most of the village lived in an expansive cavern warmly lit by torchlight and a soft ambient glow from a stream of daylight that flowed in through a hole in the far corner, well away from the rest of the buildings. Tiny huts constructed from wood and straw dotted the floor like little brown mushrooms, and crude, funnel shaped barrels were set in seemingly random places as water catches for the constant drips from stalactites overhead. Tiba¡¯s hut, or the ¡°Healer¡¯s House¡± as she put it, was on a natural shelf above the rest of the village with a ramp that climbed up to it from either side, and when I was frog marched out of the door, hands bound behind me and at Hunty¡¯s spearpoint, hundreds of pairs of reflective goblin eyes stared at me from almost every nook. I stared back, mostly reeling at how many there were but doing my best to hide my feelings. The creatures were in doorways, on roofs, peeking around from behind barrels, and hanging from the walls. Any thoughts of Consuming my ropes and making a break for it, fled before the sheer number of green-skinned little monsters in here. I stood there, taking everything in, turning my head to get a fuller picture of the place, mostly looking for a way out. Not all the stalactites were made of stone. Twisted roots invaded the cavern, winding around the rock formations and drooping down in a jagged maw of wood that gradually creeped down toward the cave floor. Dirty streaks of soot shot through all of the rock, and burned nubs of thick old roots told me the goblins had a controlled burn in this place from time to time to keep their home from becoming overrun by nature. Hunching my shoulders and bending at the waist I attempted to seem smaller than I was, more cowed. It wasn¡¯t hard. I was practiced at that. The bonus points in my Body attribute made my job hard, though. I had always been lean, even as a kid before the accident. Looking imposing was the last thing I wanted to do, but now, with the System, I was noticeably thicker and heavier, more so because of the metal parts of my anatomy, which also seemed to have filled out after I reached level one. Hunty got me going again with a jab at my back, marching me down the ramp and through the village. Most goblins ducked into their homes or scurried to get out of our way, but I spotted a few goblin children peering at me from roofs or from behind the raincatcher barrels. Curious little eyes followed my every move, little mouths opened in shock. I was a giant in their midst, a fairy tale come to life. Despite myself, I smiled at the little ones brave enough to make eye contact, but their parents were quick to usher them away, scowling at me reproachfully. I was led past the village and into a tunnel that sloped down and to the left, worn smooth by water over time and stained orange by innumerable goblin feet. It was slippery as hell, and I stumbled multiple times, forcing Tiba to light a torch so I wouldn¡¯t die on my way to my cell. Hunty would not allow her to walk in front of me, however, so I ended up walking awkwardly behind my own shadow, unsure if it was better than the pitch black. Eventually, hundreds of feet later, our spiraling tunnel leveled out, the shaft expanding into another cavern lit by torches. This one looked more artificial, dug out and made flat by tools. Piles of¡­ stuff were everywhere. Rocks, sticks, chopped wood, straw, coils of rope, bundles of leaves, tools, weapons, and even, in one pile, what looked like corpses, not goblins but other types of monsters. Several goblins sat around that one, practiced hands wielding stone knives to harvest what bits of the monsters they deemed useful. Industrious workers lugged things out from an adjacent tunnel into this one, throwing whatever they carried into the proper pile. Grunts and shouts from the workers echoed harshly around the cavern as they went about their business, while the smell of smoke, sweat, and viscera compounded on one another, forming a busy bouquet reminiscent of an open air market next to a slaughterhouse. Kuul was there, pointing and shouting, waving goblins past to get them out of the way of our little procession. When we approached, he smiled wickedly at me. ¡°Come. Its special cage is ready,¡± he said, leading us through the commotion to the back of the cavern, past an absolute mountain of a stone furnace, so massive my old hab on Proxis would have fit inside of it. The structure lay dormant, but little tendrils of smoke slithered lazily up the stack from the spent wood at the bottom. My ¡°special cage,¡± as Kuul put it, turned out to be a whole room, or maybe it would be better to call it an antechamber to the main, lower cavern. It was about the size of a four-passenger vehicle cab, tall enough to stand if you lowered your head, wide enough to lie down without having to tuck your legs. Like the rest of the cavern, it was partially natural and partially dug meaning the walls were generally smooth with some tool marks here and there. Slightly off-center on the floor was a hole that I could almost squeeze into if I angled my shoulders. Upon ushering me inside, Kuul had my ropes cut, and everyone else backed out of the cave, Hunty and his spear last. Then it was just me, hunched over in a tiny room, staring out at a bunch of goblins, every eye trained on me and what I would do. Again, I had the urge to rush them, use my superior size to bowl them over, maybe Devouring Grasp Kuul¡¯s green scrotum on my way to freedom, but I knew better. They were waiting for something like that, no doubt. Plus, I wasn¡¯t conscious when they brought me into the caves, so I had no idea how to get out. If I did escape, then what? I¡¯d have a horde of locals tracking me with spears on their home turf. No, I needed to stay and play ball for now. Upon seeing I wasn¡¯t going to make a move, Kuul nodded with visible satisfaction, then he brought his hands up, fingers splayed. He opened his mouth and¡­ sang? Groaned? Whatever it was, it sounded painful, a low, growling song that filled the cavern and tickled my ears. In the torchlight, it was hard to tell, but I thought I saw a tiny white glow at the goblin¡¯s fingertips. My teeth itched and the hair on the back of my neck and on my arms stood on end as stones cracked, and pebbles fell to the floor with echoing pops. Then the roots came. Through solid rock, grasping tendrils of earthy brown slithered into the room¡¯s opening, one, then two, then a dozen, then so many more, intertwining and braiding themselves into living ropes. They wrapped around one another, so tight they could be mistaken for a single plant. They dug into the floor, past this part of the cavern, downward further into the rock and continued for long seconds where all I could do was watch the bars of my prison grow thicker and heartier. When Kuul finally stopped singing, the roots had formed my prison bars, taut and strong, leaving so little space between, I would have a hard time fitting more than my hands through. Kuul staggered on his feet, reeling until Tiba steadied him by slipping the old wizard¡¯s arm over her shoulders. Kuul swallowed then cleared his throat, wincing in pain. ¡°The hole goes to underriver, way down, deep. It can¡¯t escape that way,¡± he said. ¡°If it does not work, we poke it. If we poke it, and it does not work, we starve it. Understand?¡± I stepped forward until I was almost pressed against the wooden bars of my prison, hunched yet still looking down at my jailers. ¡°What work?¡± I asked. Kuul narrowed his eyes and bared his teeth but didn¡¯t give the order to stab me again. Apparently, I didn¡¯t have permission to speak still, but now I was in his cage and theoretically ready to cooperate. He seemed to be weighing whether or not it would be worth it to have me punished before I even started. Eventually, after a minute of grinding his teeth, Kuul replied, loudly enough to be heard by all those assembled. ¡°It makes weapons with magic. Now, it makes weapons for us.¡± Several goblins in the assembled crowd grunted or cheered, toothy smiles spreading across their lips as they turned to one another and slapped each other on the shoulders or went so far as to embrace. Even the more stoic goblins looked cautiously happy, hopeful even. What the hell is going on here? What am I missing? I looked down at the bars and back to Kuul. I thought about bargaining for my freedom, telling them that I could probably be out of my cell and among them with a little effort and some help from my core, but then I would be back to being lost. Kuul also had some kind of magic, and that was an unknown I didn¡¯t want to mess with until I was ready. I needed a better plan, more tools, and more options. Luckily, the goblins were willing to give me the time to generate all of those things, assuming I worked. ¡°I can do that,¡± I said, popping the knuckles on my hand before crouching down to get to eye level with the old monster. ¡°Bring me metal.¡± Chapter 11 - Steal their Iron Chapter 11 - Steal their Iron Proxis 3 - Before Integration: I stood atop my vanquished foe, hammering the final piece of the chassis back into place just as the engine finished its self-check and turned over with a soft, trilling, hum. The soothing vibrations of the machine humming to life massaged my bare feet and gave me a tingle of satisfaction at a job well done. The housings on this model of puller were laser cut for an exact fit and always needed a little convincing, and that convincing was particularly challenging for a guy working with only one hand. In fact, the entire thing was a nightmare to take apart and put together, but my moment of victory just as I buttoned the whole thing up, made the frustration worth it. The shifting walls of the hab contracted suddenly as a gust of wind hit it from the west, issuing forth a loud bang as the segmented pieces came together to reinforce each other and then relaxed as the pressure equalized again. On the floor, a glowing data plate with fluid levels beeped satisfactorily as they interfaced with the machine¡¯s internal computers and spit out data well within their green zones. Jumping down and landing with a roll to save my knees some strain, I scooped up the data plate and made sure what I was seeing tracked with the sound of the engine. The belts squeaked slightly but otherwise, I noticed no anomalies that would indicate another problem. The door to the shop popped its clamps and rolled up along the roof, folding together to accommodate the domed shape of the building, and a lone figure illuminated by my harsh shop lights stood out in stark relief against the night. When did it turn night? Dad strode in, his head tilted to one side as he inspected my work and listened to this beautiful resurrected cat purr. His wide shoulders, deep chest, and powerful legs reminded me of a machine as well, one that never broke, could not be broken. ¡°You got it working. Just in time too,¡± he said in a powerful baritone, the kind that commanded respect from the entire clan and sent me scurrying for cover back when I was small. For my part, I just beamed at him, letting my work speak for itself. This stupid farm tool was dead when it was brought to me, and I fixed it, despite it not being designed to be fixed in the Outers. The whole thing was put together like a maze of crappy decisions only navigable by people specifically trained for that kind of thing, but I had done it. After a while, I couldn¡¯t contain myself. I had to brag. ¡°You might want to tell Wayne that the insides don¡¯t look like they used to, but they¡¯ll probably break down less. He¡¯s also missing a few parts that were just there to give it a shorter shelf life, and it should run for a long long time now,¡± I said, raising my chin with pride and tossing my wrench aside to clatter into the pile under the workbench. Dad laughed as he approached, putting his hands on my shoulders and giving them a squeeze. ¡°I¡¯ll tell him. I don¡¯t think he¡¯ll shed any tears for any missing parts, but am I right in assuming they¡¯ve gone into your collection? No. No. Don¡¯t bother denying it. It won¡¯t affect the fee.¡± The parts had, indeed, been stowed away in my little stash. I didn¡¯t know what I would use them for other than scrap, unless I wanted to add a substandard part to someone else¡¯s vehicle. I didn¡¯t have many enemies that deserved something like that, though. Nodding to me then slipping past, dad mounted the puller and engaged the gears, getting ready to drive it out. I made to join him, stepping into one of the mounting stirrups and pulling myself up, but dad held out a hand to stop me. Confused, I frowned up at him, my moment of elation crashing down around me. Apparently, my subconscious knew what was happening before the rest of my mind did. ¡°It¡¯s probably best you stay here, Ryan,¡± Dad said, pretending to look down at the dials that I knew were in the green. ¡°I¡¯ll take it out to Wayne.¡± My heart sank, and, with it, my demeanor. ¡°I thought- I dunno- Maybe he would want to ask me questions,¡± I mumbled. I already knew Dad wouldn¡¯t hear or, more accurately, wouldn¡¯t listen. ¡°No, son, I think it¡¯s best to stay inside. You¡¯ve done your part. I¡¯ll take it to him. You clean up the shop and get ready for dinner.¡± He tried not to meet my eyes, but I could see it there. The shame. And worse: the pity. Wayne would be uncomfortable with the amputee kid touching his machine, priceless as it was this far from the Colony. I was good enough to fix their tools. They¡¯d even pay me so long as I stayed out of sight and away from more respectable people. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ryan. I really am. Some people aren¡¯t-¡± ¡°I know, Dad. Just- Just tell him to listen for ticks when it¡¯s in third gear,¡± I said, forcing a grin up at the big man and slapping the side of the chassis before I turned away. Having nothing else to say, Dad released the brake and rolled out of the shop, into the night. I pulled up a stool and had a good sit, wiping a tear from my eye. A night like tonight deserved a good sit. ¡ª--------------------------------- Now: Sweat poured down my face and dripped down onto the cave floor as I finished hollowing out the bottom of my twelfth spearhead of the day. My hand, inserted through the bars to my cell, held onto the dull end of the weapon, rolling it over in my fingers as my mana shifted the molecules out to create the hollow where a wooden shaft would eventually be inserted. My mind was taxed to the limit, and the constant pounding in my head promised a long, uncomfortable recovery period, not because my mana was down to 7 of 43, but because of my ¡°side project,¡± the tiny snake of iron, no thicker than a pin, slowly slithering up my arm and into my sleeve. Arrowheads, spears, and knives I could do easily now, especially with iron. The structure of my weapons were efficient, my edges were magnificently sharp, probably down to the molecular level, and my work was made even more efficient and swift after I reached level 4 in Shape. What taxed me greatly, however, was skimming from the materials the goblins fed me. At first, I would simply snap off an edge or pinch off a little ball of metal I hoped no one noticed, but that proved to be too risky. Hunty had sharp ears, and he would generally hear the little bits of metal falling to the cave floor, helpfully bending down to pick it up before I could grab it with my other hand. So, I was forced to do it differently. I kept contact with my ill gotten gains, keeping the mana flowing inside the stolen piece through constant contact with my skin then having it locomote away from its parent, up my arm, and through the bars. It wasn¡¯t so simple, though. My stolen metal had to move on its own and in such a way my captors would not see. So far, I¡¯d come up with a set of rudimentary scales as one might find on the belly of a snake, except these covered the entire surface area of the construct, giving it a segmented appearance more like an insect. I would then flex and contract these scales to create a jerky, halting sort of climb through the hairs of my arm. The little construct wasn¡¯t great at holding on though, requiring me to hold very still and pretend to work very very hard on my latest spearhead, sweating as I split my attention between both pieces. Even through the strain, a little smile slid onto my face as I got the message I¡¯d been looking for. Split Mind is now level 3 +15% increased cognitive efficiency when using multiple abilities at once or using one ability in multiple places. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Apparently, the System recognized what I was doing as a skill, and since that revelation, I¡¯d been practicing with it as often as I could. The bonuses the skill gave me so far already proved immensely helpful, since, as of right now, stretching my perspective like this made me wonder if you could tear brain tissue like you could tear muscle. My little snake made its way up, past the crook of my arm and slithered over my bicep, nearly past the wooden bars now and out of Hunty¡¯s view. Then it reached some kind of tipping point, falling into an uncontrolled death roll toward the outside of my arm. I jerked my arm back, transferring some of that momentum to the metal snake so that it would fall inside the cell instead of on the floor outside. It fell, uncontrolled, now out of contact with my skin and unanimated. Panicking, I dropped the spearhead outside the cell and shifted to bring my metal hand over to catch my prize. I didn¡¯t get there in time, instead merely covering the construct up with my prosthetic hand instead of actually catching it. Hunty was there in a flash, but he didn¡¯t look in the cell. He picked up my finished spearhead and examined it before tossing it into the pile of today¡¯s finished goods. I pretended to stretch, bringing my natural arm down to hold onto my stolen iron so that the prompt could appear: Transfer to Spatial Storage? Y/N There was a brief pulse of magic and light, then the iron was gone, tucked away in the magical storage dimension only I could access. I could feel it there with all the others, maybe a half pound of stolen metal so far. Constance, was having secret magical storage handy, especially as a prisoner. Hunty crouched down and looked me in the eye, a sympathetic look on his face. ¡°You look tired, human. You make lots of things today. Rest now,¡± he said, patting the bars as if he were patting me on the shoulder. ¡°I make sure the next guard lets you sleep.¡± ¡°Thanks, Hunty. That will help a lot,¡± I replied, meaning every word but not in the slightest planning on sleeping. As Hunty scooped the pile of spearheads into a wooden box and shouted for a runner to come pick them up, I reached down to the bottom corner of my cell¡¯s bars and wrapped my metal fingers around one of the thinnest parts. 7 mana should be enough. I activated Devouring Grasp, feeling the hand close like a vice, pressing through the thick roots like sticks of softened butter. Muffled, wet, crunching noises filled the cell as I ripped the wood apart until I was holding a good sized chunk of them. The noise got Hunty¡¯s attention, but he didn¡¯t do more than cast a glance my way. I did this every day, and he knew I couldn¡¯t get out of here. Even as my core Consumed the wood in a flash of yellow sparks, the injured roots swiftly grew anew to fill in the gap. You gain knowledge of material: Mendau Wood [19/50] Status gained: Engine [+1 MP/sec for 30 min] Having an F grade affinity for the Mendau Wood now helped me keep the Engine buff going longer, which was good because I was going to need it. Hunty wasn¡¯t the overly curious sort, but he did take his job seriously. After the goblin runner came and picked up the box of spearheads, Hunty bent down and ran a hand over the root section I¡¯d just torn away, making sure they grew back properly. He finished up his check with a little shake of the bars. They held fast as they always did. ¡°Why do you do that, human?¡± he asked as he went back to sitting on his wooden stool, positioned in such a way that he could see my entire cell. ¡°Toilet paper,¡± was my reply, but Hunty just sat there with his spear on his lap, staring at me. The silence stretched out between us, but he was the first to break it. ¡°I don¡¯t know either of those words,¡± he said with a shrug. Then he smiled apologetically as something had just occurred to him. ¡°But I do know your special cage is very small. If I¡¯m a slave, I hate it too. I try to break the cage. Kuul¡¯s magic is strong, though. He asks the Mendau to grow there, and they do.¡± I sat down against the far wall to rest my tired body, sighing as I found a semi-comfortable position where my back was semi-relaxed. ¡°The guy is so paranoid, I¡¯m surprised he doesn¡¯t have roots growing over the entire cell, my little hole included,¡± I said as I closed my eyes. ¡°He doesn¡¯t do this because the hole leads to the underriver, and he wants you to drink when you need. Also, big magic like growing Mendau is too important to waste like that,¡± Hunty replied, a little awe in his voice at the mention of Kuul¡¯s little trick. If I was being truly honest with myself, I was a little jealous of the fire-and-forget nature of the magic. If I had something like that, I¡¯d spend much less time with a headache. ¡°Has Kuul considered that I also defecate in this hole?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. It was a harrowing experience for sure, having to hover over a fifty foot drop to do my business. To then be asked to fish up water from the same place triggered some hard wired no-no zone in my psyche that I still hadn¡¯t gotten over. My little clay cup on a string had seen some things down there, I¡¯m sure. Hunty made a rude sound with his mouth. ¡°The underriver is fast and fresh. No matter how big you are, you, alone, can¡¯t foul it.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve done my best, so far,¡± I said with a tired laugh. Hunty leaned forward, a mischievous little smile on his face. ¡°We all do.¡± A terrible thought popped into my head, and my eyes widened with realization. ¡°Hunty, you guys use the underriver for that kind of thing too?¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± he replied, an evil little smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Downstream, right Hunty?¡± I asked. I felt a twitch in my stomach. ¡°Tell me it¡¯s downstream where you guys¡­ use the river.¡± ¡°It is downstream where we use the river.¡± I didn¡¯t like how he phrased that. We stared at each other then, for a long, pregnant moment, all the while Hunty¡¯s face steadily contorted with barely contained laughter. ¡°You¡¯re a cruel goblin, Hunty.¡± ¡°Hunty is cruel to our human friend?¡± Tiba''s voice came faintly from somewhere I couldn¡¯t see. Hunty shot to his feet like a soldier called to attention, whirling around and practically leaping out of my view. When he came back, he was at Tiba¡¯s side, carrying a heavy steaming pot by the handle, his spear in his teeth. Tiba, for her part, held a bundle under her arm that smelled of herbs and significant spice. ¡°If Hunty is being cruel, then I can give you half of his meal, yes?¡± She asked me as she approached the bars. As always, she gestured for me to come closer, so she could give me a once over for my health. I complied, though I probably didn¡¯t have to worry overly much about my health now that I was an Exotic, one being fed a constant stream of experience and skill-ups to boot. Hunty struggled to set the pot down on the floor without sloshing the contents, and his spear kept him from giving an intelligible answer, only allowing for little grunts and muffled groans. ¡°Mmmf murrfff fmemfer,¡± he said. Tiba reached through the bars and took my arm, running her fingers over the contours and pinching the flesh now and again. ¡°You are bigger still than when you first come to us. Soon, you look like Mogrog if I give you Hunty¡¯s food.¡± ¡°Bah! Mogrog is fat,¡± Hunty sputtered as he ripped the spear out of his mouth. ¡°He can barely climb, he¡¯s so big. What use is that? Pretend muscles is what that is.¡± Tiba¡¯s examination led her down to my chest and stomach, allowing me to shoot a meaningful look to Hunty. I widened my eyes and gestured at the little healer with my head, miming the word ¡°Now¡± with my mouth. Hunty, swallowed, straightened his shirt, and cleared his throat before he spoke up. ¡°So, uh, Tiba?¡± ¡°Mm?¡± She scratched at a red mark on my ribs, visible now that my shirt was in tatters. ¡°Uh. I want to ask if you- If when it is time, we can-¡± Hunty¡¯s plan probably hadn¡¯t made it this far. He could barely get a sentence out. I caught his eye again and took a deep exaggerated breath, prompting him to mimic me. Hunty tried again. ¡°Do- uh- Do you like stuff¡­ like food?¡± Even as the words left his mouth, a horrified look crawled onto his face. I cringed on his behalf. ¡°Yes, Hunty. I like food,¡± she replied absently, still poking at me. ¡°Do you- uh-¡± Hunty floundered. I could visibly see his courage leaving him, air leaving a balloon. ¡°You make the best food, Tiba.¡± ¡°Aw. Thanks, Hunty. I am worried my stew is under seasoned now that we can¡¯t gather much.¡± ¡°No! No! It¡¯s great.¡± Hunty assured her, bending down to smell the pot. ¡°Mmmm. Perfect.¡± She straightened up and smiled at the both of us. ¡°That is so nice to hear. I hope it makes you both happy, even if you are stuck down here. Now, I have to get back. I have wounded to tend, and Fimi gets nervous if I leave her to tend the house for too long. See you soon.¡± With a wave, she was gone. Once she was out of earshot, and I¡¯d unwrapped my dried meat from the bundle Tiba had given me, I tried to offer some words of encouragement. ¡°You¡¯re getting better at that. You used words and everything.¡± Hunty handed me a clay bowl of stew through the bars. He didn¡¯t say anything. He just looked defeated. I continued. ¡°Seriously, you are. You were really close.¡± Hunty¡¯s knee bounced up and down and his stare seemed an impossible distance away as he robotically spooned the hot stew into his mouth, frowning sourly as he did. ¡°Do you like food?¡± he mumbled, wincing at the memory. His mood darkened further the more time passed until he was practically brooding. ¡°Hunty?¡± The warrior goblin put his spoon back into his bowl and turned to face me again. All the mirth he¡¯d displayed earlier was gone, replaced by a hard, dark stare.. ¡°Is everything alright?¡± He stared at me in silence, a storm brewing behind his eyes. He spoke in a whisper now. ¡°She can¡¯t go out to gather her herbs.¡± I quietly contemplated his words, what they meant. I could tell by his tone and body language he was saying something significant, but I just couldn¡¯t get there. Something was missing in my knowledge, maybe culturally. ¡°Why can¡¯t Tiba gather herbs?¡± I asked. ¡°Not safe anymore up there,¡± he said, pointing upward, supposedly toward the surface, with his spear. ¡°And I am down here with you.¡± His eyes flashed, and his claws dug into the bottom of the bowl. ¡°Caged,¡± he whispered to himself. Then he was gone again, somewhere dark and full of hurt. We spent the rest of the evening in silence. Chapter 12 - Hate this Cage Chapter 12 - Hate this Cage Tiba¡¯s fingers ran over my scalp, probing for anything she missed with her shears as well as parasites that were far too common down here. Curly, brown clumps of greasy hair laid in my lap and in an expanding pool on the floor. Already, I could feel the loose clippings sliding inside my rough spun shirt, made in the style the goblins seemed to favor. It didn¡¯t fit properly, tight in the shoulders, loose in the belly and itchy on the best of days, but it was better than wearing rags like before. Supposedly, it came from a domesticated beast they kept penned down here in the caves. ¡°Feel better?¡± Tiba asked as she let go of my head, blowing loose hair off of her shears before placing them in her pocket. It was certainly cooler, allowing the draft to reach my scalp again. ¡°Yeah. Thanks a lot. It was getting really hard to clean,¡± I replied with only a little sourness at the memories. Bathing with a cup drawn from an ice cold underground river was less than pleasant, and it was time consuming, especially with long hair. Kuul wouldn¡¯t allow anyone to give me a blade to cut it, so I ended up making a pair of iron shears for Tiba, and asking her to do the deed. ¡°I¡¯m not saying you look good, human, but you do look better,¡± Hunty quipped from his stool. ¡°Shut up, Hunty,¡± I shot back, giving him the finger over my shoulder, a gesture that had spread like wildfire through goblin society once I had told them what it meant. ¡°You look like punk broccoli anyway.¡± He scratched his scalp where his mohawk met skin and scrunched up his face. ¡°I don¡¯t know what those words mean.¡± ¡°Uh.¡± I considered for a moment, trying to find the phrasing he might understand. ¡°You¡¯re a vegetable with bad taste.¡± ¡°That is like a plant?¡± I sighed. This was going to be another one of those conversations. Still, I gave it a shot. ¡°It¡¯s like¡­ a miniature tree but edible.¡± Hunty¡¯s face lit up with fascination. Goblins were strict carnivores, and my green friend found it absolutely charming that the human ate plants. Apparently, that stuff was for domesticated animals and slugs. ¡°A tiny tree. What does it taste like?¡± He asked, leaning forward and raising an eyebrow. I thought back, trying to remember the last time I ate the stuff, back before Barrow and his reavers burned us out. ¡°Like socks and disappointment,¡± I replied with a nod. ¡°It¡¯s better with cheese.¡± Hunty scoffed. ¡°I don¡¯t taste like that.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t you, though?¡± Tiba jumped in before Hunty could respond to that. ¡°I like when you two bicker like grandmothers, but I have to go. The healing house is full, and this is my break time,¡± she informed us as she packed her little medic bag. ¡°And Hunty does not taste like that,¡± She said before her eyes went wide, and her mouth dropped open in horror. ¡°Wait- No. I mean- No.¡± Hunty came to her rescue. ¡°It¡¯s nice to see you during the day,¡± he said, grinning and slipping an arm around Tiba¡¯s shoulders, leaning in close to say the next part. ¡°I see you tonight, then?¡± It was dark, and these were little green people. However, I thought I detected the ghost of a blush on Tiba¡¯s cheeks as she replied, smiling and shoving Hunty away playfully. ¡°Yes. I see you as soon as I can. Do not be late, yeah?¡± I waited until she was gone to rip my daily piece of Mendau wood from my prison, Consuming it to get my Engine on. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] You gain knowledge of material: Mendau Wood [50/50] Affinity upgraded: Mendau Wood: Grade E Detect radius is now 15 ft. +25% of mana gained from Mendau Wood that retains its original type. [Hunger] Status gained: Engine [+2 MP/sec for 45 min] My first E grade affinity, and it came with a curious bonus. What was this about mana type? Was I using a mana type already? There was so much I didn¡¯t know. ¡°Broken ass tutorial,¡± I mumbled as I settled into a comfortable position. ¡°Greetings, Chosen. I am supremely unhelpful, and I can¡¯t wait to get you killed.¡± My Nali impression wasn¡¯t great, but I didn¡¯t care. Hunty, of course, paid my eccentricities no mind. He considered them mostly harmless, a human thing. The bars were already growing back, thicker than ever like scar tissue. Kuul¡¯s magic continued to prove limitless. I sat with my back against the bars and ran a hand through my hair. I kept it shorter back on Proxis as was the style for the Clan, but this style would do for now as long as it stayed out of my eyes. I¡¯d been thinking of home a lot lately, the way things were, how I¡¯d been treated. Everyone was so obsessed with perfection. Progress. They trained their children to fight from the moment they could walk, filled their heads with tales of Constance and her exploits. Everything everyone did was to forge themselves into weapons, all for the sake of the System. They were so diligent and pious, they couldn¡¯t spare a moment for the kid with the amputation or even allow their perfect progeny to associate with him, lest his condition be contagious. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Just looking at me made people uncomfortable, as if I reminded them that this could easily have been their kid if the universe were slightly different. Now, if I completed my tutorial and went back there, I would be whole and more capable than I was. I would be the one who was on his long path to power, and it had nothing to do with being perfect to begin with. I imagined scenarios where I would return. Where I would walk up to my dad, and he would look at me and what I was without pity or shame. Surprisingly, it felt wrong. Like a cheat. A shortcut to happiness. I didn¡¯t want it. Well, I did, but I didn¡¯t. I wanted that look. I wanted him to look at me and see something to be proud of, but I would know it wasn¡¯t actually me that inspired that pride. Instead, it would be the System, random chance, another accident just like the one that made me a pariah. No. There was no scenario where I had a happy homecoming. For the longest time, I¡¯d just wanted to be accepted, and every waking moment was spent trying to gain that acceptance. Now, if I made it home, I¡¯d have that and more. I was blessed by the System, but all my accomplishments were tainted. A depressing but liberating prospect. What do you do when you have nothing to prove anymore? I didn¡¯t know. I couldn¡¯t conceive of it, just being who I wanted to be. Free. If you want to be free, better get on the whole ¡®escape¡¯ thing, Ryan. Leaning forward, I placed my metal hand on the lip of the watering hole, making sure to wedge my fingers well into the grooves. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] With a crack, the limestone came away, a chunk that fit comfortably in my palm. ¡°If you are making your cage bigger, maybe start with the walls¡± Hunty called from over my shoulder. ¡°Unless you plan to escape through the underriver. That plan kills you, you know. There are no other holes like yours for miles downstream, and you make Tiba sad if you drown.¡± I transferred my new rock over to my natural hand, closing my eyes to concentrate. Volatility [1 MP/sec] It was nothing like Shape. Shape I could understand. Volatility used a completely foreign method to accomplish its goals. The ability forced the mana onto the matter, not caring for how much it could hold or what it would do. It conquered. It overwrote. It flooded into the object until I told it to stop. Not my mana but mana from somewhere else, rushed inside. Maybe the energy came from the air, from another universe, or from the System itself. I didn¡¯t know. Whatever it was, it was different. Wild mana. It writhed and twitched within the molecules of the stone, awaiting a chance to Do. For release. At the slightest touch, all that energy would be set free in an uncontrolled, violent instant. With nothing else to observe through touch, I opened my eyes again. I only charged the rock for half a second, but it glowed an angry purple already, bleeding energy from its now volatile matter. ¡°No, Hunty. I don¡¯t plan to escape that way,¡± I said as I leaned over and tossed the rock down the hole, angling the trajectory to hit where I needed it to. ¡°Not when I have such fine company, at least.¡± The stone fell, illuminating the tunnel as it went down, down. *POW* The rock hit almost right at the water line and exploded, sending up a plume of cold mist to wet the lip of the hole and my face. After so long in the dim, the purple flash burned my eyes. Damn. I couldn¡¯t see if the rock survived, whether Volatility destroyed it from the inside out or just discharged the wild mana and left the matter itself intact. My next experiment would need to be inside my cell, but I¡¯d need to take precautions first. I¡¯d been avoiding that after my first try at Volatility left me partially deaf and blind and with Hunty constantly rubbing his ears for the next week. Tiba didn¡¯t thank me for that one. ¡°Guard change time,¡± Hunty announced, standing up with a groan, waiting for his replacement to come and relieve him. He danced anxiously from foot to foot, probably anticipating going to see Tiba right away. When the other guard got there, though, the two started speaking in low tones, too quiet for me to hear. Hunty¡¯s replacement, Iger I guessed, spoke animatedly with his hands, gesturing to body parts, waggling his fingers like they had claws. All the while, Hunty¡¯s body language went rigid, and he gripped his spear tightly. Then the two goblins suddenly stopped and stood up straight, spears pointed up and hafts on the ground. After a quiet minute, Kuul stalked up to my cell door, a miserable scowl on his face. He looked older than he had when we met. His sagging skin seemed looser than before, and there were bags under his eyes that gave him an exhausted, sickly look. The fire hadn¡¯t left his eyes though. They held a volcanic malice, not necessarily directed at me, but it was always there, threatening to explode. The old goblin looked down at the box I¡¯d filled with arrow heads earlier today, bending down to examine one of them. Then he dropped it and kicked the box away, hard. The tinkling sound of the metal scattering across the cave floor echoed through the cavern. The noise of the workers ceased. Kuul leaned forward and pointed to me with a gnarled finger. ¡°It makes better and better for many days, and then progress stops. Why?¡± I didn¡¯t answer. I didn¡¯t owe this thing an answer. Besides, Kuul already made up his mind on whatever this was, I knew. He just needed to build up to it. Unfortunately, Hunty came to my defense. Maybe he didn¡¯t read the old goblin like I did, or maybe he felt he knew Kuul better and could reason with him. ¡°The human makes better and more all the time. We work him until he sleeps. The weapons are good and sharp too.¡± Kuul, spared a contemptuous glance over his shoulder, but he didn¡¯t reply directly. Instead, he glared at me as he spoke. ¡°It is not challenged anymore, I think. Too many little things to make.¡± He raised his voice to make sure all those nearby could hear him as well. ¡°The hu-man makes us rich with its iron magic, and it is good. We have food and gold and clothes, many, but things are changed. The Black Ones have come close. We lose goblins on the surface. We can¡¯t sell our iron treasures any more,¡± Kuul said to them all, turning around to address the crowd more directly now. Silence hung over the cave as the chief paused. ¡°Now,¡± he said, holding his hands out wide in challenge. ¡°Now, we defend our homes. Now, we go to war.¡± Kuul¡¯s enthusiasm didn¡¯t catch on. Most goblins listened silently while holding their tools or leaning on their friends. The warriors looked grim. ¡°Hurry and bring all you can. We get ready for a great battle, one we win. The Black Ones search for our home, and we are ready when they are within spear reach. We kill them all and send them back to the black.¡± This time there was a scattered whooping shout from the workers and warriors, but Hunty just leaned on his weapon, staring at the floor pensively. Kuul dismissed them all but my guards then approached my cell, shuffling closer until his hands were on the wooden bars he¡¯d grown so long ago. His breath wheezed from his throat. ¡°It makes swords and armor now. It makes us weapons of war. If it does not, the Black Ones come, and we cannot protect it. It works as if its life is at stake. It does this or dies.¡± We stared at each other then, Kuul with all the power, me increasingly short on give-a-shit. ¡°Who are the Black Ones?¡± I asked with folded arms, not breaking the staredown. Kuul didn¡¯t answer me, instead, calling over his shoulder. ¡°Hunty! Tell it why it works then get it working. Poke it if it stops. I have things that need doing.¡± Then, to me, he said: ¡°Work hard, and you live through this. Remember.¡± When Kuul was gone, Hunty didn¡¯t make me work. He told me to rest and get my strength back, so we could do more tomorrow. While we sat, he explained things to me, and, as he did, a heavy ball of lead settled in the pit of my stomach. We were all going to die, and it was my fault. It was a situation all too familiar. Chapter 13 - Split my Head Chapter 13 - Split my Head You have created: Iron Caterpillar You have been awarded 35 experience points. [25 base, +10 quality] The new caterpillar detached itself from where I¡¯d surreptitiously formed it inside the cranium part of my newest helmet, its articulated legs digging into the grooves in the metal to keep it from falling to the floor. One by one, the little metal legs, no bigger than a hair, flexed and gripped with tiny claws as the construct crawled its way over to my fingers. Once there, the caterpillar practically ran up my arm, only having to pause to move the sleeve of my shirt out of the way to crawl inside with the others. I could handle four at a time now so long as I didn¡¯t have them doing complex tasks, but I was pretty sure I could do five or six if I pushed it. Split Mind is now level 5. Upgrade paths available: Partitioned Mind Dual Cast Imbue The message I¡¯d been waiting for finally came. Split Mind was fast becoming my most used skill, since it was the only way I could snag metal of my own while I worked for the goblins. Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t always feasible to practice, that is until my control became sophisticated enough to give my stolen iron some legs. Then, I was off to the races. I always had a few of the little bugs running around under my shirt or up and down the legs of my trousers nowadays, and my skill shot up in level as a result. The System had more to tell me: Level up! You are now level 4. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Big Spender: You have spent 6,070% of your total mana pool this level. [+1% mana regeneration per second.] Soulful: You have almost exclusively focused on Mind and Spirit centric skills this level. [+1 Mind, +1 Spirit] Dedicated: You spent most of your time dedicated to your craft this level. [+1 Spirit] Doing Your Part: Some of your creations have been used against agents of the Scourge. [+200% experience awarded for new designs next level] More Spirit. It was my highest attribute even though it started out as my lowest at Integration. For some reason, I just kept earning more and more of it with my achievements. The System¡¯s description was both helpful and infuriatingly mysterious when I asked. Spirit: Numerical value denoting your presence in the magical world. Affects mana intensity. As far as I could tell, Spirit affected how ¡®thick¡¯ my mana was and where I could move it. When I was level 0 my mana went only as far as my skin and moved in a trickle into what I could touch. Now, my mana was heavier, present in the air around me like a localized fog bank. It didn¡¯t spread out far, no farther than a few inches from my body, but it was there. Mind gave me the ability to move mana around quickly, or at least that¡¯s how I perceived it. The definition more or less agreed. Mind: Numerical value denoting your ability to manipulate mana. Affects speed and strength of mind based abilities. This was the second time I¡¯d earned ¡®Doing Your Part.¡¯ The bonus was nice, especially nice when I developed my articulated caterpillar and cashed in. However, it also meant the scourge-touched, or ¡®Black Ones,¡¯ were still hunting my goblins out there. Hunty kept me up to date on how things were going with the war against the Black Ones, the skirmishes they had, how many of them were spotted in the forest, and the like. The little guy desperately wanted to be out there, doing his part, but his requests to join the fight were always denied because of the rapport he¡¯d built up with the ¡®hu-man¡¯ over time. If you asked me, they could have used Hunty out there. Things weren¡¯t looking great. My goblin tribe rarely left their caves now that the other tribes had fallen or were chased away. That couldn¡¯t go on forever. The air was heavy with anticipation and a good bit of fear. The sentiment among all of the goblins was that the Black Ones would find them soon and come for them, but they would mostly be here for me. You have created: Small Bucket Helmet You have been awarded 22 experience points. [20 base, +2 quality] Apparently, the Black Ones were a feral type of goblin whose ancestors had tainted their own blood making deals with demons. As a result, they lost their sanity, their language, and their ability to reproduce conventionally, but that didn¡¯t reduce their numbers in the slightest. They mostly kept to themselves with only the occasional raid on their neighbors, where they would make off with things and people, all of which would never be seen again. The other goblins gave the Black Ones their space and never encroached on their territory, and everyone lived their lives without ever seeing a black one. Then, after many, many generations, that changed. The Black Ones were everywhere now. They killed everything they could, beasts and goblins alike and brought their corpses back to their territory with them. As I¡¯d feared, the Black Ones were tracking me the entire time I made my trek through the forest to find water, and their pursuit of me had them hot on the heels of the hunting party that found my unconscious body and dragged me back to the caves. At the time, Chief Kuul could only guess at the reason behind Black Ones¡¯ surge in aggression, if they were capable of reason, but then, when he saw me, he knew what they wanted. Kuul was an avid student of history, the goblin version of it at least. The stories his forebears told went back past the great purge all the way to the Beginning in an unbroken chain of Stone Heart chiefs, and they spoke of humans as the enders of ages, the coveted prize of all races, the corrupted Black Ones included. After I was dumped on his doorstep, he had a decision to make: He could kill me and prevent the Black Ones from taking me for whatever dark purpose they had, or he could give me to the Black Ones in hopes they¡¯d eat his tribe last. He chose option three: use me to arm the untainted goblin tribes, making a ridiculous sum of money at the same time. From there the other tribes could fight back the Black Ones, while Kuul kept his tribe safe in their hidden caves. Kuul was too clever for his own good, though. The other tribes were all but gone now, and he was rich, not that he could spend his new wealth trapped in a cave. Meanwhile, the Black Ones¡¯ numbers grew and grew. Now they were knocking on our front door, so to speak. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. When Hunty had explained the conflict to me, a lot of things clicked into place, but any questions I had about the last Animator they¡¯d encountered went unanswered. Hunty didn¡¯t know anything about them, and these things happened so long ago, no one knew what was actually true anymore. As for current day Ralqir, I hadn¡¯t even realized there were other tribes out there, but it made sense. What were the odds of me finding the only tribe of goblins on Ralqir? Small thinking on my part, but in my defense being trapped in a cell and forced to work kind of shrunk your world down to just the day to day. This ongoing crisis and the new conversations that afforded me, while grim, helped pull me out of my own head and back to seriously planning my escape. For a while, I¡¯d justified my inaction by grinding my skills or experimenting with my designs to try and find the perfect way to survive once I got out of my cell. No more, though. Progress for progress¡¯ sake wasn¡¯t getting me any closer to freedom. My level of motivation was also affected by the Black Ones, apparently, wanting to kill/eat/enslave me. The System called them scourge-touched, but back in my universe people called things like that rift spawn, and they killed planets if they weren¡¯t purged right away. In fact, one of the prevailing theories about Earth was that they had something like this happen, a tide of infected beings washing over everything until it was all gone. If Ralqir was about to go through the same thing, it was all the more reason for me to get the hell out of here, not just out of my cell but out of this universe. The tutorial agreed, asking me to ¡°Return to Insertion Point.¡± Gladly. I looked over my options for my Split Mind upgrade paths: Upgrade paths available: Partitioned Mind: Subdivide your consciousness to greatly enhance cognition. [Number of partitions = Mind/3] Dual Cast: Use two abilities simultaneously or use the same ability twice. Effectiveness of abilities used with Dual Cast are enhanced. [Bonus Effectiveness = X(Mind + Spirit)/5] Imbue: Imprint mana with a fraction of your will, allowing it to perform simple tasks without direct input from you. This requires the expenditure of triple the amount of MP you wish to imbue. At first, Partitioned Mind called out to me. The amount of effort I was having to expend to keep my little creations going hurt my brain and tired me out quickly. Yes, I was training the skill even now, but at the cost of my damned sanity. It hurt to keep this up all the time. Partitioned Mind was exactly what I was hoping for, something to make doing this easier so I could get more materials for my escape. Then there was Imbue. The description of the ability didn¡¯t exactly say it, but didn¡¯t it have the potential to help me with my immediate problem too? I was essentially pumping mana into my creations to Shape them. Could I Imbue that mana? Could I make my little caterpillars semi-autonomous? It would cost a ton of mana, but I wasn¡¯t exactly hurting for that was I? The ability to Consume things was starting to look more and more overpowered, considering how slowly normal mana regenerated. It allowed me to take all sorts of risks and experiment with things others might not be able to. I didn¡¯t know how I would live without it. With some trepidation, I chose Imbue, waving a tearful goodbye to Partitioned Mind and the much needed help it could have given me. I tossed the finished helmet into the crate Hunty had set up next to my cell and called for more. The ore was in my hand before I could even finish my sentence. Iger was quick like that. He didn¡¯t talk much, but the goblin knew what was at stake. He needed me working and outfitting his fellow warriors or things were going to get worse fast. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, not expecting a response. Then I got back to work. ¡ª---------------------------- *SNAP* The sound rang in my ears, echoing around the cell painfully. Hunty grunted from his stool, probably wiggling a finger in his ear. Failure. I sighed, opening my eyes and unfolding my legs to go retrieve my latest experiment. It laid there on the stone floor, dead as a doornail, its inch long, segmented body rigid and straight to help with aerodynamics. On the wall, a fresh black mark smoked directly above the construct alongside the myriad others. Knowing it was safe, I grabbed my experiment with my natural hand. It was warm to the touch but not uncomfortably so, even after a dozen failures in a row. They didn¡¯t melt down as much anymore, not that it was a huge inconvenience if they did. I would just Shape them again once they cooled down. ¡°I like it better when you practice quietly,¡± Hunty grumbled. Metal armor rattled and clinked together as the goblin warrior settled into a new position. All the warriors wore my patent pending plated armor now, which pleased Kuul greatly. Who it did not please, however, were the warriors. Everywhere they went, it was a constant racket as they went about their patrols or trained with their weapons, not to mention how uncomfortable the stuff was. The goblins didn¡¯t have the spare leather or cloth to make a buffer layer underneath the hard stuff to make it truly fit like it needed to, so the warriors had to wear it raw. Hunty, most of all, let me have an earful about it. How it pinched when he sat, how it got in the way of eating, how heavy it was. I told him I could Shape it to fit him perfectly if he let me work on him for a while, but he waved me off, telling me if he was given special treatment he wouldn¡¯t be able to look the other warriors in the eye. He would just have to suffer with the others until everyone had a good fit. I sat down again, holding my construct in my hand to give it another try, but I spared a breath for a barb. Honestly, I didn¡¯t see this experiment going much differently, and my frustration was getting to me. ¡°I like it better when I¡¯m not enslaved, Hunty,¡± I said with a little more venom than I wanted. Hunty didn¡¯t reply, but I could feel him watching me with that worried frown on his face. He didn¡¯t deserve my anger. Well, maybe he did since he was complicit in my imprisonment, but Kuul was the one behind it all. Even if Hunty wanted to get me out he couldn¡¯t, not without breaking Kuul¡¯s spell which Hunty couldn¡¯t do. I shook my head and took in a breath, an apology on my lips, but nothing came out. I liked Hunty, but I was close to done being nice. Closing my eyes once more, I dove into the iron worm, pouring my mana into it, which it accepted gratefully. It bent and flexed its ribbed skin in smooth, controlled waves, crawling up my arm, under my shirt then out onto my shoulder. It seemed undamaged and functional, which was no surprise, but I always checked. The segmented form of my new worm constructs was there for ease of movement, allowing it all to wriggle around like its insect namesake. However, if I were to stop Shaping it, the whole thing would go stiff, solid as¡­ well, iron. I had it work its way back down to my hand, using the sharp lipped ribs to hang onto the skin of my palm. Now for the fun part. My head felt like it was going to split in two as I reached for my next ability while holding onto Shape. It helped that the hard part of Shaping was already done, but this still taxed my mind heavily, making me wish I¡¯d taken Dual Cast. Volatility [1 MP/sec] The wild mana rushed inside. I didn¡¯t give it much juice. It shouldn¡¯t need very much. The molecules in the construct quivered, barely able to contain the purple energy zipping around inside its matter. I held incredibly still, not even flexing my will with Shape, just allowing the iron to be still for a moment as I observed this state. Now it was time to Imbue it. The problem with using Imbue overlapping Shape wasn¡¯t that it didn¡¯t work. Imbue worked beautifully on my little worms. I could get them to wiggle or crawl or do little dances on my palm as long as I had the mana. The problem was that Shape was a touch based ability. Once my metal creatures lost contact with my skin, all that mana just evaporated into the wind. I only had one ability that let me put mana into something and have it persist. The only problem was that the mana it used wasn¡¯t ¡°mine¡± or more precisely: ¡°me.¡± Still, I was convinced I could use this somehow, if I could tame the beast, so to speak. I let out a long, tired breath, allowing my frustrations and anger to drain from my mind. Here we go. I released the mana I was using to Shape, allowing it to dissipate little by little, and my sense of the metal worm waned until it was gone, the only indication that it was still on my hand being the tingling warmth given off by Volatility. Shape [4 MP/sec] I resaturated the construct again, this time sliding my consciousness between the wild mana, mixing in amongst it, drowning the fiery potential with a metaphorical ocean of my own power. I isolated the Volatility spell, one piece at a time, attaching to the pieces of it like a virus attached to a cell. Imbue [12 MP/sec] Imbue is now level 2. More mana rushed out of me in a torrent, soaking into the parts of ¡°me¡± I needed. My mana levels dropped precipitously, bottoming out in a handful of heartbeats. I gasped, feeling like someone reached into me and pulled out an organ, but I kept my will focused. Move. Just a simple command is all I wanted. Every time I¡¯d hit this point in the past, my construct had detonated. The wild mana was just too energetic to contain, too much chaos to direct. My face twitched, thinking back to how painful it was to reattach my pinky finger. Finally ready, my eyes shot open, and I hurled the iron worm at the wall as fast as I could. *POP* A muted flash dazzled my eyes, leaving little blinking tracers in my vision as I peered into the darkness of my cell to look for my experiment. I got up and crawled over to the far wall, feeling around with my hands to¡­ My hand landed on something warm. Using two fingers, I brought it up to my face, squinting at it to check for damage. There was none. Then, the worm twitched. Just a little. It slowly flexed, curling up around my finger before it ceased and went dead. My heart thumped in my chest as I brought up my log. Main class ability: Shape is now level 5! Based on current skills and affinities, you have four upgrade paths available. Transmute Remote Shaping Duplicate Enchant Yes! Ability synthesis discovered: Shape + Volatility + Imbue Synthesize? Y/N New ability: Automate Automate: Program your creations with simple instructions and empower them to carry out your orders independently. Strength, amount, and complexity of instructions are dependent on your Spirit. Oh, hell yes. Chapter 14 - Watch him Die Chapter 14 - Watch him Die I took another piece of ore from the bucket and brought it into my spatial storage. Hunty was giving me ore faster than I could work it now, not caring what I did with it, as long as I gave him something by the end of the day. He trusted my inventiveness ever since I made my first self-repairing blade. It only had enough juice to fix itself two or three times, depending on the damage, but it proved that I should be left alone to do my thing. Now, all of the warriors had one. A matching crate of leather strips and semi-straight Mendau wood were on the other side of the bars, but I didn¡¯t need those just now. I had a bunch of this stuff squirreled away, but I didn¡¯t want to empty the containers and not have anything to show for it. The goblins were lax with me now that their worries were closer to home, but their tolerance only went so far. I stopped mid-grab when a sudden silence fell over the cave. The workers no longer shouted at one another. No one dumped their cart of rocks or threw any wood onto the stockpiles. For the entire time I¡¯d been down here, the work had almost never stopped. Then I saw them, a long procession of goblins, families with elders, parents, and children. Bandaged warriors with missing fingers or ears. Goblins that carried baskets on their backs heaping with clothes, tools, or whatnot. A few gaggles of goblins carried stretchers of the sick or wounded on their shoulders. All of them, whether they carried something or not, stared ahead with troubled expressions, worry and defeat evident in their eyes. All their stares were tired, narrow as if they only cared about the backs of those in front of them and the desire to keep moving. Hunty slowly got to his feet, confused at first, but soon he was watching them all go, nodding to friends and kin, waving at others. No one had the inclination to wave back. Tiba materialized from the river of green people, tears in her eyes. She melted into Hunty¡¯s arms and buried her face in his breastplate. Grating, rumbling, the cave shook from an unseen force. ¡°They¡¯re here, Hunty. The black ones are outside. Kuul has us all go into the deeper caves, and he collapses the tunnel behind us,¡± Tiba whispered quietly enough that only we could hear her. ¡°The warriors say it is the black flood from the stories. The world is changing again.¡± A loud crash echoed in the cavern. Something was wrong. The goblins, spurred to urgency, hurried forward, pushing those in front of them along. The goblin healer reached into her pack and pulled out a sizable bundle of something, setting it down in front of the bars of my cell. ¡°Take as much as you can. Kuul is rationing the food soon, and he may not feed you, Ryan,¡± she said with a sad little smile. ¡°I go down to help with the wounded. Good luck.¡± Hunty wrapped his arms around his love, holding her close but never dropping his spear. ¡°I am staying,¡± he declared, over the top of her head, his voice wavering but his eyes steady. Tiba shuddered, shaking her head but got control of herself enough to look up and catch Hunty¡¯s eye. ¡°I know. See me later, okay?¡± A scream pierced the air from somewhere out of sight. Howling, gibbering calls skittered through the cavern, shattering the quiet, and animalistic shrieks echoed off the walls until they came from everywhere. The relative order in which the goblins evacuated dissolved, devolving into panic and chaos. Goblins screamed for each other, running further into the cavern, bunching up at the far end in a crushing mass of bodies. For their part, the goblin warriors fought against the current, shouldering their way through the river of people, spears or swords held high so as not to accidentally harm any of their kin. Hunty gave Tiba one last look, then bent down and took up his shield. Then he was off, his powerful legs carrying him swiftly to where the fight was, out of my sight. Tiba looked at me and put a sympathetic hand on my prison bars, then she was off too, in the opposite direction, going with the tide to help how she could. Bedlam. Goblins trampled each other to get further from the danger, to get further down the tunnels. All the while, vicious yowls and goblin battle cries pierced the air. I reached through the bars, putting my hand on Tiba¡¯s bundle of food. Transfer to Spatial Storage? Y/N The bundle glowed, warped and disappeared to wherever these things went. I didn¡¯t know exactly how large the space was, but it ¡°felt¡± like I could fit plenty more inside. I shifted over to the bucket of ore, still half full. Into the spatial storage it went too. Reaching way out to touch the bundle of wood, I was waiting for the prompt to appear when something slammed into my arm so hard it wrenched my shoulder out of its socket. I felt the tendons stretch then give, and a scream tore its way from my throat. More out of instinct than anything, I dove backward to get away from the bars, every motion a study in agony. I looked down at the damage. My arm hung uselessly at my side, my shoulder burning as the swelling began. My shirt was shredded, and deep gouges I hadn¡¯t registered oozed blood that dripped onto the floor. *SLAM* A glossy black body collided with my prison bars, the creature¡¯s familiar too-wide mouth full of shark teeth gnawing and tearing chunks off the Mendau roots. It clung to the bars with its feet while reaching into the cell to grab at my legs, though it wasn¡¯t quite able to reach. It shrieked and yowled, spittle flying from its maw, and its unblinking eyes shone in the dim light, madness and hunger swirling in the hollow orbs. A swift figure barreled into the monster from the side, a spear taking the scourge-touched goblin in its ribs and bearing it down to the ground. Hunty¡¯s form was perfect as he stepped back to retract his thrust, delivering the killing blow in the thing''s throat before it could even register it was in a fight. It gurgled, thrashing at Hunty¡¯s spear, but the life left its eyes quickly. Hunty turned to me and did a lazy sort of salute. ¡°I like this spear, human. This is a good spear,¡± he shouted over the din before he bounded off to rescue someone else. The deep, growling basso of Kuul¡¯s singing cut through the chaos, drowning out all but himself. The too familiar sensation of itching teeth and ringing ears returned from my memory of the day I was trapped in this place. Rumbling, grating rockfalls shook the cavern, enough to be felt through the rock of the floor and walls. The lights went out. Then there was silence. ¡ª--------------------------- Life came back to my little corner of the goblin caves as people found the courage to make noise again. They called for each other, some out of pain, others out of fear or loss. The smell of blood was thick in the air tainted with whatever it was the black ones had inside them. It reminded me unpleasantly of the rotting stairwell back at the tutorial facility. That memory would probably never fade. Torches and candles were lit, one by one until the cavern was awash in orange light like I¡¯d never seen it before. The goblins didn¡¯t need a lot of light to see, so the cave had always been a dim place. Now, though, when they needed to tend the wounded and collect the bodies, they lit everything. I shifted uncomfortably in my cell. My shoulder would be better soon thanks to my Exotic regeneration, but that didn¡¯t diminish how weird it was to physically feel the tendons and bone shifting back into place of their own volition. It itched and the bones ground together in a way that had me gritting my teeth. Unauthorized duplication: this narrative has been taken without consent. Report sightings. In front of my cell, Tiba had the wounded lying or sitting in ranks and files, the healer going from one to another bandaging wounds or checking on unconscious bodies. She stroked the faces of crying children and wrapped her arms around the bereaved. Her pouch of dried herbs never had a chance to be closed. Others dragged the bodies of the dead to the side, away from the living. The corpses of the black ones went into the furnace. ¡ª-------------------- My shoulder finally slipped back into place with a cool pop and a tingle that reverberated up my neck. The goblins were largely asleep now, except for a few of the wounded in too much pain to get any rest. Their labored breathing intertwined into a disturbing background noise that permeated my cell and would probably haunt my dreams. The torches were put out except for the few the Stone Hearts actually needed to see. The sound of quiet, angry words being exchanged reached my ears before their owners did. Kuul¡¯s craggy hiss distinguished him from the others. ¡°It cannot come with us. It betrays us just being what it is,¡± he growled. ¡°You talk with it too much. Pity rots your mind.¡± Tiba was among the voices. ¡°No. He is helping us, and he knows what the black ones do now. He can come. The black ones come closer, and they find ways inside.¡± Kuul rebuked her, though. ¡°Stop. That does not matter. The black ones want it, and they come for us to get it.¡± ¡°You want us to leave him? After everything he does?¡± Hunty asked, disgust creeping into his question. ¡°No,¡± replied Kuul as he finally stepped in front of my cell, a steely determination in his eyes. He scowled, raising his chin as if to pass judgment on me. ¡°We can¡¯t leave it.¡± Tiba was there at Kuul¡¯s side, leaning on him and looking up to try and catch his stare. ¡°If you break your spell, we can take him with us. Ryan gives us weapons and armor, but now we need more goblins. Ryan can be a goblin.¡± ¡°Ryan should fight to save his own life, Kuul,¡± Hunty said as he stepped into view as well. His armor was crusted with blood, and his shield bore multiple gouges in the wood and iron. He turned to me, pleading with his eyes. A complicated mix of emotions churned inside of me. I wanted out. Desperately. I wanted to be somewhere with natural light. I wanted to go home. I wanted my freedom. The entire time I¡¯d been here, every stolen moment was about preparing to do all of those things. Now they were asking me to just¡­ beg for permission? I opened my mouth to tell Kuul exactly what I thought of him, something I¡¯d regret, but if my time as a slave taught me anything, it was patience. Kuul would get his in time. I cleared my throat and stood, slowly working the pain out of my shoulder. The words oozed out of me, viscous and bitter, like I had a mouth full of motor oil. ¡°Just give me a chance, Kuul,¡± I said. I swallowed, resisting the urge to reach out and touch the bars, to imagine them withering away and leaving me a free man. My lips formed the word without my consent. ¡°Please.¡± Whatever I was selling, the old wizard wasn¡¯t buying it, or maybe his distaste for me ran that deep. His mouth set in a tight, angry line and his gray eyes grew as hard as flint. Shaking his head, he put out his hands, and little lights danced over his fingertips. ¡°It can¡¯t be taken. It can¡¯t be left,¡± he proclaimed with finality. ¡°The Mendau eats.¡± The ancient goblin magician began to sing. The sound rolled over Tiba as she pleaded for my life, over Hunty as he shouted at Kuul and gestured toward me with his spear, over me. ¡°Wait. Wait. Wai! Wait!¡± I repeated, not knowing what else to say. Kuul heard none of it. He wouldn¡¯t hear any of it. The Mendau roots, so long a static obstacle I¡¯d wanted to overcome, came alive. The wooden tentacles cracked and split, forming additional appendages that dripped thick, milky fluid that sizzled on the cavern floor. They slithered into my cell along the walls, reaching out for me, grasping at me blindly. I kicked at the roots, scrambling backward to get far away from the cell door. It didn¡¯t matter though. The roots grew and grew until they filled my prison from top to bottom, creeping along the walls like vines over wet rock. They herded me into a corner until all I had left was enough space to crouch there and wait for the end. Hunty stepped in front of Kuul, shouting something in his face, but the song went on. Something changed. Hunty looked back at me with genuine fearful compassion in his eyes. Then he made his move. Turning back, he shoved Kuul, hard. The old goblin staggered back, his song faltering with a gurgle. Something in his throat gave way with a wet crack, and he coughed up bloody foam, clutching at his throat with electrified fingers. Seething anger and fear flashed over his face as his hand whipped up and made a slashing motion in the air. Viper fast, the roots snapped back, their ropey tendrils reversing course and shooting from my cell, their barbed tips slamming into Hunty¡¯s back so hard, his body lifted into the air, but now that the roots had something to grasp, they weren¡¯t letting go. They squirmed over the goblin warrior¡¯s body, wrapping around him over and over again, around his limbs, his stomach, his head and neck, tightening, ratcheting themselves until Hunty was pinned up against my cell¡¯s bars. ¡°Hunty!¡± Tiba screamed, rushing to his side and pulling at the Mendau roots to give him some air. Hunty struggled frantically to free himself, but to no avail. The wooden tentacles wound over him faster than they could be pulled away. Lying down on the floor, clutching his throat, Kuul looked on in terror, mouth agape, watching his magic do its grim work. I blinked in shock. Hunty¡¯s choked, tortured gasps were the only sound in the cave now, the only sound in this world. I dashed forward, leaping over my cell¡¯s hole, and slammed up against the cage¡¯s bars. I was the second to Hunty¡¯s side. I should have been the first. I tore at the roots. Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec] Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec] Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec] Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec] I tore at them with everything I had, ripping at them until my prosthetic was slick with milky plant fluid and my natural hand bled, fingernails hanging uselessly off bloody nubs. [You are bleeding. .5 HP/sec] Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec] Devouring Grasp [5MP/sec] As they always had, the roots grew back exactly as they¡¯d been instructed. What progress Tiba and I made in breaking the Mendau away, they came back twice as strong. What little we could see of Hunty¡¯s skin slowly purpled then lost color altogether. Tiba stopped screaming well after Hunty died, and even then she still fought to free him, whispering little laments to him as she tugged feebly at the Mendau. Meanwhile, panting and speckled with my own blood, I only saw Kuul. I locked eyes with the old monster, flexing my metal hand, wanting nothing more than to crush the top of the little green bastard¡¯s skull and Consume it in front of his face. Kuul coughed and rubbed his throat, but he¡¯d otherwise regained his composure. He stared back at me with absolute, undisguised hatred. I could see, though, the way he avoided looking at what he¡¯d done to Hunty. He looked like he wanted to say something, order his warriors to kill me, but he couldn¡¯t. He tried to speak but blood burbled out of his mouth and fouled his words. The rest of the warriors arrived one by one, forming a semi-circle around their fallen comrade, none of them giving voice to their thoughts, allowing Tiba to grieve uninterrupted. A spell of Kuul¡¯s making, if not the one he intended, fell over the entire tribe then, held them enthralled, sapping their wills, dimming the light. In the quiet, the ambient sounds of the cave seemed to lap at our ears. The dripping of water. The rush of the air currents. Faint scratching. Fervent breathing. Someone recognized it for what it was. ¡°Lights!¡± an observant goblin shouted. Torches burst to life, bathing the cavern in orange again and chasing away the shadows, revealing dozens, no, hundreds of black shapes stealthily creeping over the walls and ceiling of the cavern. The two groups stood there for a moment, surprised, no one willing to make the first move¡­ Until one of those black shapes dropped from the ceiling, among the wounded. ¡°Run!¡± commanded the warrior, lifting his sword and whirling it in a circle above his head. ¡°Fighters to me! We go last! You!¡± he slapped one of his fellows on top of his helmet. ¡°Get them out of here!¡± He ordered, pointing at Kuul and Tiba. The latter of the two lay slumped down at Hunty¡¯s feet, nearly catatonic. The tide was going out again. Green bodies streamed past my cell, this time pursued by snarling, howling monsters that ran among them tearing into their flesh and bathing in their blood. Tiba was ripped away, carried out of my view by her kin, and Kuul, likewise fled with his escort. Before he was out of sight, he cast one last glance at me and spat blood in my direction. The warriors did their best to hold the line, felling foes where they could, getting the living members of the tribe out and into another tunnel, but more of them fell than they could afford. Then, like a black flood, scourge-touched bodies filled my doorway, slashing and clawing. Hunty still hung there in his wooden coffin, caged like he¡¯d always feared. The black ones, in their fervor to get at me, ripped at his body. Hunty¡¯s blood, overpressurized from the constricting roots, fast became the only thing I could smell. My heart was going wild, hammering the insides of my temples. It had happened again. They kept dying. They keep dying for me. I bent down and retrieved the only thing of Hunty¡¯s the roots hadn¡¯t claimed Hunty¡¯s Spear: A cherished spear crafted by a fledgeling artificer and sized for a goblin. The spear tip is magnificently sharp and can repair itself multiple times before going truly dull. Damage: 4-8 (Piercing) Quality: Excellent Style: Custom Magic: Repair The cell door was full of beady black eyes and slashing claws. Gibbering, howling faces pressed themselves into the gaps in the bars. I gripped Hunty¡¯s spear and rolled my neck. My heart thrummed in my chest, not like the weak, frail lump of muscle and connective tissue the rest of them had, but like an engine. Thundering, explosive power energized my body and fueled my hate. A wordless roar burst forth from my chest as I dove headfirst into the tide. Wrath. Chapter 15 - Stick and Move Chapter 15 - Stick and Move I lunged forward, thrusting Hunty¡¯s spear into the writhing mass of scourge-touched bodies, aiming for a glinting pair of eyes that stood more still than the rest. My aim was off, but it didn¡¯t matter. The monsters were packed against my cell so tightly, I couldn¡¯t miss. The spearpoint struck something soft then penetrated through, the flesh of one of the black ones only offering minimal resistance to the precisely sharpened edge. Scourge-Touched Goblin takes 7 damage. (Piercing) Scourge-Touched Goblin is bleeding. Skill unlocked: Spear. Your current skill level is 1. In fact, it was so easy, the surprise and subsequent overbalance nearly killed me. The black ones reached for me as they pressed up against the root bars, slashing wildly as I got within striking distance. Dozens of long, spindly arms with razor sharp talons that wanted nothing more than my blood formed a barbed wall of death that I would have been wise to avoid touching. So, when the spear went through my intended target instead of stopping as I expected, I tipped forward into a blender, my only saving grace being my core arm that the goblins couldn¡¯t scratch or tear. I steadied myself on one of the goblins¡¯ arms, grasping it by the elbow to support my weight and keep from falling all the way forward. It grabbed my metal bicep, clawing and digging at the unyielding material. It succeeded in pulling me forward, though. Other claws raked across my chest, my face, and my spear arm. They tore wicked gashes across my flesh, the skin parting easily under their piercing tips Scourge-Touched Goblin attacks you for 3 damage. Status gained: Bleeding [.5 HP/sec] Scourge-Touched Goblin attacks you for 2 damage. Status gained; Bleeding [1 HP/sec] Blood trickled down into my eye, blinding me on one side. My feet scrambled at the stones to get away from the attacks, but the floor was already slick with splatters of blood. Shifting tactics, I kicked at the bars, feeling my foot make contact with the Mendau roots and propelling me backwards, tearing me away from all of the swiping claws and leaving bits of myself behind in the process. Strong, spindly fingers were still wrapped around my prosthetic¡¯s bicep, trying to haul me back into the fray. I did a little grabbing myself. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] The goblin¡¯s forearm disintegrated into tiny embers of orange. Within the cacophony of shrieking, yowling voices, one such voice took on a distinctly more strained pitch. You gain knowledge of material: Goblin Bone [1/10] You gain knowledge of material: Goblin Bone [2/10] By some miracle I still had the spear. The scourge-touched tried to grab the end of that as well, probably thinking of pulling me in along with the weapon, but whatever I¡¯d hit with my initial thrust covered the entire front in blood and¡­ other fluids, making it too slippery to properly grasp. I jerked it away, cutting more flesh on the return. Their blood spattered and splashed on the floor and against the walls, intermingling with mine. ¡°Come on, you little shits!¡± I bellowed in their faces. ¡°I¡¯m right here!¡± I got to my feet and set myself, spear out, ¡®shield¡¯ arm in front, weight equally distributed this time, and I thrust again at a pair of eyes. This time, I had the presence of mind to only let myself reach so far. Again, I scored a hit, closer to where I was aiming this time. The reflective orbs jerked and fell away, to be replaced by another set. You take 1 bleeding damage Scourge-Touched Goblin takes 6 damage. (Piercing) Scourge-Touched Goblin is bleeding. This time, I didn¡¯t leave the spear inside my target long enough for it to be grabbed. I was set again within half a second. Then I thrust again and again and again. I found a rhythm. The scourge-touched weren¡¯t overly concerned with their lives, and they pressed mindlessly into the gaps between the roots, their rabid fervor at being close to me drowning all sense of self preservation. Those in front were mobbed from behind, pressed so close they could barely move except for where they tore at the Mendau roots or swiped at me when I came close enough. Stab. Set. Stab. Set. Stab. Set. I cursed at them over and over until I was hoarse. I vented my hate on the black ones, made them the objects of my wrath. Occasionally, I grew overzealous and came away from a thrust bleeding again. Eventually, the lights went out, either from running out of fuel or the black ones¡¯ bodies blocking every square inch of my door. I activated Detect Goblin, the first ability I¡¯d unlocked from affinities so long ago, and the seething mass of scourge-touched goblins practically ¡®blinded¡¯ me, the concentration was so intense. It shone like a beacon. Closing my eyes didn¡¯t help matters either. I wasn¡¯t seeing them with my eyes. Acclimation to my new senses was slow, but eventually I was back in the swing(stab) of things. Experience messages were rolling in. Scourge Touched Goblin defeated. You have been awarded 22 experience points. [10 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)] I had to minimize my log after a while, finding the messages too distracting. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Stab. Set. Stab. Set. Stab. Set. The black ones were endless. No matter how many I killed, more would take their place. The muscles in my arm tired, and my legs burned from having to crouch and step during my thrusts. Sweat poured off my body, and my lungs were on fire. My form suffered, carrying me into some close calls. The System repaired my body for me over time, closing wounds that would have bled a normal person to death, but the gouges and scratches wore me down, not just from the blood loss but from the pain. My body was quickly running out of adrenaline and my mind tired from the constant state of alertness and overstimulation. My rhythm slowed until it stopped altogether, and I slumped to the floor against the wall opposite the door. Defeated. Exhausted. I sat there, the cool of the cave rock soothing my aching body, the System going to work on my HP. It was pitch black, but Detect Goblin turned my cell into a horror show of light. Blood and gore littered the walls and the floor, soaked into my clothes, my hair. I reached over my shoulder and extracted a severed claw from a groove in between the segmented plates on my back. Indefatigable, the Black Ones tore into the Mendau to get to me. Hunty¡¯s body was long gone, replaced by more roots and rabid faces. Gurgling screeches smothered all other sound, while the faces of my would-be killers slavered with long tongues snaking forward to taste my scent. With a trembling hand, I summoned my clay cup and rope from my spatial storage, watching it appear from nothing with a dim glow. I did the same with a piece of meat from the bundle Tiba had given me. Once I¡¯d drawn some water from the underriver, I shakily popped the jerky into my mouth and chased it with the entire cup of water. I was wrung out, spent. My mind and body felt numb yet raw, like I¡¯d been dipped in a frozen lake and left out to dry in the wind. One by one, I consciously relaxed my muscles and closed my eyes, looking for peace amidst the nightmare. I turned Detect Goblin off to decrease the strain on my mind and let the world go back to the dark once again. The scourge-touched didn¡¯t make it easy with the racket they were making, but I did what I could to soothe my psyche, trusting the rest of me to follow. We sat like that for a while. I¡¯m unsure how long. My Engine status winked out a long while ago, so I had no way of keeping the time. However, my HP slowly ticked up from 10 to 31. I had no idea what my regeneration rate actually was, but it was at least something to watch. My max appeared to be 45 now. I wasn¡¯t sure when that happened, but I didn¡¯t want to bring up my log. Not yet. Looking at it meant thinking and decisions and all that stuff I wasn¡¯t ready for yet. Breathing deeply of the blood tinged air, I took up Hunty¡¯s spear yet again, climbed to my feet, and activated Detect Goblin to bring back the nightmare of luminescent gore and hungry maws. ¡ª--------------------- I popped another bit of dried meat into my mouth, gnawing at the tough sinew as I pondered my next move. I¡¯d slept twice since the monsters had invaded my cavern, and I was pretty sure I was no closer to exhausting their numbers than before. They still crowded up against the bars of my cell trying desperately to reach for me, but they¡¯d grown quieter as time went on. Yes, if I moved suddenly or approached them they would be back to barking and howling and slashing to get to me, but for now they seemed content to watch and make sure I didn¡¯t leave. That worried me. What¡¯s worse, it piqued my curiosity to the point that my rhythm of set, stab, set could no longer divert my mind enough to drown out my real thoughts. Despite myself, I¡¯d liked Hunty. I might have even thought of him as my friend. It was ridiculous. Our first moment together, he stabbed me then he became my jailer. Of course it was ridiculous to feel anything but contempt for the guy. Then there were the other moments. How he shared his rations with me sometimes. The jokes. The way he looked out for me with the other guards and pleaded to Kuul for more humane (gobline?) treatment. His first instinct was always to protect others, Tiba especially. Hunty would never let Tiba be affected by the evils of the world. He would do anything to see her happy and safe, and, to an extent, he did that for me as well. Hunty also died for me. Like Vince. What do you do to make up for that kind of sacrifice? What did I have to do to make up for costing the multiverse two good lives? You could start by not dying during the Tutorial. Who dies during the Tutorial, really? Wiping a tear from my cheek, I laughed slightly as the warm wetness erased that part of my hand from the world. The rest of me was covered in goblin blood, making me visible to Detect, at least in outline, but that spot was a break in the filth, the only clean spot on my entire body. So absurd. It was all so absurd. Shuddering, I laughed some more. Uncontrollable, violent laughter. The kind of laugh that bursts out of you like an alien parasite and does its best just to leave behind nothing but an empty husk. I laughed until it hurt. Then I laughed because it hurt. The scourge-touched hated it, joining in in their own way with hoots tinged with bloodlust and evil. Shaking my head and breathing deep, I got myself back under control. I¡¯d had enough of this place. It was time to get back to the business of escape, not just from the cave. From Ralqir. I brought up my log. Level up! You are now level 5. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Ability Unlocked: Trigger Achievements awarded this level: Big Spender: You have spent 8,000% of your total mana pool this level. [+1% mana regeneration per second.] Dedicated: You spent most of your time dedicated to your craft this level. [+1 Spirit] Doing Your Part: Some of your creations have been used against agents of the Scourge. [+200% experience awarded for new designs next level] Synergetic Synthesis: You have performed the prohibitively difficult and costly feat of combining three or more abilities to form a new one. [+50% level rate for all component abilities. ERROR: Ability:Volatility:class_mismatch] I had been waiting for this ever since Shape hit level 5 and gave me a choice. Five seemed to be a significant number in everything so far, and I didn¡¯t want to make a permanent choice for my main ability until I knew what I needed. Apparently, my class got a new toy at 5. Trigger: Create a pocket of latent potentiality within your creations that may be activated by mana. [Cost: conditional] Okay. If I was reading the description correctly, that meant I could¡­ What? Make my constructs do things by injecting mana? I could, sort of, do that already with Automate. There had to be something more to it. I¡¯d experiment with it once I got a chance. Level up! You are now level 6. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Doing Your Part: Some of your creations have been used against agents of the Scourge. [+200% experience awarded for new designs next level] Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] Level up! You are now level 7. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Doing Your Part: Some of your creations have been used against agents of the Scourge. [+200% experience awarded for new designs next level] Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] That was¡­ a lot to parse. The achievements and their meanings, I would have to study sometime later. Just skimming the surface information told me something, but I was sure there was more there to glean. I felt around in my spatial storage, taking inventory. I had about twenty pounds of iron, some in ore form, some as worm constructs. Additionally I had maybe a few days worth of food, a few bundles of Mendau wood, four pounds of limestone, and six pounds of aluminum. The dark ones stared at me with their beady black eyes, watching my every movement, waiting for the moment I tried to escape or slipped into their reach. For my part, I was thinking again. For the first time since the lights went out, my brain was engaged, and the pieces of a plan were slowly taking shape. Chapter 16 - Make my Escape Chapter 16 - Make my Escape Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] You gain knowledge of material: Limestone [50/50] Affinity upgraded: Limestone: Grade E Detect radius is now 17 ft. I stood and brushed the rock dust off of my lap, taking the opportunity to stretch my muscles and shake off the mana crash I¡¯d been courting using my Devouring Grasp like that. Limestone didn¡¯t ¡®burn¡¯ like some material did, so my Engine buff had a tendency to fall off without me realizing it. I had a pool of 75 MP to work with now, so even if I was without Engine for a little while, I could work for some time. Eventually, however, the well would run dry, and I had to rely on my core to keep me going. Shaping, specifically the saturation part, was a mana hungry process, especially when you didn¡¯t have an affinity for the material in the first place. A theory was slowly percolating in my mind about previous Animators and how they went about things. If I had to speculate, my Animator brethren had to have at least one affinity to work with upon Integration. They would come to the tutorial facility, meet their trainer, grab some metal and grind to level one, all while Nali held their hand and let them know how things worked. Even for people with a higher Mind stat and pool of MP, the process of getting to level one would have to take weeks or maybe months unless having an affinity for the material came into play to help them work more efficiently. Either that or Nali had some way to boost newbies¡¯ MP, but that didn¡¯t strike me as likely. My Engine core said it was unique, and Nali had made it sound like MP took a while to regenerate. She hadn¡¯t offered any alternatives or remedies to that limitation. Whatever the case, once the new Animator hit level one, they¡¯d be transported back through the Insertion point to their home universe, which was the step of the process I was, hopefully, on now and had been ever since I leveled for the first time. My tutorial hadn¡¯t gone according to that plan, though. ¡®Return to Insertion Point¡¯ at least sounded like a final step, so that''s what I would have to do to get home... Eventually. The problem was that I was locked in a prison cell under millions of tons of rock, and my insertion point was now the epicenter of evil to hear the goblins tell it, the exact center of black one territory. I rolled my neck, mentally ¡®feeling¡¯ around in my spatial storage for parts, checking each to make sure they were ready for assembly. My ever present peanut gallery didn¡¯t like that. They spit and slashed at the Mendau bars and reached out, desperate to extract more of my blood. I couldn¡¯t actually see them, but I knew that¡¯s what they were doing. They never stopped doing it. I need mana anyway. I deactivated Detect Limestone and replaced it with the Goblin variant. There they were, brightly lit, piled up on top of each other in the door of my cell, eyes wide open as always, mouths wide open as always. The dried blood and viscera on the floor had dimmed in my Goblin vision over the past day or so, which was an interesting point of data on the function of the skill. Why didn¡¯t the blood retain its ¡°goblin-ness,¡± and did its dimming in my senses indicate there were multiple levels of goblin? Either way, if the universe was going to give me a way to ignore how rotten my cell had become with goblin viscera, I wasn¡¯t going to say no. Long, spindly hands, tipped with curved talons stretched out for me as their owners pressed in to get even a millimeter more of reach. I picked one of them at random. ¡°Hey, buddy. High five,¡± I said. It was a terrible joke, one I¡¯d told many times now, but, if I was being honest with myself, I missed real voices and language. It was hard to tell how long I¡¯d been stuck in here with my new neighbors, but their savage natures and seemingly endless attention spans, all bent toward killing me, were grating on my sanity. Stepping forward, just out of reach of the rending claws, I casually stuck my hand out to let it be grabbed. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] Status Gained: Engine: [+2 MP/sec for 5 min] Scourge-Touched Goblin takes 20 damage. Scourge-Touched Goblin is bleeding. A panicked screech carried above the usual din, a pair of the goblin eyes widening in pain, and the now handless goblin attempted to flee against the mob of bodies still pressed in behind it. Feeling my mana tick up out of the single digits again, I sighed, flopping down on the opposite wall where I switched back to Detect Iron. I wished it wasn¡¯t necessary. The thing about iron is that it¡¯s in everyone¡¯s blood, making it useful for sensing living things. In fact, it was the only way I could see my own body down here in the dark. Without the use of my real sight, the ability made us all look generally the same if differently proportioned. The problem lay in the fact that my cell was covered in blood. My enemies¡¯, my own¡­ just everyone¡¯s. I need to get out of here. I¡¯d laid my plans and stretched my resources to cover what I could. The underriver was my only option, and that meant I was facing a number of problems, some more daunting than others. Problem one: I loved oxygen. I loved it so much, I didn¡¯t think I could live without it. This item was at the top of the list for obvious reasons. I enjoyed oxygen, and I didn¡¯t see a reason to leave it behind. At first I¡¯d thought about making some kind of extendable spike contraption that could drill into the limestone and get me a pocket of air to breathe. That is, before I realized that limestone, while it did contain oxygen, didn¡¯t necessarily contain 02. What¡¯s more, if the water was all the way up to the ceiling of the tunnel like I thought it was, it would probably just rush into whatever cavity I could produce. I¡¯d gone through several iterations of ideas, Shaping and rearranging my various materials into different solutions, even going so far as to consider electrocuting myself in an attempt at electrolysis. Where I would get the electricity, I didn¡¯t know, but during that doomed brainstorming session, it occurred to me that I might have the solution (or at least a solution) staring me in the face or wherever my spatial storage really was. What I needed was a balloon. More precisely, I needed a reservoir of air. That¡¯s where most of my aluminum went. Essentially, I Shaped the aluminum into a giant metal bladder, filling up as much of my cell as possible, even allowing it to droop down into the hole and nearly touch the water. I kept the paper thin skin of the construct rigid through the magic of Shape and let the air just do what it did, filling in the entire space. Then I sealed the balloon with the air inside. From there it was about shrinking my new oxygen tank, slowly moving molecules around, thickening the walls and decreasing the surface area until I was left with a pressurized aluminum canister about the size of my fist with a plugged straw protruding from the end. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. Then I repeated the process until I was nearly out of aluminum, and I had four of my little diving tanks. Problem two: It was dark down here. This one I didn¡¯t have a clever answer for. Sure, my Detect abilities were good, but they were too specialized. Detect Limestone would have me able to see the cave walls but nothing else, Detect Iron would only give me a view of myself and whatever creatures with blood like mine there might be down there, and the rest were far less useful in this situation anyway. The only way I had to produce consistent light underwater was Volatility, so I¡¯d pretty much be using a live grenade as a glow lamp while I took my swim. Hurray. Problem three: Danger. I needed a weapon, one I could use even in the tight confines of any tunnel I might find, and this was the problem I intended to solve today. From my storage, I summoned the pieces. A long iron tube with a rudimentary self repair function as well as a fat nub on one end. Next was the ¡®chamber¡¯ which was pretty much a tube inside a tube, the larger of which could slide back and let me put things inside the breach I¡¯d made. I¡¯d plugged the back of the larger one with a half inch of solid iron, only leaving space for a pebble sized cube that would fit into a groove on the back wall. Said cube was the tricky part. The whole design relied on it to get off the ground. Breathing in deep, I brought out my tiny bit of aluminum I¡¯d saved for this, placing it on top of the iron tubes. Shape [4 MP/sec] I formed my aluminum into the cubical shape to match the groove. Automate [15 MP/sec] My MP pool drained, practically bottoming me out instantaneously. My mana left me in a tide, flooding into the metal and, with it, my instructions and whatever power it would need to carry out these instructions. The mix of Shaping, Imbuing, and Volatility had my mana churning inside of me like blades of a blender. It hurt, not in a physical sense, but in a way that scoured my brain and my soul. I gave everything I had to the cube. When you are struck, release a tiny fraction of your stored mana. Then stop. Repeat. My will and, by extension, my Spirit attribute did a lot of the heavy lifting here. Fortunately, my Spirit had nearly tripled since my Integration. My mana floated outside my body and filled the cell now, not visible in the conventional sense but I could certainly feel it and vaguely feel things inside of it. It even extended beyond, outside the confines of the cell, even through the walls. The strength of my Spirit gave the command sufficient sophistication and complexity, which I very much needed if I didn¡¯t want my new weapon to explode in my hand. Next, I bored a hole in the back of the chamber tube and made room for my firing pin, just a little needle with a padded handle I¡¯d be using for the prototype. This was the thing that did the ¡®striking.¡¯ Then, I added the finishing touches like a catch to keep my bolt chamber closed, rifling on the inside of the barrel, and a handle wrapped in leather strips that I could easily hold. Finally, I summoned one of my iron worms, a chunkier, more efficient model. I dove into it with Shape and checked on the integrity of its segments and scales. Rigid, sleek, and smooth until it was told not to be, it was the perfect ammunition. I wasn¡¯t about to just give iron away to the black ones, though. A trip back to the handshake wall later, I was back at full MP and ready to automate my ammo. Trigger [10 MP/sec] Trigger was an odd thing. It gave me the ability to give an object two ¡®states¡¯ that could be switched between if fed enough mana. Conceivably, I could make a sword that turned into a hammer or a spear that grew barbs. Whoever was using said weapon would provide the MP required to make the transformation back and forth, which made using them costly but ultimately awesome. However, I had something different in mind for the little bullet worms. Their trigger would sprout their legs, activate their segmented ribs, and sharpen their heads. Then they would execute the command I was about to give them. Automate [15 MP/sec] If you strike something, feed mana into the Trigger. Return to me. I was breathing hard and sweating by this point. Using that much mana in a short amount of time wrung my body and mind out. The System seemed to agree. Conduit is now level 2 Conduit: Your body grows more able to conduct mana freely and direct its flow. +10% resistance to mana overflow. +10% speed of mana flow when using abilities. Placing the parts together on the floor, I shaped the barrel and the chamber together, joining their materials, interlocking the molecules where the two met, while still allowing the outer part of the chamber to be opened. I *was* these individual parts. They were a part of me. I made them a single object, designed for my purpose. It all came together slowly, as I double checked every tiny molecule with Shape before pulling my consciousness out. You have created: Rudimentary Rifle You have been awarded 450 experience points. [150 base, +300 Doing your Part bonus] Wiping the sweat from my forehead, I released the catch on the chamber and slid it open with a quiet hiss. The metal parts fit together so precisely, only the thinnest layer of air separated the two. Nothing rattled. Nothing clicked. I knew this thing like I knew myself¡­ probably better. In my defense, I had a lot going on lately, and I didn¡¯t know exactly how it affected me. Who truly knew themselves anyway? I slipped the newly programmed ammunition inside the chamber and closed the tube. It fit perfectly, because of course it did. Taking a deep breath, I took the rifle up in my metal hand and held it out far far away from my face as I took aim, not quite trusting the construct not to just explode when I triggered it. Using my thumb, I reached up to the chamber and gave the firing pin a light tap. I flinched but nothing happened. I narrowed my eyes at it, slapping my thumb against it once, twice, harder and harder. Nothing. I sighed. Once more with feeling, then I¡¯d go back to the drawing board. I transferred the rifle to my other hand and slapped the firing pin full force with my metal fist. *POW* There was a flash of light, the real stuff that burned my cave dweller''s eyes, and there was a sense of overpressurization I felt in my head. My ears rang, and my balance felt off, like the world was spinning. I flopped down so I wouldn¡¯t fall down and tried to get my bearings. Diving into the rifle with Shape, everything seemed to be in place. The propellant cube was there, a little warm but otherwise ok. The barrel¡¯s rifling was intact. No holes or cracks in the material. The worm¡­ uh ammunition¡­ was gone though. I blinked rapidly. Floating purple tracers swam in my vision, and tinny, scratching, screeching sounds tickled my ringing ears. The System was going to work repairing me, though. Soon, I was able to hear and balance again. My sense returned to me as well. I cast about with Detect Iron, looking for my spent ammunition, but finding only dried blood and¡­ There. From below the writing mass of scourge-touched, a tiny, undulating shape slithered its way into my cell. Half of the little legs were bent beyond use, and the tip of the construct was slightly duller than I¡¯d designed it, but the little thing was functional if sluggish because it had been forced to use just its scales to move after the legs were damaged. Of course. It had to squirm its way through a wall of goblins to get back to me. The scourge-touched didn¡¯t seem interested in the construct at least. They only had eyes for me. Now that I could hear them again, they were going full howler monkey, practically shaking the stone with their racket. ¡°Nice job little guy,¡± I said proudly to my ammunition as I let it finish its programming. It squirmed forward until it touched the tip of my foot and went dead, now just a semi-conical piece of iron again. I checked my log. Scourge-Touched Goblin takes 14 damage. (Piercing) Scourge-Touched Goblin is bleeding. Scourge-Touched Goblin takes 17 damage. (Piercing) Scourge-Touched Goblin is bleeding. You have been awarded 2 experience points. [10 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, -8 non-combat class)] So the projectile had enough force to penetrate two bodies before it stopped and made its way back to me, and I had to assume it penetrated all the way through the second one. If my worm had ¡®come alive¡¯ inside of a goblin, I imagine I would have gotten some more interesting messages. Nodding to myself and allowing a new whirlwind of thoughts to churn in my head, I got back to work. Tomorrow would come soon, and I needed to be ready. Chapter 17 - Dive into Darkness Chapter 17 - Dive into Darkness Not for the first time, I cursed the System and its tendency to make decisions for me. I was skinny before Integration, before five extra points in Body were forced upon me by virtue of just trying to live through my tutorial. Normally, I wouldn¡¯t have minded a little extra bulk. I¡¯d always been a small guy, smaller than my peers at least, and hard living in the Outers didn¡¯t help things. A few extra pounds of muscle might have gained me some respect back home and reduced my dependency on pulleys and lifts in the shop. Now, I would have killed for my old, wiry build. I ground my teeth together and twisted at the waist, gaining myself a couple more inches of progress down the hole and toward the surface of the underriver. My feet dangled beneath me, the remains of my boots scraping on the rough, porous surface of the rock, while I was forced to angle my shoulders with one arm above my head and one down at my side so I could fit inside the cramped confines of the little tunnel. Curse my sexy new wide shoulders. My cell was only about ten feet above my head now, or at least that was my guess. Detect Limestone only went for about 17 feet, and I could still see the roof of my cell from here. My scourge-touched neighbors were extremely upset by my absence. Upon waking up today and doing some light stretching, I¡¯d waved goodbye to them and carefully lowered myself down to this point. If I thought the black ones sounded excited when they tried to kill me, it was nothing compared to when they lost sight of me. Even now, half an hour later, they were still going insane. The sound of their desperate, grating voices took on a hollow quality by the time they reached me down here. I¡¯d done a good bit of widening of this hole over my time stuck in the cell, but that work only extended a few feet down. Consequently, I¡¯d slid down here in an easy, controlled fashion at first, but now things were tight. Now, progress was slow and painful. I had to move one piece of myself at a time. Hips, arm, ribs, shoulders. That was the order. Nothing else seemed to work. It was hell on my clothes, their rough threads catching on the tiniest of imperfections in the rock, forcing me to sacrifice them to gain distance. They were already ripped and torn in places thanks to my ill conceived spear fight with a wall of claws, but now they were barely clothes at all. After a while, I came to a part of the tunnel where my ribs no longer fit. I couldn¡¯t see the lip of the hole anymore, and I had to estimate I was about at the halfway mark. Suddenly, my torso just wedged itself tight, the weight of my body dragging me down and the cave walls squeezing my rib cage until I couldn¡¯t breathe properly. That nearly panicked me. I kicked and squirmed, twisted my prosthetic down at my side to try to get some room. It helped but only a little. I couldn¡¯t go back up. At that point, I just couldn¡¯t conceive of it. Staying would just be a slow death by starvation. Therefore, the only way was forward¡­ or down in this case. Taking a moment to summon my calm by closing my eyes, I blew every bit of air out of my lungs. *Scrtch* The sound of metal on stone. The sound of progress. The only thing that would save me was progress. I couldn¡¯t take a full breath anymore. I sucked air into my lungs in rapid, shallow gulps like a fish out of water. There wasn¡¯t enough room for anything else. Spots danced in my vision, and my head felt fuzzy. *Scrtch* Twist, scoot, breathe. That was my world now. *Scrtch* All that I knew was the descent. I. Wanted. Out. Then, my feet met the surface of the water, ice cold, soaking through the ragged leather of my boots and into my socks. The sudden temperature change shocked my brain out of hibernation, and I paid attention to Detect Limestone again. The underriver was right there. My tunnel ended nearly right at the water¡¯s surface, and I¡¯d be dropping down through a ceiling vent into the current. I switched over to Detect Iron to try and see if there were any creatures around I needed to worry about, but I found none. I did find a lot of blood and bits of skin I¡¯d left behind on the cave walls during my descent though. That was an uncomfortable sight, made less so by my having lived in a room covered in blood in the recent past. One last push, and I would be through. Nodding and rolling my neck, I tried to psych myself up for the eventual cold plunge. Here we go. I summoned one of my aluminum diving tanks into existence and held it in my hand, saturating it again with Shape so I could form an aperture in the breathing straw if needed. Then, I was on the move again. Twist, scoot, breath. Repeat. Suddenly, with a final, grating, flesh ripping slide over the rock, I was falling. The water rushed up to envelop me, quickly subsuming the rest of my torso and my head. The shock of the cold nearly killed me. My body desperately wanted to gasp at the sudden icy chill that invaded my core and stung my bloody wounds, but I knew this was coming. I only got a partial mouthful of water before I was back under control. One thing Hunty was right about was how swift the current of the underriver was. Instantly, I was swept away, taking a shallow diagonal trip deeper into the water, maybe about nine feet down before I finally hit the cave floor hard enough to hurt my knees. Oh yes, I sank, and I sank quickly. Having a good portion of your body replaced by metal did that, but it wasn¡¯t all bad. Detect helped me find the nearest nub of solid stone and plant my feet to get my bearings. I fumbled around with my diving tank, bringing the breathing straw to my lips before Shaping the stem and allowing a spurt of air to enter my mouth. I may have overpressurized it a bit. Breathing through it felt like someone was blasting my lungs with a cannon, and it triggered my gag reflex. It took a couple more tries, but I eventually fixed the issue with some re-Shaping in the stem. Transferring my oxygen tank into my metal hand, I summoned the little iron rod I¡¯d saved for this. I cast Volatility, pumping mana into the thing for only a couple seconds before the purple glow had the right intensity. I held up my new lamp and took a look around with my real, actual, human eyes. The water was clear and swift. Tiny particulates rushed past me, borne on the strong current, down deeper into the planet. The bottom of the river was a carpet of nubby, brown stalagmites long worn down by time and the rushing water, while the walls were smooth and streaked with yellow bands that waved and wove over themselves as if a product of the current as well. Once in a while, a particularly strong blast of water doubled me over and threatened to dislodge me from my safe perch. This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience. I took another breath from my tank. As much as I hated having an elevated Body before, I was grateful for it now. I didn¡¯t have to breathe as much as I thought I would, my baseline of fitness now far above my original. What¡¯s more, the cold, while shocking and unpleasant, didn¡¯t make me instantaneously hypothermic as I¡¯d feared. There was no reason to wait around for that to happen though. Glow rod in my metal hand, oxygen tank in my other, I kicked off my perch and made to follow the current. The thought had occurred to me that I could go upstream to find the area of the river the Goblins used for drinking water, but there were two problems with that. First, the river was strong, and I would spend most of my energy and air trying to fight against the current. Second, my goblins¡¯ cave was overrun by scourge-touched now. There was no guarantee of safety even if I could even find the goblins¡¯ exit and fit through it. So, downriver I went. After a couple embarrassing attempts at walking along the bottom and one close call where the current bowled me over and nearly made me detonate my grenade/glow rod, I found my groove. I ended up doing a sort of flying, bounding leap like you might do in low-grav. I would kick off the bottom of the river and extend my arms to keep control of my trajectory, then my mass would inevitably bring me back down to the floor. The method used minimal energy and oxygen, and it made pretty good time too. I could only hope that the river would take me somewhere better than my cell, instead of just further and further and further down until I ran out of air. ¡ª--------------- The river did go down. Far, far down. Gradually at first, but then it wound through tight, branching tubes that swept my body downward fast and popped my ears with the change in pressure. More than once, I had to hold onto the cave walls with Devouring Grasp to arrest my momentum and chart a safe path through. I¡¯m not sure how long it took. I had no buffs with which to track time. I was certainly starting to feel the strain of constant cold and physical activity, and, though I didn¡¯t feel anything, I knew my body needed food and rest. I only really noticed a change in the current when the water started getting cloudy, my light unable to reach the cave walls anymore. Indeed, my pace slowed quickly at that point, not due to the visibility, but because the water grew increasingly sluggish until I was practically walking on the bottom instead of riding the current. As I took in some air from my third breathing tank, I got a taste of the water and nearly gagged. Whatever floated in here with me, it was foul, and it stuck to my tongue like paste. Furthermore, there was a temperature difference here. The water was warmer, not comfortably warm, but certainly not the iciness of before. Under my feet, solid rock gave way to muddy silt that exploded into obscuring debris clouds with every footfall, and eventually, the ground started to slope upward until I was trudging up a squishy mud heap barely even able to see my hand that held the glow rod. Then, suddenly, my head crested the surface, practically bursting into the open air. I was so surprised, I fumbled my oxygen tank and dropped it into the water. Bringing the glow rod up, high over my head, I tried to get a good look at where I was. I was in an underground lake of some sort, wide and glassy other than the waves I made with my body. The smooth surface of the water reflected the light my glow stick cast until I could see almost the entirety of the cave. The place was expansive, bigger than a couple aircraft hangars jammed together. The ceiling was a cathedral of enormous polished stalactites made of some kind of glossy rock, their inverted spires towering over their neighbors, jockeying for the title of the grandest. At the center of the lake, an island of pale moss gathered around a central pillar of rock that seemed to bear the load of everything above. Tumor-like blobs of amber grew from the sides of the pillar and seemed to be in the process of slowly liquifying to coat the rock below. With tired, wobbling steps, I sloshed through the mud to make my way to the island. The thought of solid ground beneath my feet and a quiet meal practically invaded my mind. Then, after a rest, maybe I could refill my tanks and move on. For now, though, I just wanted to be still. The air was thick with the smell of sulfur like rotten eggs or biomass rotting in a pond. Back home, if we didn¡¯t purify our water, it smelled like this. Awful for sure, but at least familiar. I plopped down on the moss covered mud, my back to the glossy central rock, and I just let the world turn around me for a while. My inner ear seemed to be reluctant to give up the feeling of constant motion I¡¯d acquired in the underriver, and the world seemed to constantly tilt from side to side. So, where was I now? The underlake? I sighed with relief. I was alive and breathing. That was something to celebrate. Putting down my glow rod and stowing my air canister, I summoned my final piece of dried meat from Tiba. I promised myself I¡¯d savor this one, once I was out. Well, I was out, or at least out of my cell. After so long living in a closet-sized tomb of rock, the lake seemed so big, endless even. I took a bite of the meat, tearing it with my teeth and letting the spice tingle in my mouth. ¡°Ay loss mu-y¡¯iah.¡± I took another bite of my jerky, closing my eyes and letting go of that ball of worry in my stomach, at least for now. ¡°Me tek oosrah mule,¡± someone called to me again, her voice a sweet, cold soprano, delicate like a flute of crystal. I shuddered awake, or maybe I¡¯d always been awake. My eyes felt so heavy, my limbs were made of lead, but my heart hammered in my chest, so hard the muscles in my neck twitched in time with the beat. ¡°Ooh loktika morishna booleahn,¡± she said. My head lolled to the side, so I could turn toward the voice. It was a woman, or at least she was shaped like one, tall and lithe. Her sparkling, pale skin practically glowed, broken only by the blush of her cheeks and the curtains of raven hair that were the only things covering her nudity. She glided toward me, her steps so light, the soft moss did little more than tremble slightly at her touch. I was awake now. Probably. My eyes kept trying to close without my permission, and my insides wobbled like I was standing too close to an atmo-rocket on take off. Smiling, the mystery woman leaned over and offered her hand to me. Now that she was close, her features seemed exaggerated slightly, sharper than I was accustomed to, the eyes too far apart, too large, and her chin too narrow. Little stubby antlers protruded from the backs of her temples too, as if I needed another reminder that I was far from home. Her hair smelled of flowers and spring rain. My pulse quickened. I got up on my own power, not daring to touch the woman¡¯s hand, not that I would have been able to. Once I made to stand, she practically lept away, dancing over the moss carpet light as a feather, her hair doing interesting things to frame her body. She looked back at me and giggled invitingly. ¡°Hey, stop,¡± I slurred. Staggering, I reached out, not wanting her to go too far into the water. It could be dangerous in the water. ¡°Don¡¯t go in there. Its-¡± The woman danced back again, this time, offering a twirl of flowing limbs and hair and floral scent that warmed me, made me¡­ I took a step forward, the mud giving way with a *shlorp* as my foot broke through the moss, and I tripped. That¡¯s what saved my life. I caught myself with my hands, feeling the mud slide between my fingers and up my wrists, but I was low to the ground now. Looking up to make sure I didn¡¯t lose sight of my new lady friend, I got a good view of the surface of the water. Calm and glassy before, the water roiled now, seething and sloshing up on the bank of my island. Mist filled the cavern(or had it always?), thick and tinted with particulates, something like perfume or pollen. A shadow of something long and slithering passed beneath the surface of the lake. I shook my head and slapped myself to get some of my sense back. Adrenaline was coursing through me now, clearing my mind and enhancing my senses to let me pick up on a low vibration, a hum that quivered just beyond my hearing but enticed sympathetic echoes in my head and in my body. I reached back and picked up my glow rod, holding it high. As I did so, the woman vanished beneath the surface of the water, and, despite myself, I nearly cried out and dove in after her, so strong was the compulsion. Get it together, Ryan. This is the last place you¡¯d want to find a girl. I forced the urge to follow the lady to take a back seat to my conscious thoughts. Then I turned in a circle to make sure I was- My light fell upon something huge and round with a green, waxy skin suspended by thick stalks that rose from the water. Drops of moisture fell from its skin into the pool below, with tiny drip, drip, drips. It reminded me of a bulb, like a flower that had not yet bloomed. Smoothly, silently, a giant, fanged, pink and yellow tri-petaled maw unfurled itself from the pale green bulb, its yawning expanse wide enough to swallow me twice. It made no sound except for the air it displaced as it rushed toward me, colored flaps quivering with its movement. ¡°Whaaa!¡± I screamed in panic, rearing back and chucking my only source of light straight down the creature¡¯s throat. Chapter 18 - Attack the Mock Chapter 18 - Attack the Mock The plant creature, if that¡¯s what it was, didn¡¯t even try to dodge. In fact, the ¡°petals¡± closed around the glow rod as it spun into the back of the thing¡¯s throat, plunging me into darkness. Then, with a muffled *FWOOMPH* there was a flash of purple through a slit in the monster¡¯s mouth, as it deformed and split from the concussive force of the blast. Back to being in pitch dark, I scrambled to the side, my feet tearing through the sucking mud until I felt the pillar where I¡¯d tried to rest. Placing my back to it, I summoned a chunk of scrap iron I hadn¡¯t had a chance to use yet. Volatility [1 MP/sec] I didn¡¯t try to control the amount of mana I used for this one. I just poured it on, watching the cave get brighter and brighter. Unfortunately, the mist I¡¯d observed earlier was thick in the air, swirling and billowing in confusing patterns as my light tried to penetrate. Indistinct, dark shapes the size of trucks stalked through the fog everywhere I turned. Detect Limestone wasn¡¯t giving me anything. Whatever this place was made of, it wasn¡¯t that. Maybe the silt mound I stood upon was too tall to let me see the actual cave floor. I activated Detect Iron, and the world lit up, but not like it did when I was working with pure ore. This was more of a subtle glow in my senses, dimmer than the concentration of iron in my blood but still better than nothing. I stood on a mound of diffuse iron, more concentrated further down into the mud. Surprisingly, the pillar at my back was the highest concentration of the element aside from me. Feathery flakes of something drifted down on me from overhead, so light and insubstantial my eyes couldn¡¯t make them out, and when they touched my skin, they dissolved, leaving behind a sticky sort of residue I couldn¡¯t brush off. I slowed my breaths, looking down so as not to get the stuff on my face or take it into my lungs. I wished I had enough of a shirt left to make a rudimentary mask, but I didn¡¯t get that chance. Something big shot out of the dark from behind me, my Detect skill warning me just in time for me to dive to the side. Meanwhile, I clutched my glowing grenade light tight in my hand, making sure to treat the item as gently as I could. The creature¡¯s petals bit down where I was was with a *SNAP,* while I crawled around the pillar to put it between me and my attacker, only looking up again once I sensed the thing starting to retreat. Before it slipped back into the fog, I caught a glimpse of some of those petals as they collapsed back in on themselves to become a bulb again. Then it was gone, out of range of Detect and my light, just in time for another attack to come from behind. This time, I wasn''t able to dodge properly. The flower monster rushed me, already at tremendous speed by the time it entered the 10 foot radius for Detect, and I was only able to roll on my belly for a few feet before it was upon me. The red and yellow flaps opened wide and draped down over me with wet slaps, the fangs thankfully missing me, penetrating into the mud instead. Disturbingly warm and wet, the flaps of the monster¡¯s mouth wrapped around me like a disgusting, smothering blanket. The mass of the monster bore me down into the ground, crushing me into the silt until I was below the water line. Foul liquid rushed into my eyes and ears, my nose, but the experience didn¡¯t last long. Soon, I was moving. I had the sensation of being whipped in one direction, then the next, and then there was a muffled *crash* and the walls of the creature¡¯s mouth cooled. I thrashed at the fleshy petals, trying to make some room to move around, but, if anything, they tightened around me, constricting me until there was no room to get any force behind my kicks. I tried Devouring Grasp, but the walls of the bulb were too slick and rubbery to get a good grip. No. No. No! I wasn¡¯t going out like this. I still had the grenade in my hand. I could detonate it and hope for the best, but that ¡®best¡¯ would probably result in my death. The blast would probably kill me in this confined space, and if it didn¡¯t I would be concussed and deaf and easy pickings if I didn¡¯t kill the monster in one blow. Water rushed in from around me to fill what space I had left, quickly cutting off what little air I had. Something else was in the water too, something that stung my eyes and made my skin itch. I¡¯d handled enough chemicals to recognize the signs of something corrosive. It was going to drown me. Then it was going to digest me. Detect Iron told me I was in one of the bulbs, attached to a long vine about as thick as I was, and I was slowly settling on the bottom of the lake. Luckily, I had just come from an underwater ordeal, and I¡¯d come equipped. Letting go of my grenade to let it sink down to the bottom of the bulb, I contorted my body, shrinking down into a ball so I could get some room to summon my last full air tank. It appeared in front of my face, and I went right to Shaping the aperture to allow me to breathe. The stinging digestive juices were becoming more intense. My entire body burned, even my eyes, so much I couldn¡¯t keep them open anymore, and when I closed them, the chemical went to work on my eyelids. I fought the urge to scratch or rub at the sensation, knowing it wouldn¡¯t help. It was maddening. Think, Ryan. Think. What do we have? I breathed in from my air canister, held it, then breathed out, feeling the bubbles trickle past my face and pool above my head, forming the only spot inside my new prison that had any semblance of air. With air came the liquid, the juices that got into my mouth tasted sour and numbed my taste buds. The thought of getting the stuff inside my lungs terrified me. Have to act now. Do anything. Do¡­ Oh no. My shoulders slumped and my stomach did that sinking thing as an anxious feeling came over me. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. I had an idea, and it was a terrible one. My oxygen canister was already saturated. All it took was a little push to pry open the breather aperture wider and wider and wider, until the air was leaving the tank in a bubbling, hissing torrent. Bubbles shot past my face, surrounded me. I dropped the tank, allowing it to spill its contents into the monstrous cavity as I summoned my weapon. I¡¯d improved the design somewhat since my prototype rifle. Now it was a one handed model with an actual spring loaded firing pin so I didn¡¯t have to slap it every time I wanted it to go off. It was still a single shot type with a chamber I had to reload manually, but I hadn¡¯t had time to really get the whole thing working before I was out of food. Right now, the weapon looked like a bolt action ballistic rifle had a baby with a potato gun. Hopefully, it would do the trick The bulb was bigger now, the water that was once drowning me now a pool on the ¡°floor¡± only deep enough to come up to my knees. My ears popped. The pressure was climbing fast. Using Detect Iron, I found the front of the bulb where the lips folded around one another to create the seal. I was only going to get one shot at this, and it was going to suck. Taking a deep breath, I placed the muzzle of my pistol against the mouth of the monster and pulled the trigger. *FOW* The rubbery petals blew open, and the pressurized pocket of air I¡¯d created rushed out before the water could reassert itself. I, too, was expelled from the bulb into the warmish water of the lake. I was expelled with such force that I tumbled bonelessly along the muddy bottom for quite a way before colliding with the slope of the central mud hill. It took me a couple seconds to find which way was up, but then I was moving, jumping up and breaking the surface to get fresh air in my lungs before my dense body dragged me back down. As quickly as I could, I ascended the hill, jumping to catch my breath several times before I was able to properly get to dry-ish land. The amber glow of the pillar¡¯s weird growths called to me, promising me dependable oxygen and- Wait. Did those always glow? As I swam/ran for the top of the hill, the glow of the bulbs intensified, bathing the cavern in yellow, sulfuric light. Tendrils of mist wafted up from the surface of the water, slowly at first, but it picked up speed, rapidly approaching fog bank levels of obfuscation. The humming was back now too. By the time I was out of the water, the mist was everywhere, and the air vibrated with that smooth dulling song that enticed me to lay down and die. My body was on fire, seared raw by the digestive acid, my clothes were falling off of me in clumps, and my chest heaved. With a shaking hand, I summoned another round of ammunition and slipped it into the pistol, snapping the chamber closed with a *clack.* I looked everywhere at once, eyes wide, tracking with my weapon and ready for anything to pop out of the yellow fog. Then, whatever was causing the amber lumps to glow, stopped. They winked out like candles, plunging me back into darkness. ¡°Eer illeeu mina?¡± Oh, wonderful. Horn lady was back. I turned, fighting the urge to sink down to my knees and relax my arms, just for a moment. I shook my head and worked my jaw, focusing on the burning of my skin to keep alert. There she was, beautiful, ethereal. Midnight hair on pale skin, shapely legs carrying her across the water, leaving barely a ripple. Her smile gleamed, and her big dark eyes invited me in. I slapped myself. The rest of the cave was pitch dark, but Detect Iron was still going. While my flesh glowed with sparkling vitality and warm, rushing blood, the pale woman was a void in my senses, nothing but empty space. Drip. Drip. Drip. Something behind me rose from the water. I dashed to the pillar before the creature could strike. It got close though, close enough to trigger Detect. In fact, quite a few of the bulbs were close to me now, just below the surface of the water, waiting for me to turn my back on them. The woman approached me, smiling bashfully, looking down at her body then peering at me through wavy hair. Her tiny horns glimmered, though there was no light. ¡°Ches tule mirakabory?¡± She asked, holding out a hand for me to take. Detect told me the truth. There was nothing there. This is a spell. The realization hit me between the eyes, shattered my perceived reality, exploded in my mind. The curtain of the glamor lifted, was burned away. Suddenly, I could think clearly again. I looked around. The mist, the woman, the darkness, all of it was gone, or, more precisely, it was there, but it took on a translucent quality, one that I could easily see through. The humming was just a buzzing like so many insects. Yes, my eyes saw the illusion, but they saw it for what it was now, no more than a light show or maybe a waking dream. The yellow light was back, the orbs on the pillar burning brightly like miniature suns, bathing the rest of the cavern in yellow, so intense I could see the rest of the monster or monsters below the surface of the lake, waiting there patiently for an opening. What¡¯s more, the walls¡­ the walls were not made of rock. The pillar was not made of rock, though the illusion there was much harder to see through. No, the pillar was made of red fleshy fiber with yellow streaks, just like the inside of the bulb mouths. The thing blurred as it vibrated at a frequency I couldn¡¯t hear but I could feel. I took a step back from the pillar, shaking my head at the enormity of how screwed I was. The whole cave was alive. Drip. Drip. Drip. This time, I could see the bulbs rising from the water. Not a single one this time, but many. They were everywhere. Maybe the monster realized I wasn¡¯t fooled anymore, or maybe it was tired of wasting energy on me and just wanted dinner to be ready. Whatever it was, this was the end game. I was out of tricks. One by one, the petals unfurled themselves, revealing their pink and yellow insides and hard, fang covered tips. Except for two that hung limply from their vines, one shredded from the inside at the ¡°neck¡± and the other with sagging, ripped lips that leaked honey colored fluid. I swallowed. I couldn¡¯t kill them all. Well, maybe not. Calling on my spatial storage yet again, I summoned my last remaining air supply, the tank I¡¯d half-drained when I¡¯d arrived here. Volatility [1 MP/sec] I invited the wild mana in, as much as I could, for one second. Two. Three. I kept the spell channeling for as long as the creature would give me. The wild mana suffused the tank¡¯s structure, mixing in among its matter, quivering behind all the molecules, practically bursting with anticipation at being set free. Five. Six. Video games had it right. In a boss fight, aim for the glowing weak spot. The flower monster¡¯s many mouths reared back and coiled their vines in preparation for a strike. Seven. Eight. The aluminum was a brand in my hand, searing my skin. I¡¯d run out of time. I flung the air canister at the pillar, up high where the amber tumors grew, as far from me as I could. It flew up and away, far up into the ceiling of the cavern before it reached its apex. Meanwhile, I dove toward the relative safety of the water. With a flick of will, I broke the containment for my Volatility spell, triggering its detonation. My body hit the water with a splash just as one of the petal mouths slammed into me from above and wrapped its smothering plant flesh around me. *BOOM* Chapter 19 - Earn Weird Loot The monster¡¯s desire to eat me protected me in the end. My body dragged me underwater just as the mouths closed around me, cocooning me, yet again, along with as many gallons of nasty water as these things could hold. When the explosion ripped through the cavern, I felt the tremors of the shockwave through the surrounding water, but the creature itself didn¡¯t remain remotely still after that. Whereas last time, it tried to envelope me, entrap me, and digest me, this time it thrashed violently, bucking like a mechanical bull. My blood rushed to my head as I was flung up and around, colliding with something hard. Then I was moving again, whipped down to crash into the surface of the water, only to roll on my side and scrape along what I assumed was the bottom of the lake for who knows how long. HP 10/83 You have been awarded 7,034 experience points. [16,210 base (+1,681 level, +2,111 camp, -12,968 non-combat class)] Level up! You are now level 8. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Inventor: You have created at least five new designs this level. [+1 Mind] Ambitious: You have defeated a foe above your level. [+1 to lowest level ability] Boss Killer: You have defeated a foe far above you in level. [+2 to all attributes] Level up! You are now level 9. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] Ambitious: You have defeated a foe above your level. [+1 to lowest level ability] Boss Killer: You have defeated a foe far above you in level. [+2 to all attributes] The strange euphoria passed through me, so intense I started to suspect it was another spell, a last attempt by the plant monster to convince me to lay down and be devoured, but if I was getting experience, something just died. I just had to hope the thing¡¯s death throes wouldn¡¯t kill me. Eventually, the violent motion ceased, and the petals lost their tough, slick texture, curling and shrinking in on themselves, their colors losing all their vibrancy. Then, the monster lost whatever energy it used to keep its mouth closed, going limp and practically dumping me out along with the rest of the bulb¡¯s mouthful. I fell maybe a few feet, crashing into the water and going under yet again, but I wasn¡¯t ready to take the plunge, despite the soothing coolness of the water after my dip in acid. My remaining air tanks were empty, and I couldn¡¯t swim worth a damn anymore. I needed to stay above the water line or risk death by drowning. Detect Iron told me a lot of long, thin creepers grew in complicated braiding patterns along the wall here, so I used those vines, along with the paltry buoyancy the water offered me, to haul myself up and get some air. Apparently, the monster had carried me to the far wall of the cavern before it died. This part of the lake was absolutely covered in greenery from the vines that let me climb out of the water to pale clusters of leaves with spikey looking red flowers growing from their centers. The island where most of the fight had taken place still glowed in the distance maybe a hundred yards away, but it was a mess. The cavern¡¯s roof was splattered with glowing amber fluid that slowly congealed at the low points of the rock and dripped down to the floor in with fat *splots.* The floor, similarly, was bathed in glowing yellow goo that ran in slow motion down the bank into the lapping water. I hung there for a bit, catching my breath, taking inventory. Loot Ancient Mockvine? Y/N Oh, so that meant these vines were part of the larger creature too. I answered ¡®no¡¯ for now, though. I wasn¡¯t in a position to collect any loot, hanging onto the wall like I was. I¡¯d need some solid footing for that. Summoning one of my two empty tanks, I got to Shaping, expanding the structure, thinning out the walls and enlarging the capacity until I figured it had enough air to compress and get me back to the island. Then I sealed the tank and shrunk it again. The process took much too long, and by the time I made it back to the island, I was so tired I thought I might actually fall asleep without magical assistance this time. However, I had stuff to do. Loot stuff. I crouched down next to the flaccid mass of rubbery plant matter that used to be the central pillar of this room, and gave it a poke. A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. Loot Ancient Mockvine? Y/N The room practically exploded in rainbow light. The ground, the walls, the ceiling, underwater, all of it warped and wobbled as the cavern became a swirling display of garish color that boggled the senses. Then, the cave was back to absolute darkness. Uh. Okay. Not sure I would have done that if I knew I¡¯d kill the light. I fished around in my spacial storage for something to use as a light, but I had nothing left to sacrifice. I had my air tanks, some bundles of Mendau, Hunty¡¯s spear, and some of my ammunition worms. Sighing with regret, I summoned a single round of ammunition. These things were too valuable to use as exploding candles, but I needed this. Volatility [1MP/sec] I didn¡¯t put much power into it, just enough to have it give off enough light to see the immediate area. Maybe if I detonated it while it was buried in the mud I could salvage the pieces and Automate it once more. The light was dim, but I was back to seeing with my eyes again. In front of me was a pile of¡­ stuff. Mostly, it was nasty, wet plant stuff, but the System said it was significant at least. Mockvine Fiber Bundle x 400: Fibers gathered from the remains of an Ancient Mockvine. These fibers perform many duties while they are alive within a specimen, carrying nerve signals, nutrients, sunlight, and mana to all parts of the plant. With age comes sophistication, and mockvines are not an exception to this rule. These fibers are of the highest quality and conduct complicated patterns of mana nearly instantaneously over long distances. Mockvine Flower x 140: Mockvine flowers grown by an Ancient Mockvine. While attached to a living specimen, these flowers produce hallucinogenic pollen that can be deployed as the mockvine lures and ultimately devours its prey. Has multiple medicinal uses. Mockvine Heartstrings: The ¡°heart¡± of an Ancient Mockvine. This part of the plant served as the central nervous system and resource distribution center for the entire plant. Not useful on its own but highly sought after by alchemists and collectors alike. Okay. So, I have weird plant stuff now. Hurray. I didn¡¯t see an immediate use for the loot, but I wasn¡¯t about to argue with the System over this. Besides, that¡¯s why I had spatial storage right? I put my hand on the bundles and willed it inside¡­ only for a small part of the pile to disappear. Right. Gotta do it one piece at a time. It took a while, but I was able to whittle the pile down to where I was nearly able to see the ground again, and with that I made an exciting discovery. Ruined Chain Hauberk: A suit of chainmail once worn by a caravan guardsman. Pitted, rusted, and ripped, this armor has seen better days. Plate Helmet: Steel plate helmet once worn by a crusading hero. Underneath the pile of plant loot there was an assortment of real, actual, no bullshit loot, and it was mine. My metal heart warmed at that. It was about time I got some good stuff, or at least some interesting stuff. Broken pieces of armor, broken weapons, bits of jewelry, gemstones, and gold pieces were everywhere, scattered over the mud, while the heavier bits sunk down to where I had to fish them out. There was even a skull in there, generally humanoid but made of some kind of clear crystal. One by one, they went into my storage. The space, while not bottomless, didn¡¯t seem to mind the influx of mass I was sticking in there. It felt like I was dropping things into a swimming pool, and I¡¯d only just now covered the bottom. It was when I found a smooth orb of crystalized something or another that I ran into a problem. Placing my hand on the orb, I willed the spatial storage to swallow the thing up, but nothing happened. I tried again. Vost¡¯ralixal What? That¡¯s it? No description about a giant that lost his glass testicle or anything? I picked the orb up and brought it up to my face, peering into it to try and determine what made it special. Why didn¡¯t it behave like the others? It didn¡¯t feel particularly heavy or- ¡°Waaaaaaaaaa-!¡± A bone chilling wail like something out of a nightmare shook the orb and my hand, as green and white fire erupted from the crystal surface. I dropped the ball into the muck and leapt backward, holding my charged iron worm over my head in preparation for my next life or death struggle, but the fight never came. ¡°Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaa!¡± The orb just screamed and screamed, the unnatural fire blazing on its surface. The fire gave off no heat, I realized, confirming that was the case by checking my hand for fresh burns but finding none. ¡°Hello?¡± I called to the orb. ¡°Excuse me¡­ Hello?!¡± I was shouting now, trying to get through the ceaseless wailing to be heard, but if the orb was capable of communication, it gave no indication. It just screamed¡­ forever. It was bright though. Nice and bright. The whole cavern lit up for me from wall to wall, even illuminating a few feet down under the water¡­ where something shined. ¡°Okay, so I¡¯m gonna go,¡± I said, my attention split between the flaming orb and the new shiny thing in the water. ¡°Good luck with¡­ whatever this is. Yeah.¡± I could barely hear myself at all, and I doubted the orb could hear me either. Broken Brightsteel Blade: A broken blade wielded by an ancient crusader who met his end, not in war but in peace. The brightsteel still holds much of its power even after its sundering and long years underwater. It was part of a sword or something similar. It was about three feet long, as wide as my palm and mirror smooth. The edges weren¡¯t overly sharp, not molecularly exact like the edges I could make, but I was willing to bet this was as good as you could get with a whetstone. Strange markings crawled up the center of the blade with lots of loops and curves that flowed all the way to the point. Detect Iron wasn¡¯t giving me anything for this, but it certainly felt like metal. Shape [4 MP/sec] I let my mana flow through my hand and wrap around the blade. If I could saturate the metal, I would know more about its nature and maybe what I could do to use it, but I didn¡¯t get that far. The metal accepted my mana. Violently. I¡¯d surrounded the broken weapon with my mana and was beginning to squeeze in between the molecules when suddenly my power was wrenched away from me. There was a horrifically bright flash of light and a burst of energy that enervated my nerves, burned my skin and blew me backward to fall to the ground in a twitching heap where I finally got that nap I¡¯d been craving. This was as good a spot as any. ¡ª-------------------------- When I came to, the orb was mercifully silent, and the cavern was pitch black. You take 20 points of light damage from brightsteel feedback. You take 4 points of magic damage from Volatility. HP 6/103 ¡°Gaaaah,¡± was all I could say, in the most painful of groans. The air smelled like smoke and burnt hair, and my ears rang constantly. Okay, System. I¡¯ll never complain about extra points in Body again. In fact, I dropped all five of my points I¡¯d been saving into Body right there, spiking it up to 24, observing as my current and max HP rose with every point. HP 14/115 Moving was a study in pain. My flesh felt brittle and crispy. I had to use my metal arm to do most of the work of dragging my body away from the water¡¯s edge. From there, it was just about sitting there and letting the System fix me over time. I was in too much pain to go back to sleep, so it was all about watching my HP tick up over time and observing as the light levels in the cave slowly rose. Hang on. Indeed, the farthest wall, the one where I¡¯d been dumped as the mockvine died, was visible, slightly lit from underneath in pale white. Sunlight. Outside this place was sunlight. Chapter 20 - Hit the Road Chapter 20 - Hit the Road Let it never be said that I don¡¯t learn from my mistakes. Well, some mistakes more than others. Last time I saw sunlight on this planet I nearly died from light exposure, an experience I wasn¡¯t in a hurry to replicate. This time, I was doing it right, preparing myself for anything and everything. Laying out a meticulous plan that could not possibly fail. This had nothing to do with the fact that I¡¯d just blown myself up, and I needed my HP to regenerate before I could chance another encounter with Ralqir¡¯s generally hostile environment. Once I felt well enough to sit up again, I got to work preparing for my emergence into the outside world. The sun was going to be a problem, of course, but I also needed to consider the wildlife. Something cold tapped my foot, startling me, but it was an old friend. My iron ammunition worm, fresh from the water, wobbled there in the mud. The little guy snuck up on me, but I was glad to see it. Apparently, Detect Iron had fallen off sometime while I¡¯d been unconscious, and the presence of real light had distracted me somewhat. Otherwise, I would have seen this coming. The construct was inert now that it had done its job and returned to me, its body back to being long and straight and the legs drawn back into its mass. I¡¯d been tossed all over this cavern after the monster swallowed me for the second time, and the thing had probably slithered along for hours trying to reach me. ¡°Glad to see you made it, little buddy. What a journey you must have had,¡± I whispered. For some reason, I didn¡¯t want to raise my voice in this place. Maybe it was the memory of having to share the space with a predator earlier in the day, or maybe it was the weird, screaming orb thing. I¡¯d felt a little guilty waking the thing up or setting it on fire or whatever I¡¯d done. Now, I was a little worried it was listening to me or I was disturbing it by being here. The armor I looted from the mockvine was a pretty nice upgrade considering I was wearing next to nothing right now. The problem, however, was that it was just the metal parts of the gear. I imagined that the people that wore these things met the same end I almost did, inside a bulb, covered in acid, but, unlike me, they didn¡¯t make it out and have supernatural regeneration. The mockvine¡¯s victims¡¯ organic bits dissolved along with their clothes and whatever padding and straps they used to make their armor wearable. Regardless, I compiled a set of the best pieces and set it aside to put on later. I¡¯d take a little discomfort if that meant I wasn¡¯t literally running around naked. Next I refilled my two remaining aluminum oxygen tanks, this time making use of all the extra empty space this cavern afforded me, allowing the aluminum balloon to stretch far and wide before I shrunk it down to its compressed form. If I had to guess, they¡¯d last twice as long as the original model, which was good, because I had no way to get the others back. After that, I felt it was time to cannibalize some of the leftovers from the loot pile to improve my handgun somewhat. My single shot model worked, yes, but the design was a function of having few materials to work with and needing it to be compact for use in tight spaces. Well, I was about to get out into the wider world, and that meant I may need more than one bullet. I still needed to keep it simple, though. With how filthy this water was and the amount of silt on the bottom of the cave, I had mud and grit to consider. Fewer moving parts meant fewer malfunctions which meant fewer chances at me becoming a corpse. After some time thinking, I settled with a sort of hopper system, essentially a six inch boxy funnel that would hold five bullets, attached to the chamber part of the weapon. After I fired a round, I¡¯d release the catch on the side of the pistol, pull the slide back, and a new round would fall into place. With how exact my measurements were, I felt that my chances of jamming the weapon were pretty close to zero unless I dumped a pound of mud into the hopper or tried to shoot at a weird angle.. I practiced a little with the new set up, holding the weapon in my metal hand, then racking the slide. With my fleshy hand, I would then summon more ammo to appear between my fingers and slide into the hopper. I had five shots, and reloading the hopper took about ten seconds. Good enough for now. Just need to hope I don¡¯t have to shoot at anything while upside down. Note to self: make a real magazine ASAP. My setup wasn¡¯t perfect, but I was on borrowed time here. I hadn¡¯t counted on the water being so dirty by the time I escaped the mountain. Honestly, I hadn¡¯t thought too far beyond: ¡°Get out of my cell. Find air. Repeat.¡± Now, though, I had to consider that I was back to having no fresh water to drink, and I was fresh out of food. Seeing how close I was to being out in the wider world again, I felt woefully unprepared. How much of that was my fault and how much was unavoidable, I didn¡¯t know. My HP was nearing the full mark at 98 now, and I had one more thing to do before I left. Stretching my aching muscles for the first time in hours as I stood, I glanced over at the water¡¯s edge where I¡¯d uh¡­ left the brightsteel. Yes, it almost killed me when I tried to shape it, but I wasn¡¯t about to leave it behind. You never really knew when an exploding sword blade would come in handy, afterall, and I would be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t curious about just how it worked and what it was made of. The occasional explosion was a small price to pay for that kind of potential. I had HP now, and if I didn¡¯t treat it like the resource it was, I wouldn¡¯t be using all the tools available to me. I did, however, take precautions before I went to pick the brightsteel up. I slipped into my new set of rusty armor consisting of the chain hauberk which hung down to my knees, a steel wrist guard, and the top of the steel helmet, the rest of which I¡¯d used to modify my firearm. I tried on a set of foot coverings that the System labeled as ¡®chausses¡¯ but I couldn¡¯t get them to stay up, even after some Shaping. As my legs flexed, the material just worked its way down until I was wearing them around my ankles. After a frustrating twenty minutes of trying to get them to work, I added them to the scrap list. So, wearing my chainmail dress and steel cap, I approached the brightsteel again. This time, I was going to keep my mana away from the thing until I was in a safe enough place to experiment with it. I placed my hand on it and willed it to go in my spatial storage. Instead of the gentle glow that I usually got when I did this, the blade flared white, flames licking up and burning my hand even as the item disappeared. I sucked in a breath through my teeth and rubbed my hand on my armor like I¡¯d just touched a stove, but, after a brief mental check, I sensed the brightsteel was, indeed, in my spatial storage. I felt it settle in with the rest of the stuff I had in there. My new toy didn¡¯t play well with my mana. Was it still burning inside my storage? I hoped not. Better have full HP when I bring it out again. Just in case. At least I didn¡¯t have to hold onto it. With everything in hand or tucked away in a mysterious pocket dimension, I set out into the water once again, headed in the direction of the light. I stopped only to gather an armful of vines from the cave wall that I could drape over my head as a shield against the light doubling as a rudimentary camouflage. My environment got much much brighter once I crossed the threshold from the cave to the outside, but there was almost zero visibility. The death throes of the mockvine hadn¡¯t done the clarity of the water any favors. Murky and full of floating debris, it was like trying to navigate a jungle in twilight. Detect Iron helped a bit, giving me a clear picture of the slope of the terrain and where the plants were. I even spotted a few little darting fish and insects that made the water their home. I trudged along the bottom in the murky yellow glow until I felt the tint of the light change overhead, hopefully indicating I¡¯d found a spot of shade. Gnarled roots of a nearby tree jutted out into the water and stabbed down into the mud at my feet. They¡¯d be as good a climbing aid as I would find. If I wanted out of this water, now was the time. My exit from the water proved difficult. I was heavy before I¡¯d donned armor. Now that I wore the stuff along with pounds of plant matter concealment, getting off the bottom was nearly impossible without something solid to grip, and even then slick creeping algae and mud fought my attempts to hold onto my handholds. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. I had to use both hands to grasp the roots and haul myself up, meaning I had to store my air tank, climb for a bit, then summon it again to take a breath. It was slow, tedious progress toward the surface, but I got there. Climbing is now level 6. When my head broke the surface, I took in a long, deep lungful of air, my first untainted by disgusting water in half an hour. The stench of sulfur was still everywhere, but it was more muted than inside the cave. Almost instantaneously, a cloud of tiny flying insects buzzed around my face. Glorious. Crawling and slithering out of the muck, I pulled myself onto dry land one slow inch at a time. Nothing was dry here, much like the cave. Even the dry land was a soup of sulfuric decay with a film of algae that clung to my armor and skin. I was in a swamp. That much I¡¯d guessed even from below the water, but seeing it was another thing. So far, all I¡¯d seen of the surface of Ralqir was grand, cyclopean forests of towering trees with trunks the size of buildings. The land here was also covered in trees but of a different species to the giants. They were short, twisted things with knotted bark, covered in gray, fluffy moss that periodically fell in clumps to sink down into the bog. The gnarled dwarfs hunched over the water with long, whiplike branches that hung down to brush the top of my head. The humidity hung heavy in the air, blurring distant landmarks and prevented a true, unfiltered view of my surroundings. Everything felt like it was invading my personal space, reaching out to touch me or smear something on me. This part of Ralqir felt closer than I was used to, more claustrophobic, and that was saying something coming from a guy that just spent months locked in a goblin broom closet. Back the way I¡¯d come, the greenery was thinner, and what little there was sagged, waxy brown leaves raining down from above to disappear into the muck. If I squinted, I could almost see the trees decaying in real time and succumbing to rot as their roots turned loose from the soil and allowed the bog to claim them entirely. They aren¡¯t real. The realization came as I watched one of the rotting tree trunks curl in upon itself and shrivel to half its size. Just as I used the dead vines to disguise myself as I swam, the mockvine used a disguise as well. It had bugged me that the vine was green, yet it had flourished in a place with no sun. Producing chlorophyll underground didn¡¯t make any evolutionary sense, but maybe it used these parts of itself, camouflaged as other types of plants, to get sunlight while it lured animals in with its spells. It was plausible. I shook my head, mentally adding all the plants to the list of things that wanted me dead. Then, I got underway, picking my way between the deeper parts of the water and doing my best not to slip as I followed the snaking path the tree trunks made, away from my cave and into the unknown. For all of five minutes. It was so sudden. I was so busy looking down to be sure of my footing that when I stepped onto the cobblestone surface of a road, it took me a full ten seconds to realize what I was looking at. I turned my head to the right and left, squinting to make sure I really was seeing what I was seeing. A road. It was civilization. A path of worked stone about as wide as a large truck, comfortably able to fit six or so people abreast. It stretched on into the distance in either direction where it slowly curved out of sight. The rocks were a dark grayish color, unbroken except where one stone gave way to another. Though there was debris on the road such as dead branches and decaying clumps of moss, nothing grew on the stones or between them. No weeds or algae. No fungus. The trees still blocked out the sun overhead, but I noticed that none of their branches grew down far enough to be in danger of brushing against the cobbles either. Out of curiosity, I bent down and wiggled one of the stones out of its spot and held it up to my face. It was fairly smooth on its surface but the edges had too many right angles to be a natural thing. What¡¯s more, it felt cold, colder than the underriver even. Weird. After a few seconds, the cold felt extremely uncomfortable in my palm, like tiny knives digging around near my bones, and, now that I thought about it, my feet were starting to feel the same. I transferred the rock over to my prosthetic, hoping for some clarification. Consume Quellstone? Y/N ¡°No, thanks,¡± I said, selecting No then putting the little rock back where it came from. Quellstone. Might be best to walk on the side of the road instead of on, at least until I find some boots or learn more about the stuff. There was no question that I needed to follow this road. Roads meant people. People meant sources of fresh water and food, unless they were weird frog people or something. Then I¡¯d be back to square one. The real question was: which way? Both ways led away from the cave, which I was happy about. The landscape looked mostly inhospitable and swampy in either direction I looked, and the road didn¡¯t have any signs or landmarks. Generally, people built roads between things, so, theoretically, either way I chose would lead me to people eventually. So, with no other way to make my decision, I simply chose to go right. My bare feet squished into the mud to the side of the road as I made my way. The quiet, close feeling the swamp had exuded before began to fade after maybe a quarter mile, feeling more alive by the step. There was no wind here, not even a breeze, but I was past my need for moving air to feel comfortable. It was amazing how much you could hear in the quiet like this. Frogs or something like them croaked from the slimy pools next to the trees, and screeching black birds called to each other from fat nests of dried moss. Some kind of deep, rhythmic barking animal was out there somewhere too, its calls seeming to dominate the other creatures of the swamp, forcing them to take a collective breath every time the louder animal made its noises. Whatever it was, it had to have been in the trees or in the water, because I couldn¡¯t see it from where I walked. Fine by me. You leave me alone. I¡¯ll leave you alone. The peaceful stroll didn¡¯t last. The road took a winding route through the swamp, around the trees, probably by necessity of the geography, so I didn¡¯t see the bodies until I was almost right upon them. Strewn about the road were six corpses of varying sizes, their dull colored clothes ripped in some places, bloodied in others. I stopped and crouched down to peer over the surface of the cobblestone, doing my best to search for danger among the trees before I let my eyes lock onto the dead people. My scan netted me nothing. The swamp looked as devoid of threats as ever, present company excluded. I didn¡¯t like this. They were just there on the road, lying down like they¡¯d just decided to take a nap. While I was sure I¡¯d find out what killed them if I investigated, it bothered me that the bodies looked so unnatural. No flies or the equivalent buzzing around the area, no scavengers picking at the corpses. Nothing. If this had just happened, I could maybe wrap my head around that, but I didn¡¯t get that vibe from the scene. It felt like I¡¯d stumbled upon an open air morgue, and it was setting off all my alarm bells. The frustrating thing was that I needed to know what kind of people I was dealing with here on Ralqir, other than goblins. It was knowledge I had to acquire if I was going to interact with other species of people at the end of this road, if only to lessen the surprise factor if said people were some creepy variant of insect or cephalopod. Plus, I¡­ just couldn¡¯t let it be. They weren¡¯t human, but they looked close enough to trigger that part of my brain that felt for my fellow man. I¡¯d dealt with enough death in the recent past but not quite enough to make me callous. Maybe these folks had families that would want to know what happened and where to find their loved ones¡¯ bodies. Maybe the killers could be found and brought to justice eventually. I sighed, resigned to my course of action. Make it quick and get the hell out of here. Slipping out of my hiding spot, staying low, and stalking and over to the corpses, I rolled the closest one over on its back. It was a man, not like me but mostly humanoid and definitely male. He was hirsute with brown hair covering most of his skin and a bushy beard that covered more of his head than it should have, encircling his face more like a mane than anything I was used to. Furthermore, he had a flat nose and narrow eyes, clouded over by death but still an easily discernible yellow. His throat sported a wicked gash with blackened, dried blood smeared over the skin. To the hairy guy¡¯s left was a woman, face down on the cobbles, her dirty blonde hair caked with blood and speckled with plant debris. She had familiarly narrow facial features and little horns at her temples, indicating she was the same or a similar species the mockvine had used as a lure in its illusion. This lady didn¡¯t seem like she¡¯d be dancing over any lakes though, since both of her legs were mangled messes of punctures and slashes from some kind of¡­ A hollow whistle sounded out from somewhere, and something hard and sharp slammed into the back of my leg, digging deep into my hamstring. My leg buckled, and I fell sideways onto the cobblestones. I clutched at the wound, feeling something cold and foreign protruding from my flesh. A pained groan escaped my throat as I bent at the waist to check the damage. Unknown attacks you for 11 slashing damage. You are bleeding [1 HP/sec] It was a hatchet, on the small side but sharp and heavy enough to bury itself deep in the muscle of my leg. What bits of the blade I could see were nastily serrated, and crude etchings decorated the flat of it. Blood flecked white feathers hung from a cord affixed to the haft. I wrapped my hands around the ax head, vacillating between attempting to rip the thing out or press the wound together to stanch the blood loss. High guttural warcries rang out from everywhere at once as my unseen attackers swarmed toward me. Chapter 21 - Tank some Damage Chapter 21 - Tank some Damage They dropped from the trees and popped out of the mud, one and all covered in mottled gray camouflage with twigs and clumps of moss glued to their skin. One of them even materialized from the trunk of a dead tree, like he¡¯s been painted there to blend in perfectly. Goblins. Again. Just how many flavors of goblin are there on this stupid planet? These, for sure, weren¡¯t my goblins. Stone Hearts favored spears and arrows, and, from what I could tell, chose not to risk themselves with direct confrontation. These goblins all held axes in one hand and feathered shivs in the other, and they sounded different, like the accent of a person from a different town or social caste. It was a subtle thing, but noticeable, though most of their shouts were some variation of ¡°Kill!¡± or ¡°Go! Go!¡± As I attempted to rise, the pain in my leg screamed at me, flooding my senses until it was all I could think about. It hurt even worse than being dipped in acid, funnily enough. Steadily, I was becoming well versed in the different kinds of pain and trauma one could endure. I¡¯d need to make a chart or something when I got the chance, for posterity¡¯s sake. The goblins charged me, each of them holding their hatchets over their heads in preparation to throw while their knife hands were held out straight. I was able to sit up before they got to me. My leg didn¡¯t seem to want to straighten out, not with the serrated blade still inside of it, so I used the other one to stabilize myself. ¡°Hey! Stop! Wait!¡± I shouted at them. It wasn¡¯t my most persuasive choice of words, I admit. My mind was working in overdrive to figure a way out of this situation, but when you¡¯ve got a half pound of cold metal jammed into your hamstring, there¡¯s only so much processing power you can afford the speech center of your brain. The first goblin to reach me went for a stab with his leading hand. I twisted to the side and used my palm to slap the blow out of line, and I barely got my metal prosthetic up in time to catch the followup strike with the hatchet. The ax head slammed down on my forearm with a *CLANK* that reverberated up the metal intensely enough to be felt in the rest of my body. My arm, as always, took the blow like a champ. The ax, on the other hand, didn¡¯t survive. The head shattered, showering me in bits of pale metal while the haft exploded into a cloud of splinters in the goblin¡¯s face. He hissed in pain as the wood found his eyes, leaving him blindly slashing at me as he tried to back away. I used that brief window of vulnerability to reach out and grab his ankle Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] Goblin takes 15 crushing damage. His leg didn¡¯t outright come off. Instead, my steely grip crushed his bones to powder and mangled his flesh. Now his screams no longer held coherent words as he frantically clawed at the unyielding fingers to try and stop the pain. *CLANG* My vision flashed, and my head was batted to the side until it landed on my shoulder. Blinking, I turned to look behind me to find another hatchet blow coming down on my head, even as my helmet was still ringing from the first blow. The world wobbled and warped as my eyes relearned how to focus properly. Roaring, I threw myself backwards and twisted at the waist, yanking my new living, screaming goblin club off his feet and along for the ride. It was surprisingly easy, like swinging a particularly cumbersome pillow. The goblin that tried to brain me danced back to avoid the blow, but he didn¡¯t account for my reach now that I was holding his friend. The two goblins collided together, my club¡¯s skull slamming into the other¡¯s collarbone with a wet snap. The two went down together, only one of them still moving. The goblin I still held by the ankle flopped bonelessly on the hard stones, while his friend clutched at his shoulder and gurgled something I couldn¡¯t make out. Definitely not complaining about more points in Body again. Goblin takes 20 blunt damage. Critical hit! Goblins takes 27 blunt damage [13 base + 14 bonus] You have been awarded 9 experience points. [25 base (+4 group, -20 non-combat class)] Unknown attacks you for 8 piercing damage. Stabbing pain shot through my abdomen as another of the ambushers buried his blade in my side. My chainmail blunted some of the force, but at least a couple inches of the knife made it through to perforate me. I reflexively tried to curl inward to protect the injured area, unfortunately using the same muscles that had just been stabbed to perform the motion. A low, growling moan squirmed around in the back of my throat. The goblin didn¡¯t try to follow up like his friend did. Instead, he danced back once I was within range to grab him, and he got low, circling in a ready stance. ¡°Guys,¡± I ground out through clenched teeth as I frantically twisted to keep an eye on the position of every goblin at once. The constant motion did wonderful things for my aching head, forcing me to swallow frequently so as not to vomit. ¡°I don¡¯t want to fight, and I don¡¯t have anything you want.¡± I thought about name dropping the Stone Hearts, but the way Hunty told the story, Kuul might have burned a few bridges when it came time to stand against the black ones. The name might just make them want to desecrate my corpse after they killed me. I counted three goblins doing it now, prowling around me and feinting little lunges with their knives. They didn¡¯t seem interested in talking, choosing, instead, to growl and hiss to distract me as the others took shots at my back. Again, I whipped my goblinclub in a wide arc, hoping to get lucky again or get a little space, but the little bandits were wise to the trick now. They stayed out of range until it was time to strike. They scored several little wounds over the next handful of seconds, shallow but quickly adding up to something debilitating. As I blocked a third hatchet chop from the attacker in front of me, another goblin entered the fray, seeming to lurch out from behind one of the trees closest to the road and into the open. He wore dirty robes adorned with thick white fur that lined the collar, sleeves, and hem, while metal chains dangled from manacles on his wrists. On his head he wore the skull of some kind of bird like a helm, decorated with blue painted sigils and metal hoops pierced through the eye sockets. I wasn¡¯t about to wait to see what his deal was. Bracing myself, I decided ¡°screw it¡± and flung my now deceased goblin weapon at the fighter in front of me. It wasn¡¯t a great throw, more like a toss. My Body was higher than it used to be, but I was still throwing a little floppy person. People aren¡¯t meant for throwing. Still, I hucked the thing, sending the legs and arms windmilling toward my target. As he¡¯d been doing for every one of my attacks, he dove to the side to dodge, but this gave me the space I needed to summon my pistol. With a pulse of light, my weapon was in my hand, and I snapped a quick shot at Bird Skull Guy. *POP* Goblin takes 18 piercing damage. Goblin is bleeding. The robed goblin had already opened his mouth to take in a big breath just as I shot him. With a wet ¡°Gack!* he spun in place until his back was to me and went down clutching his chest. He didn¡¯t die, at least not yet. My aim had been rushed, and the System didn¡¯t give me any experience yet. Hopefully, that would keep the guy out of the fight until- The blade of a hatchet slammed into my back. I felt something, a rib maybe, give way with a pop, and then there was a hot sensation of blood rushing into places it should not be. The ax didn¡¯t make it all the way through my chainmail though, clattering down to the cold surface of the road. You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I grunted, reflexively reaching around to my back to assess the damage, but I was holding my gun now. I couldn¡¯t do something like that. What I could do, however, was rack another round into the chamber. As I *clacked* the slide back to the ready position, the goblin in front of me danced in and slashed at my eyes, which I blocked with my metal hand before jamming the muzzle of my gun under the monster¡¯s ribs. *FOMP* The round entered the soft parts of his abdomen, angled up to get his vitals. Whatever the bullet did in there, it was quick. The goblin went instantly limp, collapsing in a heap onto my good leg. I turned around just in time to intercept another knife to the back. Only two goblins left now, and only one had his hatchet. I spat on the cobblestones and bared my teeth. ¡°Next one to stab me, I swear-¡± Then a low, moaning, howl split the air and set my teeth on edge. Bird Skull Guy was back, or at least he was conscious. He laid there on the road, one gnarled hand holding his side where his blood was leaving him in spurts, the other reaching for the sky, crackling with blue sparks. The air literally electrified. Goose pimples appeared on my flesh, my hair stood on end, and my muscles twitched of their own volition under my mail. I wasn¡¯t being hurt though. Not actively. Hesitantly, I took my eyes off the Bird Skull to bring the others into focus. Oh. That¡¯s bad. The metal blades of their weapons glowed, humming and popping with static as they made contact with larger particles in the air. Arcs of blue light spat from the sharpened edges and left behind floating tracers. Behind me, the song ceased, but the goblins¡¯ weapons continued to glow. That¡¯s very bad. Don¡¯t want to get hit by th- AUGHTERFAFEFMIMPH! Quick as a snake, the goblin that still held his hatchet threw the thing at my chest. I was on the ground and wounded. There was no chance to dodge. Again, I took a hatchet to the chainmail, this time right in the sternum. Not only did the bones inside my chest cavity crack, but the lightning inside the blade now traveled through my mail and into my body, sending me spasming to the ground. And it kept doing it too. The ax hung there in my chest, maybe on the mail, maybe in the flesh. I couldn¡¯t tell. It did tase the hell out of me, though. Every muscle in my body cramped, my fingers curled inward mid-reload, making me drop my weapon. My diaphragm forced all the air from my lungs, and blood filled my mouth as I bit my tongue. I tasted cinnamon. Why did I taste cinnamon? Then the two goblins were upon me. Stabbing with little knives. Going for the vitals. Everything not lightning related felt muted as the electricity overloaded my nervous system, but I could distinctly feel one of the knives enter my thigh, probably looking for an artery. The other worked on my upper half. Most of the stabs were shallow things. They were little knives, and their wielders were reluctant to touch me, probably not wanting to get a shock themselves. I couldn¡¯t move. I could barely think. Magical lightning coursed through my body without end. I could think of only one more card to play, a card I¡¯d recently acquired and really didn¡¯t play well with mana. If I could trigger the feedback, maybe I could flip this chess board. From my spatial storage, I summoned the brightsteel blade into my palm. *FWOOM* The world went white. My eyes came back into focus momentarily. I was lying on my side, the cold stones of the road numbing the skin on my face. My metal arm was wedged underneath me uncomfortably, and, at some point, I¡¯d straightened out my injured leg. In front of my face, I clutched the brightsteel, its edges digging deep into blistered and blackened skin. You have been awarded 11 experience points. [25 base (+4 group, +2 chain, -20 non-combat class)] HP [12/115] My body was a roadmap of pain. Nothing felt right except for maybe my prosthetic, and that was a whole nother can of weird I didn¡¯t want to open just now. I gasped, filling my lungs with oxygen. It burned. Then I propped myself up on an elbow, my heart thudding loudly in my ears, the blood flow slowly bringing my limbs back to life. Then adrenaline was back with me now, and my mind slowly cleared. I was in a fight. That¡¯s right. And I couldn¡¯t stop until it was over. I willed the brightsteel back into my spatial storage. I didn¡¯t feel any burning sensation this time, but that wasn¡¯t a very comforting thought. It meant the nerves in my hand were probably dead. Grunting with effort, I cast about for my gun, finding it a few feet away. It, too, was looking rough, black smudges of soot streaking its otherwise uniformly gray exterior. Weapon in hand, the metal one, I shook the hopper to make sure a round was in the chamber and pushed the slide forward. The two ambusher goblins lay next to me, burned and battered from the explosion. One of them was more charred than the other, his face mostly missing. The other was trying to drag himself away, succeeding but only slowly, one blood smeared inch at a time. I extended my arm and aimed carefully. *POP* You have been awarded 13 experience points. [25 base (+4 group, +4 chain, -20 non-combat class)] I ended his life as quickly as I could. Humanely, whatever that meant anymore. Even though he would never have done the same for me. The shaman, if that was the right word for Bird Skull Guy, was still breathing, but he was either passed out or pretending to be. Another carefully placed shot, and he lay still too. Skill unlocked: Pistols Your current skill level is 1. You have been awarded 34 experience points. [44 base (+4 group, +6 chain, -20 non-combat class)] I was looking rough. I was charred, bleeding, and concussed. I was alive though. Sometimes it just came down to being able to tank a few hits. Hurray for high Body stat. Groaning, I flopped down on my back and lay there, amidst the bodies of my enemies and their previous victims, letting the numbing cold of the¡­ quelllstone was it?... sooth my aches. My hands trembled as I rested them on my stomach. After a while, I checked my HP, hoping I¡¯d seen the worst of it. HP [9/105] Damnit. What¡¯s this? Should have ticked up by now. It didn¡¯t take a rocket scientist to figure out that the quellstone road was hurting me or at least keeping me from healing. That was the only mystery factor here. It took herculean effort to drag myself all the way from the middle of the road to the comforting squishiness of the mud where I flopped down on my face to let the System do its thing. Only then did my regeneration start to repair my body. The process took a long while, made even longer by the fact that I had to extract a serrated goblin hatchet from my leg once I got a good buffer of HP between me and the great beyond. I was right to wait. When I ripped the thing out, it brought pieces of me with it. I nearly lost consciousness with how intense the pain was, and the bleeding debuff I got afterward would have killed me if I¡¯d done it right away. Status Gained: Bleeding. [5 HP/sec] Luckily, I was out of combat, and the debuff was gone after a handful of delirious seconds. When I¡¯d reached about the three quarters mark on my HP, my ammunition had all found its way back to me, and, after a quick look around for watching eyes, I went back to loot the bodies. The old bodies¡­ the ones the goblins apparently were using as bait to draw others in, I simply searched with a quick pat down, finding nothing except a few ripped coin pouches lying in the road. The monsters must have stripped everything except for the flashy bits to make the lure nice and shiny. The goblins, however¡­ I let the System have its way with them. In the end I received six sets of hatchets and knives the System tagged as ¡°Baptized Bronze,¡± a pouch of herbs, three coin purses conspicuously strewn about among the original corpses, a painting kit with brushes, a pair of manacles, and a copper amulet. That last one was what really interested me. Copper Amulet of the Storm: Copper amulet forged by Shaman Zeck¡¯tar. Cast in the Swift Talon clan¡¯s holy crucible and tempered in the blood of a hatchling Roc, this focus of will assists in the coalescing of storm mana. Damage: N/A Quality: Excellent Style: Primitive Magic: Draws in and condenses storm mana until the amulet is charged. Mana can be unleashed and directed as the user chooses. That was interesting. Just how many types of mana were there? So far, the System had mentioned Hunger and Storm, two concepts that were as far apart from one another as you could get. When I touched the amulet, I felt a slight tingle on my skin, and the hair on my arm stood at attention. How I would make the thing work, I didn¡¯t know. Should I feed mana into it? The only way I knew how to do that was my abilities, and I didn¡¯t want to re-shape the thing or program it to dance on little spider legs. The goblins themselves, once the System stripped them of their belongings, looked thin and frail. Their ribs showed through their pale, green skin, and their arms and legs seemed emaciated. That was interesting too. They¡¯d used the corpses of these people to lure others in, leaving the gold in the middle of the road to sweeten the pot. All of their victims wore good shoes as well with well worn treads on the bottom. If these people were traveling along the road before the goblins ambushed them, where was their food? Where were their canteens or water skins? I could certainly use those. The goblins looked like they could use the supplies too. Perhaps they had a cache somewhere nearby where they kept that kind of stuff. Considering how well they¡¯d hidden themselves, I could probably spend a lot of time searching for their stash and not find a thing. I wasn¡¯t sure I had that kind of time. Of course, this universe confirmed that suspicion for me. I, the only living being atop a pile of dead people, was kneeling down next to the crumpled form of the goblin magician when I heard the rhythmic click clack of metal on stone somewhere on the road behind me. Chapter 22 - Hitch a Ride Chapter 22 - Hitch a Ride Something was coming. Roads meant people. People were a touch better than beasts. People weren¡¯t necessarily safe though. The last people I¡¯d met tried to kill me, and the ones before that locked me up and made me do things. Plus, I seemed to have a nice assortment of different races of people cold on the ground beneath me, some I¡¯d killed, all of them I¡¯d looted. Whoever was coming might just take offense to that. I picked the nearest tree trunk and skittered behind the thing, reaching down to smear a handful of mud on my face and helmet. Then I got low until I was half submerged in the stagnant puddle between the swamp tree¡¯s roots with my head in a position where I could just barely see around the trunk. It was as good a hiding spot as I was going to get with such short notice. What came into view was a group of armored men riding atop white haired beasts. The riders wore chain armor from head to toe, plumed helmets, and a black and green livery on cloth strips that hung down from their shoulders. Each of them carried a crossbow with thick limbs the edges of which seemed to glint in the non-existent sunlight. Their beasts were ungulates of some kind, easily as tall as I was at the shoulder, whose disproportionately tiny hooves made clicking sounds on the stone path. They had thick, powerful shoulders and hind quarters, short necks, and wide heads. I only caught flashes of their big black eyes through the curtain of long, wiry hair that covered the entire animal. A sturdy looking black carriage, pulled by two of the beasts, rolled in the middle of their formation. The wheels squeaked as the wagon navigated the semi-uneven surface of the road. Curiously, there was no driver¡¯s seat as one might find on an old Earth wagon. Instead, the animals seemed to know where they were going or were being directed some other way. They were getting closer. Slowly, carefully, I slipped sideways and got lower in the water that pooled next to my tree, losing sight of the caravan and listening for any sign they noticed me. Stealth is now level 3. ¡°Hold!¡± a man¡¯s rough voice shouted from their group. All activity stopped. ¡°Point, check it.¡± ¡°There it is. Right there!¡± A precise, aristocratically accented male voice came from somewhere in their ranks, and if I had to guess based on the hollow timbre, it was coming from the carriage. ¡°My Lord?¡± The rough sounding man asked. ¡°It¡¯s here,¡± the posh voice declared, sounding very sure of himself. ¡°Go collect a sample, so we can be on our way.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, my Lord. There¡¯s dead on the road, and we need to sweep the area to make sure we¡¯re safe.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not on the road. Check to the side. It¡¯s here somewhere.¡± There was a pause. I imagined the lot of them peering around attempting to find the thing their master wanted. ¡°Pardon, lord, but I don¡¯t have your sight. What is it I¡¯m meant to see?¡± ¡°Over there! Are you blind?¡± Carriage guy shouted from his wooden box. I winced, slowly peeking around the trunk of my tree again. One of the riders, an older man with craggy scars marring his cheeks and a bushy gray mustache, was there at the door to the carriage, leaning down to speak to someone in the car, the tall green plum on his helmet brushing up against the black painted trimming. He was looking my way. Stealth is now level 4. ¡°No, my lord. I am not blind. You say there is something over there?¡± He asked as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes to scan the area. Two of the riders trotted forward, shifting their grips on their crossbows to sweep the scene with their muzzles. ¡°Fresh blood here, sir, most of it goblin! ¡± One of them reported over his shoulder. ¡°Most of it?¡± ¡°Aye. Road hasn¡¯t muted the scent yet, sir. Something else too. New to me.¡± ¡°Yes! It¡¯s right there! I am telling you.¡± Scolded the man in the carriage. ¡°Let¡¯s get it and be done before it has a chance to get away. I¡¯m already past due, but we have a duty to fulfill. If we have another Mendau plague on our hands, there will be riots in the city.¡± I was deathly still now. The rider nearest me was so close, I could smell the stink of his mount¡¯s damp fur over the stench of the swamp. My eyes ran over the group. Six men in all, not including the one in the wagon. The one that had been talking to the noble was coming closer while there were three encircling the carriage. If I could panic their mounts, maybe I could make a break into the woods. It might be possible if I could squeeze off a shot, but, then again, I didn¡¯t run faster than a crossbow bolt. How fast would the animals be once they recovered? What if I could make for the deep water and use my air tank to evade them? ¡°Ah!¡± The man closest to me gave a shout of surprise as he seemed to finally take notice of me, his eyes widening under the visor of his helmet. He¡¯d startled me as well. Without thinking, I jumped to my feet. The man¡¯s mount shared our mutual feelings of surprise, bounding backward, surprisingly nimble, fully over the next rider and landing on the trunk of a leaning swamp tree ten feet away. The beast and the rider were perched near vertically on the side of the trunk, but neither gave any indication that this was abnormal. Instead, the rider¡¯s crossbow was already lined up for a shot, but he didn¡¯t fire yet. ¡°Oh. We¡¯ve found it, my lord!¡± The mustached man shouted. ¡°Small problem though!¡± ¡°What is it, Garret?¡± The man in the carriage asked, leaning his head out of the curtains that covered the window. He looked younger than I¡¯d guessed, maybe in his forties. Long black hair spilled down over his shoulders, and he was just starting to show traces of silver at his temples. His gaunt face and thin lips were pinched like he was perpetually sucking on lemons, and his skin was white as bleached bone. ¡°I see it,¡± he said once he spotted me. ¡°Shoot it and bring the body with us. No time to tie it up.¡± Mustache, or Garret, I guessed, shrugged his broad shoulders and grimaced slightly. ¡°Alright, lord. Think I can get it in one. We¡¯ll be on our way soon. Get the netting, Dimus.¡± Then he brought his crossbow up to his shoulder, the gleaming tip of a quarrel aimed right at my eye. ¡°Woah. Woah. Woah! Do not do that!¡± I shouted, shrinking away from Garret¡¯s line of fire and trying to duck behind my tree. Garret tracked my movements like a pro though. So did the other two riders that could see me. I felt around in my spatial storage for my pistol and got ready to summon it as I turned my head back and forth rapidly to try and keep all the crossbows in my line of sight at once. No one shot me. Garret¡¯s eyebrows lifted slightly, and his head tilted to the side, bringing his eye away from the crossbow¡¯s sight. ¡°It speaks, sir,¡± he called over his shoulder. ¡°Ah, damnit. Of course it does. This is going to put us more behind schedule. Blasted Returned Accords,¡± the carriage man moaned. I heard a hard slap on the wood of the carriage door and muffled cursing to follow before he got his composure back again. ¡°We still need that sample, Garret.¡± Garret never took his eyes off me, but his expression took on a curious sort of look. ¡°Sir, if it can talk, perhaps it can give an account of what it¡¯s seen?¡± He speculated. ¡°No. No. It¡¯s no use,¡± Carriage guy sighed as if the entire world conspired to tax his dwindling patience. ¡°Witness accounts are notoriously unreliable, especially with the mentally impaired. The amount of detail I need can only be extracted from a sample, and, additionally, I have the weight of the Queen¡¯s decree pressing down on me.¡± The big rider¡¯s eyebrows scrunched together as he thought, and he allowed the crossbow quarrel to slide down from my eye to my chest. ¡°Perhaps it can give us a sample voluntarily, sir?¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°No, you bu-¡± It sounded like the noble was going to rip into Garret, but apparently something occurred to him mid-sentence. ¡°Ah. Well, yes, perhaps you¡¯re right, Garret. Ask it if we could take a small part of its flesh. Assure it we need no more than a few pounds. Oh, and be polite.¡± ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Garret assented before he cleared his throat and addressed me. He spoke loudly and slowly, enunciating every syllable of his words. ¡°I apologize for our initial misunderstanding, Mister¡­Ah. Do you have a name?¡± I put my hands down slowly, making sure I didn¡¯t seem overly threatening. The pistol could be in my hand in a flash, but how many could I take out before I was shot through the heart? ¡°Uh. Ryan,¡± I replied. ¡°Thank you for not shooting me, by the way.¡± ¡°Mister Ryan, yes. Of course. Sorry to interrupt your meal with this. Can never be too careful on the road in these parts. Some of the less aware¡­ ah¡­ folk like you¡­ still cling to their old allegiances, you see, and we¡¯ve had a lot of goblin activity in the past few weeks but you¡¯d know all about that I guess,¡± Garret chuckled half-heartedly, shifting uncomfortably in his saddle. He¡¯d put down his crossbow to rest on his saddle now, but it wasn¡¯t lost on me that the other two riders with a line of sight still aimed at my head. ¡°I¡­ what?¡± I asked. Folk like me? Humans? That was impossible. ¡°Oh gods, he¡¯s a fresh one.¡± Garret muttered to himself as he ran a palm over his face. He paused to gather his thoughts for a second, nodding to himself and looking to the side as if he were trying to formulate the proper words. When he was ready, he continued. ¡°Let me be the first to tell you, then, Mister Ryan, that the war is over, and you are free. Completely. Unequivocally. Congratulations.¡± ¡°Uh. Thank you,¡± I replied. I needed to roll with whatever this was and give myself an opportunity to escape ¡°Glad to hear it, I guess? One can never be too free.¡± ¡°And I must say, you speak remarkably well for one of your kind, Mister,¡± Garret observed with a grin, not at all patronizing. ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°My mother said the same thing.¡± ¡°Your¡­ mother?¡± A look of horror passed over Garret¡¯s face, his mustache¡¯s tips drooping down like a hairy caterpillar had died on his face. ¡°You had a¡­ mother? How does that work?¡± I frowned, feeling lost. ¡°I- Maybe just use your imagination, buddy. I don¡¯t know what to tell you.¡± One of the riders swallowed, looking a little green. He spurred his mount to take him behind the carriage, out of sight. Labored breathing carried over the heavy air from where he¡¯d gone. This was getting weird. Dangerous and weird. What the hell did I say? Garret looked rattled, but he soldiered on. ¡°Ah. So, anyway. If you¡¯ve been traveling along this road, I¡¯m sure you observed the diseased vegetation at the foot of the mountain. My master is a once in a generation scholar, you see, and he would like to study the phenomenon.¡± ¡°Understandable,¡± I replied with a reluctant nod. ¡°Quite so, well. You see- It¡¯s- You have a similar magical¡­ scent¡­ all over you. It would help my master greatly if you could¡­ ah.¡± He coughed uncomfortably. ¡°If you could give us a piece of your body. Nothing you¡¯d miss!¡± he added with a raised hand to forestall any protestations. ¡°Just a couple strips of flesh and-¡± ¡°Two pounds minimum!¡± Came the lord¡¯s shout from the carriage. ¡°I was working up to that, m¡¯lord.¡± Garret whisper-shouted back at his master. Flabbergasted, I just stood there blinking, opening and closing my mouth, multiple replies just waiting on the tip of my tongue. I went with: ¡°Why would I give you¡­ that?¡± ¡°Please. You would be assisting the Queen and advancing science. Also, we might be convinced to leave the goblin corpses to you if you help us out. They appear to be the freshest. Again, we¡¯re not asking for anything you¡¯d miss, sir.¡± I took a step back. ¡°Oh, I think I would miss it.¡± Also, what did he expect for me to do with goblin corpses? The lord was shouting again. ¡°No! No! Stop it. You¡¯re ruining it, Garret. Just¡­ Damnit. Bring him here,¡± he bellowed. Garret shrugged and flashed a grin at me like he hadn¡¯t just been asking for a literal piece of me. He didn¡¯t seem put out in the slightest at his lord¡¯s displeasure or that he¡¯d supposedly failed. The guardsman lazily brought his crossbow up to aim in my general direction again, waving me to come out from behind the tree. I walked toward him slowly, careful not to trip or give any indication that I wanted to do violence. As we approached the carriage, myself in front and Garret at my back with his mount sniffing at my bloody and muddy armor, the noble opened the carriage door and leaned out to look me over. The perpetual frown that looked like it never truly left his face, deepened as he took me in. ¡°Garret. When we get to the city, go get your eyes checked. All of you. This is no Returned,¡± he admonished them all, shaking his head and rubbing one of his temples. ¡°He¡¯s alive, my lord? Then why does he look like that? Where are your clothes, Mister? Your hair?¡± Garret gasped, before leaning down in his saddle to look closely at me. His tone softened. ¡°Are you alright, young man?¡± I didn¡¯t know what a Returned was, but if they were going to shoot me for it, I wasn¡¯t going to try and keep the label. They also didn¡¯t know what I really was, so that was a relief. ¡°I- It¡¯s a long story,¡± I replied to all of Garret¡¯s questions at once. The nobleman sighed, blowing air through chapped lips. ¡°One we can¡¯t stand around for. I¡¯m past due to arrive at the university.¡± He pointed to me. ¡°You. You have the diseased mana profile all over you, inside of you as well. How did this come to be? Quickly, in less than ten words if you can. Our world may depend upon it.¡± ¡°Uh-¡± The man¡¯s frown deepened into full scowl territory. ¡°Do not waste your words. Think carefully,¡± he snapped. For some reason, I felt like I was back in school being scolded for daydreaming in class. ¡°I escaped the mountain. Killed a mockvine. Am I really missing my hair?¡± I turned back to look at Garret. The big man nodded, wincing a little on my behalf. ¡°Most of it, sir.¡± ¡°My eyebrows too?¡± I asked as I reached up to feel my face. Yep, they were gone. ¡°You are also quite filthy, Mister Ryan,¡± Garret added helpfully. ¡°Point! Is it this one¡¯s blood you smell over there?¡± He called to the two riders still posted next to the bodies. ¡°Yes, sir. I think so. His and the goblins are all I can smell,¡± the point man reported. ¡°The others ¡®been dead for a while. This looks like two fights separated in time, sir. No weapons or spoils I can see. Might want to check what he did with ¡®em.¡± ¡°My man over there says he smells your blood, Mister. Mind telling us what happened?¡± Lord interrupted, waving Garret off and leaning forward to get a closer look at me. ¡°Yes. Yes. He smells terrible. Now what¡¯s this about a mockvine? A wild one?¡± ¡°I killed an¡­ uh¡­ ancient mockvine in a cave a good distance that way.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t play with me, young man,¡± he hissed, a dangerous tone in his voice. ¡°Tell me the truth. An old one? How big?¡± I nodded, trying to look more confident than I felt. ¡°Took up the whole cave. It tried to eat me, but I sort of disagreed with it.¡± He leaned forward, putting a hand on the carriage¡¯s open door. ¡°If the type of mana on your body were any different, I would call you a liar and have Garrett club you, but¡­¡± ¡°Why?¡± I asked. ¡°Why what?¡± ¡°Why club me?¡± ¡°I still may have to, sir, if he murdered these folks,¡± Garret added helpfully. ¡°No, Garret, I don¡¯t think that will be necessary. Our new friend here is most likely responsible for the goblins but not the others. The mana signature on him is too fresh to have been here for the previous killings. If it makes you feel better, you may check with your point man,¡± the gaunt nobleman said before turning to me. ¡°The residue of the mockvine rolls off of you along with something else. I took it for miasma at first as we tracked you but now¡­¡± His eyes lost focus for a moment, seeming to look at something very far away. ¡°Garret, this young man is coming with us.¡± Garret cleared his throat and swallowed. ¡°No need to¡­ sample his flesh then, master?¡± He inquired uncomfortably. ¡°No. It would be helpful, but it also would be illegal,¡± the nobleman said with a wave of his hand. ¡°Can¡¯t have a scandal on my first day.¡± A significant look passed between the two. I caught it, but I couldn¡¯t discern the meaning. I didn¡¯t like it. ¡°And if I don¡¯t want to come with you?¡± I asked, feeling very much like my desires weren¡¯t being considered at all. I didn¡¯t want to trade one cage for another. The mention of the law gave me a little hope, though. Maybe false imprisonment was illegal here. ¡°No choice, young man. I need to verify your story and make sure we don¡¯t have a tree killing disease on our hands. It wouldn¡¯t be the first time. Whether you¡¯re lying or not, you¡¯ve been in the thick of it, whatever it is. Once I have my answers, you will be free to go do whatever it is you do. You can ride with me and give me a full account of your story. After all, we do appear to be going the same way, and you have no shoes.¡± I hesitated, looking to Garret and the riders. None of them had put down their crossbows fully, but they didn¡¯t seem worried for their master even if he wanted to ride with a stranger. Better to agree to it now than to be tied up and forced to ride that way. I sighed. They were going my way, I guessed, and they didn¡¯t want to kill me immediately. I also had my spatial storage to bring to bear if I needed to make an escape. ¡°Alright, I-¡± ¡°Wait-¡± The nobleman put out a hand to stop me then snapped his fingers. There was a stinging, electric sensation that ran over my body from head to toe like the entire outer layer of my skin had just been violently scrubbed with wire brushes, but I got the full experience in less than a second. I gasped, nearly doubling over. It wasn¡¯t necessarily painful, but it was so sudden and intimate. The feeling was everywhere I had skin from my scalp to my toes to my armpits and groin. When the sensation abated, I looked up to see a swirling vortex about the size of a billiards ball coalescing above the nobleman¡¯s hand. Then it solidified, and the man plucked it out of the air before stashing it in a glossy pouch he¡¯d pulled out of his pocket. I looked down at myself, wondering what he¡¯d had done to me, but it didn¡¯t take long to see. My jaw dropped in shock. For the first time since I woke up on Ralqir¡­ ¡°There. You are clean. The mana is still on your being, but the stinking muck you¡¯d bathed yourself in is now stowed away for examination later,¡± Lord said, pausing to look me over, then peering intently into my eyes for a long, awkward moment to finish. ¡°Now let¡¯s be off. Retract your aura and get in,¡± he commanded. I blinked, feeling my nonexistent eyebrows knit together. ¡°Retract my what now?¡± ¡°I acknowledge you are a practitioner. I can see that now that we¡¯ve cleared the flotsam. But I won¡¯t ride the rest of the way to Eclipse with your aura spewing out of you like blood from a severed artery. Hurry now. Daylight will not linger.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± I insisted. What was he talking about? He called me a practitioner, so maybe this was about magic or mana? Lord sighed again, slumping back into his cushioned chair further inside the carriage. He looked tired, like his entire life was a series of disappointments and setbacks, and I was just the latest. ¡°Nevermind. Your vacant expression tells me I will not get what I want, not in time at least. Damned Wildlings. Unbelievable.¡± He raised an accusing finger and pointed it to the sky. ¡°Whoever your master was did you a great disservice, you know that. Did he simply teach you the dominion ritual and wander off to live with a herd of deer or something? No. Nevermind. It doesn¡¯t matter. I suppose I¡¯ll have to endure. Get in.¡± Chapter 23 - Play the Fool -------------------------------------------------------------- Chapter 23 - Play the Fool ¡°Unbelievable!¡± Lord Trayalo Jassin shouted for what must have been the twentieth time on our carriage ride together. Internally, I winced at how close to the mark his word choice was. Of course I couldn¡¯t tell him the truth of what I was or where I was from, so I was winging it and doing it badly, less so when I got the guy talking about something other than me. Lord Jassin seemed to get the most animated when I mentioned my ¡°master¡± who taught me the magical arts and how little time she actually spent instructing me. The man had a real problem with practitioners that didn¡¯t view the master/student relationship as a solemn duty and privilege as it should be. I¡¯d left out the fact that she was a glitchy hologram lady, but at the same time, I kind of enjoyed hearing someone else that was pissed at Nali for leaving me high and dry in those early days. ¡°Unbelievable! Just typical of wild practitioners! She awakened your dominion and just¡­ left? My boy, that is not just cruel but highly dangerous. The fact that you are still alive and sane is a testament to your fortune or fortitude, impossible to tell which.¡± ¡°Ah. Uh. Yeah. I guess so. Honestly, I¡¯ve had quite a time of it so far,¡± I admitted, looking down at my hands as I flexed my fingers, remembering the things I¡¯d done to get here. What else would I have to do to get home? The sleeves of my borrowed shirt were a little long, same with the pant legs, but the tall guardswoman that loaned them to me said I could get them taken in once we got to Eclipse. She was the only one that had brought an extra set of civilian clothes among the group, to the rest of the guards¡¯ shame. ¡°Oh my gods, men are disgusting!¡± She¡¯d shouted at them, her mouth twisted up in a horrified sneer. She looked like she wanted to turn her crossbow on every one of them. ¡°Do you just stew in your own funk for the entire trip? What if you have to attend a party? What if the tailors can¡¯t fit you? You know what? That explains a lot about a lot. I¡¯m taking point, Sir, and I¡¯m requesting a transfer as soon as we find a guild that¡¯ll take me.¡± ¡°Granted, lieutenant,¡± Garret laughed. ¡°But I think you¡¯ll find your problem lies not with my unit but with men in general. Without a civilizing influence, we¡¯d all live like Wildlings.¡± I did my best to meet Lord Jassin¡¯s eyes as I spoke. ¡°Anyway. After she¡¯d¡­ uh¡­ awakened me, I had a bad run in with goblins and then found myself lost in the caves where I met the mockvine. It tried to hypnotize me with some kind of illusion, but I saw it for what it was eventually.¡± Deception is now level 2. I hated this. I wasn¡¯t a big liar, so telling half truths like this taxed my mind and my conscience. Jassin was sharp too, and he was quick to note inconsistencies in my story. ¡°Unbelievable. You, with a fledgeling dominion, wander into the heart of a mockvine lair, and you just see through its suggestions. I don¡¯t see how that is possible. Your aura is extraordinarily strong for someone of your age, but if the creature was as old as you¡¯re saying, you should be dead. Even the smaller specimens can lull a full grown adult into somnambulation. In fact, I taught a graduate student that raised a mockvine from a seedling. Used it as a sleep aid. Then, once the creature grew powerful enough, it charmed him right out of his second floor window. He was lucky to get away with just a broken leg. Are you sure this one wasn¡¯t diseased or perhaps wounded from a previous bout with its food?¡± I shook my head. ¡°I don¡¯t know how I would be able to tell. What would that look like?¡± I asked. The one thing Jassin seemed to enjoy was hearing the sound of his own voice, preferably when he was talking about something he knew a lot about. ¡°Oh. There are several indicators of disease that one can observe in carnivorous plants such as a curling of the leaves or browning on the inside of the lobes. Distortions in its foliage patterns. An over reliance on obfuscation. Did you notice any of that while you were under attack?¡± ¡°Uh. Lobes? Where would-¡± ¡°The uninitiated would most likely call it the ¡®mouth¡¯ of the creature, though it is evolutionarily as far from a proper mouth as you can get.¡± ¡°No browning that I noticed.¡± ¡°Are you sure? Did you get a close look?¡± Jassin asked. I thought back to the claustrophobic insides of the bulb, the stinging of the acid, the smooth, rubbery texture, my shaking hands and panicked breaths as I fought to breathe. ¡°Yeah,¡± I confirmed. ¡°I got pretty close. Red and yellow all the way.¡± ¡°Unbelievable,¡± he muttered, lying back on his cushioned seat again. He stared through me then, seemingly lost in thought. He rubbed the back of his head where his antlers protruded from his dark hair and seemed to be muttering something to himself as he contemplated. I didn¡¯t volunteer anything else. I had no context for anything on Ralqir. I was as foreign to these people as you could get, and the more I opened my mouth, the more chances I would have to stick my foot in it. Instead, I tried to ask my own questions and keep the conversation from focusing on me. So far, I¡¯d been able to gather precious little information. We were on the road to Eclipse, a city of great importance to the world, where Jassin would be taking up a position as a professor at their university. Jassin¡¯s escort was double what it would normally be thanks to increased aggression from multiple displaced goblin tribes and migratory beasts. So far, though, nothing had tried to waylay them thanks to how well armed and numerous the party was. Jassin himself was a noble, a father of twelve, and an accomplished scholar in multiple fields of magic and magical theory, and, like all noble practitioners, he¡¯d taken an oath to Queen and country to use his acquired knowledge and power to protect the kingdom from all threats. That¡¯s why when he¡¯d seen the dying greenery, he¡¯d been concerned the forest was about to see a plague. If the trees died and stopped blocking the deadly sun, traffic to and from Eclipse could halt entirely. Trade would stop and people would go hungry. After taking some samples from the site, Jassin followed my trail. ¡°Lucky for me and for you that you didn¡¯t travel on the road, my boy. Otherwise I would never have been able to follow you. The dark craft that keeps these roads tends to erase such things over time.¡± ¡°So, this Eclipse place, what should I know before I get there?¡± I asked. ¡°Hmm? Oh, yes, of course. I apologize, young man. You speak so well, and your aura is so strong, I keep forgetting that your education is rather lacking. Where did you say you were from?¡± Jassin probed. I hadn¡¯t said. It was a trap, a question I was better off not trying to answer, considering how little I knew. Better to look a little rude than entirely ignorant. Maybe I could get by with a half truth. ¡°A little place called Proxis,¡± I answered, careful to keep it vague. ¡°Pro-k-siss. I have never heard of such a place, though I¡¯m sure I could find it if given half a day in the library.¡± That sounded like a threat, almost. ¡°It sounds Vistian. Is that right?¡± I nodded slowly. ¡°Yeah. We¡¯re Vistian¡­ at least I was. Now, I guess I¡¯m a wanderer. So, about Eclipse?¡± Jassin¡¯s eyes narrowed slightly, growing hard around the edges, and his mouth twitched slightly upward in the ghost of a triumphant smile. Then he was back to being a professor, which seemed to be his natural state. ¡°Well, Ryan, Eclipse is the crown jewel of our world, at least in respect to knowledge. It is home to seven universities, four separate practitioner¡¯s guilds, and the grandest library Ralqir has ever seen, courtesy of the city¡¯s previous occupant and his eccentricities.¡± ¡°The previous occupant?¡± I asked with a raised eyebrow. I tried to play it casual, but the way he left the statement dangling out there, it was like he was just begging me to ask. Again, Jassin¡¯s eyes narrowed as he leaned forward to peer at me more closely. ¡°The Dark Lord, boy. The Dark Lord. Not any of the pretenders we¡¯ve had in the past few hundred years.¡± He studied my face, presumably looking for some kind of reaction: recognition or fear or awe maybe. When he didn¡¯t get it, Jassin let out a very unlordly snort then went on. ¡°Wildlings. You really don¡¯t know, do you? You¡¯re like a blank slate. Ryan, this was the Dark Lord¡¯s home, his fortress and laboratory. Surely, you didn¡¯t think we¡¯d build a city in the middle of such a charming environ by choice,¡± he revealed with incredulity. I¡¯d failed whatever test that had been, and I needed to recover. ¡°Honestly, I- uh- hadn¡¯t actually realized where I was. I¡¯m sorry. I know about the Dark Lord off hand, of course, but the knowledge just hasn¡¯t been relevant to my life. I¡¯ve been focused on survival above all.¡± Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Jassin gasped, giving me a look like I¡¯d just kicked his dog and took a dump on his couch. ¡°Not relevant? Not relevant!¡± His face turned red in that way Miss Sheferty¡¯s used to when I¡¯d said we would never use long division outside of school. ¡°Young man, you literally owe your life to the Dark Lord. I¡¯m not saying he was a good and benevolent figure, but he shaped the history of our planet to such a degree that none of us would be here today if not for what he did. The food you eat, the roads you travel upon right now, the shade, the very spell you cast to obtain your dominion.¡± he reached over and rapped his knuckles on my prosthetic arm, eliciting a little *gong.* ¡°... It was all him. You may not wish to think upon it, but the Dark Lord¡¯s legacy has touched every aspect of your life, and you now go to what used to be the heart of his power.¡± Garret grunted some kind of order from outside the carriage, and there was a flurry of activity as the click clack of hooves seemed to rush in to surround us. The old guardsman leaned down and parted the curtains with a gauntleted hand to speak to Jassin directly. ¡°Goblins, my Lord,¡± Garret whispered quietly. ¡°Don¡¯t look like much of a threat. They¡¯re just walking on the road, but we¡¯re keeping tight just in case.¡± ¡°More of them? That¡¯s the third- no, fourth sighting on this journey. Very well, Garret. Thank you,¡± Jassin replied, still reclining in his seat. He didn¡¯t seem overly worried. I, on the other hand, felt a chill crawl up my spine, and I could feel my body tensing for some kind of action. Slowly, steadily, the carriage rolled on, surrounded by our guard, and the clack of hooves was the only sound that reached the interior. Garret stayed close, next to the window, using his hairy mount presumably to block his master from any projectiles the goblins might lob his way. Another guard took up our other flank, filling the opposite window with white fur as well. Then I started to hear voices, high and quiet. ¡°Get to the side of the road,¡± one ordered with some authority. Others were more quiet and furtive. ¡°Don¡¯t look at them.¡± ¡°Keep walking.¡± Garret rode rigid in his saddle, one hand clutching his crossbow, the other on the pommel, his face made of stone. I couldn¡¯t help myself. I was nervous and curious and boxed in. ¡°Garret. What are they doing?¡± I asked. Garret didn¡¯t look at me to answer. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Don¡¯t look like a raiding party. Got their children and their elders with them. Precious few fighters in the bunch too, but they¡¯ve got some decent kit. Best stay quiet while we ride by and not rile ¡®em up.¡± The squeak of the wheels and the clacking of hooves was all the sound in the world for a few minutes, interspersed with the occasional cough or wailing goblin child from outside. Then I heard something familiar. ¡°It¡¯s okay. We get there soon, and we rest. Don¡¯t play with it. The wrap has to stay clean.¡± No way. I flung the carriage door open so fast, it startled Garret¡¯s mount, forcing it to lunge to the side, drawing a chorus of alarmed goblin shouts and curses from Garret himself. My feet hit the quellstone, feeling the cold knives stab into my flesh, but I wasn¡¯t paying attention to that. I stumbled a little on the dismount, but after a couple seconds I had my balance and started looking around. Yes. Their clothes. Their baskets and packs. The way they spoke. All of it was familiar. Most telling of all, I spotted a warrior among them with a pristine iron spear and bucket helmet of my own design, one that probably had a specific set of grooves on the inside in the shape of a caterpillar. I was looking for someone specific though. ¡°What are you doing, boy?¡± Garret growled. His mount was back under control, and the guard¡¯s eyes never stopped moving. Garret had a hard look to him as he swiveled his head back and forth, taking in everything at once, every detail, every threat including me. His crossbow was up now, not pointed at me but ready, while the rest of the guards closed ranks, crowding in around Jassin¡¯s ride. ¡°Wait,¡± I said, taking several steps toward the back of the carriage, standing up tall to try and get a better view of all the green faces. The goblins, two columns of them on either side of the road, had all stopped now, their eyes wide and ready to bolt or fight or whatever they needed to do. Jassin leaned out of the open door. ¡°Ryan, where are you going? Eclipse is close, and we are already late.¡± ¡°Wait just a minute,¡± I pleaded with him, pushing through the guards¡¯ mounts and stepping onto the open road. ¡°Tiba?!¡± I called with my hands cupped over my mouth. ¡°Tiba!¡± ¡°Mister Ryan, you need to get back in the carriage now,¡± Garret ordered from behind me. All levity and warmth was gone from his voice. He was a hair away from doing something I¡¯d regret. ¡°You rile up these goblins, and there¡¯ll be blood. We¡¯ve seen it time and again.¡± ¡°Ryan?¡± Someone asked quietly from my right. I whirled around. There she was in all her tiny green glory, holding a goblin child, its bandaged leg dangling down to droop past the healer¡¯s waist. Tiba looked tired. Her hair was a mess, falling down in stringy clumps in front of her face, and her eyes were red like she¡¯d not gotten much sleep. She stepped to the side and handed the child to one of the adults next to her before stepping forward, timidly sparing a glance for the crossbows of the guards. ¡°Ryan? Is that you?¡± She asked again. I nodded, striding up to her. The cold quellstone under my bare feet made every step painful, but I ignored it. Once I got within a few feet of the little healer I stopped to look down at her. So small. Were they always so small? Then I realized it was the first time I¡¯d seen her from my full height. ¡°I barely recognize you,¡± she said. ¡°Where is all of your hair? It is pretty hair, especially when you let me pick the style.¡± Her forced levity didn¡¯t quite land. Neither of us were feeling it. I went down on one knee in front of her, bringing myself to her level where things felt familiar. ¡°My escape cost me a great deal,¡± I admitted. Out of habit, I reached up to brush non-existent hair out of my eyes. ¡°Yes. Mine too,¡± she replied, her eyes sinking down to the cobblestones. I nodded gravely. ¡°I know,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m glad you made it out.¡± ¡°Yes. We take the long tunnels through the mountain. The old ones from before the Beginning. I want to take you with us, but Kuul-¡± ¡°Kuul,¡± I growled, a flare of hatred igniting in my chest and searing my throat. ¡°Where is Kuul? I want to speak to him.¡± I wanted to do far more than that. Far more. Tiba shook her head, not meeting my eyes. ¡°He is gone. He stays in the old tunnels and does big magic for us. Old, big magic.¡± ¡°What do you mean? Where? Tell me,¡± I demanded, looking back the way we¡¯d come, my hands involuntarily balling into tight fists. There had to be a reckoning for what Kuul had done to me. What he¡¯d done to Hunty. I found myself nearly on my feet before I realized what I was doing. Where I was going. When my mind caught up to me again, I forced myself to pause and breathe. I¡¯m not going back to that mountain. Not yet. I was free. Kuul wasn¡¯t here. No one was going to lock me away again. Not him. Not anyone. I would make sure of that. There still needed to be a reckoning between the two of us. Not yet. I still had things I needed to do. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Tiba,¡± I said, sinking down to my knees again. Tiba either didn¡¯t notice my near outburst or didn¡¯t care. She looked tired. ¡°I don¡¯t know how the magic works. Kuul stays in the old tunnels and communes with the Mendau. He sacrifices to save the Stone Hearts, or, at least, that¡¯s what he says.¡± ¡°You speak like them?¡± Garret was behind me now, his mount slightly angled so he was able to turn either way in the saddle and get off a shot at whatever goblin made a move. ¡°How did you learn to do that?¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked the old guard, confused. ¡°I¡¯m just¡­¡± ¡°What does he say?¡± Tiba interrupted, placing a hand on my wrist. ¡°Is he going to hurt us?¡± ¡°No. I-¡± I noticed it then, the way my voice changed when I spoke to Tiba, how it felt. Now that I was listening, the words were a multilayered series of grunts, clicks, and growls, yet it was as natural as if it had been my native tongue. ¡°What is she saying, Mister Ryan? Are we about to be in a fight?¡± Garret stared at me now, his eyes hard but pleading while his mount stamped nervously and fought to turn away. The old guardsman seemed to genuinely want to avoid bloodshed. ¡°Uh. I know her. She¡¯s telling me how they got here.¡± ¡°You know her?¡± ¡°Yeah. Just give me a minute.¡± I turned to Tiba. ¡°Tiba, these people aren¡¯t going to hurt anyone as long as no one attacks them.¡± Tiba looked around timidly at all the stern faces and primed crossbows. ¡°You¡¯re sure? They look like they hate us,¡± she whispered. ¡°Pretty sure. Can you tell everyone to relax, please? Trust me.¡± ¡°I do trust you, Ryan,¡± she replied with a sad smile before she cupped a hand to her mouth. ¡°Ryan speaks for us! Rest time!¡± I winced as the little healer started shouting, knowing it would sound sinister to the guards. They tightened their grips on their triggers, but no one killed anyone else. That was progress. Then came the part I¡¯d been dreading. ¡°Tiba,¡± I began, looking down to my open hand, summoning the spear from my spatial storage. The weapon appeared in a shower of sparkling motes of light. Hunty¡¯s Spear: A cherished spear crafted by a fledgeling artificer and sized for a goblin. The spear tip is magnificently sharp and can repair itself multiple times before going truly dull. Damage: 4-8 (Piercing) Quality: Excellent Style: Custom Magic: Repair Tiba gasped and shrank away. Of course she did. The only person she¡¯d ever had in her life that could do that kind of thing was Kuul, and that didn¡¯t come with the best of memories. On some level, she had to know I did magic, but I guessed she thought it was the slow, boring kind of magic that couldn¡¯t hurt her. To Tiba¡¯s credit, she got control of herself quickly after she recognized what I was holding. I clutched the spear in my hand, hard enough to turn my knuckles white. When I spoke, my voice felt rough, and the words were sandpaper. ¡°I¡¯m so, so sorry,¡± I said, feeling the words catch in my throat. ¡°About Hunty. I wish I could¡¯ve¡­ he shouldn¡¯t have died for me.¡± I consciously relaxed my fingers and extended my arm to present the weapon to Tiba. Her eyes were fixed upon the thing, as if I was passing her a venomous snake, but with trembling hands, she slowly reached out and took it, a look of disbelief on her face. She ran her hand over the haft and traced her fingers over the little knobs and grooves, reexploring the familiar. Then she was clutching it close. The way she held it, cradled it, it was obvious she had no experience holding a weapon, but she wanted it there nonetheless. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± I said again. ¡°He was a good goblin. My friend.¡± ¡°Yes, he is. Hunty is the best of goblins. You bring me a part of Hunty today¡± Tiba sniffed and wiped at her eyes, still holding the spear close to her heart. ¡°Thank you, Ryan. He would be glad you live, and he would laugh at your bald head.¡± Someone cleared their throat behind me. I turned to see Lord Jassin, who looked down at me with an urgent, immediate sort of interest, like I¡¯d gained the attention of some kind of predatory bird, and it was studying me to figure out if I was prey. Some kind of power flashed behind his eyes as he ran his gaze over me. Whatever he was looking for, he either didn¡¯t find it or found something he didn¡¯t like. He shook his head and stroked his chin as a pensive frown pulled the corners of his mouth downward. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± he repeated yet again. Chapter 24 - See the Sky Chapter 24 - See the Sky Proxis 3 - Before Integration: My hands clung tight to the tarnished chrome railing of the maglev as the train took a sharp turn, and my stomach did that thing where it went one way while the rest of me stayed where it was. I loved that feeling. It was even better when it was a surprise. When Mom and Dad took me on rides in the rover, they always went down the hills faster than they should have, because they knew I loved it. I was getting old enough that it didn¡¯t surprise me as much anymore, but I still acted like it did to make them laugh. Bright holo signs whipped by my window, so close I could probably reach out and touch one to feel that tickling sensation again if only the train¡¯s glass wasn¡¯t there. Of course, holos were made of light, so I couldn¡¯t really ¡®touch¡¯ one. I knew that¡­ now. Before our train ride, Mom had taken me to a kids¡¯ arcade where the holos were interactive, and the whole place was a fireworks show of color and sound so overwhelmingly fantastic it hurt. If I listened hard, I could pick out five different songs I¡¯d never heard playing from different parts of the room. Explosions, whistles, monster roars, shrieking thrusters, staccato beats of machine gun fire, the smell of popcorn and sticky sweet candy all swirled together and amplified one another until the atmosphere positively crackled. When we got there, I just kind of froze in the doorway. What was a kid from the Outers supposed to make of a place like that? Back home, I threw rocks into a sinkhole for fun. Like Mom always did, she held my hand and slowly walked me into the middle of the room, through all the barking insanity that loudly demanded my attention until we reached the center of the storm. Then she got down on her knees to look me in the eyes, leaning in to say: ¡°Now go play. I¡¯ll be right behind you.¡± She did that thing where she brushed my hair out of my eyes then ruffled it all out of place again. I tried to smile bravely as I reluctantly let go of her hand, and, with a tingle of fear and anticipation, let the arcade swallow me up. It was all too much¡­ but in a good way. I felt wind-blasted and floaty when we left. It was something I¡¯d remember for the rest of my life, I already knew. She didn¡¯t believe me when I said the holograms tickled. She¡¯d called it ¡°sickosem-¡± No. ¡°Psychosomatic.¡± It was in my head. That was okay, though. There were lots of things in my head that were plenty real, so that didn¡¯t matter. Dad cleared his throat loudly behind me. He and Mom were holding onto the overhead railing, probably watching me like they did when they thought I wasn¡¯t looking. Mom would have that little smile on her face, and Dad would look worried but a little happy too. The giant man that was my father wasn¡¯t comfortable in the city. He¡¯d said as much a bunch of times in passing, always with a little laugh like it was a problem he¡¯d never really have to deal with since we lived in the Outers among the clan. He was dealing with it now, though. Poorly. ¡°Next stop: Plymouth Station,¡± chimed a gentle, vaguely male voice from the speakers overhead. I could already feel the train starting to slow, and the blur of passing holos gave way to darkened windows and the occasional glimpse of Proxis 1 up in the sky. ¡°That¡¯s our stop, boys.¡± Mom sounded¡­ I couldn¡¯t really place it. Happy? Excited? Nervous? ¡°Are you ready to meet grandma and grandpa, Ryan?¡± She asked as she pried my face away from the glass and went to work straightening my hair and brushing crumbs off my shirt. I sat down on the bench and let my legs dangle, allowing the changing speed of the train to drag them toward the front of the car. ¡°So, this is your mom and dad, mom?¡± I asked. It was weird thinking about them like that. ¡°That¡¯s right. I grew up here,¡± she replied as she picked a candy crumb from the leg of my pants only to flick it onto the floor. I wished I¡¯d known it was there. The cherry flavor was my favorite. My mind went to work making connections. ¡°Did you ride the train and go to the arcade too?¡± ¡°Mmhmm. I sure did. Your grandpa worked for the transportation authority. He helped run all the trains like this one, and I spent a lot of time in the stations.¡± ¡°What about Dad? Where was he?¡± I asked. ¡°I grew up in the Outers, like you,¡± Dad rumbled overhead as he loomed protectively over Mom¡¯s back. He didn¡¯t look at me as he spoke. Instead, he was always peeking around like something was going to pop out and scare him if he let his guard down. ¡°These aren¡¯t your mom and dad, Dad?¡± Mom snorted but tried to hide it by covering her mouth. Dad noticed though. He frowned playfully at the both of us. ¡°No, son. No, they are not. If they were, they¡¯d probably have disowned me by now.¡± Mom turned to slap Dad on the stomach. ¡°They like you just fine, you big weirdo.¡± ¡°They could at least pretend to be less surprised when I use words with more than one syllable,¡± Dad grumbled. I knew he was kidding though. Everyone liked Dad. He was due to be Headman soon. We were losing speed fast now, and the white lights of the train station grew brighter and larger by the second. ¡°They would be far less surprised if you didn¡¯t pretend to sound like a bumpkin for the entire visit,¡± Mom scolded, but her eyes never stopped smiling. ¡°Your accent gets twice as thick as soon as we enter the city limits, Myron. Don¡¯t, for one second, think that slips by me.¡± Then she turned to me and grinned. ¡°Dad feels the need to stand apart from the crowd here, but you¡¯re fitting in fine. Grandma and grandpa are going to love you.¡± ¡°Welcome to Plymouth Station,¡± the robotic voice called from overhead. ¡°Next stop: Round Rock Station.¡± ¡°You ready, Ryan?¡± Mom asked, holding out both of her hands for me to take. Then she catapulted me up and out of the seat. ¡°Just be yourself, and you¡¯ll be fine.¡± ¡ª---------- Now: ¡°Care to explain what that was all about?¡± Jassin¡¯s voice cut through the fog of my daydreams. I¡¯d done my best to stay alert for as much of the ride as I could, but after a couple hours of the steady swaying of the car, the rhythmic clops of hooves, and the lack of immediate danger, the razor tension of constant fight or flight I hadn¡¯t even realized I¡¯d been carrying around with me seemed to ebb. Its absence left me groggy, disconnected, and more introspective than I was comfortable with. The gnarled black shapes of the endless swamp flora drifted past my window. Evening had robbed most of the world of color and definition, but it wasn¡¯t pitch black as of yet. It was cold though. The air ran icy fingers over my cheeks when the wind blew just right, and with it came the soft croaks and trills of nocturnal swamp life. The stagnant puddles just off the road were fast becoming smoky charcoal mirrors, whose smooth faces were marred with floating debris and rotting skeletal deadwood that bobbed in time with a song I couldn¡¯t hear. Tiny clusters of luminescent dots floated lazily just above the surface of the water for seconds at a time only to gutter and die then instantly reform over a completely different pool. The guards didn¡¯t carry any light, at least not yet. They relied on sharp eyes and training to keep danger at bay apparently. Jassin and I enjoyed the luxury of a small modicum of light, a thin filament of some kind of luminous material wrapped around the roof of the carriage. It was a dim, pale form of illumination, bright enough to read by but only just. It made Jassin¡¯s face look eerily like a bleached skull, which I wasn¡¯t a big fan of. No one should have cheekbones that sharp. Oh, yes. He¡¯d asked me something. Jassin wore a curious look, his mouth turned down and his eyebrows showing just a hint of coming together. His pronounced features made every expression he used more severe and immediate like every moment of his life held potentially dire consequences. I shook my head to clear my mental cobwebs away and focused on the gaunt noble, recalling his question and turning it over in my head for examination. The man loved to ask his open ended questions with precious little buildup, like he was asking multiple questions at once, and the question I assumed he was asking told him just as much as my answer in itself. ¡°What do you mean?¡± I asked. ¡°The goblins. You speak their language, and you said you knew one of them.¡± I shrugged sheepishly. ¡°Yeah. I guess I do. I have a thing for languages,¡± I replied, not really trying to delve into what that ¡®thing¡¯ was. Apparently, the System was helping me out with communication and not just a little. On an intellectual level, I had theorized that something like that was happening with the Stone Hearts, but I thought it was something like a magical filter or a translation dub over old movies. But switching between two languages like that without thinking, vocalizing sounds I¡¯d never practiced in my life¡­ Hell, I¡¯m pretty sure some of the words I said in goblin weren¡¯t possible to pronounce with a human mouth. It drove home just how different I was now that the System chose me and remade my body. So much of what I did now was involuntary, like I¡¯d been given a brand new set of instincts entirely outside the evolutionary paradigm. I wasn¡¯t, at all, the same person I¡¯d been before integration. At what point would I cease to be human anymore? Had I already passed that point? The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. We called them Exotics back home. No, wait. They called us Exotics back home. I was a part of that little club now. Biologists came up with the term on old Earth, a rare planet in the green zone with an extreme diversity of life, to describe invasive species that upset the natural order of an environment, sometimes edging out the original, native species. It was an apt descriptor for us, if I were being truly honest. Back during Exodus II, sometime between my ancestors¡¯ departure from Earth and arrival on Proxis 3, something or someone activated the System, and it set about choosing its first Exotics. At least that¡¯s the theory. On our colony ship, only a handful of people went through Integration. Most of them died. Some disappeared entirely. That¡¯s the funny thing about being snatched out of your cryochamber, remade, then tossed back inside with superhuman resistances to cold and injury. Suddenly, you¡¯re stuck in an insulated metal tube that¡¯s doing its level best to keep your internal temperature at or near absolute zero, but your new System powered body says ¡®no.¡¯ The lone known survivor, a maintenance tech named Gregory Marshal, escaped his pod only to find himself alone on a ship full of popsicles. He was kind enough to record a series of video logs for posterity¡¯s sake, detailing what had happened to him and how, but he couldn¡¯t stay with the ship. We were still about 500 years short of our expected landfall, and Marshal could no longer be put in cryosleep. The day he left, he recorded a tearful goodbye to his family, saying that he was leaving, but if he was still alive by the time they landed, he¡¯d find them. He didn¡¯t actually get to Proxis 3 in time to reunite with his family, but, after he remarried, the Marshals became a formidable Exotic line, formidable enough to nip at the heels of the big five at one time. I was an Exotic now. My children, if I ever had any, would be Exotics. Their children would be Exotics. It would go on like that until the heat death of the universe. That¡¯s how it worked. It¡¯s how the Marshals and the Five Families rose to prominence back in the day. Would I need to start my own Family, or would I need to join another? The thought made my head spin. Jassin inadvertently saved me from spiraling down into an existential crisis. He wasn¡¯t satisfied with my previous answer. ¡°When did you learn that? Why?¡± I cleared my throat, preparing to hedge. ¡°Uh- Why do I need to have a reason to learn something?¡± I asked. Deception is now level 3. After a heartbeat of hesitation, Jassin gave a slight nod in conciliation. ¡°Oh, don¡¯t get me wrong. I enjoy the pursuit of knowledge for knowledge¡¯s sake, Ryan, but the barrier between our cultures, Goblin and Miur, has proven difficult for anthropologists to breach. Even on the rare occasions where a scholar found success, goblinoids are a tribal people, and their dialects tend to vary wildly. How did it come to be that they accepted you?¡± I shrugged. ¡°They saved my life when we met.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Jassin gaped. ¡°A rare thing, indeed, goblin charity.¡± ¡°And then they enslaved me.¡± ¡°Ah. Yes. That does sound more typical of goblins.¡± Jassin cleared his throat, and something like pity briefly played across his features. ¡°These are the goblins that held you captive, I take it? That makes it more strange that you had an interest in their safety. I hope you don¡¯t think me callous that I declined to bring them with us. They would slow us down too much, and we could not trust them.¡± I nodded and drew in a deep breath, summoning the safer, less complicated portions of my feelings on the matter to lend me some credibility. The rest of it I buried deep where I could deal with it later. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Thanks for considering it at least. As for the captivity thing... Honestly, when they found me, they thought I was dying, so they brought me back to their home to see their chief. He¡¯s the one that had the idea to keep me as a slave. He was a real piece of work, and if I ever see him again, we¡¯re going to have words. The others, though, they treated me decently, so long as it didn¡¯t go against Kuul¡¯s orders. They fed me, clothed me, and housed me during a time where I had no idea what I was doing, and I hadn¡¯t figured out the whole¡­ uh practitioner thing yet. I guess they gave me some time to figure things out even if that¡¯s not what they intended. I¡¯m not saying I¡¯m ready to invite them over for tea, but I don¡¯t see them as necessarily evil.¡± ¡°True. I wouldn¡¯t call goblinkind evil, per se, but they are a brutal, contentious folk. Incompatible with the civilized collective. Next question. Did this Kuul teach you to control your dominion?¡± Jassin probed. I blinked. ¡°Uh. No. No, definitely not.¡± Even thinking of Kuul as a benevolent figure was so far out of my imagination, the notion hit me between the eyes and blasted my train of thought off the tracks. ¡°Hmm.¡± Was Jassin¡¯s reply to that. Then he slowly leaned back in his seat and began to stare out of the window, that pensive frown back on his face. Was that another test? Did I pass or fail? I had to admit, the man¡¯s poker face was fantastic. Sure, he showed emotion at appropriate times, but they felt almost too appropriate, as if even his candid moments were calculated to an extent, like he was allowing himself to be candid instead of it happening naturally. What was Jassin¡¯s deal? He came off like a university professor well enough except when he didn¡¯t, and I hadn¡¯t forgotten how his guards reacted when the noble proposed we ride together in the same car. That is to say, they didn¡¯t seem worried at all. They¡¯d found me hiding next to a big pile of corpses, covered in blood. Yet, they were more than willing to let me get next to their VIP. Why? Other than one brief display of magic when he stripped all the grime off my body, Jassin hadn¡¯t really shown much mojo. Was he particularly powerful or tricky? Was I riding around with Merlin or Harry Houdini? After a soft rap on the wall of the carriage, Garret poked his head in. ¡°My lord, we¡¯re about to enter the glade.¡± ¡°Thank you, Garret. Steady on until the spot, then.¡± ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± Garret replied with a grin, and then he was gone again. ¡°You¡¯re going to like this.¡± Jassin said with a smile that drew back his skin until his cheekbones looked like they wanted to burst from his face like alien parasites. ¡°Like what?¡± I asked. ¡°How would you like to see the sky, my boy?¡± The last time I¡¯d done that, it almost killed me. My feelings on the matter were appropriately mixed. ¡°Uh. Well-¡± ¡°No need to worry,¡± Jassin assured me as he held up his hands to forestall my answer. ¡°You won¡¯t need to take any precautions. It¡¯s perfectly safe. Well, more safe than the company you¡¯ve kept as of late.¡± I shrugged. ¡°Sure then. I guess so.¡± The nobleman scoffed. ¡°You guess so. You¡¯re far too young to be so jaded, Ryan. You¡¯re incredibly lucky to get this opportunity. Perhaps a look at the naked cosmos will change your outlook somewhat.¡± Jassin reached over and closed the curtains where I¡¯d been looking out, then did the same on the other side. I looked at him and tilted my head questioningly, but he just smiled and used a pen to write in the little notebook he liked to pull out from time to time. I got the distinct impression he was taking notes about me, but then again he probably wanted me to think that too. After a while, the carriage slowed to a stop, and there was a call to halt outside. Jassin peeked out of his side of the curtains, nodding to himself satisfactorily. The guards barked a couple terse orders to one another and took positions up around the carriage, then sounded the ¡®all clear.¡¯ ¡°Alright, go ahead,¡± Jassin said, indicating the door with his head. I gave him a sidelong glance, wondering what his game was, but I was already doing as he asked. I didn¡¯t need to be told twice to get some air after hours of riding. As I worked the latch and popped the door open, I could see Jassin staring at me as if looking for a reaction, but I didn¡¯t know what kind of reaction he wanted from me. So, I decided a quick exit was to my benefit, giving him less time to interrogate me without having to even use his words. I practically leaped out of the car. Outside, it was night but not pitch black like my first night on Ralqir or in the caves. Everything was so¡­ still. There was not a tree to be found for miles, no branches swaying overhead or leaves rustling in the wind. Nothing alive pressed down from above. Instead, there was sky. For the first time in what had to have been months, a huge open sky spread out above me. The stars, however, were all wrong. Stars were supposed to be diffuse. They were supposed to spread out in all directions, a tapestry of light that was everywhere you looked, courtesy of the big bang. That wasn¡¯t the case here. All around me, twinkling, loosely clustered streams of luminous blobs snaked their way across the night sky like ribbons on a kite, their writhing forms only broken by shadow-cloaked heavenly bodies close enough to obscure but not high enough to reflect the sun¡¯s rays from the other side of the planet. But the largest presence above took a huge chunk of the starscape for itself, dominating the night sky. It was a massive sphere of white and gray almost directly above our heads, and it bled green and pink auroras that palpated around its edges, throbbing bright enough to force me to squint. Closer to hand, soft, dark grass, highlighted silver with dew twitched in the gentle breeze. ¡°I always make it a point to stop here before I get to the city,¡± Jassin said from behind me. I turned back to see him staring upward just as I did, a slight, knowing smile on his face. The guards, however, were spread out around us, their eyes always on the swaying grass or on the treeline far away, now just a dark ripple on the horizon. The animals they rode didn¡¯t share their sense of duty, taking little munches of grass now that they were finally off the road and standing still. ¡°Breathtaking,¡± I said, not daring to say what I really thought. ¡®Impossible¡¯ was more like it. I grew up on a moon orbiting a gas giant orbiting a supergiant star. Orbital Mechanics featured prominently in our education, and everything I knew¡­ Ralqir¡¯s situation flew in the face of even the most basic principles of what I was taught. ¡°The streams of stars you see there are just two arms of the maelstrom. You can see the edges of more of them if you look near the horizon. The shadows in the sky are the remains of our sister planet, Brella, and, of course, it would be impossible to miss the moon, not so close to the city. You¡¯ll see it more clearly tomorrow.¡± I opened and closed my mouth like a fish out of water. ¡°It¡¯s a very busy sky,¡± was all I could get out. ¡°Huh,¡± he grunted, very unscholarly. ¡°Indeed, I suppose so, though no one has put it that way to me before. You have a strange perspective, young Ryan. Most react to their first open sky with some variation of joy or fear or religious awe. You, though, call it ¡®busy.¡¯ Unbelievable.¡± I didn¡¯t take my eyes off the sky, but I could feel Jassin staring at me, through me. What was he looking for? After a long moment, Jassin seemed to give up on eliciting some kind of response. ¡°All the same, I find that it teaches a sense of history and proportion. This view is what our ancestors learned to fear during the Purge, but now we study it with the naked eye, as long as we are here. The message is a bit more poignant now than during the day,¡± he said. He¡¯d said that before. ¡°During the day?¡± I asked, raising an eyebrow. ¡°Oh yes. You can come out during the day, my boy. This is the only place left on our planet where you can do so. While the rest of our world belongs to the Mendau, this is the last glade: Skyglade.¡± ¡°Because of the moon?¡± I guessed. ¡°Correct. Perhaps they still teach some history in Lavistal afterall.¡± I almost didn¡¯t catch the trap, my mouth already opening to ask more questions, but I caught myself in time. ¡°Vistia, you mean. I¡¯m Vistian.¡± ¡°Ah, yes. Of course. Anyway, I thought you might want to see this. Some people go their entire lives without seeing the sky in such resplendence. You might be able to get away with looking at the stars in a tiny clearing with slight cloud cover, but here, you are safe to study this as long as you like, thanks to the moon¡¯s proximity. In fact, many have dedicated their lives to doing so at the observatory. A little farther up the road, and you would be able to see the top of the tower there.¡± ¡°In Eclipse,¡± I said as one of the pieces of the puzzle that was Ralqir fell into place for me. Of course the city¡¯s name was Eclipse. ¡°The name is a little on the nose isn¡¯t it?¡± Jassin cleared his throat. ¡°Yes. Quite so. I probably would have named it something sufficiently poetic if it were up to me, but the Crusaders that liberated this land were not known for their imagination. No matter the name, it is the Dark Lord¡¯s parting gift to the people of our world after he set the Purge in motion.¡± Switching gears, the nobleman sighed contentedly, twisting at the waist and extending his arms into a good stretch. ¡°Alright, let¡¯s get to the city. I have to check in before morning if I don¡¯t want to be given a demerit, and the sooner I get to the university, the sooner I can examine your condition and send you on your way.¡± Chapter 25 - Join a Sect Chapter 25 - Join a Sect We rode through the night, the wagon wheels, the clacking of hooves, and the clicks and chirrups of the multitude of insects keeping us company. Jassin didn¡¯t have much else to say after we got back into the car, which was fine by me. The guards, however, seemed to liven up slightly after we¡¯d been in the glade for a while, laughing at little personal jokes or occasionally singing some tune or another. I could see why their spirits were up. This place was so open. Skyglade was more of a wet grassland than a mere gap in the tree cover. After the murky claustrophobia of the swamp where something nasty, like ,say, a goblin with an electric ax, might jump out at you from behind the next tree, I imagined the guards thought the wide open spaces of the clearing were downright relaxing. There were still unknowns such as the occasional naturally forming pond or clump of thick shrubbery, but ambushers would largely have a much harder time getting close enough to do damage here. Jassin spent much of his time writing in his notebook or staring thoughtfully out of the window. Once in a while, we would pass clusters of moonlit wooden buildings that had the look of homesteads or maybe stables. None of their windows were lit, and nothing moved in their vicinity except for the grass. The homesteads themselves were more than just still. They looked abandoned or at least buttoned up to such a degree that I couldn¡¯t imagine anyone living there. We never lingered at any of these places, and the guards seemed to dislike them as well, growing silent when we passed and keeping their fingers on their triggers until we were well down the road. After a couple more hours of travel, I was back to dreaming again, this time about my workshop, but I didn¡¯t get too far into it before Garret called for a halt then leaned down to poke his head into the window. He looked troubled. ¡°We¡¯ve arrived at the gate, my lord,¡± ¡°Is there a problem?¡± Jassin asked. Garret sniffed and waggled his mustache. ¡°It¡¯s closed. We haven¡¯t been challenged yet, but I¡¯m about to knock.¡± Jassin groaned softly. ¡°I knew I should have slept during the ride. Feel free to mention my name to get us through quickly. Tell them it¡¯s imperative I get to the university as soon as possible.¡± The old soldier grinned at that and gave us a wink that pulled one side of his mustache up to nearly cover his eye. Then he rode away from the window and shouted something short and multi-toned up at the gate. It didn¡¯t sound like a word, otherwise the System would have helped me understand, but Garret had vocalized something. Maybe they were using some kind of code. ¡°Yes? State your name and your business!¡± Someone challenged from a distance. ¡°Lord Trayalo Jassin and his men at arms here to report to the Black University for a period of tenure!¡± Garret answered. There was a brief pause, but then the challenging voice came back. ¡°Alright then. Get off your mounts and get everyone out of the carriage for inspection.¡± Jassin sat up suddenly, his expression dark, eyes darting around the carriage almost like he was assembling an invisible puzzle with his eyes. I mirrored his posture, not knowing exactly why, but I could intuit that something was wrong. ¡°Is that strictly necessary?¡± Garret asked hesitantly. ¡°My lord must get to his post with haste.¡± ¡°¡®Fraid so,¡± the gate guard replied. His voice sounded weary, like a man that had been through this routine countless times, and he¡¯d answered this very question ad nauseam. ¡°By whose authority?!¡± Jassin leaned out of the window and shouted his question to the gate guard. ¡°I hope you know who you are detaining here and what my standing is.¡± There was a slight pause before the man replied, and when he did so, it was apparent that he didn¡¯t appreciate Jassin¡¯s tone. ¡°We are all very impressed, my lord, but I have orders from the Prefect herself that everyone must be inspected before they enter the city. In this city, the Prefect has perfect authority to do as she requires, and, right now, she requires we do this. Now, if it pleases your lordship, get everyone out in the open so we can do this and get on with our lives,¡± the gate guard shouted. ¡°With all due respect, of course, m¡¯lord,¡± he added at the end. When Jassin brought his head back into the car, he didn¡¯t look angry like he¡¯d sounded. Instead, he did that thing where he looked through me as if the answer to his unspoken question was written on my bones, and it was mildly inconvenient he couldn¡¯t just crack me open to put the mystery to bed. Wanting out of the carriage anyway, I put my hand on the latch to do as the gate guard said, but Jassin put a hand on my wrist. His grip was strong, cold. ¡°Wait,¡± he hissed. Then he reached under his seat and knocked on the delicately carved wood, once, twice, then several more, a single knuckle at a time in some kind of pattern. A vertically hinged door I hadn¡¯t noticed yet popped open forcefully as if it were spring loaded to reveal a hidden compartment about the size of a dresser drawer. I couldn¡¯t see the contents properly in the dim light, but Jassin apparently knew what he was looking for. He bent down and rifled through the little cubby, pulling out various objects, jewelry chains, fabric, bound stacks of paper, a cane, holding them up in the light to check them then shaking his head as he discarded them. After a minute he found what he was looking for, and he handed it to me. It was a folded length of long orange cloth, soft to the touch like some of the nicer clothes I had back on Proxis. ¡°Put that on,¡± Jassin whispered. I raised a curious eyebrow. ¡°Put it on what?¡± ¡°Your head. Tie it in the back.¡± ¡°Why?¡± I asked. ¡°In case they have the wrong type of practitioner on gate duty tonight,¡± he said as he stuffed everything back into the compartment and snapped the door shut again. Outside there was a deep, loud groan accompanied by a reverberating clatter of metal on wood. I pictured an enormous gate with half-ton hinges being pulled open by chains big enough to moore a cargo ship. ¡°Gate¡¯s opening, my lord,¡± Garret reported from outside. Yeah. No kidding, Garret. ¡°Hurry!¡± Jassin commanded, but when he saw the blank look on my face, he blew out an angry sigh and reached up to drape the cloth over my head. ¡°Here. Hold still. Listen to me carefully.¡± He tugged on the fabric, tightening it until it felt like a snug cap. Then he wrenched the back to force me to look into his eyes and see how serious he was. ¡°Listen. You are a monk of the Order of Dawn. You¡¯ve been imbued with a sacred duty that brought you to Eclipse. Brothers of your order are not a loquacious bunch, so no one will expect you to speak more than one or two words. Use that.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± I said. I would have shaken my head, but Jassin was currently ratcheting the cloth tight around my skull. ¡°Why do I need to hide?¡± ¡°I know you don¡¯t understand,¡± he replied, ¡°but you need to do this if you don¡¯t want to draw suspicion. Take off your shirt and try to look dangerous. They¡¯ll be put off and less suspicious if they see your dominion sign out in the open. Your aura will help sell it.¡± With a boom, the racket outside subsided. ¡°Half a platoon coming outside, lord,¡± Garret said quietly from behind the curtain. With a grunt, Jassin cinched the knot on the cloth tight enough to make it feel uncomfortable. He¡¯d covered my entire head with it like a skull cap. ¡°Take off your shirt, and let¡¯s go.¡± ¡°Why am I hiding?¡± I asked. I didn¡¯t like this. Yes, there was plenty I didn¡¯t want out in the open, but Jassin didn¡¯t necessarily know that. What interest did he have in keeping my secrets all of a sudden? ¡°Because of what you are,¡± Jassin hissed, pleading, forceful, almost desperate. I held my breath. ¡°Getting closer, Lord Jassin,¡± Garret mumbled from outside the window. I swallowed the lump in my throat and weighed my possible replies. ¡°Because I¡¯m a wildling,¡± was the one I went with. Jassin just glared at me, his mouth moving around like he was chewing on the inside of his lip. There was a long, pregnant pause where the air froze between us. ¡°Yes. Exactly,¡± he replied tersely. ¡°Now go. You need to leave before I do. Be forceful. Confident.¡± My mind flashed back to my cell under the mountain. I frowned at him, but the man didn¡¯t budge, silently pleading for me to go along with it. Hesitatingly, I slipped the shirt over my head, feeling the chill in the air prickle my skin as Jassin flung the carriage door open, committing us to this plan. Taking a deep breath, I stepped out into the night, jumping down from the car to land on the smooth cobblestones of the road. We were parked in a wide semi-circular plaza overlooked by an imposing black wall made of stone and reinforced with thick strips of banded metal that ran along the bottom ten feet, interwoven with one another like wicker. The gate had to have been thirty feet high, thick as my entire body, and operated via pulleys and chains whose links probably weighed more than one of our furry mounts. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. Around us was a little ¡®town¡¯ of wooden structures that had the same abandoned feeling as the previous homesteads. Stalls sat empty in sloppy lines that formed a labyrinth of ramshackle wood, while the bigger buildings, inns, depots, shops, and the like, loomed darkly over the rest, some of their wooden signs creaking as they rocked in the breeze. Somewhere out of sight, a door slammed against its housings over and over in time with the wind. ¡°Hey.¡± An elbow nudged me in the side. Garret was there with his crossbow pointed downward and his finger off the trigger. ¡°Look alive,¡± he said, nodding to show me where to look. Two columns of six soldiers stood in front of us, well apart from Jassin¡¯s guards who stood in a similar formation but more informally. The two parties were just close enough to speak without shouting. Most of the soldiers wore heavy looking black breastplates of banded mail with sleeves of chain that came down to thick leather gloves with metal plates that ran up the backs of their fingers and hands. All but two of them stood at attention with long pikes. The odd ones out carried big crossbows that, judging by the soldiers¡¯ postures, were particularly heavy. Steam rolled out of the fronts of their darkened helmets and rose in clouds from their shoulders. Was it really that cold? I certainly felt the chill on my skin, but it only went as far as that. Jassin was next to me then. ¡°Stop gawking. Look more menacing,¡± he muttered from the side of his mouth. I¡¯d forgotten that part. It would certainly be helpful if I knew why I was playing a character here. I flexed my fingers into fists and put on a scowl, the kind I remember my dad wearing, though I was sure it would be more convincing if I still had eyebrows. Garret stepped forward and addressed the soldier on the front left of the formation. ¡°This seems pretty irregular, Sergeant.¡± ¡°Aye. It is, sir. Highly irregular indeed,¡± the Sergeant said with a yawn. ¡°This has been protocol for two months now, and it¡¯s got me and my boys stretched thin. If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d like my people to get started on the search, so we can all get back inside and safe.¡± Garret looked at Jassin who, after a second¡¯s hesitation, gave a slight nod. The Sergeant didn¡¯t waste any time. He waved his soldiers on, and each of them picked a place to search, having people turn out their packs and saddles. A couple others climbed into the carriage and poked around inside. If Jassin was worried they would find his hidden compartment with weird props, he didn¡¯t look like it. ¡°What is this all about, Sergeant?¡± Jassin asked, his tone exaggeratedly imperious veering well into snobbish territory when he said the guard¡¯s rank. Apparently, I wasn¡¯t the only one playing a character tonight. The ruse was so obnoxiously effective that even I fought to not roll my eyes and dismiss the man as a spoiled child in an adult¡¯s body, and I was in on the joke. ¡°Please tell your men to be careful. Some of the tools I carry in my things are sensitive. If your men break anything, I will lodge a formal complaint.¡± The Sergeant sighed, closing his eyes to gather his patience, bringing a gloved hand up to rub them. Then he stepped forward to stand a polite, conversational distance from Garret, Jassin, and myself. When he answered, it was easy to tell he was doing his best not to lose his temper, and he seemed to meet Garret¡¯s and my eyes more often than Jassin¡¯s. ¡°It¡¯s plague, my lord. A possible one at least.¡± Jassin¡¯s eyes shot over to me and back. ¡°What is the nature of this plague?¡± ¡°So far, I¡¯ve been told very little, my lord. I¡¯m just doing my part. What we meager guardsmen are looking for are stowaways, artifacts, and suspicious characters. If you have questions about specifics you may want to ask the representative of the church when they get here. They¡¯ll be performing the check for sickness.¡± The guard Sergeant turned to me and bowed slightly, making some kind of finger gesture on his forehead, too fast for me to follow. ¡°It¡¯s good to see you¡¯ve come, Rising Sun. Welcome from the faithful. The church will be happy for the help, if no one else.¡± Not knowing what else to do, I nodded to him while I kept my scowl going. Jassin wasn¡¯t ready to give up his objections though. ¡°Is getting the church involved strictly necessary, Sergeant? I¡¯m sure the university has someone on staff that can examine us once we check in. Their medical department is top notch, and we¡¯ve been delayed enough.¡± ¡°¡®Fraid so, my lord,¡± the guard said again. ¡°So far, the church are the only ones able to pick the sick from the rest. Normally, I¡¯d have someone go get you a drink or food from the inn, but we¡¯re a bit short on hospitality outside the walls as of late. Goblins and beasts are everywhere now. Have to bring everybody back in for the night a lot of the time. I have a cousin that runs one of the beer halls out here, and it¡¯s been hell for business.¡± ¡°I assure you, we¡¯ve had no contact with the plague, and we¡¯ve not stopped long enough to be at great risk. I¡¯m also obligated to begin work at the university immediately under the Queen¡¯s orders, which supersede your authority. I demand passage to the head office where we may go through examination there.¡± Jassin was pulling rank on the poor guy now, using his title as a bludgeon. There was a strained edge to his voice I might not have been able to pick up on if I hadn¡¯t ridden around with him for hours before. He was dialing up the ¡®noble¡¯ part of his personality, and it was already pretty prominent. ¡°Sorry, my lord. No one gets in without the church checking them over. You may file a grievance with the Prefect in the morning if you like, but for now, we have to wait.¡± ¡°Worry not, Sergeant Imar. Your wait is over,¡± a rich basso voice called from the direction of the open gates. A man in white robes was there, approaching the rest of us. In his hand he carried a staff whose head burned with bright yellow flame. He walked upright and lightly, like he didn¡¯t need the staff to walk, leading me to suspect it was a totem of his office. He was a large being, easily head and shoulders taller than me and overly thick in neck and belly, though his robes hid the latter well. He had slitted eyes, a wide, flat nose, and an enormous mouth that seemed to stretch from ear to ear, and his glossy black skin caught and distorted the firelight in interesting ways, creating little yellow ghosts that danced on his shiny, bald head. Once the robed man got within thirty feet or so of us, the air warmed by at least ten degrees. The change was so sudden, it was shocking, like a switch being flipped. I could feel my blood flow returning to my skin and restoring the color that the cold had leached from it. Strangely, even as the man drew closer, the heat never got more intense. I was just suddenly warmer and more comfortable while, two seconds ago, I wasn¡¯t. ¡°Bishop Kolash,¡± the Sergeant gasped, suddenly very present and eager to please. ¡°I apologize. I hadn¡¯t realized you would be coming yourself, your holiness. This is a routine check, and I wouldn¡¯t have bothered your holiness with it if-¡± ¡°No need to apologize, Sergeant,¡± the bishop boomed with a smile that pulled the corners of his mouth back until I couldn¡¯t see them anymore, and I had to assume they just kept going until they met at the back of his head. ¡°It¡¯s only fair I take the night shift from time to time just as I ask of our more junior members. Now, let¡¯s get on with it so our guests may enter and rest. The road is dangerous of late, and I¡¯m sure their bodies and minds could use the respite.¡± The Sergeant, all sweetness and light now, hopped to, placing himself to the side so that he could present us to the bishop. ¡°Your holiness, we hadn¡¯t quite gotten to the introductions yet, but they seem like reasonable folk. Cooperative at least.¡± Kolash tilted his head from side to side, his head seeming to rotate in place without having to bend his neck. He was holding his staff aloft now, lighting us all from above, so I was having a hard time making the man¡¯s face out properly. However, I could see that he¡¯d closed his eyes. Then, without warning, his mouth opened wide, wide enough to swallow my head, and he let out a sound that was a cross between an engine backfire, an out of tune horn section, and a belch. Something¡­ odd¡­ passed through me, a shockwave of sound and purpose that rattled my insides and threw off my equilibrium. The atoms in my body vibrated and shifted, rubbing together in sympathetic harmony with the discordant note. Yet, whatever this was, once it passed, left me feeling clear headed and refreshed. Aches and sore muscles I hadn¡¯t realized I had loosened their grips on my already taxed nervous system, fading away. The sleepiness I¡¯d been fighting was replaced with a calm restfulness I¡¯d not felt in years. Tears welled up in my eyes, though I didn¡¯t know why. It was like surviving a storm and seeing the sun again. I turned to look at the others. Jassin had fared much much worse than I had. He staggered on his feet before he caught hold of Garret¡¯s shoulder, and the guardsman steadied his master with a strong hand under the noble¡¯s arm. The guards didn¡¯t seem to be affected at all. ¡°I apologize for the discomfort you are feeling,¡± Kolash burped, a little bit of the multi-toned magic still echoing in his voice. My eyes tried to unfocus again, but the power wasn¡¯t nearly as overwhelming this time. The bishop shook his head ruefully. ¡°Secular practitioners are contrary creatures, so focused on shielding themselves from others to the point that you won¡¯t readily allow the Light into your being. Yet you open yourself to the raw forces of creation. It is a contradiction that I have yet to understand fully.¡± ¡°Not raw,¡± Jassin coughed, shaking his head and waving Garret away. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Garret. I¡¯m fine. The power we focus is not raw, Bishop. In fact, it¡¯s quite the opposite, since we¡¯ve built our dominions, sometimes over generations. The problem lies in our natural reluctance to trust just any old spell to sweep through our bodies and souls like it¡¯s spring cleaning, but you probably already knew that.¡± The bishop smiled and bowed his head slightly in acknowledgement. Jassin straightened his robe and stood upright again, his lordly presence reasserted. ¡°I assume you found no plague, and we may now be on our way?¡± ¡°None of you are carriers of the plague as far as I can tell,¡± Kolash declared. ¡°Light clear your way.¡± Then he turned to me, another one of those too-wide smiles on his face. He reached forward and placed a heavy, three-fingered hand on my bare shoulder. His palms were paler than the rest of him with the disturbing addition of being rough and slightly sticky. ¡°Brother, it is a welcome surprise to find you here. We did not expect our plea to be answered by one such as yourself, but you are most welcome in our city. It is an honor to have a Rising Sun grace us with his unique expertise,¡± he declared. ¡°Come. Let us leave scholar business to scholars. We will prepare a room for you at the sanctuary. Food as well.¡± Just then, I remembered I was supposed to be looking menacing, so I didn¡¯t reply out loud. I set my mouth in a stoic frown and shook my head meaningfully. Jassin spoke up. ¡°Oh? Is this necessary, bishop? I promised to our monk friend I would take him as far as the university, and I am a man of my word.¡± ¡°The church thanks you for your service, sir,¡± Kolash replied, not turning to address the noble, instead keeping his gaze fixed solely upon me. His tone held unwavering authority, however, along with a little menace. ¡°I suggest you leave us church folk to our business, and you go about yours. If you would like to show our brother your university, we can arrange that easily at a future date.¡± I narrowed my eyes and shook my head again. ¡°No. No. I insist, Brother. I¡¯m sure you are keen to begin your work, but you would benefit greatly from the church¡¯s support. There is much you must know.¡± I resisted the urge to look at Jassin for some kind of clue. What exactly did this guy want? What¡¯s more, what would a monk of the¡­ uh¡­ Order of Dawn do in this situation? ¡°Need I pull rank?¡± The bishop asked, raising the ridge of one eye where you would normally find eyebrows. This close to him, he looked way less human than from afar. Not only was his skin midnight black, but its sheen wasn¡¯t sweat. It was texture, smooth and damp. What¡¯s more, his tiny eyes were bright yellow orbs with ameba shaped blotches for pupils. Staring into those things, my mind raced, grasping for some kind of way to get out, but I found nothing but partial plans and probable failure. Initially, I was hoping to get away from Jassin and his people as soon as possible once we got into the city. I had money from the bodies I¡¯d looted on the road, and I could probably sell a few things to get a room somewhere. Then I could find a way to get provisions and get out there on my own again, away from people that asked too many questions¡­ like Jassin. What does he know? What does he suspect? Could I do the same thing with this church? The bishop was promising a room, perhaps a private room. What¡¯s more, they didn¡¯t expect me to speak too much. Fewer words meant fewer opportunities to out myself as an alien. I also got the impression a Rising Sun was a position of some prestige, and I could assume they would watch me less closely than Jassin and his people. That was what clinched it in the end. Jassin wasn¡¯t what he seemed, and he was very concerned with keeping me close by. Going with the church would give me the option to slip away or to build good will with Jassin by undergoing his examination by choice as opposed to under threat as before. Decision made, I nodded to Kolash and gestured with my hand to get him to lead the way. Bishop Kolash started away immediately, his long legs eating up a deceptive amount of road and forcing me to hurry to keep up. With the big man¡¯s back to me, I turned back to look apologetically at Jassin, whose eyes bulged with fury. Storm clouds roiled behind his eyes, and a thick vein throbbed just beneath the skin of his forehead. I gave him a little shrug and broke out into a jog to catch up with my giant guide. Chapter 26 - Answer the Call Chapter 26 - Answer the Call Bishop Kolash was largely silent as we went through the sleeping city. His pace was quick, his long legs eating up a surprising amount of distance while his staff *panged* on the cobblestones underfoot. I still wasn¡¯t wearing shoes, making the pace and the makeup of the street an unpleasant experience, but my feet hurt in the conventional way, not the bare-skin-on-quellstone, knives-in-my-bones way. Apparently, the city itself wasn¡¯t paved in the stuff, which was a relief. I couldn¡¯t imagine a scenario where having life-sucking rocks right outside your house was a good thing. Really need to get some boots or something before I leave. The thoroughfare was a wide river of gray banked with impenetrable walls of hulking, wooden buildings jammed tightly onto either side, packed so thick they could all be mistaken for a solid structure like the city walls. The road sloped gently down from the gate where we left Jassin and his people, just enough that I was able to feel it like I was being guided along by a sluggish current. Most buildings were several floors tall with canted roofs that sloped away from us, big shuttered windows, and awnings covering wide wooden stoops only a few steps off street level. Every set of doors that led to our road was tall and wide, and every one sported multiple fat, wooden signs that swung on long metal poles stretching diagonally up and out over the street, each trying to reach longer than the other. The shape and color of the signage was of such variety, the gently swaying planks so numerous they probably cast the street in shade much like the forest canopy we¡¯d left behind. ¡®Was that comforting for people to live under?¡¯ I wondered. On a planet so dominated by greenery, maybe some folk felt living under an open sky was a touch unnerving. I didn¡¯t know what time it was, but I got the feeling we were in that fun part of the morning where it was too late to go to bed but too early to be awake. Almost no one was out and about, and there were very few signs of life. There were exceptions to that rule though. A few chimneys billowed smoke, and I could smell the tantalizing scent of baking bread and the rich, greasy aroma of spiced meat somewhere out there. Sightings of fellow travelers were rare, and they tended to shy away from us, or, more likely, the light on the Bishop¡¯s staff, instead sticking to the side of the road or turning down the much narrower side streets upon spotting us. Occasionally, we¡¯d pass a stoop with a snoring figure curled up against the building¡¯s entrance door, presumably leeching some of the heat from under the sweep. As we left the gate area, the slope of the terrain steepened, carrying us down lower until our street intersected with another of a similar, expansive width where, together, they formed a square. Cold fog pooled on the ground, ankle deep and thick as soup, and the stones were slick with moisture. In the center of the square stood an empty black plinth that, at one time, had an inscription on its front, but someone had taken great care to destroy the writing with something sharp. The familiar, icy fingers of the quellstone were back with me as soon as I stepped foot into the intersection. I could feel it under my bare feet, and though I couldn¡¯t see it, I could feel that the stones had sizeable, regular gaps between them like the spaces of a grate. A drainage system maybe? That makes some sense. It¡¯s huge, though. Where does it go? Why pave it with quellstone? A solitary figure dressed in loose gray robes worked a push broom on the far corner of the square, supposedly the only person out at this hour not on their way to somewhere. The bristles of its broom made a harsh, *shck* *shck* sound loud enough to carry across to us, and something about the aimless, spasmodic way in which they worked drew my eye. The way the worker carried themselves. The way they moved. The lack of pauses, single mindedly scraping their broom across the same stones over and over again. Their hood prevented me from seeing their face or a general shape, turned away from me like they were, but the skin on the workers¡¯ hands, the parts not covered in bandages at least, looked purple and bruised. Every couple seconds the hood of the robe would list to the side as if the person within couldn¡¯t hold up its head or didn¡¯t care to. The Bishop didn¡¯t pay the figure much mind, however, taking a right to head down a different street, and I did my best to stay in his shadow, keeping a low profile and pretending to know what I was doing while making it look natural. A sort of, blend in by looking like I had nothing to hide, sort of thing. It was an art, really. Soon, my feet were back on regular cobblestone, and we were headed back up into another district. Stealth is now level 5. Upgrade paths available: Reduced Presence Gray Man One with the Shadows Huh? This was the second time Stealth had leveled without me realizing I was using it. Sure, I was trying to hide, but I was in plain sight. The first time this happened was during my first night in the forest as I slept. I was hiding in the hollow of a tree when I¡¯d leveled it in my sleep. The other times were more overt uses of the skill where I¡¯d hidden from the big creature in the tutorial facility and then when I was hiding from Jassin¡¯s guards. That brought into question exactly how it worked. Was it my intent that mattered? Regardless, I¡¯d hidden from something. Successfully. As we climbed another hill away from the foggy square, the character of the city changed significantly. Gone were the shoulder to shoulder buildings, replaced by rows of evenly spaced and trimmed trees, lit from beneath by yellow lights. Planters the size of tractor tires sat next to empty stone benches, and the gentle rustle of the wind and trickle of water from triangular marble fountains lent background noise to the early morning silence. We approached the Bishop¡¯s church from the side. Easily the biggest building I¡¯d encountered so far, the structure was in the rough shape of a prism with a triangular front and back with a long bit in the middle. Carved stone and polished wood made up the base which gave way to a baffling array of colorful stained glass for the roof that stretched up to the building¡¯s tip. The church was lit from the inside, making the glass glow warmly in the early morning dark, a beacon for those that could see it. We entered through double doors set into the wide base of the street facing side and stepped into a warmly lit foyer, big enough to hold fifty or so people, with lots of gray fabric over old and multi-hued polished wood. From inside, the stained glass ceiling looked dark, but I imagined it was quite a sight to see during the day when the sun was out. A lit brazier crackled and popped in the center of the room, illuminating another set of double doors, these with round metal knockers, leading out of this room. The bishop led me over to the fixture. ¡°Ah. Here we are,¡± Kolash said, pausing to stretch and take the place in like he was coming home after a long day. Then he reached up to the head of his staff and plucked the dancing flame from the head, cupping it in his palm before tipping it into the brazier. The orange flame trickled out of his shovel-sized hand like liquid, and the bowl whooshed, flaring high enough to touch the Bishop¡¯s skin. He didn¡¯t show any sign that the heat had harmed him, though. ¡°Your holiness!¡± someone yipped, their voice muffled by the doors beyond the brazier. Muted scrabbling noises came from behind the wall followed by a *bang,* and one of the doors rattled slightly. Muffled grunts could be heard as well as soft scratches as someone struggled to do something on the other side of the wall. Then, with the sound of some kind of mechanical latch being disengaged, one of the doors clicked and swung open for us to enter. ¡°Shall we, brother?¡± Kolash asked before stepping through the doorway and into the next room, a sanctuary of some kind with rows and rows of wooden pews all facing a pair of altars on a raised dais of smokey gray stone. I made to follow, reflexively reaching out to keep the door from closing as I passed through, but my hand came down on something fuzzy and warm¡­ and wiggly. The high-pitched shriek that wanted to burst out of my mouth didn¡¯t quite make it to freedom. I caught myself in time and turned it into a sort of gasp that bordered on a wheeze. Reflexively, I brought my hands up as if to take a swing at the thing before I could stop myself, but the damage was done. ¡°Oh! Excuse me! I¡¯m sorry!¡± yipped the little voice yet again, this time from what I¡¯d taken for a door handle before. This door did have a handle made of thick brass, but there was a creature hanging from it. It was three feet long with triangular ears on top of its head, a pointed nose, and covered from head to toe with brown and black fur almost identical in hue to the wood of the door. The robe it wore, tan but for bright white stitches on the seams, hung loosely from its shoulders and arms. Dropping back down to the floor and scrambling on all fours, it got a polite distance from me before standing back up on its back legs, rubbing its front paws together nervously. Its wide, black eyes stared up at me, and its ears flattened as it bowed in my direction. ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, I didn¡¯t mean to startle Brother- uh- mister Brother of the Dawn.¡± Kolash boomed with laughter that echoed from the hard surfaces of the church and shook my squishy bits. It was a strange sort of laugh, like he was both amused and violently sick, featuring a lot of burps and gurgles. If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. What exactly was I looking at here? Apparently, the bishop could read my expression well enough to answer my unasked question. ¡°You have never met a Volpa before, I take it, and the way you look at me, Rahns must be in short supply in your monastery as well.¡± I nodded reluctantly, not wanting to offend, and I set my jaw, back to looking severe and hoping to not just come off as having a bout of constipation. The fox creature shrunk slightly under my gaze, like he desperately wanted to hide. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Mister Brother of- Brother of the Dawn, sir. It happens a lot. I realize that I am very small. I didn¡¯t mean to-¡± ¡°Yik¡¯i¡¯trix, the proper way to address him is simply, Brother. You are of the same rank. Despite his order¡¯s pedigree, we are all part of the same church. Am I correct?¡± Kolash asked me with a raised ¡®eyebrow.¡¯ I nodded again. I wasn¡¯t about to argue with the Bishop. I was a holy man now, afterall. Looking down at the little fox creature, the Volpa, I allowed my frown to slip for a moment. Yik¡¯i¡¯trix wasn¡¯t hearing of it, though. He bowed low again. ¡°I¡¯m not sure I¡¯m comfortable with that, your holiness, but I will try to address him properly. May I ask our Brother¡¯s name so that I may apologize formally, your holiness?¡± ¡°He has not told me,¡± Kolash said. ¡°We were just about to get into that in my office.¡± ¡°Oh, well, I apologize, Brother. I hope I can assist you in whatever you need while you are here. Would you like food or water? I am very fast, and I know my way around the kitchen.¡± I shot a glance over at Kolash, who simply looked on with quiet amusement. I really wasn¡¯t comfortable with the bowing and scraping, especially if it was directed at me. The concept of this kind of hierarchy felt foreign and ridiculous to me. My dad was the Headman of the Clan, but that just meant he made decisions when the council wasn¡¯t in session. No one thought he was any better than the rest of us. My people had a saying: ¡°Bow to no one, stand for mankind,¡± and we generally meant it. I swallowed quietly, hoping this didn¡¯t set a precedent. ¡°My name is Ryan,¡± I said, keeping things short and simple. I regretted it immediately. Yik¡¯i¡¯trix did this full body shudder thing starting small at his tail, and it crept all the way up until his head practically shook off of his shoulders and his ears made slapping sounds against his skull. ¡°Oh! Brother Ryan, you honor me with your voice. I promise I will treat being one of your trusted few with the respect it deserves.¡± Now he was bowing even lower, practically vibrating on the floor. My first day as a monk is going swimmingly. Jassin, if I see you again, we¡¯re going to have words. Kolash saved me from this supremely awkward moment with one of his half-belches. He was doing that more and more now that we weren¡¯t in public. A cultural thing maybe? ¡°Hurp. Yes, it is a great honor, I am sure, Yik¡¯i¡¯trix. Now, please, do go and get our new guest some refreshments. Bring them to my office. Also, prepare a room for him.¡± ¡°Yes! Yes!¡± The little Volpa took off like a shot. He ran on all fours, slipping beneath pews and taking corners at great speed, the rapid padding of his feet the only sounds we could hear until an unseen door creaked and subsequently slammed somewhere out of sight. ¡°Come. Bwoorf. Before you gain a full retinue,¡± Kolash rumbled with obvious displeasure, leading me swiftly further into the church. I followed him all the way down the center aisle between the pews until we hooked a left and went through an unassuming archway and into a set of plain hallways at the end of which was the Bishop¡¯s office. The hulking bishop propped his staff against the wall by the door and walked around his huge desk to sit in his equally huge chair, gesturing for me to sit as well, in (if you could believe it) another huge chair. The size of everything in the room made the ink pots, pens, seals, papers and scrolls on the bishop¡¯s desk seem like they belonged to a child, but I suspected if I reached out and took one, I¡¯d be holding something pretty standard sized for a human. ¡°I think you just made Yik¡¯i¡¯Trix¡¯s year, Brother Ryan, but I ask that you don¡¯t get his hopes up too much,¡± Kolash said with a deep, concerned frown that subdivided his head in interesting ways. I knit what used to be my eyebrows together to communicate how confused I was. Two people in the room, and not an eyebrow between us. It takes¡­ what?... Weeks? To grow back hair? ¡°Speak, please, Brother Ryan. I promise not to ask it of you often.¡± I just sat there, stone faced. The last time I¡¯d spoken, I¡¯d nearly made a tiny fox man pee himself. I had no desire to continue that trajectory. Kolash cleared his throat. ¡°Urp. Very well. Consider it an order. Know that I do not do this lightly. We will need to communicate if we are to solve this problem of ours. Now speak.¡± Apparently, the bishop was my superior. I remembered him saying something like that before. Noted. Let¡¯s keep this conversation away from me. ¡°What do you mean by not getting his hopes up?¡± I asked. ¡°Yik¡¯i¡¯trix¡¯s dream is to belong to a militant sect of the church. Your order is something a cut above, a reputation well cultivated and I have no reason to doubt. Since you just took him into your confidence by sharing your voice with him, he might have hopes of following you back to your monastery to undergo the trials.¡± I scratched the back of my head where my monk¡¯s head covering came together in its knot. ¡°And that would be bad?¡± Kolash sighed and leaned over to look worriedly past me to the door before answering. ¡°Yik¡¯i¡¯Trix has many talents and a kind soul. His place isn¡¯t on a battlefield. It would ruin him.¡± I furrowed my brow, contemplating. ¡°Shouldn¡¯t that be up to him?¡± I asked. Of course, the little guy was adorable, but why shouldn¡¯t he be allowed to build himself up and fight? I spent years wishing I could do that very thing back home. ¡°Of course, brorp,¡± Kolash acknowledged. ¡°He is free to serve how he sees fit, but if you do not plan to initiate him, do not give him reason to hope. I was surprised when you deigned to speak to him and bring him into your confidence. I would have rather had this discussion beforehand, but I suppose the damage is done now.¡± He had me there. I hadn¡¯t realized a word from me would mean so much, but I had to roll with it now. ¡°Like you said. We need to communicate if we¡¯re going to solve our problem.¡± ¡°The plague.¡± The bishop¡¯s lips parted and a deep, displeasured croak escaped from his maw. ¡°I take it, things are dire,¡± I guessed. He shook his head. ¡°No, not yet, but situations like this can escalate quickly. What did your order tell you before you came?¡± The Bishop asked. ¡°Some,¡± I said, leaning forward to listen intently. ¡°but I would like to hear it all from you.¡± Deception is now level 4. The door to the office creaked open, and Yik¡¯i¡¯trix poked his head inside, his pointy, satellite dish ears angled toward me but his eyes on the bishop. ¡°I have food and drink for you both, your holiness.¡± The bishop leaned forward to see over his desk, all smiles again.¡°Yes, Yik¡¯i¡¯trix, bring it in, please.¡± The Volpa disappeared for a second then came back inside, balancing a tray on his head with two arms supporting the underside while he walked on his hind legs. He¡¯d made what looked like little finger sandwiches with sliced cheese and greens with a pitcher of water and cups to wash it all down. He served the bishop first then myself. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said after taking the offered cup. The finger sandwiches called to me, even more tempting than the mockvine¡¯s deer girl illusion. I hadn¡¯t had anything green in months, and cheese was something rare even on Proxis. My stomach gurgled. Yik¡¯i¡¯trix did that full body shudder again, nearly dropping the now empty tray, but then he bowed and waddled back out of the room. Kolash looked at me reproachfully, grunting with displeasure, but he didn¡¯t chastise me. You go and live your dream, little guy. Don¡¯t let the frog man keep you down. The bishop downed his water in one, long, pull, then set the cup atop a stack of papers. ¡°As I was saying. The situation is becoming dire. The plague is a most vexing one, incurable by any method we possess other than the most radical of purge procedures, and even then patients do not survive the curing. We started seeing it three months ago, when the goblin tribes began to cross the mountains and the truly desperate came knocking on our gates. A trade caravan was set upon by a large pack of feral goblins, black of skin, long claws, completely mad. The caravan lost people, but they were able to put the goblins down. However, when they arrived in the city, one of their Returned started showing symptoms.¡± I tilted my head to indicate I was listening and wanted to know more, hoping Kolash would take the cue instead of requiring a more specific question. ¡°I know. Returned being affected by plague. Outlandish on its face, but we are cursed to live in interesting times. The sickness manifests in hallucinations, nervous twitching, nonsense speech, and violent outbursts. It¡¯s horrible to see, especially among such a vulnerable population as our Returned. We went back to the site of the battle to try and get a sample of the plague carrier, but the bodies were gone, either taken by scavengers or carried off by others of their kind.¡± My brain was going a mile a minute, trying to think of appropriate, intelligent questions to ask. ¡°How long does the plague take to run its course?¡± Was all I came up with. ¡°It doesn¡¯t. The afflicted never get better. They get worse. They stop speaking entirely. They¡¯re violent and temperamental. Beasts are affected largely the same way, though knowing their symptoms is a guessing game unless a very specific type of practitioner is on hand. We¡¯ve tried to contain the sick and tease out the plague¡¯s nature, but, so far, our talents have largely been ineffective. We can¡¯t let the afflicted wander free, but we can¡¯t take care of them all. We¡¯ve taken to using the old Cathedral Ward as a haven for the sick, but it¡¯s like trying to put out a fire by smothering it with straw.¡± Kolash leaned forward to put his elbows on his desk and folded his long, three-fingered hands. ¡°We haven¡¯t told anyone yet, but we were getting desperate enough to send for military aid to contain the spread. The infected Returned, all of them, eventually try to escape the city. They choose the shortest path south and just set out. They become violent if you interfere with them,¡± he said gravely. He hung his head and reached up to rub his eyes with the heels of his hands. ¡°Worse, on my approval, the city watch allowed one of the afflicted a line of egress from the city walls, and I had a pair of scouts follow it out into the wilds. Roorkch. They have not yet returned after two weeks.¡± He made that little sign with his fingers like the Sergeant had done at the gate. I caught more of it this time. The way Kolash folded his fingers, it was a rudimentary triangle. ¡°So, you see why I was¡­ well I wouldn¡¯t say pleasantly¡­ I was surprised when I saw your order had dispatched you to us, but perhaps it is providence. As I wrote in my request, I would have loved for a specialized healer to be sent from the main branch, but that was then. I am more and more convinced this threat might require a full purge. Another crusade if we do not act quickly enough. I hope your order¡¯s specialized capabilities are even half of what your reputation says.¡± Chapter 27 - Choose my Way Chapter 27 - Choose my Way We didn¡¯t have much to discuss after the bishop¡¯s revelation. For one, I¡¯d just been told I would be responsible for murdering¡­ no ¡°purging¡± innocent people, sick people, and that was something I was being asked to do because of the costume I¡¯d been handed before this party. It goes without saying that I was not entirely on board with this plan. Even if I had the know-how or the strength, I didn¡¯t think I was capable of doing what Kolash wanted. The idea of it slammed up against my conscience so hard, I could almost feel it physically. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. We are not going full murder-hobo. We are leaving. They can excommunicate me or something. On the other hand, the supposed cause of the plague, the scourge-touched, were something with which I was intimately familiar, and if the goblins were to be believed, something I caused. Whatever I¡¯d done back at the tutorial facility provoked them, and then I led them on a chase, one that got a lot of goblins killed. I¡¯d gotten Hunty killed. Now, the scourge-touched were, presumably, still fixed on finding me, and people were being caught in the crossfire. The situation wasn¡¯t fair to any of us. I didn¡¯t ask to be rebuilt and ¡°inserted¡± into this universe, but here I was anyway. The people of Ralqir didn¡¯t ask to have a human drop into their lives and kick off an extinction event. The scourge-touched¡­ well, they might have asked for this. They attacked me first, and I didn¡¯t get the impression they were just upset I¡¯d landed in their backyard. This was something else, something deeper. A quiet but confident voice repeated the familiar accusation over and over again in my mind. You did this. Rationally, I knew it wasn¡¯t necessarily true, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I was responsible for the situation somehow. It didn¡¯t matter what I¡¯d intended or that I didn¡¯t know what I was doing. People were suffering because of me, and I didn¡¯t know how to stop it. You did this. It was too much. Much too much. My spiraling thoughts must have been plain on my face, because Kolash detected that something was wrong almost immediately. He stood up and came around the desk to loom over me, his ameba pupils staring unblinking down into my own. ¡°Horp. May I be honest with you, Brother Ryan?¡± He asked. I didn¡¯t do anything to answer. I felt lost. ¡°Though this is a dark time for Eclipse, I find some glimmer of hope that the Light sent you in particular to us. I see the worry on your face and the conflict in your spirit. Perhaps you are not simply a weapon as I¡¯d feared.¡± That was true¡­ or was it? Despite my misgivings, I was pushed into this situation and not given a choice, at least not one I was smart enough to see. Now, I was here, and Kolash had put me in front of what he thought was the only solution. I was being put in front of a nail and asked to hammer it, but was I a hammer? Did this particular nail need hammering? If I didn¡¯t hammer this nail, would Ralqir collapse on its people? I wasn¡¯t this guy. I wasn¡¯t a holy warrior sent by their god to purge the unclean. I was a dude wearing a stupid orange hat. And maybe that¡¯s a good thing. I¡¯m not a trained killer. I need to think about the problem from the outside. ¡°I need time,¡± I rasped. My throat had gone dry. I cleared my throat and summoned a bit more strength to continue. ¡°And I need information, any you can give.¡± ¡°If your methods require evaluation, you are free to do so. I will assign you a guide that will do whatever you require, and I am confident you will come to the same conclusion I have. Light knows I¡¯ve looked for alternatives,¡± he said, pausing to let out a long, tired sigh that left him deflated, diminished. The bishop, the quintessential picture of authority and strength, aged in front of my eyes until I was looking at an almost completely different man than the one I¡¯d met at the gate. ¡°Perhaps it is selfish of me, but I feel some measure of comfort having someone else here to share the burden of this decision. My rank carries with it some implied divine wisdom, but I rarely come across a situation where the path is truly clear.¡± I stared up into those ameba blotches of black that were his pupils. He was asking me something without actually asking, pleading. Maybe he didn¡¯t want a purge either. The bishop pressed the rest of a plate of food into my hands and gestured to the door. ¡°Get some rest. Tomorrow, you can begin your work.¡± ¡ª------------------- Kolash guided me back down the hallway and to a set of stairs that led underground. As with most of the non-window parts of the building, the walls were worked and sanded wood and stone, broken at regular intervals by solid looking doors with little triangular slats at roughly head height. They did love their triangles here. My room was at the intersection of two hallways that met each other at an acute angle, with my door at the very corner. Inside, the room was gray brick on three of the walls and the floor and lit by a glowing hemisphere of glass built into the ceiling, low enough to comfortably touch but not so low I¡¯d hit my head. There was a wooden trunk with a latch and lock right next to a table and¡­ a bed. When I saw it, I nearly tripped over my own feet, having to catch myself on the doorframe and forcing Kolash to pull up short. ¡°Borp. Oh! I know it¡¯s not much, Brother, but I was given to believe the Order of the Dawn were ascetics. If you would like a different room, I could ask Yik¡¯i¡¯trix to-¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s fine,¡± I chuckled darkly. ¡°It¡¯s just the first bed I¡¯ve seen in a long while.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± the big man said, his mouth opening and closing a few times as he searched for something to say in response. He chose to sidestep the subject instead. ¡°Well. Good night then, Brother Ryan, or ¡®good morning¡¯ would probably be more appropriate. I¡¯ll have your guide meet you once you¡¯ve had your rest.¡± With that, he was gliding back down the hall, his long legs carrying him quickly to wherever bishops went to sleep. I closed the door and engaged the slide lock. Alone at last. The bed creaked under my weight as I sat down on it holding my plate of sandwiches, but the structure held on. I popped a little morsel into my mouth, letting the greens crunch and the saltiness of the cheese play over my tongue. I had decisions to make. First and foremost, what was I going to do? My goal ever since I¡¯d arrived on Ralqir was to survive the tutorial and get back home. It was my one and only goal, or maybe it was my ultimate goal, the last in a series of goals that would see me home to start living my new Exotic life. Now, things were more complicated. My arrival here affected people, whether that was what I intended or not. There was violence and suffering that might not have been if I¡¯d done things differently, and I wasn¡¯t sure I could abide that. If I stayed the course and focused on completing my tutorial, I might just be able to now. I had some money, a fair bit of magic, and a place to stay. With a little luck, I could probably leverage all of that to equip myself well enough to sneak back to my insertion point and be gone before anyone was the wiser. The plan had its dangers, but there was a nonzero chance I¡¯d make it. But, then again¡­ I¡¯d had the misfortune of seeing what the scourge-touched did to the Stone Hearts. They didn¡¯t even have the good grace to be too simple to understand what they were doing. They weren¡¯t animals. They knew what they were about. They enjoyed killing. They loved it, reveled in it, pursued the act of dealing death so single-mindedly they didn¡¯t even value their own lives or their kin¡¯s. If I slipped out in the night, that would leave the people of Ralqir stuck with the consequences of what I¡¯d set in motion. The black ones were swarming across the mountain, the goblins were homeless and desperate, and the people of Eclipse, though I hadn¡¯t gotten to know them yet, were probably the next domino to fall. They might not be the last. My coming here changed things. Whether it was my choice or not, my arrival was the first pebble of a rockslide. The disaster grew with every passing second. If I left, would the rockslide settle? Maybe. Eventually. Perhaps the more important question was: What cost was I willing to pay for my ticket home? Vince¡¯s memory surfaced in my mind, how he¡¯d died, the way he drew Barrow¡¯s ire in a desperate play for time, how he couldn¡¯t just let Barrow single out another one of his friends for murder. Then there was Hunty. He died in my place too. I already cost the multiverse two good lives. How do you square a debt like that? Can you ever? *CRACK* Status Gained: Bleeding [.08 HP/s] Damnit. I looked down at my shattered plate, the remaining pieces in my hand smeared red with my blood. I forced myself to let them fall and brought my hand up to my face to pluck a sliver of ceramic out of my palm. The bleeding debuff didn¡¯t even last more than a couple heartbeats. Even now, I could see the skin welding itself together in real time. I¡¯d be costing the multiverse more than just two good people if I ran. That was¡­ unacceptable. If I stayed, I would eventually be found out. Of that much I was certain. I couldn¡¯t keep the ruse going indefinitely, and I didn¡¯t know how people would react to the deception or the knowledge that I wasn¡¯t native to this universe. I looked around at the walls of my new cell, how close they were. I eyed the solid door, wondering how easy it would be to lock me inside. What if they reacted much like the goblins? Perhaps I just needed to delay that moment as long as possible, long enough to fix what I¡¯d broken. Then maybe I deserved that ticket home. I nodded to myself, slowly at first then with more confidence. I¡¯m one of the System¡¯s fucking Chosen. It¡¯s time to earn that title. Yes, I was staying to fix things. No one else was dying for me. No one. Not. Even. One. Starting my journey to cleaning up my mess, I started small. I bent down to pick up the pieces of ceramic plate off the stone floor, eying the rest of the little sandwiches among the shards of the broken plate. Well, it would be a waste if you didn¡¯t¡­ It wasn¡¯t my proudest moment, but I dusted them off and shoved them all in my mouth. Man, were they good. Compliments to the chef. With my new goal in mind, I was ready to make my other decision, one I¡¯d been putting off for a while. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. Main class ability: Shape is now level 5! Based on current skills and affinities, you have 5 upgrade paths available. Transmute Remote Shaping Duplicate Enchant I¡¯d gotten this prompt back in my cell an unknown number of days ago, shortly before the black ones flooded into the cave to become my new neighbors. I hadn¡¯t known what to do then, when my goal was simple survival and escape. Now, though, I had a new perspective. Transmute: Shape may now convert one type of matter with which you have an affinity into another. The strength of both affinities will dictate the cost of conversion. Remote Shaping: Shape may now be used at a distance [1 meter/S, where S is the value of Spirit over 10] Duplicate: Shape may now copy any Shaped material within range, given proper material and mana are available. Mana cost is slightly reduced, and Shape speed moderately is increased. Enchant: Shape may now imbue your creations with limited intelligence, allowing them to perform certain tasks that require some level of logic and decision making. Complexity and cost of intelligence is affected by the Mind attribute. Mana required to power Enchantment provided by user and is conditional upon its complexity. For a long time, I was stuck on this decision. All of it seemed useful in the short term with Duplicate and Remote Shaping making my short list. When I was making the ammo for my pistol, I¡¯d thought about how Duplicate would save time and energy when making a bunch of the same thing, and it was a tempting option. The way I fought right now depended heavily on preparation, and if it could cut down on my prep time, I¡¯d be able to do more. Remote Shaping leaned into my high Spirit attribute, and, assuming I could get my affinities up in the future, I would have a chance to be Magneto. Who didn¡¯t want to be Magneto? I didn¡¯t need to take Enchant. I was sure of that one. My ammo worms could already do what the System was describing, and they didn¡¯t need to make any decisions to¡­ Wait, exactly how does my ammo do what it does? How do they navigate? Every obstacle they encountered and step they took, while I took them for granted, were actually decisions they were making on their own, without the use of something like Enchant. How? The question set off a chain of explosions in my mind. Imbue specifically said I imparted a small fraction of my will to my automatons. That made some sense, but how did my ammo find their way back to me? They didn¡¯t have eyes or nerves or even the equipment needed to develop a sense. If they were truly thinking on their own, they had no way to do what they did. There was something I was missing, a piece of the puzzle I couldn¡¯t see, but it was integral to the whole design. Magical dark matter. My method worked though, and, so far, worked without fail. If I was imparting some of my will when I Automated things, that took out a whole lot of leg work normal programmers had to do to get their stuff working. What if¡­ Holy shit. What if I automated more than just my ammo? I could make a smart gun. I could make a smart gun with smart ammo. Hell, with some trial and error I could probably make smart ammo that made more smart ammo. Swarms of it. Giants mechs. Magical nanobots. I blinked. Wow, I needed sleep. More than that, I needed time, materials, and somewhere to experiment like right now. If only I wasn¡¯t impersonating an assassin monk. If only I wasn¡¯t being asked to murder a bunch of people because I was impersonating an assassin monk. If only I wasn¡¯t on the run from the black ones¡­ and probably Jassin.That one¡¯s probably for the best. No need to be examined by magical academics. Okay. Breathe. I breathed deeply and closed my eyes, searching for calm. I missed my workshop. Pity that Barrow¡¯s people burned it down, and even the ashes were a universe away. Still have a choice to make. Transmute was at the bottom of the list for a long time, ever since I saw it. My mind had been consumed with acquiring iron and shaping it into equipment at the time, so it made sense. I had zero strong affinities, and I got the impression converting something like limestone into magnesium would be so prohibitively expensive, my mana pool would bottom out maybe a second into the process. I had Engine to alleviate that, but I would pretty much be giving myself a migraine over and over and over again for minimal gain. However, Consume and Engine were absolute game changers here. The more I Consumed of something, the higher my affinity for said something climbed. Eventually, I had to stop focusing on my immediate situation and start playing the long game. I was going to get more affinities, and I was going to grow them over time. If I were to take Transmute, I could conceivably¡­ literally¡­ turn lead into gold, given I lived that long. Wait for Ms. Right or settle for Ms. Right Now? Class ability: Shape upgraded! (Transmute) Immediate decisions made, I brought up my sheet to get the full picture of my status. Ryan Kotes - Level 9 Animator (Uncommon) Type: Artificer (Common) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 115/115 MP: 75/75 Attributes: Body: 24 Mind: 21 Spirit: 33 Free attribute points: 0 Abilities Shape 5 (Transmute) Consume 4 Iron Grip 3 Devouring Grasp 4 Volatility 3 Imbue 2 Trigger 3 Automate 2 Skills Climbing 6 Unarmed Combat 1 Running 1 Stealth 5 (+) Conduit 3 Split Mind 6 Spear 4 Deception 4 Affinities: Goblinoid F Iron F Magnesium F Mendau Wood D Limestone E I wanted to lie down, but planets don¡¯t just save themselves. So much to do. I should stay up and do¡­ something. The weariness was creeping up on me fast, but this was the first moment in a long time where I was alone and relatively safe. My belly was full, and I had a door between me and the world. That temporarily covered like¡­ half(?)... of my physical needs? I¡¯d been working with less for a long time. I rose from the bed. The bed was dangerous. Its siren song would lure me to my doom. No, I was doing this on the floor. I sat down and crossed my legs, summoning items from my spatial storage. I¡¯d collected a variety of materials to play with here, but not all of them were feasible to work with tonight¡­ or this morning, rather. Much of my pure iron was already Shaped into my pistol and my ammo worms. I couldn¡¯t work with those right now, considering I was in a confined space, and all the best gunfire had the tendency to attract attention. Melee weapons weren¡¯t out of the question, but I kind of had some of those already courtesy of the goblin ambushers. They were small but wicked things, but I could probably use them in a pinch, when my firearm wasn¡¯t the right tool for the job. Mr. Grippy would always be at my side too. I shook my head. I was rationalizing a choice I¡¯d already made. I wanted to tinker, to experiment. I just needed to accept that and get the hell on with it. The black ones were legion, and I was just me. It was time to even those odds. Despite lacking eyes, my ammo can find me. I tell it to do something, and it does. Let¡¯s play with that. Smartgun? Smartgun. One look at the amount of metal I had on me told me that I didn¡¯t have enough to make or test anything big. This was going to be a proof of concept more than anything else. Smaller portions of metal meant less time and mana Shaping. I got to work. Shape [4 MP/s] My first victims were five of the goblin hatchets. They were made of something called ¡®baptized bronze¡¯ which, as a pleasant surprise, was more than willing to accept mana and do what I wanted. It wasn¡¯t a fast thing, but I was practically flying through the Shaping process compared to what I could do with vanilla iron. First, I expanded the holes in the axheads to remove their wooden shafts. I¡¯d need those to keep the mana flowing. Status Gained: Engine [3 MP/s for 1 hour] You gain knowledge of material: Mendau Wood [12/1,250] Next, I went to work hollowing out tubes just like I¡¯d done with my pistol, but this time, I¡¯d scaled them down. I wasn¡¯t trying to build a fully functioning firearm in a church basement. I just needed to know the limits of my¡­ whatever it was. How far could I stretch this? I made a base for the construct, a simple half-dome that fit in the palm of my hand with a couple Trigger areas where I could feed mana and make my new contraption do things. Mounting the barrel on top was fairly simple, just a hole that fit a melded pillar of bronze with just enough room to turn easily and a ball joint for more range of motion. Additionally, I put a tiny nub of iron on the tip of the barrel and designated it the sight. The idea would be to get my smartgun to turn so that that sight would be as close to the chosen target as possible and keep it there until told otherwise. Simple in theory, but getting my smartgun to adjust its aim was a little more difficult than I¡¯d anticipated. At first I tried gears that would turn to adjust the horizontal position of the barrel, but that required a lot of time consuming Shaping to pull off. I was confident I could do it, but that would be a project and a half. Instead, I went with what I knew. I gave the base of the barrel and the back of the firing chamber a set of Automated, multi-jointed ¡®legs¡¯ that, again theoretically, would adjust themselves to point the barrel in the right direction. As a safety measure, I only allowed the barrel to adjust itself by about sixty degrees in any direction, reducing the odds of my shooting my eye out. The end product was, in a word, ugly. It looked like two mutant spiders using a cannon for a see-saw, but if it worked, I would call the night a success. This was more about pushing Automate beyond what I¡¯d done before. The final piece, a wafer thin plate of bronze, the ¡®smart¡¯ part of my smartgun, I inserted into the base of the barrel housing where all the component parts would have at least some contact with it. I spent an entire pool of mana (and some change) Automating it. When you are Triggered, feed mana into the aiming arms. Bring the sight as close to your target as possible. Feed a small burst of mana into the firing Trigger. Repeat. The process took it out of me and hurt my head, but it was worth it. The System agreed. Automate is now level 3. With everything in their general place, I went about Shape welding the pieces together, connecting the legs and firing mechanism to the brain housing and placing Triggers where mana could be fed into the different Automated bits to activate and deactivate them. ¡°Okay, here we go,¡± I breathed, picking up the construct and eyeballing all the components. The base sat comfortably on my hand, heavy but not so much that 24 body couldn¡¯t hold it steady. Getting up, I set the remains of my sandwich plate in the corner of the room as a make-shift target. I eyeballed it, shifting my palm so that the smartgun was pointed slightly off to the right, and it would need to make an adjustment to fulfill its programming. Rubbing the sleep out of my eyes, I prepared myself for anything. Then, I reached up and fed mana into the base¡¯s Trigger. Silence. Stillness. Nothing happened. Not a damned thing. Aw come one. What the hell? I Shaped it again, diving into the component parts and checking for what went wrong. Everything that needed to move was getting mana. Nothing was stuck on anything else. The brain was humming, the legs were tensed and awaiting instructions. Why were they just- Oh. I¡¯m an idiot. I¡¯d not designated a target¡­I just gave it a general idea of ¡®targets¡¯ when I¡¯d Automated it. Maybe I needed to be more specific, perhaps keeping possible targets in mind when creating the instructions? Furthermore, I also did not give myself a way to designate a target after full assembly. Holy hell was I tired. One more ax shaft Consumed and a full pool of mana later, I was one migraine richer, and I was down to just hoping to see something happen. I was starting to fall asleep on my feet, and I knew I was making mistakes. I just¡­ couldn¡¯t drop it. When you are Triggered, feed mana into the aiming arms. Bring the sight as close to the ceramic target as possible. Feed a small burst of mana into the firing Trigger. Repeat. Shape [4 MP/s] Brain housing sealed once more, I fed mana into the activation trigger. What happened was fast. The construct jerked itself to the side so suddenly, it nearly lept off of my palm. My reflexes weren¡¯t fast after an entire, sleepless night blasting mana into delicate machinery, so I didn¡¯t catch it. It toppled from my hand even as the programming took control. *THAP* *THAP* *THAP* *THAP* *THAP* Tiny balls of bronze, fired at a rate of approximately three per second, pelted the ceramic plate in the corner. The first hit it dead center, shattering the plate into three pieces, one of which, by some fluke of physics, flew up and into the air. The followup shots from the smartgun, four of them, chased that particular piece, stippling miniature gunfire over the target, blasting it into smaller and smaller pieces. Bronze BBs and ceramic shrapnel hurled themselves around the room, pinging off hard surfaces and raking my skin, a storm of stinging debris. All I could do was cover my face and let it happen. Out of ammo but still trying to fire, my smartgun hit the ground barrel first and bounced, its brain telling it to destroy all the ceramics in the room but without being properly upright, all it could do was flop on the floor like a fish. It clanked and clattered on the floor, its barrel snapping between the scattered pieces of plate that now littered my floor. I brought my arms down and checked myself over. There was blood on my chest, but the wound had already closed. Thanks, System. Otherwise I was fine. I bent down and carefully snatched the little murder machine up, then fed mana into the ¡®off¡¯ Trigger. Now that I thought about it, there really was no reason to give the smartgun actual ammo for the test. That was dumb. Still. Success!... sort of. Regardless, I considered my time well spent. Again, the System seemed to agree. You have created: Toy Auto-Turret. You have been awarded 550 experience points. [650 base, -100 quality] Huh. Auto-Turret. Sure, I guess you could call it that. Actually, yes, the System¡¯s right on this one. I just made a tiny turret. Go, me. I was exhausted, physically and mentally. Clustered ideas ground against each other in my head, abstract, delirious, wild, exciting, terrifying. My head felt like it was an egg, and a terrifying, roided up, baby chick wearing a red bandana was about to burst forth from my skull. I laid down on the bed for just a moment and closed my eyes. This was nice. I could stay here for a few minutes¡­ until the migraine passed anyway. Despite my feverish desire for progress and downright giddiness to get started on another project, the softness of the bed got the better of me in less than a minute. I dreamed of a rocky beach next to a black ocean. In front of me was a scattered pile of driftwood, perhaps the shattered remnants of a once impressive ship or maybe an old hut. It didn¡¯t matter. I just needed to leave and soon. I lashed the disparate pieces together with what little rope I could find in hopes of making a raft, but no matter what design I tried, I kept coming up with door frames. On the horizon, through the haze of humid ocean air, a great wall of water was rushing closer by the second. Chapter 28 - Disguise my Intentions Chapter 28 - Disguise my Intentions I awoke to a polite tapping on my door. It wasn¡¯t easy. The bed, though probably hard and uncomfortable by my old life¡¯s standards, was the pinnacle of luxury now that I¡¯d had the humbling experience of sleeping on a cave floor. I opened my eyes, instantly regretting doing so. The overhead light was still on, a cursed sun that burned my retinas and mocked my somnolence. Apparently, I hadn¡¯t bothered to turn it off after Science Time, not that I knew how anyway. There were no switches on the walls or a chain to pull. I groaned, sitting up, my eyes bleary and swollen. I put my head in my hands and let my weight slump down until I was nearly doubled over and a quiet sigh slid from my dry lips. The bed creaked under the strain of my shifting weight. The tapping came again. That¡¯s not going to go away is it? It did not, in fact, go away. It waited for about a minute, when I was just beginning to hope, then the tapping returned. Reluctantly, I rose from the bed, made my way over to the door, disengaged the slide lock, and yanked the door open more forcefully than I intended. The hallway was empty. ¡°Ah. Good morning, Brother Ryan! I brought you breakfast.¡± The hallway was not empty. I just hadn¡¯t looked down. There, holding a tray of some kind of glazed pastry stacked in a little pyramid was Yik¡¯i¡¯trix, his little black eyes staring up at me expectantly. The sleeves and hem of his robe looked like they¡¯d been dusted with chalk or maybe flour. ¡°Uh. Hi,¡± I said, staring at the little Volpa blankly, the speech center in my brain not allowing for much more. After a few seconds of silence, I realized that maybe I should say more. That would be the normal, human thing to do. I¡¯d never been a morning person. ¡°How long did I sleep?¡± Yik¡¯i¡¯trix did his full body shudder again, all the way from the tail to the tip of his nose. ¡°Nearly fourteen hours, Brother.¡± ¡°Fourteen?¡± ¡°Yes, brother,¡± the tiny monk said, nodding gravely. ¡°I did try to wake you, but you must have needed some time to yourself after such a long journey.¡± I blinked as my mind made a few connections. ¡°Wait. How long have you been out here?¡± Yik¡¯i¡¯trix got even smaller than he already was, ears flattening, whiskers drooping, his posture curling inward like a browning leaf. ¡°Since earlier today, Brother Ryan,¡± he answered evasively. ¡°How long?¡± I pressed. ¡°Oh. I didn¡¯t really keep-¡± ¡°Please.¡± ¡°Eleven hours.¡± He said the words so quickly, like he was anxious to rush through them to have them out and be done with them. I¡¯d bet that without the System, I might have had to make the little guy repeat himself, but they came through loud and clear. ¡°You¡¯ve been waiting on me for eleven hours? Why?¡± Constance, how did I kill so much time? I had a whole planet to save. ¡°I convinced the Bishop to let me be your guide. I¡¯ve heard tales of the Rising Suns, how your bodies are disciplined to need very little rest, and I thought I would wait, lest you need to leave early. It¡¯s actually been quite pleasant, not having to do my regular duties around the church. Half a day alone to meditate is practically a luxury.¡± I brought my hand up to my eyes to rub them. Could I get conventional headaches anymore? I was probably about to find out. Kolash did say not to encourage the Volpa when it came to Order of Dawn stuff. I needed to get some distance. ¡°Ah, I see. Please don¡¯t do that on my account, Yik- Uh- do you have a nickname or something shorter?¡± ¡°Trix, Brother Ryan.¡± ¡°Trix,¡± I said, letting the name roll off my tongue and reminding myself that no matter how I perceived it, I wasn¡¯t speaking English. Curious, I wanted to try something. ¡°People call you Tricks?¡± I asked experimentally, consciously thinking about communicating the meaning of the English word instead of the literal phonetic sounds. What came out of my mouth didn¡¯t sound like English at all. ¡°Oh, no, Brother. I would never deceive you,¡± Trix assured me. His ears deflated like leaky triangular balloons and his gaze slid down to the floor. ¡°I am¡­ not like that.¡± The little guy looked genuinely hurt. Apparently, intent is what matters in the translation. Names are different from words. Noted. Kinda feel like a jerk now though. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Trix. Really,¡± I said as I squatted down to get closer to his height. ¡°Your name sounds like something else in my mother tongue, and I was just- Well, I don¡¯t know. I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°No offense taken, Brother,¡± he replied. I knew it was a lie though. Sore subject maybe? ¡°Anyway,¡± I said, clapping my hands together. It made a sort of ringing, flesh on metal sound these days, but it worked to break the tension at least. ¡°Let¡¯s go hit the town. Next time, please don¡¯t wait for me like that. I might keep a weird schedule.¡± He shuffled his feet nervously. ¡°Well, it is my duty to be at your side whenever you need. I took the room across the hall just in case,¡± Trix replied, indicating the door by turning around and pointing his nose at it. Of course he did. I ran a hand down my face, imagining all the trouble this was going to cause me. ¡°Wonderful,¡± I said. ¡°How thoughtful.¡± Trix drew up straighter at that. ¡°So, what is the plan today, Brother Ryan?¡± ¡°Just Ryan, please.¡± ¡°Oh, no. I don¡¯t think so, Brother.¡± He did that full body shudder thing again, the pastries getting the worst of the kinetic energy, sometimes leaving the tray entirely only to land back on top of their pyramid. With that, I realized I still hadn¡¯t taken the breakfast Trix had offered. I reached down and grabbed the platter to take the burden off the little fox guy. My stomach rumbled. It seemed like a lot of food for one man, but they smelled delicious, sweet and savory at the same time, one of those foods with multiple layers of scents that rolled over one another. Maybe there was meat in the middle or something. ¡°Did you want one, Trix?¡± I asked. Trix shook his head, rubbing his front paws together. ¡°Oh, no. Baked goods don¡¯t really agree with us Volpa, though I hear they are delicious. I already had my fill at lunch. What¡¯s the plan today, Brother Ryan?¡± He asked again. I sighed. This was going to get old if we were going to be attached at the hip. However, I could use a little bit of orientation, and he¡¯d volunteered for just that. ¡°I need to know everything, and I¡¯m not just talking about the plague.¡± ¡°Everything?¡± ¡°Yep. Trix, you are my local expert on everything Eclipse. Pretend I know nothing. Show me around.¡± He shuffled his feet some more, unsure of himself. ¡°Would you like to start on a specific topic, Brother Ryan?¡± I rubbed my jaw as I thought about that. The root of everyone¡¯s problems right now, other than my mere existence, was the scourge-touched. They chased the goblins and beasts out. They brought the plague. They were attacking people outside the city. How could I dig at that problem? If you¡¯re going to dig, you¡¯ll need a shovel. ¡°Trix, we¡¯re going shopping. How good is the church¡¯s credit?¡± Yik¡¯i¡¯trix¡¯s whiskers trembled slightly. ¡°I- I didn¡¯t ask.¡± Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. ¡°Nevermind. Wishful thinking. So, I have a list of things I¡¯ll need, and I need you to keep an open mind.¡± ¡ª------------- Skill unlocked: Disguise Your current skill level is 1. ¡°I just don¡¯t see why you would want to cover your holy raiment with¡­ that,¡± Trix said as we stepped out into the daylight once again, having to lean to the side to allow two elderly women to enter the building behind us. I tipped my hat to the two of them as they passed by, but neither of them took any notice of the courtesy. Maybe that was Gray Man working. Gray Man: Stealth now receives bonus efficacy from your Deception skill. While you are attempting to hide, others are less likely to notice you, and those that do are more likely to disregard your presence. [Passive] It wasn¡¯t the sexiest choice on my list when Stealth hit level 5, and I still wasn¡¯t sure it was the right one. One with the Shadows was a straight up ninja type skill that gave me bonuses to hiding in darkness, which had all sorts of fun applications at night or on, say, a planet covered in trees. Meanwhile, Reduced Presence, the other option on the list, was a way to resist detection by magical means and had minor bonuses to resist magical effects. All of the skills were situationally useful, but after focusing on the long game with my Shape upgrade, I¡¯d felt the need to balance that with something that would be useful to me right now. My Deception skill was getting a workout while I was living undercover, and I spent a lot of my time ¡®hiding¡¯ in plain sight. Gray Man made the most sense there, and I couldn¡¯t discount that I might find another way to use it in the future. So far, it had been hard to detect if it was working, like with the women entering the shop. Maybe the women didn¡¯t respond because they disregarded my presence, or maybe hat tipping wasn¡¯t a thing here. A man buys his first cool hat, and there¡¯s no tipping? A travesty. It had a wide brim and a pointed top that reminded me of old kung fu movies my dad used to play on movie nights. I¡¯d gotten the hat for cheap after buying a full set of local clothes and a pair of shoes to go with. Trix didn¡¯t complain about the clothes, since he¡¯d picked them out, a simple pair of brown trousers, a long sleeve white shirt, and some light boots. I thought he was going to have a seizure when I proposed taking off my orange headwrap, though. Thus, the hat was added to the tally, despite Trix¡¯s frequent objections. The old tailor had been enthusiastic to sell it to me, like he wanted to be rid of the thing. ¡°What? I can¡¯t go around looking like a lit candle the whole time, right?¡± I asked, straightening the woven straw hat so that it sat properly on my head. It had a tendency to slowly slip down to cover my face. The Volpa winced. ¡°Brother, please. You share too generously.¡± He didn¡¯t like it when I spoke in public either. Apparently, my order took vows of silence except in extreme necessity, and I was having a hard time respecting that, especially since I was feeling almost human again. I had a full belly, clothes that fit, real shoes, and I wasn¡¯t locked away or fighting for my life. Remember where you are, Ryan. I looked down and smiled at my guide apologetically, but he was too busy dodging another pair of boots to notice. His tail was particularly susceptible to accidental crushing, and, more than once, he¡¯d had to make a heroic leap to avert tragedy. The eastern gate market was absolutely packed with people, so much the press obscured the surface of the street itself. The sides of the road were mostly pedestrian traffic that flowed in a river that you had to fight against if you wanted to break off and climb one of the stoops like the one where we stood. So many faces, so many eyes moving over me. How long would it take for them to notice the stranger in their midst? Thank Constance I had pockets now, not for their usual utility, but for obfuscation. Transferring coins to and from my spatial storage and the light show it tended to put on were conspicuous to say the least, and I¡¯d had to do it behind my back when I had to show the tailor I had something to pay with. Now, though, it was just a matter of reaching inside a pocket and summoning whatever I needed. It was one less thing to worry about, and I could focus that much more on living my cover. Plus, I couldn¡¯t be pickpocketed. The sheer variety of sentient species and how they lived together was astounding and surprisingly natural. Short folk with broad faces and pointed eyebrows rolled their litter of boisterous kids in padded carts through a gaggle of what I could only describe as burly, walking mushrooms with bright yellow caps atop squint-eyed faces. Tall, spindly-legged creatures wrapped in bandages waded through the throng, gingerly stepping over others at times, patiently waiting for the crowd to surge forward at others. An eight foot tall pile of gravel rumbled down the street under its own power, and, though most of the people gave it the appropriate amount of space, the amorphous creature stopped to form a thick pseudopod to gently nudge its way through the crowd every once in a while. The majority of the traffic, however, was made up of the horned folk with sharp features like Jassin. They all had the look of merchants or middle class to them judging by the quality of their clothes and the way they walked, as if they were always on their way to somewhere. Serious. Purposeful. I held out my hand and allowed Trix to clamber up onto my shoulder. He¡¯d protested about this at first, earlier in the day, insisting that he just follow in my wake as we fought the crowds and went about our business, but when I¡¯d pointed out that he needed to guide me everywhere, he relented and allowed for a semi-dignified ride on my shoulder. Once he was next to my ear, Trix was a little more talkative, as long as I didn¡¯t raise my voice and flaunt my vows. ¡°I just feel like covering the thing that singles you out as a member of such a prestigious order of the church militant would make your mission harder, Brother. The sleeves on your shirt also mask your dominion sign, so no one will know you are a practitioner either,¡± Trix whispered. ¡°You think I¡¯m inviting more trouble by trying to blend in?¡± I asked quietly, stepping down off the stoop and merging with the crowd, the part of it streaming deeper into the city. ¡°Yes, Brother. I¡¯m afraid we might attract the wrong sort of attention if we go around asking questions without some sign of office, and those we do question will not appreciate the deception.¡± ¡°You may be right,¡± I admitted, but I left it at that. The thing was, I didn¡¯t want to be singled out by anyone, even if it made my life easier. I wanted to blend in and tackle the city on my terms, not throw my cover story in people¡¯s faces. People tended to believe something more readily if they discovered it on their own, and I wanted to use that to my advantage. Let them believe my status as a Rising Sun was my only secret. Plus, if I were to wear the label proudly, the order¡¯s reputation would taint every interaction I had with people, and I required a much lower profile, especially if I was using my own money to buy metal. It turned out that the amount of gold I had wasn¡¯t a particularly hefty sum. Sure, it was enough to buy a set of local clothes and shoes, but after that, I needed to watch my spending. The people the goblins killed weren¡¯t wealthy, and the coins the mockvine left me upon its untimely death weren¡¯t legal tender. The tailor hadn¡¯t even recognized the thick, stamped ovals until Trix started ¡®oo-ing¡¯ and ¡®ah-ing¡¯ over them. Apparently, they were coins minted ages ago, right after the Purge. The reference for everything seemed to be framed around the Purge, so much so that I was afraid to ask for clarification on what it was. It sounded like something that was so common knowledge, I¡¯d out myself if I asked the wrong questions. Better to pick it up from context clues. ¡°If you wanted to look for a collector that would take those coins off your hands, we will need to go more toward the center of the city,¡± Trix ventured. ¡°I think that will make it easier to get the rest of the items on your list.¡± ¡°Okay, do I just head toward the observatory then?¡± I asked. Eclipse, the walled parts of it anyway, were built in a half-circle around the observatory. It was the oldest structure in the city, there in the beginning when the Dark Lord built it and still there even after the city¡¯s newest occupants made themselves at home. No matter where you were in the city, you could spot the observatory, even through the riot of color and motion that was the sky within the market districts, a black tower of glossy stone that stabbed up into the sky higher than even the tallest Mendau, its smooth surface unbroken for hundreds of feet until it terminated suddenly in a jagged diagonal slash like someone had forgotten to finish construction or a giant had hacked at it with an ax. Of course, if you were looking up it would be impossible to miss the backdrop of the moon. It loomed overhead, brilliant white shot through with spiderwebs of gray while clouds of glowing gas flowed around its edges and shifted slowly from one color to the next. I never saw the sun, of course, but the sky was a vibrant teal broken up by feathery wisps of cloud. ¡°No, Brother. That way butts up against Riverside, and trouble may find us if we venture too close, not that someone like you would be worried about that, of course.¡± Riverside was supposedly one of the rougher parts of town, best avoided unless you had business there and only around noon. It was, unsurprisingly, the part of the city that dealt with trade coming in from the river, but it also had the misfortune of being the part of town that sank down below water level a few more inches a year. As Trix told it, when the Dark Lord had originally built his city, the Shenau River wasn¡¯t quite so far south or quite so wide. Now, a thousand some odd years later, the river was a constant headache for city planners and architects, claiming more of the northernmost part of Eclipse year by year. A couple centuries ago, a huge swath of Riverside suddenly collapsed upon itself, sinking below the waterline in a matter of seconds, entire neighborhoods vanishing beneath dark, muddy waters and into the depths below. Now, the place was the home for folks down on their luck, treasure seekers of dubious moral character, leather skinned boatmen on shore leave, or criminals, and one did not need to pick just one category to belong to. I nodded in agreement. ¡°I did say we¡¯re trying to not attract attention. Getting robbed qualifies. Good thinking.¡± Trix¡¯s full body shudders were even more disturbing when he was riding on my shoulder. It was almost contagious. I had to fight not to give in to the tingle as well. ¡°Where should we go then?¡± I asked. ¡°That way,¡± he said, pointing leftward. ¡°This route will take us past the Plague Ward. I assumed you would want to see it before the day is out.¡± Ah, yes. The supposed scene of my future massacre of innocent people. A must see, for sure. ¡°Right. I¡¯ll¡­ definitely need to see that. Lead on then,¡± I told my guide. I kept my face neutral, but, inside, I felt queasy. Obviously, I didn''t¡¯ plan on gunning down a bunch of sick folks, ever, but something inside me recoiled at even being in proximity with my hypothetical victims, as if by entertaining the idea I was betraying myself. The System decided to kick me while I was down as well. Deception is now level 5. Upgrade paths available: Cloak of Vaguery Compartmentalize Charming Presence Splendid. Can¡¯t wait to choose the most effective lying power. ¡°So, the Plague Ward is near the center of the city? Doesn¡¯t that put people at risk if they stumble into the wrong part of town or if there¡¯s a breakout?¡± I asked. Trix¡¯s head tilted to the side, and he leaned over to look me in the eyes like he was trying to determine whether I was messing with him. ¡°No, Brother Ryan, not at all. Our route takes us deep into the Undercity. No one gets there by accident.¡± Chapter 29 - Know my Enemy Chapter 29 - Know my Enemy Trix had me follow the flow of traffic and make my way over to the other side of the street, a difficult feat if we were at all concerned about being run down by a cart full of grain or accosted by caravan guards. There was an art to it, where you would slide in next to something larger than yourself and use its wake to make your way to the next. Eventually we made it to a point where we could break off from the main thoroughfare and turn onto a wide street where the pace was much more sedate. People stood and talked to each other here, some sitting on stoops or on the edges of plain stone fountains. The street ended in a cul de sac that encircled a squat structure of plain stone in the shape of a blocky pyramid. On each side was an arch with stairs that led down. ¡°Once we are in the undercity we will make better time,¡± Trix said in my ear. ¡°The Plague Ward is to the southwest, and it is near another surface access that should take us where we need to go. There is an antique collector on the other side of the Observatory, and he is within a comfortable walking distance from multiple metal workers.¡± Down the stairs we went, down multiple landings that connected to each other at strange angles. At times, we¡¯d reach a landing that practically had us going straight on to the next set of stairs, and at the other extreme, sometimes the stairs would make a sharp turn and double back on themselves, thinning out until only one person could go down at a time. There were few enough people now that Trix felt comfortable walking again, taking the stairs in bounding, four-legged leaps that would take him down a flight in less than a second before he would stand up again and wait for me to come down. His long, low to the ground frame seemed built for this. Once we¡¯d gone down a few flights, the temperature dropped several degrees, and the humidity spiked. Cool, wet air ruffled my clothes and caressed my skin. More of those little light orbs hung from the walls of every landing, offering some dim illumination and pulsing in time like the city was breathing. We went down fourteen flights of stairs before we leveled out. Then we were in a curved tunnel with a vaulted ceiling and intricate stonework featuring lots of strange angles and asymmetrical shapes that confused the eye and distorted the echoes of our footfalls. Everything was made of dark stone fixed with mortar except, strangely, where the light orbs shone. Those appeared to be relatively new additions, with rougher hewn bricks spackled in to hold the light in place. Our tunnel was only wide enough to fit a few people side by side, and it wasn¡¯t entirely level either. The floor would gently rise and fall over time, seemingly at random. Meanwhile the bricks fit together so neatly, the place must have been designed like this. Why not just build the floor level if you¡¯re going to build one at all? According to Trix, the undercity, its shape at least, was part of the Dark Lord¡¯s original design. When I asked about some of the strange aspects of it, however, he just shrugged and said: ¡°It¡¯s mad, but the Dark Lord made it this way for a reason. Most people think it was part of the first dominion ritual, but we can only speculate. We¡¯ve simply learned to live with it¡­ or above it.¡± Additional archways yawned at us from the sides, sometimes leading to another tunnel that traveled perpendicular to ours, other times terminating directly in a stairwell or what looked like a railed water well complete with buckets and pulleys. Every once in a while, we¡¯d enter a significant intersection, a stack of wooden signs hanging down from the ceiling with helpful labels and arrows pointing down side tunnels or telling us to watch our steps. They mostly held street names, but some of the bolder signs had things like ¡°Library,¡± ¡°University Ward,¡± or ¡°Egress.¡± Those were always painted in bright yellow. Trix was right about it being lighter on traffic down here. People were a rare sight, and even when we did see them no one was talking. The foot traffic, at its densest, was at a wagon wheel shaped intersection of eleven different tunnel systems in a big circular hall lit by dozens of those luminous fibers like the ones in Jassin¡¯s carriage, high up in the ceiling, swaying like stalks of seaweed in an upside down ocean. Clusters of people in black robes or flowing gray half-cloaks gathered and spoke in quiet, intimate tones as they loitered around a cluster of wooden stalls surrounded by tall tables and chairs. The stalls themselves were set up like a pub, with kegs and bottles lined up on the back wall while they served customers from a chest high bar with stools in front. A lively string and drum tune played over all of it, loud enough to be heard but quiet enough to still be able to converse. The tunnels didn¡¯t appear to be a straight shot anywhere. They curved and twisted at random times, and some arches had no signs and no lights to help you on your way. We deviated from our initial tunnel system at one of these unmarked intersections and pushed on until it was pitch black. ¡°Yik¡¯i¡¯Trix?¡± I asked, groping around and shuffling my feet. ¡°Yes, Brother?¡± ¡°I can¡¯t see.¡± ¡°Oh, yes. Sorry. I hadn¡¯t realized. Reach out with your right hand and feel along the wall. There is a rail there for you to hold. We¡¯ll be through shortly.¡± I put my hand out as he asked and found the wall first, cold and slick with moisture. So cold, it scraped my nerves raw. ¡°Is this¡­ quellstone?¡± I asked. ¡°What? Oh. Yes, I suppose some people used to call it that. Your knowledge base is as old as the coins you brought. Most of the undercity is still the Dark Lord¡¯s design,¡± Yik¡¯i¡¯Trix explained. ¡°He used the quellstone for much of his city.¡± ¡°Why are there no lights?¡± ¡°Out of respect, Brother. This is a Returned neighborhood.¡± I found the railing at about chest height, smooth and cool but not cold like the quellstone. ¡°And you can see?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes, Brother. We Volpa prefer the dark, in fact. It¡¯s easier on the eyes.¡± I walked forward cautiously, sliding my hand on the railing, trying not to trip. ¡°There is an intersection here. Just follow my voice, and we¡¯ll get to the railing on the other s-,¡± he said just before there was a sort of thump followed by a tiny, pained yelp. ¡°Oh. I¡¯m so sorry. I did not realize you were there,¡± Trix yipped apologetically to someone out there. There was a pause followed by a slow, rasping intake of breath. It reminded me of a leaky bellows opening wide to draw in air. ¡°Is fine. Are you lost?¡± It was a woman¡¯s voice, slurred and strangely hollow sounding. It wheezed with every vowel, like wind over hollow reeds. You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story. ¡°No. We¡¯re not lost. We¡¯re just passing through. I was so busy leading my friend through that I wasn¡¯t watching where I was going. Again, I apologize, Miss.¡± ¡°No worry. Live people visit the Down, and is good.¡± ¡°If you are alright, then we¡¯ll be on our way. Have a good day,¡± said Trix. I heard Trix¡¯s front claws click on stone in preparation to get moving again. ¡°I know you?¡± the woman¡¯s voice asked. ¡°Uh. I don¡¯t think we¡¯ve met, Miss,¡± replied Trix. ¡°No. Him. Do I know him?¡± ¡°I- I¡± Trix stuttered, probably pondering a way to answer without saying I was part of the Order of Dawn. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so. My friend is new in town.¡± ¡°Someone knows him,¡± the unseen woman declared matter of factly. ¡°That¡­ could be,¡± said Trix with some hesitation. ¡°Everyone knows someone.¡± ¡°Someone knows him. I hear it. It hurts.¡± It was almost an accusation, her tone growing more sure, harsher like Trix had offended her somehow. There was a pause. I imagined Trix blinking a couple times and rubbing his paws, thinking of something appropriate to say to that. ¡°Yes. Well. We¡¯ll be getting on our way,¡± was all he came up with. ¡°Wait. I do know him. I do,¡± she said, her voice breaking in the middle as if she was on the verge of tears. ¡°I really don¡¯t think you do, Miss. You¡¯re confused.¡± For a handful of heartbeats, all I heard was my own breathing and Trix¡¯s paws shuffling on stone. I wished I could see. ¡°Maybe,¡± she breathed, drawing the word out weakly. ¡°I do get confused sometimes.¡± Stealth(Gray Man) is now level 6. Disguise is now level 2. There it went again. What? What am I hiding from? I don¡¯t understand. ¡°So do we all, Miss. What is your name?¡± Asked Trix. ¡°Magtha.¡± ¡°Have a good day, Magtha.¡± Then a little Volpa paw was in my hand, and I found myself being dragged swiftly along, nearly doubled over, until the ambient light in the tunnel started to show my companion in outline. By the time we were in the light, Trix was breathing hard, and I didn¡¯t blame him. He was forced to use only half of his feet while he led me around like this. ¡°What was that about?¡± I puffed, slightly winded myself. Crouch-running wasn¡¯t something meant to be done over that distance. Trix shook his head. ¡°I don¡¯t know. She was acting strangely, more strangely than the Returned usually act at least, but they all have their eccentricities.¡± ¡°That was a Returned?¡± ¡°Yes, but she was¡­ I don¡¯t know. I felt like her attention was on something else as well. Strange. I hope she¡¯s okay.¡± If not for my cover, this was when I would have asked what a Returned was, but alas¡­ I guessed I¡¯d figure it out soon anyway. My money was on zombies or swamp monsters. ¡°Come, Brother,¡± Trix called. ¡°We¡¯re almost there.¡± Trix led me forward again. It was an easier trek this time. There was enough light to see here, but not because the wall lamps were back. Instead, we were catching ambient light from something bright up ahead. We entered, through an arch, into a pentagonal room about the size of my old barn workshop back home, maybe a little bigger, big enough to fit a couple big haulers side by side. Three metal clad figures stood vigil, two reedy women with bright blue skin and striking amber eyes next to one of the hairy, lion maned men like the dead one I¡¯d seen on the road, though this one looked way bulkier, barrel chested and thick in the limbs. They all stood in front of a set of heavy, wooden doors that took up the entirety of what I took for a grander version of the undercity¡¯s regular archways, fifteen feet high and maybe eight across. A big, heavy beam had been set across the double doors and latched in place with metal braces that looked newer than the rest of the material. Several shields leaned against the wall next to the door, and a dirty pile of tarps lay several feet to the side. This was the most well lit I¡¯d seen the undercity so far. Several metal tripods were set up around the room with long telescoping necks ending in a metal cage that held bright, industrial versions of the light orbs I¡¯d seen everywhere else. They cast the entire room in stark relief and did strange things to multiply everyone¡¯s shadows. The brickwork was tight here, as if it had been put together with such precision, it hadn¡¯t shifted even slightly in the years since its construction. Every bit of it was the distinctive dark gray of quellstone. Yik¡¯i¡¯Trix bounded up to the group and stood at his full height to get their attention. ¡°Greetings, Brothers and Sisters. How goes the watch?¡± ¡°I know you, don¡¯t I?¡± The taller of the scaled women asked, doing a bad job of snapping her gauntleted fingers as she tried to jog her memory. ¡°You have duties at the church. The kitchens?¡± ¡°Yes. Yik¡¯i¡¯Trix,¡± the Volpa replied, making the little triangle sign on his head. ¡°Right! Yes. Well, I¡¯m afraid we don¡¯t need any of your services today, Brother,¡± said the blue woman sadly. ¡°The door is sealed up for the day. We had an incident that ended badly, and we¡¯re letting the infected calm down.¡± ¡°Oh? Well, I am not here to offer my services. I¡¯m here to offer ours.¡± He gestured to me, and I took that as my cue to step forward. ¡°Is he like a doctor or something?¡± The other, darker blue woman asked with a tilt of her head. She was smaller than her compatriot, slighter in frame, but the way her face resembled the other, they could have been related. The way the light hit her skin was odd, and, if I squinted I could almost make out rounded, textured lines of shadow and gloss. Scales. ¡°Take off the hat. Take off the hat,¡± Trix mumbled from the side of his mouth, just loud enough for me to hear. I resisted the urge to say ¡°Ta-da¡± when I flashed them my very important orange hat. It didn¡¯t get the reaction I thought it would. The taller armored woman¡¯s expression flashed through a kaleidoscope of emotion, rotating through shock, fear, mild disgust, anger, and something like relief. ¡°Oh. I¡­ see,¡± she said with some hesitation. ¡°I hadn¡¯t realized it had come to that.¡± With a growl, the big hairy guardsman marched over to me, shoulders squared, chest out, and mane bristling. He towered over me, steely eyes sizing me up like a deli slicer sized up a ham. His hand reached out and clasped my own, his meaty paw practically swallowing mine. ¡°It¡¯s about time,¡± he said with a dutiful frown. ¡°None of us like to talk about it, but there comes a time where we can no longer sit by. It¡¯s gotten bad in there, and it¡¯s only going to get worse unless we do something.¡± I was feeling more uncomfortable by the second. Everyone just saw me and assumed I was here to kill plague victims¡­ and they were just going to let it happen. This guy seemed entirely on board, at least. Yik¡¯i¡¯trix spoke for me again, looking proud at how my presence, and by proximity, his, got their attention. ¡°The Brother is not quite ready to commit to a plan of action yet. Today we are still gathering information. Is there anything you can tell us?¡± ¡°We¡¯ve had to seal the south gate. They always try to get out there. The plague has them violent and unreasonable. We¡¯re usually a team of four, but one of our number was injured earlier today when that one attacked us.¡± The guardsman gestured with his head to indicate the pile of tarps. Now that I was looking more closely, they did look like they were covering something vaguely human-shaped. I nodded to them all, letting go of the big guy¡¯s hand and ignoring how sore mine now was. This guy must have been born with Iron Grip. I gestured Trix over to the tarps with me. We crouched down together, and I got ready to see what I was dealing with. Pulling the cloth back revealed a ragged, pale head with milky white eyes, clumps of stringy hair, and jagged, rotten teeth. Well, Ryan, when you¡¯re right you¡¯re right. Zombies. Odd ones. Suture marks criss crossed all over the creature¡¯s skin, purple like a bruise, while the rest of the flesh there, although pale, was all different shades of pale. Black blood oozed out of its mismatched eyes, mangled nose, and mouth. It had no visible ears, but I assumed it could hear somehow. On a hunch, I reached out experimentally, touching the corpse¡¯s shoulder. Loot Scourge-Touched Undead? Y/N It was worse than I¡¯d feared. The scourge-touched weren¡¯t coming for me. They were already here. Chapter 30 - Incite a Riot Chapter 30 - Incite a Riot Scourge-touched. My problems had followed me here, or, more accurately, beat me here. From the moment I was dropped onto Ralqir, these things had been dogging my footsteps. Now, it seems they¡¯d gotten out ahead of me. Okay. What does this guy being scourge-touched tell me? One: The church called this a plague. Bishop Kolash had specifically said that it was a ¡®most vexing¡¯ one that they can¡¯t cure. He¡¯d also said that only the Returned were carriers so far. So is being scourge-touched a plague? Does it spread like one? I looked over my shoulder to make sure no one was within earshot, so that I could speak with Trix with some privacy. ¡°When did you first start seeing this again?¡± I asked in a whisper. ¡°Three months or so, give or take,¡± the little fox whispered. ¡°I can¡¯t say for certain, because none of us can. No one was looking out for sickness among the Returned, because of what they are.¡± ¡°Dead.¡± Trix¡¯s ears flattened out on his head, and he glanced around as if making sure no one overheard me. ¡°Technically, yes, but it¡¯s not said in polite company, Brother. Just call them Returned.¡± ¡°Okay. My mistake,¡± I apologized. The Returned seemed to be treated as both a potential danger and a vulnerable class at the same time. I would need to tread carefully. ¡°What are your observations here? Give me everything.¡± ¡°Really?¡± Trix asked, standing up straight and nervously rubbing his front paws together. ¡°You want me to help with that?¡± I nodded. ¡°Yes. You¡¯re my resident expert, right? Give me the facts.¡± ¡°Uh. The facts. Right,¡± the Volpa said, nodding to himself before another full body shiver took him. I¡¯d need to ask Bishop Kolash exactly what that meant when I saw him again. This was becoming all too frequent, and I needed to know if I was upsetting him or exciting him or¡­ other things. ¡°Let me see,¡± he mumbled, getting down on all fours again and circling around the corpse, leaning in to examine the odd mark or piece of fabric, lifting up the tarp, even going so far as to sniff under the fingernails. ¡°Well, he is wearing male clothing. That¡¯s generally how we gauge their preferences in that arena. They have no opinions either way on the matter, most of the time. He appears to have been built from multiple sources of¡­ ah¡­¡± ¡°You mean more than one body,¡± I guessed. That would explain the stitch marks. The use of the word ¡®built¡¯ caught my attention though. It implied that the Returned weren¡¯t a natural occurrence, that they were made instead of propagated on their own. Two: Hunty had mentioned that the black ones weren¡¯t entirely a natural occurrence either. He¡¯d said something about them debasing themselves making deals with demons, whatever that meant after hundreds of years of oral history, and it took away their ability to reproduce, which is something all life is supposed to be able to do. A tenuous connection, but I¡¯d do well to keep it in mind. ¡°Yes, that¡¯s right,¡± Trix replied without looking at me, instead spreading the creature¡¯s long fingers wide and running his claws over the joints. ¡°Of course, the Dark Lord didn¡¯t have much care for these creatures¡¯ lives outside of serving him, so it¡¯s very common for them to be from multiple sources, even different species. It causes great difficulty for them and for those that care for them. This one was relatively lucky¡­ until the plague took him, of course.¡± He hesitated, glancing at me nervously to gauge my reaction. ¡°Please remember, I¡¯m not trying to insult you, Brother Ryan. I¡¯m just trying to give you everything like you asked.¡± I waved away his concern as convincingly as I could and tried to pretend I wasn¡¯t snatching up bits of Ralqir¡¯s history like a starving man snatched at breadcrumbs. I gave him my best encouraging nod. ¡°No. You¡¯re doing great. Go on.¡± Again, Trix was racked with shivers from tail to nose. Then he went on like it never happened. Did he know he was doing it? He had to know. ¡°He was killed by a blow to the head. There¡¯s no other place on his body that looks like a wound, and the plague doesn¡¯t actually kill its victims.¡± He paused to stand up and point to the corpse¡¯s eyes and the oily discharge that ran down its skin. ¡°Black blood from the eyes, nose, and ears. That¡¯s consistent with what we¡¯ve been seeing in advanced infections too. When they get to this point they¡¯re either unable or unwilling to communicate, and they become quite combative.¡± Three: The black ones and the infected Returned don¡¯t speak, and they¡¯re both irrationally violent. Trix and I were just talking to a Returned a few minutes ago, so they aren¡¯t naturally like that. ¡°What color is Returned blood normally?¡± I asked without thinking, regretting it immediately based on Trix¡¯s reaction. He tilted his head to peer at me incredulously. ¡°Is this a test?¡± I raised my eyebrows and shrugged. ¡°Again, I want everything.¡± He paused for two slow blinks, whiskers twitching, but then was back to being helpful. ¡°Right, then. Uh, Returned have no conventional blood. They just have to keep enough fluid inside of them, or the magic that animates them cannot flow properly. They could replace all the water in their bodies with ale, and they wouldn¡¯t feel the difference.¡± I contemplated that. ¡°But um- ¡®blood¡¯ from the plagued Returned is uniformly black?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I hear.¡± I frowned as I thought, staring into the corpse''s blank eyes. The ¡®scourge-touched¡¯ status was certainly acting like a plague, one that only affected you if¡­ what? If you don¡¯t fit into the natural order? That didn¡¯t make sense. How did the first black one get infected then? They were supposed to be regular goblins at one time, corrupted and made into monsters. I would have asked the Stone Hearts for more details if I¡¯d thought the ¡®how¡¯ of things was going to be so relevant. Nali said something similar to me a while back at the tutorial facility. What was it? She only reverted to her previous save state in the case of some kind of corruption? Tampering? There was something there. I could feel it, as if the disparate ideas were part of a circuit that I hadn¡¯t closed yet. ¡°Message from up top. You¡¯re not going to like it,¡± the shorter blue-scaled guard said. She was holding a tiny notebook up to the light and frowning at something on its pages. The other guardswoman groaned, running a gauntleted hand down her face. ¡°Probably not. Give it to us anyway.¡± ¡°The Captain is sending down another group.¡± ¡°Damnit. Really? He knows the gate¡¯s sealed up. Why¡¯s he sending more of them down here? Is he thick? Because I¡¯m starting to think so. We¡¯re down a man, and we¡¯re not due for relief for hours.¡± She paced back and forth nervously, her hand gripping the leather of her sword scabbard. ¡°Another thing, Sissa,¡± the shorter guard said as she pocketed her notebook. ¡°They¡¯re sending Bole.¡± Sissa stopped mid stride, frozen on the knife edge between panic and outrage, eyes wide, her mouth twisting up into a snarl, her muscles tensed like she was contemplating an attack or the safest direction to bolt. She stood so still, I couldn¡¯t even see her breathe. After several heartbeats, the spell broke, and she was right back in charge. Sissa was all business, issuing commands and adjusting her kit. ¡°Alright, we have an incoming group of infected, and we¡¯re gonna need to do this smooth-like. Geddon put your ear up to that door and tell me if you can hear anything. Samila, get the lights.¡± She turned to us as she ratcheted the straps on her forearm. ¡°Brothers, I know this isn¡¯t why you came down here, but we¡¯re down a man. We could use your help. Nothing hard or-¡± she hesitated when she looked at me, her mouth scrunched up like she was trying and failing to hide a scowl. ¡°Nothing violent. We just need to get these people into the ward swiftly and without incident.¡± I nodded and stood up, stopping momentarily to put the tarp back over the corpse¡¯s face. If my theory held true, these infected undead would be in the process of being converted or ¡®touched,¡¯ an intermediate state between ¡°normal¡± and ¡°bloodthirsty horde.¡± This might be the only time I¡¯d be able to see one up close without it having a good shot at killing me. Trix was all for it. ¡°We¡¯re ready to assist you in whatever you need, Sergeant. Duty and mercy.¡± ¡°Duty and mercy,¡± Sissa answered. ¡°Not hearing anything in there. They might still be hanging around though, waiting for us to open the door,¡± Geddon rumbled, his voice low as if he didn¡¯t want the sound to carry. Sissa nodded to Geddon. ¡°Alright. Good enough for now. With any luck, all the ones that are too far gone will be banging on the south gate anyway. It¡¯s always the south.¡± The shorter guardswoman, Samila, waddled over to the rest of us lugging two of the tripod light stands in either hand, setting them down dead center then angling the heads to direct the light at the big plague ward doors. ¡°Alright,¡± Sissa said, bending down to pick up a round shield. She swung the shield up and over her shoulder, looping an attached strap diagonally over her torso to affix it to her back. ¡°Full protective gear. That means collars too, Geddon.¡± Geddon growled, rubbing the side of his neck. ¡°They issued me a Miur collar, I swear.¡± Sissa scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s the right size, Geddon. You¡¯re just a baby. As soon as we see our new arrivals you get the door, and we¡¯ll shuffle them on in. I don¡¯t want that door open for more than thirty seconds, got it?¡± This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. ¡°Got it,¡± the big lion man grumbled as he buckled a leather collar across his throat. Then he rolled his neck and shoulders like a powerlifter about to do a set. Sissa turned to us then. ¡°Brothers, you stand there and try to look impressive. If any of the Returned get confused, just direct them over to the door. If any fighting breaks out, well¡­ any other day I¡¯d say let us handle it, but that¡¯s how Fran earned a trip to the healer. Just do what you can and try not to hurt anyone.¡± She looked pointedly at me at the end. All I could do was shrug and try to look more confident than I felt. I put on my best stoic frown and took up position in the center of the room by the spotlights. Trix skittered over next to me and stood up on his hind legs, bobbing up and down excitedly, so fast he was generating a static charge against my trousers. ¡°Calm down,¡± I muttered to him. ¡°Yes, Brother. Of course. Sorry. Duty and mercy. Warriors of Light.¡± Trix said it like a mantra, shuddering, then seemed to force himself to relax, taking deep breaths. It didn¡¯t take long for the promised excitement to arrive. The acoustics in the undercity were such that we heard them coming long before we saw them. The jangling clank of chains, short exchanges of indistinct speech, and the occasional bark of laughter echoed down to us from the far archway, the next one over from where Trix and I had entered. I peered into the black. There was a glint of something out there, a floating pair of orbs in the dark, followed by another, and another, a gaggle of reflective eyes just coming into range of our lights. Then two dark silhouettes resolved into a pair of armored guardsmen that stepped into the chamber holding the leads of long chains in their hands. Their black breastplates marked them as a different unit than the ones guarding the door down here, and their kit was subtly different as well. While the church guards were armored up with plate and chain and carried swords with wide cross guards along with shields on their backs. These guys had thin shortswords on their hips and a wooden truncheon dangling from a loop on their belts while their armor was thin leather on the legs and banded mail on the top. If I remembered correctly, the gate guards had a similar getup. Attached to the length of chain at regular intervals was a line of filthy, ragged creatures of all different shapes and sizes ranging from a tall and reedy figure with mismatched arms to a stocky, pear shaped¡­ man?... that waddled stiffly, toddler-like, on legs with too few joints. Their clothes were universally ripped and soiled. All of them had pale, sallow skin that made the dark stitch marks on their faces and exposed limbs stick out like ink on paper. Their hair was uniformly long and thin, sometimes draping down in front of their faces, and their milky eyes stared blankly straight ahead, unblinking. The lead guard, a shorter man with five o¡¯clock stubble and watery blue eyes that shone through the shadows of his helm, yanked on the chain, forcing his prisoners to stumble and then come up short so as not to collide with his back. Smiling, the guard halted stiffly and raised his arm up and away from his body until it formed a 90 degree angle, like he was trying to get his hand as far from his sword as possible. A ceremonial gesture maybe. ¡°Hail to the watch. Also, lovely to see you again, Sissa,¡± he called with a smile that bordered on sneer territory. Sissa strode forward haltingly, looking like she just swallowed something disgusting. ¡°Hail, Corporal Bole. I wish I could say the same,¡± the scaled church guard said, not returning the raised hand gesture. She looked like she wanted to spit out something foul. The chains rattled as Corporal Bole spread his arms wide and tilted his head, the leering smile never leaving his face. ¡°Sissa, darling, my fire goddess. Still haven¡¯t moved on have you? A shame.¡± he crooned before turning to his right. ¡°Oh, yes. This is my man, Private Beedy. Say hello, Beedy.¡± The lanky guard that had been carrying the chain leads with Bole hung his head and shifted uncomfortably, not meeting anyone¡¯s eyes. Corporal Bole didn¡¯t seem to mind his sullen silence, enjoying the spotlight for himself. He grinned, flashing bright white teeth before looking back over his shoulder at the Returned he had in chains. None of them paid any of us mind, content to just stare at the stonework or rock back and forth mumbling or chewing on their fingernails. ¡°So, The Captain is down to using men like you, is he? Thief.¡± Sissa literally hissed the last word in another language. I was starting to get good at spotting when the System was doing the translation thing. I mouthed the word to myself, testing out the sounds and feeling for the meaning. It felt vile, venomous like it was a grave insult reserved for the loathed, but that was all I got. ¡°Oh. I love it when your tongue gets going like that, Sissa darling. Reminds me of old times,¡± Bole sneered, licking his lips and raising a thin eyebrow. If he knew what the term actually meant, he didn¡¯t show it. Samila stepped in front of Sissa, a protective hand raised subtly to shield the other woman. ¡°I see they¡¯re down to the dregs if they¡¯ve got you running around unsupervised, Bole,¡± she stated flatly. Bole laughed at that, then, slowly, purposefully ran his eyes down Samila¡¯s body in a way that made me feel uncomfortable, and I was way over on the other side of the room. ¡°That¡¯s the funny thing about hard times, yeah? One day you¡¯re all high and mighty, then, before you even know it, you¡¯re down to using your best man again, when you finally remember the ends are what really matter.¡± Bole jangled the chains in his hand and handed them to his silent partner, Beedy. ¡°Anyway. Here you go, Sissa darling. Eight guests, now officially in your care. Hand them over to the nice church people, will you, Beedy?¡± Beedy turned to look back at his eight charges. He mumbled something I couldn¡¯t hear that got them moving. He didn¡¯t have to pull on the chains, the Returned all seemed to take the suggestion in stride and just followed him over, dreamilly drifting in his wake. The private led them across the room and handed them over to Samila. Without saying a word, she took the lead and kept the train rolling toward the doors. As she passed us, she rolled her eyes and stuck out a long, forked tongue, subtly gesturing backward with her head. ¡°Thank you, Beedy. Now, I wish you all a good evening, prayers and all that. Maybe I¡¯ll see you later, Sissa,¡± Bole said, turning on his heel and making for the archway. The procession of Returned followed Samila past me, none of them bothering to look my way. Each one¡¯s arms were bound in heavy metal bands attached to their necks by a secondary chain and collar, not really allowing them to relax their arms. Then, without warning, one of the Returned stopped as if she¡¯d hit a wall, causing a pile up behind. It was a woman, or it was in life at least, with a long face and greasy raven hair that hung down to her lower back. Her lips were cracked and too small to cover her mouth fully, and her nose didn¡¯t appear to match the rest of her, darker and longer than would have matched the rest of her face. She sniffed the air, nodding her head to sniff her chest then turned, inhaling heavily until the gesture drew her eye to eye with me. She blinked several times, staring into me with seemingly blind eyes, working her mouth and running her tongue over jagged teeth. As she stood there, swaying, I could almost make out words, but she wasn¡¯t using her vocal cords. It was just air playing over her tongue. The rest of the Returned grouped up behind her, and the chain at her hands went taught as the rest of the line tried to pull her on. She didn¡¯t allow herself to be pulled, however. ¡°The keys, Corporal Bole,¡± Sissa ordered. ¡°You brought them in here manacled and chained. They can¡¯t live like that in there.¡± Bole, almost back out of the archway now, snapped his fingers exaggeratedly and turned around to leer back at Sissa. ¡°Oh, yes, I¡¯d nearly forgotten. We¡¯re still pretending they¡¯re alive. Sorry, love.¡± He gestured with his hand, showman like, to reveal the ring of gray iron keys already looped around his middle finger. ¡°Here you go,¡± he said as he jangled them next to his face. ¡°Give them to me,¡± Sissa ordered, a scowl on her face and her hands tightening into fists. She took a tiny step forward but stopped herself. ¡°They¡¯re right here, love. Come hither,¡± the corporal replied. Meanwhile, Beedy was already almost all the way down the hall, doing the smart thing and getting out of this situation. ¡°I-¡± the undead woman in front of me whispered, her breath a wheeze in her throat. Her head twitched on her shoulders, jerking to the side like she¡¯d just been struck. It happened once, twice. ¡°I know you,¡± she breathed. The smell of her reminded me of moldering old clothes. Still playing the part of the tough monk, I shook my head and tried to look stern. Trix spoke up for me, of course, the helpful fox person he was. ¡°Miss, I think you are mistaken,¡± he said, placing a hand on my leg for emphasis. ¡°Brother Ryan just arrived in our city, and he doesn¡¯t know anyone yet.¡± On the other side of the room, grunting, hulking Geddon lifted the heavy crossbeam onto his shoulders. The wooden slab scraped against the iron fittings as it slid up and out, and the big doors groaned as they shifted into a new, less encumbered position. Dust trickled down from old hinges. Geddon puffed as he took short steps, slowly walking the beam over to the wall and letting one side carefully slide to the floor with a *bang.* Volcanic rage shone in Sissa¡¯s eyes, her blue scales darkening slightly around their edges, and her lips curling into a snarl. ¡°I will not come hither. These are your chains, and we have no need of them. There are no prisoners here, just sick people. Unlock them and be gone, Corporal.¡± She emphasized the last word, as if this were a private barb I didn¡¯t have context for. ¡°I know you,¡± the Returned woman said, louder now. Samila had doubled back to check on the hold up, and she stood next to the confused undead woman. The petite blue guard gave me a questioning look, but all I could do was shrug. ¡°I know you.¡± The Returned¡¯s eyes widened. Her hollow breaths came in shaky gasps. Her top lip crawled up higher and higher like they were being stretched by invisible strings on the ceiling until they exposed her blackened gums. ¡°That one giving you trouble, mate?¡± Bole asked, his question a light, mocking thing. I didn¡¯t respond. I was too busy trying to look¡­ not like me while the Returned panted in my face. Whistling casually, Bole brushed past Sissa, close enough to rub shoulders, wearing a smile that felt oily and cruel. ¡°Don¡¯t let ¡®em get in your face,¡± he chided. ¡°Just cuff em on the back of the head and they straighten right up. Don¡¯t feel a thing.¡± Bole was next to us now, but he wasn¡¯t the only one. The rest of the Returned had somehow gathered close around us, too close, looking on. I felt like they were all staring directly at me. The woman in my face, the ones around me¡­ their bodies spasmed, muscles tensing and going slack seemingly at random, marionettes to a palsied puppeteer. ¡°What¡¯s this now?¡± Bole shouted derisively in the Returned woman¡¯s ear. ¡°Leave the nice monk alone and get back in line!¡± The blow was fast, a practiced thing, a cruel backhand swung from down low, out of the dead woman¡¯s line of sight, meant to catch its target unaware and inflict pain and humiliation. In my previous life, I might not have even seen it coming, might not have even had the opportunity to intervene. I wasn¡¯t that person anymore, though. I was one of the Exotics, the System¡¯s Chosen. It wasn¡¯t a conscious thing. Out of the corner of my eye I saw the strike. I saw the satisfaction in Bole¡¯s eyes, the way the corner of his mouth quirked up to reveal his perfect, gleaming teeth. Reflex guided my hand, the metal one. With a *CLANG* Bole¡¯s knuckleguard met my prosthetic forearm, intercepted before it could strike home, while my other fist caught him in the jaw. With a *crack* my knuckles met his face, and his eyes widened in disbelief as he staggered backward. To his credit, Bole didn¡¯t give much ground, only a couple steps. He shook his head, spat, and reached up to feel his jaw. The smile crawled its way back onto his face quickly, but I saw what it replaced. Fear. Uncertainty. ¡°Now you¡¯ve done it, monk,¡± he declared as he straightened to his full height, a promise of violence in every movement. ¡°I- I know you! D-D-Dph-!¡± The Returned woman stuttered. She either didn¡¯t notice or didn¡¯t care about what had just happened. She was shouting now. She reached up with her manacled hands to clutch at her head, and her fingers dug furrows in her skin. The other Returned gathered closer around, twitching that way they did, reaching up to grasp at their own scalps. ¡°Defiled!¡± The Returned woman ripped at her head, dirty black hair coming off in her hand. ¡°Defiler! Defiler!¡± The Returned were starting to join in like a chorus of dead cheerleaders. ¡°Defiler! Defiled! Defiler! DefilAAAAAAAA!¡± The woman¡¯s shouts crescendoed, breaking, morphing, warping into an inhuman scream, one that opened her jaw impossibly wide and let loose a primal cry of desperate hatred I could feel in my soul. The rest of the Returned echoed her, lost themselves to whatever force they¡¯d been fighting for control of their own minds. It may have come from different voices in a different place, echoed off of different stones, but I recognized that sound. The wordless, burning, tormented hatred. The terrible, thoughtless call to violence. I¡¯d heard it under the mountain. In my cell. Muffled, muted but irrefutably audible, more voices took up the call from behind the heavy plague ward door with such fervor their screams transcended the physical, chilling my bones. I might have just imagined it, but I felt like the walls themselves shook as if they, too, had taken notice of me, and they, too, bayed for my blood. Then, as one, the scourge-touched creatures surged forward to rip me apart. Chapter 31 -Contain the Swarm Chapter 31 -Contain the Swarm They came on from all around me, their eyes burning with insanity, their mouths open to shriek their hatred. Long, bony fingers grasped at my limbs, my head and neck, attempting to wrench my body into unnatural angles. Dirty fingernails dug into my exposed skin and ripped at my clothes. The Returned woman that had spoken to me lunged for my face, reaching out and grasping the sides of my head with her manacled hands and snapping at me with jagged, stained teeth while the chains that bound her ground against the bridge of my nose. I got my arm up in time, wedging my forearm across her throat so she couldn¡¯t bite me, but the others were more than willing to tag in. Scourge touched undead attacks you for 3 damage. Status gained: Bleeding. [0.3 HP/sec] Pain lanced through my back as one of the scourge-touched latched onto my flesh and thrashed its head like a dog with a rabbit. Others attempted to rip off my arms at the shoulder, but that wasn¡¯t quite as worrying. While painful, I was made of tougher stuff now that my Body stat had climbed into the twenties. Thank Constance for that. All the while, if their mouths weren¡¯t full of¡­ me, they howled in that familiar, mindless way that reminded me of my old cell. ¡°Stop! Stop!¡± Trix shouted uselessly over the din. I could feel him down next to my shins, darting in and out, attempting to do something to get control of the situation, but the undead weren¡¯t listening. Trix huffed, attempting to push at the undead¡¯s shins, but they and I had much more mass than he did. He¡¯d be hard pressed to even shift our weight, much less wrestle anyone off of me. I grunted, trying to free my prosthetic from the press of bodies by curling it like you would with a dumbbell, but someone had a tight hold of the wrist. The desire to shift my feet and get more power into the move was there, but I instinctively knew if I lost contact with the ground for one moment, I¡¯d be down on the floor and in a lot more trouble. The scuffle carried on for a handful of seconds like that, me trying not to die, the Returned screeching and ripping at me, while my Volpa guide tried to talk the rabid undead down. It was odd, surreal even, to be in a crowd of capable people but essentially alone fighting for my life. Eventually, though, the church guards stopped gawking and jumped in. A mailed arm snaked around the Returned lady¡¯s neck and pulled her back. She still had a hold of my head and tried to pull me with her, but one of the great things about temporary baldness was that there wasn¡¯t much to hold onto. The woman¡¯s nails raked over my temples and past my eyes, but then she was off of me, now wrestling with Sissa. The chain that connected all the Returned wouldn¡¯t let the two go far, however. Sissa, though seemingly stronger than her opponent, couldn¡¯t drag the woman farther away than a few feet before they ran out of slack and were now fighting the weight of the rest of the undead. Sissa had given me space to take a swing at the creature holding onto my metal arm though. My clenched fist crashed down on the Returned¡¯s forehead over and over, not the greatest of spots to focus on, but I was working with what I could get. Scourge-Touched Undead takes 1 damage. (Bludgeoning) Scourge-Touched Undead takes 1 damage. (Bludgeoning) Scourge-Touched Undead takes 2 damage. (Bludgeoning) Scourge-Touched Undead takes 1 damage. (Bludgeoning) Scourge-Touched Undead is stunned. The angle wasn¡¯t good, robbing my blows of a lot of their strength, but after the fourth or fifth strike, the iron grip on my arm loosened, allowing me to have use of my entire upper body. Sissa and Samila, were both grappling with a Returned now. Sissa was still working on the woman in front of me, pinning the snarling undead down with some kind of technique that twisted the limbs and pinned them under her bodyweight, while Samila was to my right on the floor with the tall, lanky Returned that had bitten into my back. That one¡¯s long, oddly jointed arms were wrapped around Samila¡¯s shoulders like ropey tentacles, bringing her in close so it could bite at her neck, but the guard looked more disgusted than anything, her face scrunching up like she smelled something awful. Her armor was holding up well against the teeth, but she wasn¡¯t exactly winning her fight either. You take 2 bleeding damage. Corporal Fidus Bole attacks you for 4 damage. Something hard slammed into my stomach, driving the air out of my lungs, toppling me and the remaining six or so Returned baying for my blood backward and onto the floor, exactly where I didn¡¯t want to be. I heard the crunch of bone as our combined weight came down on whatever unlucky undead was behind me. Then my vision flashed white as my head made contact with the stone floor. Status gained: Stunned. ¡°Next time, watch who you sucker punch, monk.¡± I blinked, looking up from the dog pile to see Bole standing over me, a cruel smirk tugging at the side of his mouth, made even less appealing since his lip was starting to swell. Oh yeah. I did just deck this guy, didn¡¯t I? ¡°They really don¡¯t like you, do they?¡± He shouted over the insane howls of the undead. He waggled his eyebrows cheekily at me as he wound up for another kick like the one that had bowled me over. Despite his proximity, the Returned didn¡¯t give a damn about Bole. They scrambled past his legs and over me to get at my torso to bite and claw. Their weight pinned my legs and fouled up any attempt I made to soften the incoming blow. Corporal Fidus Bole attacks you for 5 damage. Bole¡¯s kick caught me full on in the side of the ribs. If I hadn¡¯t already been out of breath, I would have groaned. *BAM* From the other side of the room, something slammed up against the heavy wooden doors that led to the plague ward. The noise drew every living eye. The doors shifted on their hinges, groaning slightly and parting the tiniest bit in the middle. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. ¡°What the hell?¡± Geddon bellowed from somewhere out of sight. ¡°Sissa! They¡¯re charging the door!¡± That old, familiar chorus of innumerable, wordless howls shook the walls of the chamber. Status lost: Stunned. They¡¯re all scourge-touched. All of them. We¡¯re all in real trouble here. I curled in on myself to protect my ribs then kicked out to get some space, sending the two undead on my legs backward until the chain arrested their falls. I gasped for breath, as my diaphragm kickstarted my breathing process once again, and I snapped an elbow into the nose of one of the Returned attempting to hold onto my prosthetic. Scourge-Touched Undead takes 3 damage. (Bludgeoning) Scourge-Touched Undead is stunned. Unarmed Combat is now level 3. The two I kicked off were undeterred. There was just a half second of freedom before they were back in the game, crawling up my legs to get at my face. Bole jumped onto their backs, straddling me and my assailants, crouching down until his weight pinned the undead on top of me. A flash of metal caught my eye as he drew a tiny hooked knife from his sleeve, small enough to be concealed in his palm. He struck like a snake, lunging for my face. Corporal Fidus Bole attacks you for 2 damage. Status gained: Bleeding [2 HP/sec] I got a hand up to intercept the blade before it could strike home, the blade carving a neat line down my wrist. Either the adrenaline in my system or the razor sharpness of the blade kept the pain from being debilitating. Wearing a sadistic grin, Bole leaned into his blade arm, putting more and more weight behind it, forcing my blocking hand down toward my cheek. He leaned forward, close enough to speak to only me, a little intimate conversation in the middle of the chaos. The tendons in his neck flexed and strained at the effort he was having to put in. I had to imagine I looked the same. ¡°Nothing personal, monk,¡± he said. ¡°Blood for blood.¡± I was starting to understand why Sissa didn¡¯t like this guy. Setting myself, I pushed up with all my might, forcing the knife back. ¡°You don¡¯t think you¡¯re overreacting, just a little?¡± I asked through gritted teeth. ¡°Mmf! Geddon, hold the door!¡± Sissa called out from somewhere. ¡°They¡¯ve gone mad! Don¡¯t let them out!¡± ¡°What do you think I¡¯m doing?!¡± He roared. ¡±I can¡¯t reach the bar! I¡¯m having to hold it myself!¡± I bucked at the waist, trying to shift Bole¡¯s weight, but he and the feral undead were too heavy. Suddenly, something brown and wearing robes shot out the dark and stuck to Bole¡¯s face like a furry pie. The bastard made a noise, something short and muffled, while he violently shook his head to try and dislodge Trix. The guardsman was busy wrestling me for a knife, though. He couldn¡¯t reach up to peel the little Vulpa off. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Brother Ryan! I¡¯ve got him!¡± Trix shouted as he held on for dear life with his claws. Bole tried to say something like ¡°Mmmph bfff morglmf,¡± but I couldn¡¯t make it out. I¡¯m sure it was pithy. I needed an out, something that could change the equation here. Bole¡¯s partner, Beedy, turned out to be just what I needed. He slammed into the pile of people on top of me, toppling Bole and Trix and bringing the two returned along for the ride. The man must have shoulder tackled us at full speed. Suddenly, I had no one weighing me down. It gave me the chance to wrest myself from the pile. I twisted at the waist and tore myself out of the grasp of the rest of the Returned, having to give up parts of my shirt to get free, but it was a cost I paid gladly. Sissa and Samila were still busy restraining a few of them, but the undead people seemed to feel no pain. They fought hard to get at me, even if they had to go through the women that were just doing their jobs. Those not currently engaged tugged at their bonds but weren''t strong enough to drag their chained fellows with them to follow me at least, so there was that. Something slammed up against the doors to the plague ward again. Geddon, currently bracing the doors with his body, grunted as he was pushed forward. Then, the muscles in his legs bulged as he heaved backwards, shoving the doors closed once more. ¡°Someone help me! Get the bar!¡± If more of the scourge-touched joined the fight we were screwed. I started staggering backward toward the door, sparing a glance for the pile of bodies where Bole, Trix, and Beedy went down. I couldn¡¯t see Trix, and that worried me. Even so, the doors needed to stay closed. *BAM* The doors jerked forward while dust trickled down from above to land on Geddon¡¯s neck and shoulders. His boots scraped on the stonework as the force shifted him. He snarled as he found his traction again and shoved back hard. The door didn¡¯t slam home this time. There was the smallest of gaps between them, and the undead behind the door had Geddon matched for strength with their numbers. I hit the rightmost door at full sprint, slamming my shoulder into it. Something cracked, close, wet like celery snapping, and the doors slammed closed again. I looked down to see a pale arm, long and sinewy with black spiderweb veins just underneath the paper thin skin. It was mangled at the base where the doors had crushed it. Black blood oozed from the narrow gap. The wood bucked again, even as I shoved against it. Geddon grunted, spreading his arms and flexing his shoulders to get more leverage. ¡°The bar. Get the bar!¡± He snarled through clenched teeth. I nodded, looking to my right to find the beam leaning against the stone of the arch. It was¡­ sizeable, easily nine feet long and as wide as my waist. When I laid my hand on it, I could instantly tell it was dense too, as if there was almost no hollow space even among the fibers. I set my feet and wrapped my arms around the middle. Come on 24 Body. Don¡¯t let me down. The muscles in my legs, back, and shoulders bulged. My neck went tight, and my diaphragm tensed to the point where I was no longer breathing. Blood roared in my ears. Nothing. Well, not nothing. The top of the beam, which had been resting on the stone, shifted slightly and changed the angle at which it leaned. The bottom of the beam, however, did not move. It was much too heavy for me. Then someone else was there. Gloved hands grasped the beam above mine. They weren¡¯t lifting though. They were pushing. The wooden slab started to shift, leaning toward me, over me. No. No. Have to get it up. Up! ¡°Move!¡± Bole¡¯s voice sounded out right next to me, breaking my concentration. I opened my eyes. The man¡¯s face was right there, bleeding from claw marks on his cheeks. His watery eyes tightened at the edges as he strained. ¡°Bloody move!¡± he commanded again. The beam toppled toward me. I disengaged myself from my hold and wrenched my body to the side. The weight of the thing forced my shoulder down painfully, nearly doubling me over as the angle changed. Its trajectory was¡­ Oh shit. ¡°Geddon!¡± I called, turning to face the hulking lion man. He was in a bad way, sweat dripping from his face, knees trembling, about to buckle. Upon hearing his name his eyes shot open and refocused, like a man coming out of a trance. The beam was picking up speed. ¡°Move!¡± I commanded him, putting every ounce of fake authority into my voice that I could. It worked. Geddon, a military man at heart, followed the command without hesitation, diving forward as the beam crashed down in front of the door. It hit with a deafening *BOOMF,* kicking up dust and shaking the floor enough for me to feel it through the soles of my boots. Before the beam had even settled, the doors to the plague ward slammed up against it, hard. The wood rattled and cracked as what I could only assume were a multitude of bodies surged forward to escape. The beam only slid forward a few inches before Bole was upon it, crawling down beside it and bracing it with his feet. The damage was done though. The doors were open, not all the way, but now there was a foot wide gap between them. Pale faces with milky white eyes, deformed and mangled hands, and black tongues burst from the breach like maggots from a bloated corpse, crowding in to be the first through, the first out. The faces howled and bayed like dogs when they saw me, their white eyes only for me. Bole saw what was coming before anyone else. He cursed, kicking at the heavy beam one last time before reaching into his cuff again to pull out his hooked knife, the one he¡¯d tried to use on me. Then he jammed it into the bricks at his feet directly abutting the beam, a makeshift wedge to keep the barrier in place. He jumped to his feet, backpedaling swiftly away from the tide. Already, bloody ragged figures were slipping from the narrow gap in the door. They squeezed themselves through the slit. They left flesh behind, cracked rib cages, bled black globs of stinking slime too thick to be rightfully called blood. The plague ward was birthing a host of horrors. ¡°Run!¡± Someone cried. Chapter 32 - Get them Out Chapter 32 - Get them Out ¡°Run, you daft pricks!¡± Bole shouted. He was already on his feet, practicing what he preached. Geddon scrambled to pick up his shield. It looked small in his hand, more like a buckler. He was breathing hard already, and his legs shook. I couldn¡¯t really blame him, since he¡¯d single handedly held back a tide of undead. Regardless, he gave no ground. I stood next to him, watching the bodies pile up and up in the gap between the doors, their snarling faces attempting to press through. If these things acted like the scourge-touched I knew, we wouldn¡¯t be able to beat this back, not without killing them all, and I didn¡¯t even have a way to do that. The memory of my first fight on Ralqir surfaced in my mind, how the goblin essentially killed itself trying to get at me. The mindless determination they displayed in the cave had reinforced that impression. The scourge-touched wouldn¡¯t stop. They¡¯d flow into the room. They¡¯d bury us under a flood of bodies. I hated to admit it, but Bole was right. ¡°We have to move.¡± I said. The lion maned giant shook his head, baring his teeth. ¡°You move then. I can hold them here.¡± ¡°Brother Ryan!¡± Trix¡¯s voice surfaced above the noise. I turned. Two of the Returned were down, slumped on the floor and unmoving. The rest were either fighting with the guards who¡¯d come together to form a sort of shield wall, Sissa and Samila in the front, Beedy behind, taking half-hearted swings with his truncheon over the shorter Samila¡¯s shoulders. It was a stalemate of sorts, the undead bound by chains, the guards bound by their ¡®duty and mercy.¡¯ Trix, for his part, was behind the line, an arm slung in the ties of his robe and one eye closed from swelling. A cold, wrathful shudder trickled through my body. Who had done this to Trix? The Returned I could understand if not forgive, but Bole¡­ ¡°Trix! Are you alright?¡± ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± he wheezed as he attempted to stand up straight. He was favoring one of his sides. ¡°I¡¯ll rub a little dirt on it.¡± I gave him a nod. There would be time later for questions. ¡°We need to get these people out of here,¡± I said as I limped toward him. He looked from me to the door to the guards, confusion evident in his swollen eye, giving him a deranged look. ¡°We can¡¯t!¡± Geddon bellowed as he swung his undersized shield into the face of the first undead to get out of the ward, snapping the creature¡¯s head back and sending it end over end to the floor. ¡°If they get out, they¡¯ll infect the whole undercity!¡± The wall of bodies writhed on the other side of the doors. One sufficiently charged grenade could do¡­ what? Buy time? Probably not. It was no good. I¡¯d kill a lot of them, but their bodies would still be in the doorway keeping us from closing it. Then their buddies would already be in our faces, and we¡¯d be right back to square one. Besides, this problem was bigger than this door. I was starting to realize just how big. ¡°It¡¯s too late for that,¡± I said, locking eyes meaningfully with Trix. He tilted his head and perked up his ears as if he were waiting for me to explain further, but the little Volpa was sharp. Slowly, over the course of several seconds, realization seemed to come to him, and his pained expression gave way to horror. ¡°It¡¯s already out,¡± he gasped, blinking a couple times as his mind came to grips with the implications. ¡°It¡¯s already out! We met an infected on the way here!¡± ¡°That doesn¡¯t mean anythi- Back, you!¡± Sissa called as she and Samila shoved the gaggle of undead off of their shields. She¡¯d positioned herself between the chain gang and me, and they only seemed to be paying attention to what was in their way when it actively hindered them. ¡°If they didn¡¯t attack you. How would you know? You¡¯re not a healer.¡± ¡°She spoke like one of them,¡± I said as I bent down to pick up Trix and put him on my shoulder again. He winced slightly as I got my hand around his midsection but didn¡¯t complain, choosing instead to lean on my neck and use his good arm to hold on tight. Something told me that if I asked him about who¡¯d hurt him, he wouldn¡¯t tell me. ¡°You¡¯re not a healer! We have it contained here!¡± Sissa protested. Her voice had a desperate edge to it. ¡°What are the odds, Sergeant, that the one Returned we ran into on the way here was infected?¡± Trix asked. ¡°I¡¯m not a gambler, but a chance encounter seems unlikely unless the plague has already spread wide.¡± I glanced over my shoulder to check on Geddon, only to see him throw an undead back toward the open doors. It smacked into the writhing mass, forcing the pale faces to duck slightly but otherwise not hindering them. There were six of them in the room with us now. Two circled around Geddon to get at his sides as the other two got back to their feet. The hulking guard was slowing down. His chest was heaving, and his arms hung tiredly at his sides. Other undead poured into the room like a liquid, pooling in tangled piles of pale, fumbling limbs before they resolved into individual, screaming berserkers. ¡°Weapons free, Sergeant?¡± Geddon panted as he manhandled the next of the circling Returned to come within reach, spinning it around and launching it at the others. Sissa shook her head, clenching her jaw. As it was, this room was going to fill with hostile Returned in minutes, and, even if we were willing to kill them all, the scourge-touched would wear everyone down and run through the undercity unchecked anyway. The guards needed to decide now, or they would die. ¡°Unless you¡¯ve got backup on the way, it¡¯s only a matter of time,¡± I declared. ¡°Make a decision or it¡¯ll be made for you.¡± Sissa¡¯s dam of indecision broke, and she let out a frustrated growl as she shoved another of her assailants to the ground. ¡°Damnit. Private¡­ whatever your name is. Reach into Samila¡¯s pouch and send the signal. Blue.¡± Beedy was on the ball. He was moving even before the guard sergeant had even finished her sentence, crouching down behind Samila. He reached up to rip a tightly bound leather flap off of the back of Samila¡¯s belt. ¡°Hey, watch the hands, Private,¡± said Samila. Her voice was awfully calm considering everything. She was the most put together of any of us, going through the motions of controlling the crowd without losing herself to uncertainty or exertion. She even had a little determined smile on her face as she jammed her shield up under an undead¡¯s jaw and laid it out flat on the cobblestones. ¡°You ready to run, big guy?¡± She called over her shoulder. If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. ¡°No! Gyaa! No biting!¡± Geddon shouted. He knocked one of the undead attempting to chew on his calf down to the ground hard with an open hand slap that I felt from a dozen feet away. ¡°I¡¯m not built for running.¡± Beedy had something in his hand now, a blue slip of paper. He cupped it in his palm and used his free hand to strike the metal plate on his wrist. There was a flash, and the blue paper burst into equally blue flame, sparking and flashing like a cheap firework. ¡°He¡¯s got it! Everyone good? Alright, people, we are leaving! Move!¡± Sissa shouted. As one, Sissa and Samila charged at the battered undead, shields first, bowling them over. Geddon disengaged as well with a whirling swipe of his shield and a quick hook from his meaty fist that sent one of the infected Returned down to the ground out cold. Then he was moving too, in sync with his squad. They formed up quickly, practiced and professional as they jogged together. They didn¡¯t wait for me, and I didn¡¯t expect them to. They took flight toward the archway I¡¯d seen Bole use. I broke into a run, taking a slight detour toward the center of the room. I reached out and plucked the pair of tripod spotlights off of the floor. Samila hadn¡¯t been faking it before. They were heavy. Would be a shame to leave this to the scourge-touched. I didn¡¯t allow myself to break stride. Transfer Entangled Lantern to spatial storage? Y/N Consume Entangled Lantern? Y/N I chose ¡®yes¡¯ to both. You gain knowledge of material: Steel. [3/10] You gain knowledge of material: Link Glass. [1/10] You gain knowledge of material: Link Glass. [2/10] You gain knowledge of material: Steel. [4/10] You gain knowledge of material: Steel. [5/10] ¡­ You gain knowledge of material: Steel. [10/10] Affinity Type: Steel is now grade F. Steel mana conductivity increased. [10%] Component material: Iron: Affinity found. Iron and Steel affinity depth increased. ¡°What was that?¡± Trix yelped from my shoulder. ¡°Practitioner stuff. I told you I need metal. May come in handy later,¡± I said. I would have rather put them both in spatial storage, but they really were heavy. Seconds were going to count here. Plus, I finally got a steel affinity at grade F, so it wasn¡¯t a total loss on the second one. What¡¯s more, my affinity gained¡­ depth? Trix didn¡¯t press the issue. He just held on for dear life. The chained undead on the floor reached for me as I passed, jumping to their feet to lunge at me as I skirted around them. Half of their number were unconscious on the floor, however, and it slowed them down, allowing me to skirt around. The scourge-touched now trickling out of the gap in the doors, however, had no such hindrance. They tore through the opening and plopped to the floor to give chase, not even pausing on impact. They didn¡¯t seem to feel any pain. They didn¡¯t even need to breathe to do what they did. They only filled their lungs with air to scream after me as they poured over one another to be the first to get a taste of the human. I sprinted through the archway and up the gentle incline of quellstone, easily catching up to the others since I wasn¡¯t wearing armor or weapons like the rest of them, and Trix hardly weighed anything. Geddon was true to his word on how terrible a runner he was. We¡¯d gone maybe a hundred yards, and he was already flagging badly. Meanwhile the undead were hot on our heels. They weren¡¯t overly fast but they came on with singular focus. I stayed behind Geddon, bringing up the rear of the group, trying to assess how quickly we¡¯d be caught. Too soon, by my reckoning. I summoned my pistol with a flash. Then I stopped and steadied myself on the wall to take careful aim. I targeted the frontrunner, a tall Returned with long, even legs that gave it an advantage over its less carefully constructed comrades. Breathing out, I carefully drew a bead on his head and tightened my finger on the trigger, but I hesitated. Yes, the infected Returned wanted me dead, and I didn¡¯t really want to die. They were still victims here, and I didn¡¯t know how I felt about that. Then again, if I didn¡¯t put them down, what would they do? I shifted my aim. *POP* Scourge-Touched Undead takes 11 damage. (piercing) Trix flinched on my shoulder, reaching up to cover his ears. I racked another round. *POP* Scourge-Touched Undead takes 15 damage. (piercing) Pistols is now level 2. The undead I¡¯d been aiming for went down hard, his legs giving out underneath him, his arms reaching out to steady himself, tripping up his friends and creating an impressive pileup. I¡¯d aimed for where I estimated his pelvis was, and with how heavy my ammo worms were, it must have done the job, shattering the bones. If he were human, he¡¯d be in agony. He was alive, though. Probably crippled for the foreseeable future but alive. It bought us precious seconds at least. I ran to catch up with the others. It wouldn¡¯t be long before the chase was back in full swing. If we were equally matched in the speed department, we needed to put something between us. ¡°We need another door!¡± I called toward the front of the group. Sissa was far ahead up the curling slope, looking down at us and urging us forward. ¡°Any heavy doors would be at the next ward, and if they¡¯re following protocol, they¡¯ll be shut.¡± ¡°Then¡­ where are we¡­ oh, Light¡¯s mercy¡­ going?¡± Geddon gasped. He was leaning on the walls for support every couple strides now. Sissa waited for us to close the gap between us to answer. ¡°The closest hub. Smaller openings. Materials to maybe block the arch.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t secure one of those, Sis. We¡¯ll just be setting up a buffet.¡± Samila cautioned. ¡°I know! I know! Just go!¡± Sissa groaned as she waved us past. Then she got under Geddon¡¯s arm to help him keep moving. I remained at the rear. Soon, the infected were nipping at our heels again, just around the last bend. Their howls echoed off the walls around us. Every time I looked ahead, I half expected a pale hand to grab my ankle and drag me into the sea of flesh and teeth. ¡°There!¡± Samila shouted, her voice husky from the extra exertion of bearing some of Geddon¡¯s weight. We were on a straightaway leading up an incline until it leveled out somewhere up ahead where dim light played over the bricks. I got under Geddon¡¯s other arm, exchanging a look with Sissa around the big man¡¯s breastplate, and the both of us surged forward, practically carrying the exhausted giant up the hill. I was huffing and puffing now too. My calves burned like I¡¯d been running all day. The light got brighter and brighter, the apex of the slope coming closer. The undead¡¯s voices sounded close. My mind conjured images of sharp claws tearing into my flesh, vivid enough to be felt. Then we were up and confronted by a bright archway. The light blinded me, but we kept moving. Something crashed into my shins. *CRACK* Wood cracked and splintered as we barreled into a shoddily constructed barricade. Geddon¡¯s mass turned the three of us into a battering ram of sorts, one that easily broke through the barrier, the inertia carrying us irresistibly forward. Exhausted Geddon toppled as he tripped over something near our ankles, and I came along for the ride, watching the quellstone floor come up to meet me. My face ground painfully into the cobblestones. ¡°Hey!¡± ¡°Get that back up! Now!¡± The big man just laid there, heaving for breath, his arms questing for the best way to get upright again but failing. I disentangled myself from the Geddon pile, shaking my head and reaching up to wipe blood off my mouth. We were in one of the big hub rooms, a pub, it seemed. A big wooden structure stood in the middle of the room, a sort of self-contained bar with shelves stocked with bottles, glassware, and little casks stacked up on their sides. Tables and stools were scattered all over, many of them in the middle of being knocked over or picked up. A crowd of people hurried around the room, running with various bits of furniture in their arms. Some brought pairs of stools, a group of three carried a long wooden table, while a huddle of other folks were crouched next to the bar, grunting as they attempted to loosen the heavy top. Frightened looking people carried their disparate pieces of wood over to the archway we¡¯d just burst through and piled them up to block the opening. Others sat huddled on the floor nursing wounds that bled through ripped clothes. One woman was missing fingers, and someone was bandaging the wound with what looked like a towel. ¡°Oh no. Seriously. When I said run, I didn¡¯t mean with me! You¡¯re going to get us all dead!¡± Chapter 33 - Pick a Lock Chapter 33 - Pick a Lock ¡°Oh no. Seriously. When I said run, I didn¡¯t mean with me! You¡¯re going to get us all dead!¡± A familiar voice split the relative calm. Bole, the man himself, sneered at us from behind the bar. He had his sword clutched in his upraised hand and a bottle in the other. There was a wild look in his eye. Samila, cool as always, sighed and shook her head, turning back to get to work on reinforcing the barricade the others were constructing, taking a stool from an old woman and running to throw it onto the pile. Beedy was already working, hoisting a rounded table up onto his shoulders and bringing it to the archway. ¡°Shut up, Bole!¡± Sissa snarled. ¡°You¡¯re lucky I don¡¯t stab you for what you pulled back there!¡± ¡°If you ever find the spine, princess,¡± Bole shot back. ¡°Your man was about to lose it. If I¡¯d not done what I did, you¡¯d be in their bellies by now instead of running. Now if you¡¯ll excuse me.¡± He ducked down behind the bar, out of sight, and I could hear metal ringing on stone. Sissa fumed, clenching gloved fists, turning around to take in the room, her anger seeming to melt back into uncertainty. She stopped when her eyes met mine and seemed to remember who I was. The scales around her eyes darkened slightly. ¡°Get him off the floor. The stones will sap him further,¡± she said. I nodded, bending to get a hand under Geddon¡¯s shoulder. Trix hopped down to help. He really didn¡¯t help, but at least he tried. ¡°Any practitioners here?¡± Samila called out. The barricade was quickly stacking up to the top of the archway now, and they were working on making it denser. Mercifully, the undead were just trickling in and jumping onto the ramshackle construction, weighing the pieces down and making the (un?)lives of the other scourge-touched harder in turn. Some of them ripped at table legs or clawed at the wood, howling all the while. It wouldn¡¯t hold in the long term, but we had a brief reprieve. I got Geddon to an upright chair next to the barricade. Maybe his weight would help it stay in place, or he could take a swing at the first undead face that pushed its way through. Either way, I was sure this was where he would want to be. I slapped him on the shoulder and nodded to him when I caught his eye. He was too out of breath to do anything other than nod back. ¡°Practitioners!¡± Samila yelled again. ¡°Get over here and help with this barricade!¡± Trix pulled on the now ragged leg of my trousers. ¡°Brother Ryan?¡± Trix asked without asking. I shook my head. ¡°Not that kind of practitioner.¡± ¡°You at least the useful kind, monk? Could use a hand.¡± Bole had damned good ears if he could hear me from back there. Curious, I staggered over to look over the bar top. I found Bole crouched down on the ground next to an open cabinet, the contents of which seemed to have been hastily extracted and left on the floor while the cabinet floor had been splintered and ripped out. Next to Bole was a man in dark gray robes that had the look of a uniform to them. Bole had his sword jammed into the gaps between the quellstones, and he was using it as a pry bar, while the robed man tried to help. ¡°You see anything?¡± Bole asked his robed companion. The man bent down and put his hand on the quellstone, nodding. ¡°There¡¯s something down there, for sure. Empty.¡± The guy sounded young, younger than me maybe. ¡°Can you pry it up?¡± Bole asked. The robed guy shook his head. ¡°No, I can¡¯t. It¡¯s the darkstone.¡± ¡°Fuck!¡± Bole shouted, winding up and jamming the tip of his sword into one of the gaps between the bricks. Sissa came up behind me, sword drawn. ¡°We¡¯re about to have to fight to hold this position. Tell me you had a plan when you scurried up here, Bole.¡± ¡°Oh I planned to run until I saw moonlight, but someone triggered the lockdown before I could get to the egress. It¡¯s shut up tighter than a Miur sphincter.¡± Sissa scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re stuck down here with the consequences of your actions. I guess there is justice in this world.¡± Bole ignored her, turning to me. ¡°Monk, you got something that¡¯ll help us open this?¡± ¡°What is it?¡± I asked. I felt Trix shudder at the fact I was speaking to the man, but that was it. We didn¡¯t have time to worry about that now. ¡°A locked door,¡± he said vaguely. ¡°Goes somewhere other than here. Can you help?¡± ¡°Why do you want to get down here and not through another of the tunnels?¡± I asked. ¡°It¡¯s locked down. Every tunnel leads further in or to a barred door. We¡¯re trapped down here if we try to take the normal ways out.¡± I looked to Sissa, who just stared at the two men trying to pry stones from the floor, a pensive frown on her face. I tilted my head to try to catch her eye. ¡°Sergeant?¡± ¡°I¡¯m thinking, she said, holding up a finger to forestall me. ¡°You¡¯re talking about the smugglers¡¯ tunnels then.¡± ¡°Aw. You do remember the old days,¡± Bole replied. Sissa shook her head, incredulous. ¡°They filled those in.¡± ¡°Sure they did.¡± Bole¡¯s tone was mocking. ¡°You¡¯re saying there¡¯s one down there?¡± She asked with narrowed eyes. Bole slammed the pommel of his sword down on the unyielding quellstone cobbles and grunted with displeasure. ¡°Yeah. Normally, if one were to¡­ hypothetically¡­ engage in illegal activity, you¡¯d be issued a key, and the door would open up no problem.¡± I shook my head. ¡°We don¡¯t have a key.¡± ¡°Or the tools to break in,¡± Bole added, slapping the flat of his sword contemptuously. ¡°If we break containment, we could be putting the rest of the city at risk, Bole,¡± Sissa warned. ¡°Darling, I think containment¡¯s already good and broke. You listen to some of them poor bastards been trickling in here, the ones with bites all over ¡®em. Deadheads are going feral all over, like a match¡¯s been struck.¡± ¡°They¡¯re called Returned, Bole.¡± ¡°Sure. Whatever. If I can get this thing open, I¡¯m getting out of here. Help me or fuck off.¡± Hopping over the bar, I shouldered Bole aside and used Iron Grip and a slight twist to wrest the shortsword from his hand. He took in a breath to object but seemed to think better of it when he saw the look on my face. Bole and I would square up later about Trix. I had some serious questions. I saw what he¡¯d been doing here. The brickwork was not only clogged up with what had to have been years worth of dirt and sediment which Bole had been chipping away, but the stones were separated by no more than a millimeter of space. Hard to get between, for sure. Experimentally, I wiggled the sword tip around in the crack between the quellstone cobbles. No joy. I looked to the guy in the robes. Now that I could see his face, I noticed he was, indeed, young, no older than a teenager. His sharp, hawkish features were angular and smooth like a polished river rock, marred only by cracked, jagged stone that seemed to stab into the skin around one of his eyes and travel up toward his temple until it vanished into the dark of his hood. The affected eye was a burning coal of orange. ¡°It¡¯s my dominion sign,¡± he said flatly, not meeting my eyes. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It doesn¡¯t hurt.¡± ¡°Right,¡¯ I said, clearing my throat. ¡°This is the edge then?¡± He nodded passively. ¡°It goes down about a handspan then it¡¯s open space. I can¡¯t do anything with it, because it¡¯s darkstone. He says it¡¯s magic. No hinges. The bricks just peel back,¡± he explained, seeming to shrink in on himself, bringing his hands into the sleeves of his robes. ¡°I¡¯m sorry I can¡¯t help,¡± he added. Less a door. More magical in nature. I don¡¯t know a damned thing about magic, and I¡¯m too pressed to learn right now. I¡¯d just have to brute force it. ¡°Sergeant Sissa, I¡¯m going to need a minute,¡± I said, wrapping my fingers around Bole¡¯s blade. I needed to get under the trap door. Shape [12 MP/sec] My MP rushed out of me in a torrent, so fast it surprised me. What the hell? Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. That was¡­ expensive. I checked the log, asking it for more detailed information Shape [12 MP/sec, 4 MP/sec base, +8 MP/sec external drain] The quellstone. There was no getting around it though. I spent my entire pool saturating the blade but only just. I could feel the mana draining out of the metal like water through a sieve. I¡­ some part of me¡­ was being drained away and extinguished every second I did this. I gasped for breath. I was tapped out before I¡¯d even done anything. ¡°What, that¡¯s it?¡± Bole spat next to my ear. I didn¡¯t want to stop Shaping the thing. My grip on the metal was tenuous, ephemeral like my mana was smoke being carried away by the wind. Resaturating it would take even more of me. ¡°I need something to burn,¡± I said, shutting my eyes to distractions and holding out my metal hand like a craftsman asking for a tool. ¡°They¡¯re breaking through!¡± A desperate shout came from elsewhere. I couldn¡¯t focus on it. I was busy being sucked dry by evil rocks. Geddon roared. ¡°Weapons free, warriors of the Light! Kill only those you must!¡± Sissa¡¯s voice buzzed, distorted and echoed strangely in my mind. Something about the tone felt bright, steely. The issued command filled the chamber, drowning out the howls of the dead until they were just background noise. Warmth spread to my fingers and toes, my pulse fluttered, and my face flushed. Then, to us, she spoke quietly, her words teasing with that same power. ¡°You better be right about this.¡± With that she was gone to help the others. ¡°Wow,¡± the robed guy breathed. ¡°I know, right?¡± Bole had lowered his voice to a whisper. ¡°You think it¡¯s great now, kid, court one sometime.¡± I panted as my power left me and bled into the stones. The sword was elongating, stretching its material down into them, bleeding between the tiny cracks and into the space below like candle wax. Meanwhile, I was being ripped away. It hurt. It hurt so much. I shut my eyes against it as it drained me dry. ¡°Something to burn! Now!¡± I ground out. ¡°I need something that-¡± Something heavy, smooth, and cold slapped into my prosthetic hand. Consume Mansekind Molasses? Y/N The message was barely on my screen before I chose yes. *FWOOM* ¡°What the fuck, monk!¡± Bole shrieked before going into a coughing fit. I felt the heat on my face, sticky hot syrup splattering over the skin of my legs and neck. Hands slapped at me, but I couldn¡¯t take the time to worry about that. Status gained: Burning. [4 HP/sec] Status gained: Engine. [26 MP/sec for 10 seconds] You gain knowledge of material: Mansekind Molasses [1/10] You gain knowledge of material: Mansekind Molasses [2/10] Status gained: Mana overflow. Conduit is now level 4. Status lost: Burning. HP 45/105 I Shaped the blade. More like. I loosened the molecules, allowed them to flow with gravity, nudging them to flow between the cracks in the quellstone. Once I felt the empty space underneath, I curled upwards, disparate strands of liquid metal swinging in empty space, meeting together, intertwining, melding. Good. I spread further, between more of the cobblestones, filling in the gaps in the brick with steel. The more stones I touched, the greater the drain on my mana. Shape [20 MP/sec] Shape is now level 6. Status Lost: Engine. Shape is now level 7. ¡°More,¡± I grunted, holding my hand out for another bottle. ¡°You sure?¡± ¡°More!¡± ¡°Just wait for me to get aw-¡± *FWOOSH* Bole started to say as he slapped another bottle in my hand, but I¡¯d consumed it before the liquid even had a chance to settle. ¡°Fuck, monk! Seriously!¡± Status gained: Engine. [24 MP/sec for 12 seconds] You gain knowledge of material: Fungal Bourbon [1/10] I was on fire¡­ again. I didn¡¯t feel it as much this time. Again, I burned. Again the hands slapped at my clothes and skin to put me out. Volatility [15 MP/sec, 1 MP/sec base, 14 MP/sec external drain] I poured the power on. I let it burst out of my body. The wild mana, happy to oblige, soaked into the steel, engorging the molecules with frenetic power.. After a seeming eternity, I opened my eyes to find Bole and the stone-eyed practitioner staring at me in horror, their mouths open. Parts of their clothes were charred, and the side of Bole¡¯s face was an angry shade of red. I didn¡¯t have the mental bandwidth to take any pleasure in that. What used to be Bole¡¯s shortsword was a glowing, vibrating lump of purple death on the floor, the only recognizable part being the pommel that I still clutched in my shaking hand. ¡°Up. Out.¡± I ground out between my teeth, every ounce of command I could muster going into those two words. Either the look in my eye or the tone of my voice communicated the urgency of my request, because the two of them didn¡¯t need to be told twice. They were up and over the bar before I was even on my feet. ¡°Get everyone back!¡± Bole yelled. I leaped over the bar, nearly toppling. My vision swam as I staggered away from the bomb I¡¯d just made. The room was a swirling mess of motion and sound, like everything was smudged paint on a canvas. Was I drunk? I¡¯d never been drunk before. ¡°Mouths open, everyone!¡± I shouted. ¡°Deep breath!¡± I didn¡¯t look back. Cool guys never looked back at explosions. I snapped my fingers. I don¡¯t know why. I was feeling a little showy. Maybe I was drunk. A drunken monk. Haha. *BOOM* I came to on the floor again, face up this time. Above, the partially charred stalks of luminescent filament swayed in the unseen breeze. Something sharp clawed at the bottom of my eye. [HP 81/105] Status Gained: Underfed (-1 mind, -1 body) ¡°He¡¯s awake!¡± Trix shouted. ¡°Come on, Brother. Time to go!¡± I was up on my feet, though I couldn¡¯t feel much of my body anymore. Smoke stung my eyes and nose. A crowd of people were gathered around something¡­ where the bar used to be. Shredded, wooden debris that was once the bar lay strewn about, so thick it could double as a carpet. One by one the people filed down to disappear into the floor. I stole a glance back at the barricade. It was still there. Geddon was hacking at any of the pale limbs that reached through. Bodies of the fallen formed the mortar that held a large part of the barricade together. Grim but functional¡­ for now. ¡°Come on, Brother. It¡¯s our turn.¡± Trix said. I shook my head painfully ¡°You need to get down there now. You¡¯re weakened, Brother. You need time to recover.¡± I shook my head again, getting some more of my sense back. The mana wasn¡¯t messing with my head anymore, at least. My Engine buff was gone too. ¡°Get them down. I¡¯m fine.¡± Trix only hesitated a second. Then he hopped down and began to usher more people down into the hole. I spotted the nearest intact pile of debris and made for it. The feeling in my body was starting to come back, and, strangely enough, my stomach felt hollow, growling loud enough for me to hear. The pastries hadn¡¯t gone too far, I guessed. Geddon was the last one to the trap door aside from, surprisingly, Bole. I would have figured he would be the first out ¡°Alright, monk. Get in,¡± Bole commanded. When I didn¡¯t move, the sneer returned to his face. It looked ridiculous with the swelling. ¡°You¡¯re not making a heroic sacrifice here, monk. Just get in, and we can all get out alive.¡± I felt the familiar weight of Trix climbing up my leg and clawing his way up my back to rest on my shoulder. ¡°I blew up your door,¡± I stated. ¡°They¡¯re just going to follow us down.¡± Bole ran a hand down his face. ¡°You¡¯re going to fight them off are you? That¡¯s stupid. You¡¯re stupid.¡± ¡°I volunteer to fight them off too!¡± Geddon piped up. He stood up straighter and puffed out his chest with a huge, canine exposing grin. I could practically see him getting his second wind right in front of me. ¡°No, you will not! You¡¯re helping me get these people out!¡± Sissa¡¯s voice, muffled from filtering through the brickwork, doused Geddon¡¯s dreams instantaneously. ¡°Not going to fight,¡± I argued. ¡°I¡¯m going to draw them off.¡± ¡°They do seem to be fixated on Brother Ryan,¡± Trix opined. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re getting in the hole too, Trix,¡± I said. The Volpa shook his head and clung tightly to my shirt as if he were afraid I was going to throw him in. ¡°No, Brother Ryan. I know my way around, and I can see in the dark. You need me.¡± ¡°Of course you are! You always do!¡± One of the blue women exclaimed angrily from down in the hole, the tail end of an argument we hadn¡¯t been privy to. I couldn¡¯t tell which of them was upset, but I was leaning toward Sissa. Then, Bole was shoved aside, making room for Samila to climb out, followed by Sissa, the latter looking grievously upset, her jaw clenched and nostrils flared. Well, crap. Now I have to live through this, don¡¯t I? Sissa glared at us all one by one, daring us to say something, but when none of us took the bait, she let out a resigned sigh. ¡°If you¡¯re staying behind to draw them off, we¡¯re staying too. We¡¯ll gather more survivors. You do the baiting, we¡¯ll do the saving.¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Geddon was practically bouncing on his toes. ¡°Weapons free still, Sarge?¡± Sissa didn¡¯t answer. Bole shot a look over the bar toward the barricade. Wood cracked as more of it was ripped away. He blew a frustrated puff of air through his lips and spat a pink glob of something on the quellstone floor. ¡°Fine. Get yourselves dead. See this?¡± He asked, holding up a shattered wedge of stone, the face of which was painted in bright yellow. ¡°It¡¯s a piece of the trap door. There¡¯s a lot of these under the hubs. If you find one, you can get in. Yellow means it¡¯s safe. Follow the arrows. Don¡¯t deviate if you want to live.¡± I cast about for a larger piece of the former bar, found it, and dragged the wood over to the crater that used to be a magical door as Bole ducked down inside. ¡°Bole,¡± I called, just as I was about to lose sight of him. He stopped and came back, looking up at me expectantly. I reached out, offering my hand. Bole seemed surprised at first, flinching slightly like I was going to strike him, but once he realized what this was, he smiled that formerly perfect, oily smile of his and grasped my hand. Iron Grip [1 MP/sec] It was my fleshy, human hand, so it wasn¡¯t up to the stone crushing standards of my prosthetic, but 24 body and a multiplicative bonus went a long way. The bones in Bole¡¯s hands creaked. I felt a series of satisfying pops, loud enough to hear over the howls of the scourge-touched, and the man¡¯s face briefly contorted into a mask of outrage and pain. It warmed the darkest parts of my heart. I pulled him up until we were close enough to whisper. ¡°They all get out, Bole. All of them.¡± He didn¡¯t reply. He didn¡¯t make a sound. I could see the strain on his face as he fought the urge to cry out. ¡°Nod if you understand.¡± Bole¡¯s breathing was rapid, frantic whistles through his nose, and sweat poured down his face. He was mastering himself now, though. He was thinking again, despite the pain. I could almost see the gears turning, the scales being filled and measured, pride warring with pragmatism. He nodded. I let him go. Dragging my makeshift camouflage over the hole, I arranged it to best hide the opening for as long as possible.There was just enough left of the bar to sort of conceal what I was doing, but the undead would eventually find it if they knew to look. I just needed to have their attention long enough to give the innocents a head start. So, we got moving. I started at a jog, then broke into a sprint, going past the barricade and choosing an archway at random. Trix rode on my shoulder. The guards followed, shields fixed and swords out. I gave the scourge-touched a little wave on the way past to make sure they saw. They didn¡¯t like that. The howls of the dead echoed off the stones, some close, some impossibly far away. Chapter 34 - Do it Better Chapter 34 - Do it Better Stealth (Gray Man) is now level 9. Spots danced in my vision as I held my breath and forced my body to slow down. Tired, oxygen starved muscles threatened to cramp thanks to the awkward position I was maintaining, laying on my side and curled up, but if they did seize, I would have to bear it in silence. The walls of the cupboard where we hid were cheap, thin wood that conducted the sound of even the slightest of movements with extreme efficiency. It was like hiding in a cardboard box where every errant twitch sounded like an alarm. The problem with scourge-touched undead was that they were absolutely silent if they wanted to be. Apparently, their bodies didn¡¯t run off of oxygen so they didn¡¯t need to breathe, and when they weren¡¯t howling at the top of their lungs, they didn¡¯t feel the need to communicate with each other. Whether they didn¡¯t need to or chose not to, I didn¡¯t know. Once they saw me, though, they were like hounds after a deer, baying and snarling up a storm. I waited and listened. Trix was tucked in behind my head, and I could hear his tiny heartbeat, quick and light. Detect Magnesium was giving me little hits outside of my wooden box, a wisp of movement here, a flash there. It wasn¡¯t much to go on, but we were definitely not alone. Detect Iron, I¡¯d discovered, wasn''t particularly useful at seeing the undead, since they didn¡¯t have hemoglobin like living people. Sure, I would get a hit here and there, but the chances of it being something that wanted to eat me came down to a coin flip. Magnesium, though. They had that in their bones just like us, not a lot of it, but it was there. Impressions. Glints. It was like trying to see a shadow on a black wall. *Shhs* Something dragged over the counter above our heads. I could almost make out the shape of something humanoid running its hands over the countertop, probing with oddly jointed fingers, broken nails scratching over the grain. *CRASH* Glass shattered on the surface of the counter. Liquid trickled down and slapped the pavers outside. Then there was silence. I couldn¡¯t be sure, but I thought I heard a whisper of a footfall, far away. We stayed there another half hour before I decided to slide the door open to check our immediate surroundings. Nothing. No pale-fleshed legs or milky white eyes, at least not behind the counter where we were. I slowly unfolded myself, careful not to brush the fabric of my clothes over the wood any more than I needed to. Trix was out faster than I could be, scrambling over my body and bounding to the floor. He knew the drill by now. We needed his eyes and ears. Absolutely silent, he snuck over to the side of the counter and peaked around to get a good look at the room. Then he crept back to my side as I was massaging my left calf to work out some of the soreness. ¡°They¡¯re gone, Brother Ryan,¡± he whispered in my ear. ¡°I¡¯ll keep listening.¡± I nodded, sitting upright and stretching my upper half, my neck especially. The intersection where we¡¯d set up was much bigger than the last one but oddly shaped, a sort of asymmetrical octagon that someone had bashed with a hammer until it was functionally two separate areas. Small, single proprietor shop stalls were built against the walls, angles set to snugly match the odd geometry of the room. Whatever logic Ralqir¡¯s Dark Lord had used to make this place, I couldn¡¯t help but think this intersection was an oversight, a kind of slap dash solution that just needed to be there to make the rest of the more important parts of the design fit. Maybe it was like a leftover nut at the end of a big project where you just throw up your hands and hope for the best. Then again, what did I know? ¡®Base camp¡¯ or ¡®the stall with the best hiding place¡¯¡¯ was a wooden box built a bit like I imagined a street vendor would want. It was large enough to fit a few people behind the counter but the front was solid enough to withstand some punishment, and, at one time, it had big shutters that could be locked from the inside. On the wall behind me were various bottles of cheap liquor and sweet water as well as a few local publications that I hadn¡¯t had a chance to read. A broken bottle bled sticky red liquid that still dribbled off the countertop and down into the floor. The smell reminded me of rice pudding. Back to work then. It had taken us a few tries to find another hub with a magical trap door again. First, it was about finding another hub, one free of undead. Then we had to lead the scourge-touched away from said area long enough for me to conduct a search. Geddon hated that part. The guy was getting more cardio over the past few days than he probably had in years. However, it kept the guards moving and searching for those they could save, so his complaints were more in jest than annoyance. We had the system down pretty well now. In the early hours, it was relatively easy to avoid the Returned. They made enough noise to not be able to hear us, and they tended to clump up into little swarms. What it wasn¡¯t easy to do was to avoid seeing what they¡¯d done. Not everyone had made it out before the lockdown. There were signs. We¡¯d gotten turned around in the side tunnels once and came across a market of some kind, one constructed from Mendau, the floor carpeted with mats of beige wood and string with flimsy, ramshackle booths everywhere. Unlike the quellstone, that place displayed exactly how much carnage had happened. Everything was stained with the blood of the living, the mats bloodstained and wet still. No bodies though. There were never any bodies. That had been a wake up call for all of us, especially Sissa. During our time in that place, she withdrew, listlessly going through the motions of searching through the market but not allowing herself to really be present. I could sympathize. She was the ranking guard down here, and she was being presented with terrible choices, given two paths to choose from where both lead to a bad end. The market was one of those ends. If she needed to put down her burden for a while and check out, I wasn¡¯t going to judge. It was only after we found our first pair of survivors an hour later, a little boy and his grandmother, did Sissa come back. Good for her. For my part, I dealt with things differently. People were dead. It was my fault. I didn¡¯t like that. So, I worked on the problem. I¡¯d learned since my last bout with quellstone. The more surface area my metal made contact with, the bigger the drain on my mana pool. I¡¯d Shaped off a piece of baptized bronze, about the size of my finger and used it as my probe. I thinned it out, elongating it until I had a hair thin bit of bronze wire which I would then use to feel around underneath the quellstone, looking for empty space. It was still a drain on my mana, but it was only enough to add a couple points to the MP/sec. It helped that I was much more practiced now, and was able to probe a spot in the floor in about thirty seconds, thanks to the baptized bronze¡¯s willingness to accept my mana. Well, we were done with that part. Now it was about getting in. I was not about to blow up a whole nother room to get into the tunnels this time. Less mess. Less noise. The acoustics down here were such that the sound carried for ridiculous distances. We needed something more specialized, and I had just the thing in mind. I summoned my hybrid steel tube I¡¯d salvaged from my stolen lamp stand. I use the term ¡°tube¡¯ loosely, because that implies a rounded shape. Now, this one was a sort of hollow V with a round top and pointed legs. Then I¡¯d salvaged the rest of the baptized bronze to form the inside wall of the V. The whole thing was about as long as my arm and had enough space inside to fit my pinky. ¡°Brother Ryan, I don¡¯t mean to question¡­¡± Trix didn¡¯t finish his sentence. He was up on the counter now, ears perked up, head tilted. He took his job as the lookout very seriously. ¡°We¡¯re going to get out of here,¡± I said, summoning the sister tube of steel from my spatial storage to begin Shaping it to fit inside the other tube¡¯s cavity. ¡°But we¡¯re doing it right this time.¡± We¡¯d talked about going back to Bole¡¯s already open tunnel and getting the civilians out that way, but we¡¯d decided against it. If Bole was half as clever as Sissa said he was, he would have found a way to block up the exit on the other side. If we were discovered in the tunnels, we¡¯d be sandwiched between a blocked exit and a horde of scourge-touched, and I wasn¡¯t confident that I would be able to blow open an exit in a confined space and not kill us all in the process.. ¡°So, you don¡¯t have to set yourself on fire?¡± ¡°Hm,¡± I grunted, saturating the steel and beginning the slow process of thinning it to fit into the cavity. ¡°And this is, theoretically, going to be quieter.¡± ¡°I had assumed self-immolation was part of your method.¡± ¡°Side effect,¡± I said. ¡°Did not enjoy it.¡± ¡°How do you feel, by the way?¡± Trix asked. Ever since Trix had healed me, I¡¯d not been feeling myself. I felt hollow, like I was missing something. ¡°Still weak. Everything feels sore.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry. It¡¯s a side effect of our¡­ my magic.¡± Trix was cagey about his magic, and I didn¡¯t begrudge him his secrets. I had plenty of my own. I knew I wasn¡¯t doing well back when I¡¯d blown up the pub room. My HP was low, and I was unconscious. When I came to, however, Trix was right there, and my HP had ticked up despite being laid out on a quellstone floor. Whenever I asked him about it, all he would say was that he healed me, but there was a cost. ¡°Whatever you did, it worked,¡± I said. ¡°No need to apologize.¡± Trix didn¡¯t seem convinced. ¡°You need to eat. Your body needs nutrients.¡± ¡°I ate back at the market,¡± I lied. I used my spatial storage to stash the food I¡¯d found there. I¡¯d been slipping it to the civilians we¡¯d found, especially the kid. I hadn¡¯t had much of an appetite after seeing the market anyway. ¡°Yes, but you need more. It¡¯s why you feel the way you do. I¡¯d cook for you, but I¡¯m afraid it might attract attention with the smell.¡± He was probably right. If the others came back with food tonight, I¡¯d have a little, but right now, we had a small window to get this done. The scourge-touched had spread out, and they patrolled constantly. Once one of them saw you, they¡¯d do that howl thing, and the rest would swarm. Then it was a running battle to get clear. Trix was right to say that I needed him down here. His knowledge of the undercity helped us lose pursuit multiple times when I was sure we were screwed. Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. I worked in silence for a few minutes before Trix wanted to talk again. ¡°Are you making another¡­ ah¡­ what was the word you used? Firement?¡± ¡°Firearm? No. This is something else.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± he said, hesitating, rubbing his paws together that way he did. ¡°Either way. I have been meaning to ask you about it. Are they common in the Order? I¡¯ve never seen one.¡± ¡°They¡¯re common where I¡¯m from. They¡¯re one of the most popular means of warfare.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like a crossbow. Crossbows are big and heavy and they take real strength to load.¡± ¡°Back home, a long time ago, they called guns the great equalizer. You don¡¯t need a lot of physical might or special talent to use one.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t need to be a Rising Sun?¡± Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Trix wracked with one of his trembling fits again. ¡°No. You just need to have hands, and even then, that¡¯s negotiable. It¡¯s a tool, one that¡¯s been refined to make it accessible to as many people as possible.¡± The Volpa paused briefly to consider the concept, only answering with an ¡°I see.¡± I finished thinning the steel out and slipped the rod all the way inside. ¡°Do you think they made it out, Brother Ryan?¡± He asked quietly. ¡°The people from the pub?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°I hope so.¡± ¡°I hope so too. It would be better if we managed to at least save someone.¡± He was thinking about the market again, and he was about to make me think about the market again. I didn¡¯t have time for that. ¡°If we do this right, we¡¯ll save at least three more.¡± ¡°I know,¡± Trix said. ¡°It¡¯s just becoming harder to imagine anything good coming of this. I keep imagining all those people coming to an evil end.¡± No time for that. Do it later. I shut my eyes and became the steel. I thinned out, molded to fit the cavity. After another period of silence, when I¡¯d nearly filled the center of the hollow with my next piece of steel, Trix spoke up again. ¡°How does your technique work, Brother?¡± ¡°In general or just this?¡± My tone was flat. I was having to split my attention between Shaping and conversation, so something had to suffer. ¡°Either.¡± ¡°It¡¯s a hollow. A V shaped pipe. Strong, thick metal on the outside edge, softer metal on the inside. The explosive force I can put out will deform the soft metal, compress it, blast it out of the bottom. With some luck, it¡¯ll cut right through the door.¡± ¡°This is part of your dominion then?¡± I felt myself shrug slightly. ¡°It¡¯s physics.¡± ¡°And you¡¯ve done this before?¡± I coughed, nearly losing my grip on the metal. ¡°Uh, yeah. For sure.¡± I¡¯d seen this done to split rocks and demo old concrete¡­ from a distance. I knew how it worked, though. Sort of. Shape is now level 8. You have created: Crude Shaped Charge You have been awarded 70 experience points. [100 base, -30 quality] Don¡¯t you judge me, System. I¡¯m working with what I¡¯ve got. ¡°Will the infected Returned not come when you use your technique?¡± Trix asked. ¡°It¡¯s a possibility.¡± The little Volpa was doing the math though. ¡°If we make another egress, won¡¯t the Returned follow us? Even more will die if we let them out, Returned and the living alike.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been brainstorming that problem too, and I think I have something. The good part of a plan at least. That¡¯s why I¡¯ve been sucking up every little piece of metal we¡¯ve come across.¡± ¡°And the alcohol.¡± I grimaced, remembering my unfortunate self immolation. ¡°Yeah. That too.¡± ¡°You want to set yourself on fire again.¡± ¡°Want is a strong word.¡± ¡ª-------------------------------------------- Automate [20 MP/sec] When you are Triggered, feed mana into the aiming arms. Bring the sight as close to the nearest intact and moving scourge-touched target as possible. Feed mana into the retention pin Trigger. Feed a small burst of mana into the firing Trigger. Wait for the bolt to come back into contact with you. Repeat. I breathed out, keeping a hold on the concept I was trying to imbue into the thing, making sure I didn¡¯t miss anything. Don¡¯t shoot friendlies. Don¡¯t shoot through friendlies either. Automate is now level 4. Someone cleared their throat from elsewhere in the room. The others were watching. I knew that. I made it a point not to look at them, though. I wiped sweat out of my eyes and Consumed another table leg to get my mana pool back into the double digits again. Then, I carefully inserted the targeting card into the brain housing of my newest creation. This was the final piece. It had taken an entire day, but we¡¯d finally cobbled together enough material to get up and running. I dove in to Shape weld all the parts together and eliminate any uneven surfaces and previously unseen air pockets. There wasn¡¯t a lot, but when I was done, everything fit together smoothly, down to the micrometer, and the welds were no longer welds. They were a singular piece, bonded at the molecular level. I¡¯d scaled up my bronze prototype and made some improvements starting with using harder materials like steel to make the firing chamber, barrel, and the aiming arms. Those were going to have the most heat and stress with repeated use, so having a high melting point was crucial. The legs, however, were made of whatever junk metal I had lying around, a combination of tin, brass, and aluminum, all scrounged from cookware we¡¯d found in the now abandoned parts of the undercity. Whatever alloy I¡¯d made when I fused them all together, I was sure would make any self respecting smith want to vomit. I needed the new model to be reliable so I took the extra time to give the bolt and firing chamber a spring action that loaded from the magazine when the spring was depressed and fired when the bolt slammed forward on the retention pin. The magazine was still a gravity fed hopper like my pistol, which I wasn¡¯t happy with, but I didn¡¯t have the time to create a feeding system that was both accommodating of large amounts of ammo and reliable enough to trust. So, instead, I relied on Newton¡­ gravity. I made a tin, funnel shaped hopper with its own Automated stirring system near the stem that massaged the ammo down into the tube with the use of a few different Triggers. The gun part was a bulky three inches around at the chamber, with a barrel that tapered off to be long and skinny at the end. I didn¡¯t have any rifling on the inside of the barrel, so I wanted the length to give the shots some accuracy. The tripod had a wide stance for maximum stability but tall enough to see over moderately high obstacles. When I had the whole thing put together, it came up to my waist. Shape [22 MP/sec] Satisfied with all that, I dove into the tripod, focusing on the feet and ¡°melt shaping¡± them into the cracks between the quellstone. This was the really expensive part, and it hurt. I was starting to really hate quellstone. The pain was necessary though. Without a solid footing, my new weapon would just knock itself over before it did us any good. The spring I¡¯d used to slap the bolt back into place after each shot was a relatively weak one by necessity, since I couldn¡¯t run a lot of tests to get the exact strength needed. That meant that every time my new gun fired a round, the bolt slammed up against the rear wall of the tube hard. The one test round I¡¯d put through the gun design had a significant and unpleasant recoil that I wouldn¡¯t wish on anyone. Therefore, my tripod had to be melded into the floor or the gun would just break-dance on the cobblestones as it tried to kill things. You have created: Junk Auto-Turret. You have been awarded 1,345 experience points. [1,800 base, -455 quality] Okay, now you¡¯re just being mean. With a satisfied sigh, I took my hand off of the tripod leg and brushed non-existent dust off of my hands. Despite what descriptor the System used, I was pretty proud of my work, especially considering this was all scrapped material. I turned to the others. Sissa, Samila, Geddon, Trix, and our three survivors all looked at me and my new superweapon with some variation of confusion or concern. I¡¯d promised them a miracle, but the miracle wasn¡¯t in the form they¡¯d expected with the additional drawback of taking an inordinate amount of time to make. The silence was too much. ¡°Ta-da.¡± I said, with a wave of my hand encompassing the entirety of my handiwork. The kid, a Miur boy no more than eight years old we¡¯d found hiding in the market, started clapping, but his grandmother shushed him. Sissa was the first to voice her concern. ¡°That¡¯s it? What is it?¡± I couldn¡¯t help but grin. ¡°I¡¯m glad you asked, Sergeant,¡± I said, rubbing my hands together. I couldn¡¯t help it. Despite everything, I loved building stuff. Even more, I loved solving problems, especially if the solution was mechanical. I put my hands behind my back and took in a deep breath, a primer on the Laws of Motion on the tip of my tongue. It felt, briefly, like I was back in my workshop explaining engines to Vince instead of buried alive with flesh eating monsters. Samila interrupted before I could begin. ¡°It solves our Geddon problem.¡± ¡°Aw, really?¡± Geddon deflated, his shoulders slumping, his gaze falling to the floor. He looked legitimately disappointed. ¡°Our Geddon problem?¡± Trix asked, looking to each of us in hopes we¡¯d share. Sissa explained. ¡°It was a question of time. Brother Ryan¡¯s method for getting us into the tunnels draws a lot of attention, and we¡¯d never escape in time without a buffer. It meant that someone would need to stay behind to buy us all time to get to the surface.¡± I cleared my throat uncomfortably. I could feel the wind rushing out of my sails. Someday, someone would let me crow a little bit when I¡¯d done something cool. ¡°Um. I was calling it our ¡®Heroic Sacrifice¡¯ problem, but¡­ yes. This is meant to solve it.¡± ¡°We¡¯d already talked about it, and I was going to have that honor,¡± Geddon sighed wistfully. Sissa slapped Geddon on the shoulder hard. ¡°No. We¡¯d talked about it, and I¡¯d said we¡¯d find another way.¡± ¡°But you had a look in your eye,¡± Geddon insisted. Sissa glared at him. ¡°The answer is still no, Geddon.¡± ¡°Go. All of you,¡± Geddon said, placing his hand over his eyes dramatically. ¡°You may thank me by living full, meaningful lives.¡± ¡°Shut up, meatslab. Die a heroic death on your own time,¡± Samila chided. ¡°I would rather see you live through this ordeal Brother Geddon,¡± Trix said. I waved them all down. ¡°Hey! I just said no one is staying behind. This-¡± I slapped the hopper of the turret, feeling the tripod legs wiggle slightly. I¡¯d need to tighten those up. ¡°This baby will make the sacrifice for us.¡± ¡°Does it explode?¡± Sissa asked, tilting her head to look at the turret. ¡°No¡­Ma-¡± I sputtered. ¡°Yes, but in a good way.¡± ¡°You really were making a firearm,¡± Trix said. Geddon saved me by asking the right question. ¡°How does it help us?¡± ¡°This is- Well¡­ Okay, think of it like a crossbow or a slingshot that fires itself. I¡¯m going to blow the door off the tunnel. Then we¡¯re all going to hurry inside while this turret covers us,¡± I said. Sissa leaned forward, interested now. ¡°It can do that? How long can it hold them off? Won¡¯t it run out of bolts?¡± ¡°Trix?¡± I called upon my assistant. Trix blinked, confused, but then he remembered his role. ¡°Ah, yes.¡± Then he scampered behind the bar and came back dragging a heavy sack of ball bearings behind him. ¡°Are they all cleaned up? No debris or dirt?¡± I asked. ¡°None, Brother Ryan.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said, taking the sack from him and pouring it into the hopper¡­ as quietly as I could. It sounded like hail on a tin roof. He handed me another. There was a particular type of rotating table that was popular down here, one that used the little metal balls to facilitate motion. I¡¯d found them when I was poking around with Detect Iron in a different neighborhood. The stem of every table lit up like little beacons, and breaking one open got us fifty or so little ball bearings. Once we knew what we were looking for, it was fairly easy to find them, and I¡¯d tasked everyone with cracking said tables open and bringing me the proceeds. They weren¡¯t all iron, but they were roughly the same size. I¡¯d made my barrel and chamber accommodating for them all. ¡°These are the ammunition,¡± I said. ¡°Hopefully, I¡¯ll have the hole all patched up before the turret runs dry.¡± I¡¯d saved a good chunk of metal just for that purpose. It was going to be another ¡°touch all the quellstone and try not to get sucked dry¡± situations, but I didn¡¯t see a way around it this time. ¡°He¡¯s going to set himself on fire again,¡± Trix added. ¡°I like this plan more and more,¡± Sissa said dryly. I tried not to take offense. ¡°And if he can¡¯t plug the hole, his burning corpse will deter pursuit for a little while at least,¡± said Samila. ¡°Smart.¡± I shifted uncomfortably at the thought. ¡°Yeah. Well, that¡¯s the backup backup plan.¡± ¡°Why does he get to go out in a blaze of glory, and I don¡¯t?¡± Geddon complained. He was smiling though, like he could smell a good fight just over the horizon. Chapter 35 - Pay the Price We huddled in the archway as far from the detonation zone as possible. I was at the front, closest to freedom but also closest to what would be the blast. Geddon stood behind me, a wall of armored muscle upon which my insides would be tastefully splattered if I¡¯d done this wrong. The giant¡¯s role would be to clear any debris my explosion might leave behind while everyone else got the survivors down into the hole and then themselves. Geddon was also the tallest among us, and now served as Trix¡¯s new perch, where he stood upright, ears perked all the way up and whiskers twitching. He¡¯d tell us if there were any undead near. Behind them, the three survivors huddled close together, the old woman and the boy as well as the sweaty, round shopkeeper. Sissa and Samila brought up the rear, Sissa with her eyes on me, Samila looking into the darkness behind. I looked up at Trix, waiting. I didn¡¯t speak, though. I needed Trix¡¯s sharp hearing just now. The Volpa¡¯s ears turned like twin satellite dishes following a moving signal. After a tense moment, Trix gave me the signal, which was just a hand wave. They didn¡¯t seem to use ¡°thumbs up¡± on Ralqir, and I¡¯d been looked at as a bumpkin for having to have it explained to me. How was I supposed to know not every species had thumbs? I nodded, starting the countdown on my fingers. The others covered their ears. Three¡­ Two¡­ One¡­ I blew out a long, slow breath. This needed to be flawless. *PHOW* It wasn¡¯t the earth shattering explosion I¡¯d done for Bole and his group. This was more of a high pitched, tinnitus inducing peal of miniature thunder that, if I wasn¡¯t an Exotic now a¡¯days, would have probably affected my enjoyment of certain types of music later in life. Dust and wood splinters flew up in a vertical plume, nearly to the ceiling twenty feet above. I was moving before gravity had a chance to let any of the particulates settle, bounding into the hub at a sprint. I spared a glance for my turret that was on the far edge of the room to my left, overlooking the trap door and the approach from four separate archways. My breath caught in my throat as I looked down the barrel, my life flashing before my eyes in the two steps it took to get past, but then the moment was behind me as I hurried on. The barrel didn¡¯t track me. The auto-turret just stood there, a spider, poised, silently watching for prey that entered its web. I knew it wouldn¡¯t shoot me. I¡¯d tested it earlier. However, I couldn¡¯t bring myself to trust my Automation process completely¡­ not just yet. Maybe that said something about how much I trusted myself. Over the ringing in my ears, I heard the distant, echoing howls of the scourge-touched. They began just as I arrived at the blast site at a full sprint, sliding to a stop next to the heavy wooden countertop we¡¯d laid over the charge to muffle the sound somewhat. It was in a few triangular pieces now. The undead¡¯s calls were faint. Doesn¡¯t sound too close. We might just have time. Geddon got there right behind me. With a grunt, he flung the pieces aside to reveal the damage I¡¯d done. My heart, such as it was, stilled. ¡°What is it? Why have we stopped?¡± Sissa asked. The sound of her sword leaving her sheath grated across my already tender eardrums. The shaped charge just laid there across the quellstone bricks, all of them fully intact. Impossible. Disbelief flooded my mind. I shook my head and reached down to pick it up. Transfer Spent Shaped Charge to spatial storage? Y/N I felt numb. This should have worked. I did it right, didn¡¯t I? Did I just get all these people killed? I chose ¡°Yes.¡± The band of warm metal disappeared with a dim flash. Sissa pushed to the front of the group, holding her sword above her head. ¡°What are we doing? Someone say something. They¡¯re coming!¡± I squinted at the¡­ Oh. There, in a neat, arm-length line about two inches wide, the quellstone bricks were simply gone. My shaped charge had done its job so well, it sheared the trap door so neatly, that the magic was the only thing keeping them together. ¡°It¡¯s not open! It is, indeed, a good day to die!¡± Geddon bellowed. Did he have to sound so excited about it? ¡°Oh, Light¡¯s mercy, please,¡± the old woman sobbed, falling down to her knees next to me. ¡°Damnit. Circle up, warriors. Put the civilians in the center,¡± Sissa ordered. Well, shit. ¡°Duty and mercy! Duty and mercy!¡± Sissa chanted, that strange, bright power infusing her words. It ran through my blood, infused my muscles, and brightened the dark corners of my psyche. There¡­ There was a gap in the stones. I¡¯d made a gap. I could work with this. I started breathing again. ¡°I¡¯m going to need a minute, Sergeant!¡± I declared, crouching down on the stones to check for any amount of give. Nothing. ¡°Not like we have a choice, monk,¡± she growled. ¡°Work quickly.¡± Forcing my breathing to slow, I stuck my prosthetic fingers inside the gap. Iron Grip [1MP/sec] Bracing my feet, I pulled, flexing my back and extending my legs. I heaved with all my might. It didn¡¯t give in the slightest. It was like they were still part of a floor. Whatever magic this was, it was solid. I was working with an unknown here. ¡°Here they come!¡± Trix yipped from somewhere. I looked up, still straining to get the quellstone to move, even just to jiggle. I was lucky enough to look at the right archway as the first pale figure shot into the light, using its arms and legs to run like an ape, bare feet and palms slapping on the cobblestones, filthy, ragged clothes flapping against its body. As it broke into the light, its dead eyes widened at the sight of me, and its mouth yawned to broadcast its special brand of hatred to the world. With strength I hadn¡¯t realized the Returned had, it bent its knees and leapt high into the air to bypass the guards and get straight to me. Samila, the shield on that side of the circle, shuffled to the right and tensed her body to receive the charge. I saw her knees slightly bend, boots angled to absorb the kinetic energy. She didn¡¯t get that chance, however. From the corner of my eye, I saw the barrel of the auto-turret, impossibly fast, jerk to life, a spider seizing upon unaware prey. It snapped its aim dead center on its target, just like it was programmed to do. *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* The metal walls of the firing chamber were thick, and the barrel was precisely built, so the sound of the tiny explosions happening in the action were muted. Most of the sound came from the hypersonic ball bearings ringing through the barrel and the snapping of collapsing air pockets in the rounds¡¯ wakes. Superfluous propellant energy bled from the action and the barrel with every ignition, a dangerous violet cloud of extra explosive potential, the brightness of which leaving floating spots in my vision. The turret scored three hits, even as the pale Returned flew toward us. The first two rounds hit it in the side of the rib cage right under the creature¡¯s armpit. Bone cracked, the significant force applied by the spherical projectiles setting the undead¡¯s body into a spin while black blood blossomed from pulverized meat. The final round, caught it under the jaw, where the throat connected to the head. Splintered bone and pulverized brain matter blew out of the top of the creature¡¯s skull, and the light went out of its eyes. If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The body flopped limply at Samila¡¯s feet, sliding to a stop, not quite having the inertia to hit her shield anymore. Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 3 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, -13 non-combat class)] *FWUP* *FWUP* The turret put a couple more rounds into the scourge-touched¡¯s body for good measure. Perhaps it had detected an errant twitch in the creature¡¯s nervous system, or my programming was shoddy. Hard to tell. Everyone just kind of paused at that moment, staring at the broken body. Judging by the looks on everyone¡¯s faces, they were shocked, terrified, hopeful¡­ Geddon barked out a laugh. For my part I was relieved that¡­ well¡­ that it worked at all. All eyes slowly drifted to me, and I pretended to be very engrossed in getting the door open. The old woman was still weeping, holding her grandson close, maybe for multiple reasons now. The shopkeeper wiped his handkerchief nervously over his sweating brow but avoided looking directly my way. It was oddly quiet among the living. The howls were growing closer, but I could still feel the eyes on me. I glanced up to see Samila looking me over, a strange, hungry look on her face. ¡°I want one, Sis,¡± she declared matter of factly. I felt my cheeks flush. I couldn¡¯t articulate why. ¡°Same,¡± Geddon shot back with a vicious laugh. ¡°Get your own, meatshield.¡± ¡°He can make more.¡± ¡°That¡¯s n-¡± Sissa hissed to quiet them. ¡°Shut up, and watch your angles. Monk, where are we on the door?¡± I shook my head and went back to work, stealing one last glance at Samila. Did she just wink at me? I put it out of my mind. There wasn¡¯t time for that. I reached down and took hold of the magical bricks yet again. I¡¯d been avoiding this, but other than triggering another huge explosion with no guarantee of success, I was out of ideas. Trix heard them before we saw them. ¡°Here they come! Watch out!¡± Devouring Grasp [ 5 MP/sec] You gain knowledge of material: Quellstone. [1/10] With a *crack* the two bits of stone within my palm gave way, and disintegrated into a cloud of black motes. Cold fingers wrapped themselves around my core, my lungs, my stomach, my brainstem, and they squeezed. Spots danced in my vision. The blood in my veins thickened to a sludge. I felt slow. Lethargic. Like I was encased in ice, and my body was giving into hypothermia. A terrible, agonized groan ripped its way out of me, and I slumped to the floor. ¡ª-------------------- Gibbering. Howling. Snarling. Cries of rage. Someone roared. *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] I came back to life in the middle of dying. ¡°Brother Ryan!¡± Trix was there, his clawed fingers on the sides of my face. I felt hollow. My head throbbed. HP [92/105] MP [0/75] Status lost: Mana Sap Status gained: Underfed [-2 mind, -2 body] The world was a swirling vortex of violence. The unhealthy white of the scourge-touched streamed in from the archways. Long limbs and snarling faces bathed in pale light from the glow lamps above. I watched as three blurry undead swarmed over one another to charge the gray smudge that was Geddon before their bodies were torn apart by a swarm of angry supersonic impacts. To my right, the lead Returned in a pack that was currently bearing down on Sissa took an unfortunate round in the arm that snapped the bone in half just as it put its full weight on it, causing the creature to tumble forward and trip those behind it. They piled up for only a second, but that was all it took for my auto-turret to decimate their numbers. The pile of creatures became a sagging mound of pulped meat as ball bearings zipped in from the right and cut through multiple bodies before continuing on to ruin someone else¡¯s day. *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] ¡­ Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Geddon roared in the scourge-touched¡¯s faces, hacking at those lucky enough to get into range. Sissa and Samila were slightly more measured, choosing to take a blow on their shields and to then follow up with a riposte that slipped between ribs or sliced throats. ¡°He¡¯s okay!¡± Trix shouted. ¡°Come on, Brother. On your feet.¡± ¡°Ugh.¡± I said as I pushed myself up into a sitting position. My MP was gone, and my head pounded. I summoned a piece of scrapped furniture wood and Consumed it. You gain knowledge of material: Mendau Wood [61/1,250] Status gained: Engine [3 MP/sec for 30 minutes] I wanted to vomit. I might have. ¡°Are you back with us, Brother Ryan?¡± Trix asked with evident concern. ¡°I¡¯m here. Just¡­ damn.¡± Consume Mendau Wood? Y/N Status gained; Engine [3 MP/sec for 60 minutes] ¡°What are we going to do? Can we get through?¡± Trix asked. ¡°Hold them off, Trix,¡± I croaked. ¡°I¡¯m gonna need time.¡± I summoned my pistol and a handful of ammo worms, holding them out for Trix to take. ¡°Remember what I said.¡± The Volpa looked down at the weapon with trepidation. He shuddered. ¡°Uh. Point and shoot. Right?¡± ¡°Right. Save it for when you need it.¡± Mercifully, the Returned were still streaming in, not coming in overwhelming numbers as of yet. We couldn¡¯t count on that to continue, though. All the while, the sound of the turret never ceased. *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* *FWUP* Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] MP [58/75] More often than not, as one of the guards engaged with a feral undead, their opponent would be cut down by a hail of fire from the turret, dropping it before swords had a chance to strike. Bodies with black, weeping holes were piling up around our protective circle while our group of survivors huddled next to me, not daring to look at the battle unfolding. I saw the kid trying to take a couple peeks, but he didn¡¯t like what he saw, burying his head on his grandmother¡¯s shoulder. I reached out and took hold of another stone. ¡°Oh no. You can¡¯t,¡± Trix said, reaching out to stop me, but he was too late. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] You gain knowledge of material: Quellstone. [2/10] Status lost: Engine I did vomit this time. Engine guttered and died, and my MP ticked down five points at a time. My lungs seized inside of me. Status gained: Mana Sap Consume Mendau Wood? Y/N Consume Mendau Wood? Y/N Consume Mendau Wood? Y/N It took three more pieces of wood to get my Engine humming again before I bottomed out my MP. I shivered and wiped sweat from my face. I felt like hammered shit. Do it again. I summoned another few handfuls of wood to get ready for the next round. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] You gain knowledge of material: Quellstone. [3/10] Status lost: Engine Consume Mendau Wood? Y/N It went on like that. Every time I would Consume another bit of quellstone, it would¡­ kill¡­ my mana. I wasn¡¯t sure how else to put it. One moment I was humming along, precious, vital blue energy flowing through me, then the quellstone did something. It blackened what it touched, withered it. Extinguished. I¡¯m not sure how long I rode that rollercoaster of pain. Minutes, probably. It felt like a lifetime. The undead were turning from a stream into a full blown flood, too many to count, not from down on the floor like I was. The stink of their blood dominated my senses. *THWOK* *THWOK* *THWOK* *THWOK* *THWOK* It was hard to hear the bark of the action on the turret now above the screams of the undead and the wall of corpses between me and my construct. What did reach me was the disturbing slap of metal on flesh and splintering of bone as the piercing projectiles did their gruesome work. I tried not to think about how these were all people. Get them out. Get them out then you can think about it. I used what I had to get us out of here. I killed. I Consumed. I killed the Dark Lord¡¯s creations. Consumed the Dark Lord¡¯s legacy. And it cost me. My body and soul withered before my eyes. The veins under my skin were dark, spider webbing roots that burned every time I reignited my Engine, every time they came back from whatever brink I¡¯d pushed them to. Affinity Type: Quellstone is now grade F. Core Ability gained: Detect Quellstone [Radius: 10 feet] Resistance to Mana Sap increased. [ERROR:M_Type_&#%R^_AuthorityNotFound] Resolving¡­ You gain knowledge of material: Quellstone. [1/50] Status lost: Engine Consume Mendau Wood? Y/N You gain knowledge of material: Quellstone. [2/50] Consume Mendau Wood? Y/N ¡­ You gain knowledge of material: Quellstone. [26/50] ERROR:M_Type_&#%R^_AuthorityNotFound resolved: Core Ability gained: Tempered Channels Something happened at that point. Whatever mojo that kept the stones together finally fell apart. Something gave, like the power being cut from an electromagnet, and the rest of the bricks blocking our escape tunnel collapsed under me. I found myself tumbling painfully down a set of uneven stairs along with a pile of quellstone rubble. ¡°He¡¯s got it!¡± Trix yelled triumphantly on my behalf. Sissa didn¡¯t waste any time. ¡°Everyone inside!¡± Chapter 36 - Stick the Landing Chapter 36 - Stick the Landing It was dark down here. The light from the hub room above couldn¡¯t quite reach the bottom of these stairs, and none of the glowlamps I¡¯d come to expect from the popular parts of the undercity were anywhere in sight either. That was okay. The dark was a nice change. The stones where I laid felt good against my skin, a smooth caress of comforting coolness after I¡¯d essentially just gone on a mana killing bender. These rocks weren¡¯t quellstone, though some of that had certainly tumbled down here with me. [HP 19/105] [MP 1/75] Status Lost: Mana Sap My eyelids fluttered, and my vision drifted in the dark. I got the impression the room would be spinning if I was able to see anything. Sweat beaded on my skin, instantly cold, and I felt that cold acutely. Inside, though, I was burning. Everything ached. Disembodied voices jabbered meaninglessly in the darkness. ¡°I can¡¯t! He almost killed himself getting us down here!¡± ¡°If you don¡¯t, all of us are dead!¡± ¡°I literally can¡¯t! Look at him! He¡¯ll die!¡± Status Lost: Fever (Severe) Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] I tried to shake my head, only having the strength and coordination to twitch slightly, but a tiny new part of my face was now resting on the cool stones. That was nice. My muscles, the ones I¡¯d tried to move so far at least, seemed to have checked out for the day, and my brain didn¡¯t mind terribly much that it couldn¡¯t muster up any activity. When had I closed my eyes again? It didn¡¯t matter. Laying down was good. It was right. If only things weren¡¯t so noisy. An unnatural, discordant choir sang unpleasant songs that shook the air and scoured my tender nerves. ¡°It¡¯s a tide of them up there! He would want you to do it!¡± That was Sissa¡¯s voice, strained, fearful. That made me feel¡­ discomforted. It wasn¡¯t anywhere close to a clear, logical thought, but the kernel was there, a burning coal, hissing and stinging under my blanket of peaceful ignorance. I tried to ignore it, tried to smother it with thoughts of rest. ¡°Don¡¯t say that! You don¡¯t know him!¡± Shouted Trix. He rubbed his paws nervously in front of his chest, unable to meet the guard Sergeant¡¯s eyes. ¡°Neither do you!¡± Sissa shot back. I still had something to do, didn¡¯t I? That thought gave my coal of consciousness a puff of oxygen, and, soon, there was a gratifying spark of real thought. I have things to do. My prosthetic moved first. I got it to curl its fingers, then to bend at the elbow until my metal hand was up near my face. I watched the fingers flex delicately, one by one. That first, conscious motion was a crack in an already overflowing dam. I¡¯m not done. My body seemed to remember how to interpret sensory input again. It was decidedly unpleasant. Living razors had grown inside my muscle tissue, and they busied themselves slithering along under my skin. At least that¡¯s how it felt. I was¡­ damaged. Leaky. The sensation cascaded outward from my core until it was everywhere. Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] ¡°He¡¯s coming around,¡± Samila observed from close by. The other two didn¡¯t hear her. ¡°Get him up on his feet. That¡¯s an order!¡± ¡°As I am constantly reminded, I am not a warrior. You can¡¯t order me to kill him.¡± ¡°Everyone¡¯s a warrior today, Brother Yik¡¯i¡¯trix. Do it.¡± A gentle but strong hand slipped across my chest and helped me get to my knees. My trembling limbs betrayed me, nearly bringing me down again, but the other person held me tightly until I could master myself. Things slowly got easier. ¡°He¡¯s strong, Fuzzball,¡± Samila said as she loosened her hold on me and slipped around to my front to look into my eyes, a little knowing smirk on her face. ¡°And we need him.¡± I checked my HP. HP [21/105] ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I coughed, and something gritty welled up in the back of my mouth. My stomach spasmed, and I vomited. What came out was a substance so hot and foul that it defied imagination as it splattered onto the floor between Samila¡¯s knees. She didn¡¯t flinch, just placing her hands on my shoulders to keep me from keeling over. ¡°What the hells is that?¡± Sissa cried, putting a hand over her mouth and nose. ¡°Brother Ryan? Are you¡­ Light it smells. What¡­?¡± Trix sounded like he wanted to throw up too. I wouldn¡¯t blame him, though I would argue I had it significantly worse. The aftertaste was something I could tell was going to linger. Geddon roared his defiance at unseen foes up above. It was a short roar, crossing over into bark territory like he only had so much breath to put into it. The XP messages just kept rolling in. Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± I said again. I spit a chunky remnant of the hell-vomit onto the floor. I had shit to do. ¡°Trix, let¡¯s go,¡± I growled. I don¡¯t know where the determination in my voice came from. Yeah, the situation was dire, but I sounded so sure of myself. Maybe I was too tired to overthink things. ¡°Brother Ryan?¡± I staggered to my feet. Samila didn¡¯t follow, choosing instead to watch me, head tilted curiously. I turned to the stairs. Briefly upon reaching the first step up, my knees gave out, and I had to catch myself on the wall to stay upright. That wouldn¡¯t do. ¡°Heal me,¡± I said, reaching down to my side where the Volpa¡¯s voice was coming from. ¡°Brother Ryan, you¡­ no. If you could see yourself- It¡¯s bad.¡± ¡°I know,¡± I replied wearily. For a brief moment, my head spun, and I nearly toppled backward. I caught myself before I could though. I hoped Trix didn¡¯t notice. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°It will hurt you, Brother,¡± Trix whimpered. ¡°There¡¯s a cost. You need food. Water. Rest.¡± ¡°I need HP.¡± ¡°What?¡± He asked. I shook my head. ¡°Sorry. I need healing.¡± We were close enough to the entrance now to catch Geddon¡¯s silhouette against the glow of the lights. He fought savagely, sword in hand, hacking at ill defined foes around his knees. His shield was gone. ¡°For the last time, it¡¯s not¡­ It¡¯s not real, Brother Ryan! How can you people not understand this?!¡± Trix yelled. With monumental effort, I turned my whole body to look down next to me. Trix¡¯s teeth were bared, and his ears bent back until they were flat on his head. ¡°It¡¯s real enough,¡± I replied. ¡°And we need it now.¡± ¡°Nothing a Volpa does is real! It¡¯s mirrors and mind games!¡± He cried. His voice cracked in the middle, and I sensed a deep wound being torn open. Then anger gave way to shame. He shrank away, turning to hide his eyes. ¡°I fool your body into healing your wounds quickly. With every spell your body cannibalizes itself,¡± he pleaded. ¡°I am killing you every time I heal you.¡± I didn¡¯t have the energy to do this right now. I tried to keep my tone flat but sure. ¡°Objections noted. Still need it.¡± ¡°You could die. Don¡¯t make me do it.¡± He was pleading with me now, acknowledging that he could, indeed, do it. Good. ¡°Trix, listen to me,¡± I began, out of breath even before I started speaking. ¡°No one else is dying here. Not him.¡± I pointed weakly up the stairs at Geddon, my foot already on the next step up. ¡°Not them.¡± I pointed behind us, over my shoulder with my thumb. ¡°And not you,¡± I said, reaching down to put my hand on his shoulder. ¡°I¡¯m the only one that can do this. I need to do this,¡± I insisted. Everyone needed to live, and I could do that for them. I¡¯d never been so sure of anything in my life, and time was wasting. ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± ¡°Heal me!¡± It burst out of me, the roughness in my throat made it come out harsher than I wanted, but my words filled the stairwell so completely, they left no oxygen for any more objections. A little more Outers accent, and I¡¯d sound exactly like my dad. That felt strange. Trix¡¯s little hand snapped up to dig its claws into the skin on my wrist, hard enough to draw blood. HP [78/105] Status gained: Underfed (Severe) [-3 mind, -3 body] The stairs blurred, and I felt myself beginning to topple forward. I braced myself on the wall to keep upright. I summoned a piece of wood from my spatial storage and Consumed it. Status gained: Engine [3 MP/sec for 30 minutes] It would have to do. I approached the top of the stairs. Much like the last entrance to the secret tunnels, the way out was a rounded portal. While I¡¯d blown the last one wide open and destroyed a good bit of brickwork before, this one¡¯s door had simply collapsed inside, leaving a perfect circle with smooth edges that transitioned from empty air to quellstone as it had been designed to do. *Thwup* *Thwup* *Thwup* *Thwup* Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] The turret was still active. It couldn¡¯t have much more ammo left, though I¡¯d lost my sense of time sometime between Consuming my first evil rock and now. Now that I had a bit more HP and was on the move again, I was feeling relatively well. ¡°Geddon! Down!¡± I yelled as loudly as I could, as forcefully as I could. After a handful of heartbeats where I thought he hadn¡¯t heard me, suddenly he was there. There was empty air, and then the big man flew down through the doorway like a bullet, sure footed, at exactly the right angle so that his momentum carried him down as far from the entrance with as little effort as possible. Geddon¡¯s armor, slick with black blood, came and went by. His wide shoulders scraped along the stone walls, slammed into me, and nearly brought me along for the ride, but I was able to squeeze to the side as the big man¡¯s angle changed. I felt like I¡¯d almost been run down by a truck. ¡°Waste no time,¡± he barked at me from lower on the stairs. His colossal chest rose and fell with every ragged breath. ¡°Even now, they are entering the circle.¡± I reached up until my hand barely crested the edge of the hole and summoned the sheet of iron I¡¯d been saving for this. It was a disk of flat metal, about an eighth of an inch thick, big enough to fit over the entire door and then some. It appeared in a flash of light, the handle I¡¯d Shape welded onto my side of the surface right next to my hand. The weight of it settled to rest over- *BONSH* Something heavy slammed into the top, forcing the makeshift lid closed and nearly dislocating my shoulder. Whatever it was that hit me, glanced off the metal sheet, and my soon-to-be door rebounded slightly and shifted to the side before I could catch it, turning a nearly perfect seal into an imperfect one with a small gap on the edge. ¡°Augh!¡± I grunted, clutching my shoulder, but the pain only rattled me for a moment. I reached up with my prosthetic and took hold of the handle just as bloody, cracked fingernails wormed their way into the new breach. I held on tight, attempting to shift the weight and get a more perfect fit, but something or multiple somethings had already settled on it. Iron Grip [1 MP/sec] Iron Grip is now level 4. ¡°They¡¯re on top of it!¡± I shouted. Slapping palms, scratching nails, exposed bone grating upon iron, all of it conducted perfectly through the metal. ¡°They leap down from the wall of corpses your turret built for us,¡± Geddon panted. ¡°It was shoulder height when last I looked. A glorious redoubt made of slain foes. Perfect for a final stand.¡± I was barely listening. Geddon¡¯s wish for a glorious death might still be granted if I didn¡¯t do this right. I summoned my three bottles of booze and placed them at my feet. Then I reached up and touched the iron lid to begin the process. Shape [22 MP/sec] The metal was already touching so much of the quellstone. My breath was stolen from me as I tried to saturate it all. It took all of four seconds for my mana to go dry. My Iron Grip faltered. I didn¡¯t have the spare mana to give to it. My body felt like it was being shredded from the inside, the way my mana was ripped out of me. What¡¯s more, my prosthetic was tied up with trying to keep the disk in place. I was going to lose it if I didn¡¯t dip into the booze. It had become a mathematical certainty. ¡°Help!¡± Was all I could manage, all the brain power I could spare. A catcher¡¯s mitt sized hand closed around mine, around the handle, and a bulky presence crowded onto the stairs next to me. ¡°Hang on!¡± Geddon yelled in my ear. He was doing something¡­ no. Someone else was there. Claws scraped over my knuckles, and something long and thin was passed through the metal loop next to my fingers. ¡°It¡¯s on!¡± Trix announced. ¡°Pull!¡± Then Geddon was out of my personal space. The leather cord they¡¯d fastened tightened around my hand. ¡°Let go, Brother Ryan!¡± I did. The lid shifted slightly as the angle of force being applied to it changed, but otherwise, it held. There was no time to waste. I was barely holding onto Shape. With my metal hand, I reached down and grabbed a bottle of booze. ¡°Get back as far as you can!¡± I ordered them. Consume Mirebold Whisky? Y/N Status Gained: Engine [29 MP/sec for 15 sec] Liquid fire ran through my veins, and my mana flowed in bright rivers through my ¡°channels¡± as the System put it. It rejuvenated me¡­ forcefully. I felt like a man that had just been given his first drink of water in days, and it was through a firehose. Split Mind is now level 6. Status Gained: Burning. [5 HP/sec] Hello, Burning, my old friend. ¡°Put him out! Put him out!¡± Geddon shrieked. Was he afraid of a little fire? For some reason, that amused me. I had to trust them to tend to my body. What these people needed was a closed door, and I had to deliver. The iron had to flow, had to bind to the floor. Seamless. Immovable. The metal deformed, elongated, melted like candle wax under my will into the minute cracks in the Dark Lord¡¯s perfectly laid floors. There was a setback when the disk bucked an inch into the air, stretching and shattering my tenuous bonds. Apparently, something had been able to get its bony fingers into the gap, but Geddon heaved it back into place with a grunt, severing more than one set of dead appendages. *CRUNCH* All the while, the Returned kept dying. Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Meanwhile, I burned. I melted. I dripped into the floor. I coated the brickwork, wound my way through the empty spaces and filled them with myself while the world tried to snuff me out. Consume Mirebold Whisky? Y/N Status Gained: Engine [29 MP/sec for 15 sec] Status Gained: Burning. [5 HP/sec] Status Lost: Burning. Trix tended to me sometime during. Status Gained: Underfed (Severe) [-6 body, -6 mind] I wrapped around the bricks, flowed into all the space. I became a puddle on the floor, one so smooth and natural, the scourge-touched could never think to dislodge me. My body gave out before I was truly satisfied, however. One moment, I was iron, rigid and in control. The next, I was a heap on the stairs, a desiccated pile of useless bones. I¡¯d done it, though. That door was good and sealed. No drooling scourge-touched was getting through that, not for a while. ¡°Brother Ryan?! Stay awake! Do not go to sleep!¡± I didn¡¯t feel like listening, though. I was bone tired, and things kept flashing in my vision, too fast to comprehend. Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 35 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 16 chain, -13 non-combat class)] Level up! You are now level 10. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. +1 focus point. Achievements awarded this level: Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] Big Spender: You have spent 10,420% of your total mana pool this level. [+1% mana regeneration per second.] Doing Your Part: Some of your creations have been used against agents of the Scourge. [+200% experience awarded for new designs next level] Inventor: You have created at least five new designs this level. [+1 Mind] Boss Killer: You have defeated a foe far above you in level. [+2 to all attributes] Allocate focus point to increase Depth? Y/N Status Lost: Underfed (Severe) Status Gained: Starvation [-7 mind, -7 body, -0.1 HP/sec] It was too much. I wanted to sleep. Someone slapped me¡­ Repeatedly. ¡°Whyyyyyyy?¡± I groaned. ¡°He¡¯s alive. Gods, by all rights he shouldn¡¯t be. Hold him still.¡± It was all so tiresome. I was done, wasn¡¯t I? I¡¯d done what they needed. Quest Update: ??? What? ??? (Continued): Become worthy. Chapter 37 - Forward not Back Chapter 37 - Forward not Back Despite what they asked of me, I did nod off a couple of times. I couldn¡¯t help it. We finally had a wall between us and the horde of flesh eating monsters, and my part was done. Plus, if you were to believe the System, I was starving to death, so a lack of energy was probably normal. If only they¡¯d just let me be. ¡°Strip everything off. I need to see.¡± ¡°Why are we stripping the monk, Volpa?¡± ¡°I need to make sure he¡¯s not bleeding or burned somewhere I can¡¯t see. We have to treat it conventionally if that¡¯s the case. I dare not use my magic again.¡± ¡°It worked fine last time.¡± ¡°You call *this* fine?¡± ¡°No¡­ Sorry.¡± I could feel myself being turned around, the remains of my clothes being peeled away, even my stupid orange hat. Funny that it had survived so long. Was it made of some kind of special material? It would have to be flame retardant if nothing else. ¡°Looks like the arm is part of his dominion sign afterall,¡± someone murmured. ¡°I thought it might have been another one of his inventions, but look here. It grafts right into the skin.¡± Delicate fingers played over my scalp. ¡°He¡¯s not Miur.¡± ¡°Who could possibly care, Sam?¡± ¡°Well, I¡¯d guessed that he was a Miur with how he talks, but he¡¯s not. Don¡¯t judge me, he always had the thing on.¡± A weight settled on my chest, light, warm. ¡°Who has food? Give it to me. This is dry. Going to need water too.¡± I was slapped again. When had I nodded off? ¡°Drink it, Brother Ryan.¡± A vessel was pressed to my lips, and a cold, lumpy porridge was poured into my mouth. I didn¡¯t take it well. I coughed and gagged, but they were quite insistent that I take the whole thing. I got as much into me as I could, but the process was slow and infuriating when I¡¯d much rather be passed out on the floor. Status lost: Starvation Status gained: Underfed (severe) By the time the torture was done, everyone had quieted down, and most had gone to get their own types of rest now that they knew I wasn¡¯t about to die. Trix and Samila propped me up against one of the stone walls and pushed a cup with more of the porridge into my hand, though I didn¡¯t feel like eating. My HP was ticking up again, now that Starvation was gone, but I still felt hollow and weak. I did have enough mana to reach up and gently charge a cobblestone above my head with Volatility just enough to give off a gentle glow, enough to at least be able to see. The tunnel we¡¯d escaped to was pretty tight, the floor maybe five feet wide while the walls went straight up then gently curved into a basic arch maybe eight feet high at its apex. The masonry was a smooth, irregular white stone, affixed with moldy, crumbling mortar. To my right, more near the staircase to the Undercity, I saw a recessed part of the wall, a little alcove that I imagined someone might set a lantern. It was almost depressingly utilitarian after the strange eccentricities of the Undercity. Samila was to my side, close. Close enough that I might find myself leaning on her if I were to pass out again. The blue woman¡¯s eyes were closed, head resting against the stones of the wall, but I couldn¡¯t tell if she was sleeping or not. She seemed smaller like this, relaxed to the point that her armor was the only thing keeping her upright, an exoskeleton that only allowed for a certain level of rest. For his part, Trix sat across from me, his fur in disarray, his head and shoulders slumped forward like he didn¡¯t have the energy to raise them just now. My little pistol sat between his outstretched feet. His breathing was rhythmic and slow, but his eyes were shut tight and his ears were laid flat on his head. Not everyone was at rest, however. The clomp of boots from my left, further down the hall, preceded Sissa stepping into my makeshift wall lamp¡¯s light. She looked tired but a little more herself now that the immediate danger was done. ¡°You¡¯re looking much better, Mo- Brother Ryan,¡± she said. She actually used my name. That was new, though my fake title did sour the moment somewhat. Sissa crouched down next to her sister and ran her hand gently over the other woman¡¯s cheek, wiping off a smudge of grime. Then she turned back to me, squinting. ¡°If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say you were getting healthy right in front of my eyes.¡± This was the part where I was supposed to allay suspicion, come up with some explanation that would fit, but nothing came. I just opened and closed my mouth a couple times then sipped my cold porridge. ¡°That is, indeed, what is happening,¡± Trix interjected flatly, not bothering to open his eyes. ¡°His burns are disappearing, his veins are lighter, and he¡¯s actually gained muscle mass, more than a ration of gruel could possibly provide. I¡¯ve never seen anything like it. I would be astonished if I had the energy just now.¡± Sissa raised an eyebrow and let out a little whistle. ¡°You¡¯re made of deceptively tough stuff, Brother Ryan. Sam, you have my blessing to marry this one. With his dominion, your kids wouldn¡¯t even need supervision to live to adulthood.¡± I sputtered, the porridge suddenly grabbing onto the back of my throat and refusing to let go. ¡°See, this is why I thought he was Miur, Sis. He scares easily,¡± Samila replied, fully awake now and grinning wickedly at me along with her sister. I really didn¡¯t know what to say to that. Nothing in my entire lexicon seemed to fit the situation. Being the clan pariah hadn¡¯t done much for my social skills, and I hadn¡¯t done much to rectify that by spending the majority of my time alone. Sissa only let me suffer for half a minute before she was back to business. ¡°Well, I¡¯m sorry to have disturbed you all, but it seems we¡¯ve traded one problem for another,¡± she said matter of factly. ¡°What¡¯s going on, Sergeant? What new horror has the darkness conjured to test us?¡± Trix asked, leaning his head back to thump it off the stone of the wall over and over. I squinted, trying to interpret his expression. I¡¯d only known him a little while, but Trix didn¡¯t seem to be himself. Sissa must have shared my concern. She gave the little Volpa a look, but Trix didn¡¯t elaborate. ¡°I¡¯ve gone further down the tunnel,¡± Sissa continued. ¡°and sifted through the rubble we have down here. Bole¡¯s yellow arrows, the ones that keep us on the safe path, there are none.¡± Now this was a subject I was more comfortable with. Put me in front of a wall of snarling death or above a bottomless pit, as long as I don''t have to answer personal questions. I was in such a hurry to dive into the subject, I think I overdid it. ¡°How- BLAPFT¡± I choked. Then I was beset by a coughing fit that brought up something unpleasant. The smell and taste reminded me of the hell-vomit I¡¯d experienced earlier. Apparently, some of it was still stuck to my vocal chords. Wonderful. ¡°How do we navigate without them then?¡± I rasped. Sissa shook her head. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°The way Corporal Bole spoke, he implied you had some knowledge of the smuggler¡¯s tunnels, Sergeant,¡± Trix recalled. He didn¡¯t bother to open his eyes. The guardswoman¡¯s expression hardened at the mention of the man, and her hand drifted to her sword hilt. She made no move to draw it, however. Samila spoke up for her. ¡°Sissa wasn¡¯t a part of that world. Bole¡¯s a thief and a liar.¡± Sissa put her hand out and shook her head. ¡°I just socialized in those circles for a time. I never did anything illegal, and, because of that, I was never fully brought into their trust. What I know of the smuggler¡¯s tunnels are just stories passed down from drunk blowhards that couldn¡¯t shut up around female company.¡± ¡°What can you tell us then?¡± I asked. Sissa ran a hand over her face and rubbed at her eyes with an ungloved hand. ¡°It¡¯s probably not accurate. Conjecture from dishonest and disreputable people. More liable to bias us against what we¡¯ll encounter than inform.¡± The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°We need to know at least the outlines of the problem, Sergeant,¡± I added, a bit more strength in my voice now. ¡°I¡¯d take an exaggerated account over nothing right now.¡± Seemingly resigned, she took a step to the side to put her back against the wall, then slid down next to her sister, sighing as she did. ¡°Based on the stories I¡¯ve heard, we¡¯ve gone from certain death to death for certain,¡± she said. ¡°These tunnels were made alongside the Undercity for the Dark Lord¡¯s personal use. Secret, or at least restricted, access tunnels. Supposedly, they go everywhere, every part of the city, but no one¡¯s ever mapped them all out before.¡± I tentatively raised a hand. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m not from here. Isn¡¯t this city extremely old? Why has no one explored them? If I had a network of secret tunnels underneath my house, I would be down there all the time until I knew what I was dealing with.¡± ¡°Then you¡¯re the type that would venture into them and never come back, Brother Ryan,¡± Sissa said with a shrug. ¡°You think no one has tried? There¡¯s a whole industry built on it, selling gear to foolish tourists in Bog Town that want to make a name for themselves.¡± She shook her head disdainfully. ¡°Before the Crusaders liberated the entirety of Eclipse and cut down the Dark Lord in his Observatory, where do you think they suffered the majority of their losses? It wasn¡¯t at the hands of the Returned, I¡¯ll tell you that.¡± I noticed Trix perk up at the mention of this. He¡¯d opened his eyes and leaned forward, ears arrayed to catch every bit of the story. His expression was still¡­ pained maybe(?), but he was actively listening now. Sissa continued. ¡°After a month of frustrated stalemate trying to batter down the doors to the Dark Lord¡¯s sanctum, the sappers found one of these entrances by chance. ¡®Finally,¡¯ they thought. Maybe it wasn¡¯t progress, per se, but it was something, some direction to go. So, they sent in teams of scouts to find out where the tunnels went. They didn¡¯t come back. Well, you¡¯ve probably read what the Crusaders were like. If something struck them, they made sure to smear that something¡¯s insides over several city blocks. Some of their people were dead, so that warranted a full scale invasion, full kits and blessings. They sent an entire battalion inside tasked with killing whatever beasts they found and mapping a route of ingress to the Observatory. They succeeded but at great cost. Only a handful out of a thousand lived to report back. They cut their way through the Dark Lord¡¯s pets, smashed the traps they could find, and blazed their way into the Sanctum. That¡¯s still the safest part of the smuggler¡¯s tunnels. Ever hear of Gnima¡¯s Corridor? That¡¯s what they¡¯re talking about.¡± ¡°So, we are in an unmapped part of the tunnels,¡± I inferred. ¡°Probably. I¡¯m not saying no one¡¯s ever been down here, but they either didn¡¯t bother to mark things or they¡¯re dead.¡± ¡°We can¡¯t go back,¡± Trix said. ¡°No, we can¡¯t, Volpa,¡± Sissa replied. ¡°We are down to three capable fighters now that Brother Ryan is-¡± ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± I objected. Probably better than fine, once I got more of my HP back and a little more food in me. I¡¯d leveled, afterall. Now that my mind was engaged again, I wanted to sit down and make some choices. ¡°Apologies,¡± Sissa said with a little nod in my direction. ¡°We still can¡¯t go back there, though. The only way is forward.¡± ¡°In that case, I say we push on as soon as possible.¡± Geddon loomed into the light from the stairwell. His posture was hunched now that he was in close quarters with us all, but that didn¡¯t stop him from absolutely filling the hall. ¡°The entrance is good and sealed. The Returned are still attempting to claw their way inside, but the barrier hasn¡¯t budged even slightly.¡± Sissa nodded. ¡°I agree. We can¡¯t stay here, and we can¡¯t go back. We¡¯ll need to brave the unknown and hope to cross the smugglers¡¯ ways. We¡¯ll get some rest then it¡¯ll be time to move again.¡± ¡ª-------------------------------- I absentmindedly took a sip from my fourth cup of cold porridge as I stared at the text on my screen, contemplating my next move. I¡¯d volunteer to take watch, since I¡¯d gotten some sleep and would be better served with some time to eat. With everyone still and, presumably, unconscious, our tunnel¡¯s ambient noise level dropped to tomb quiet. The loudest snorers of the group were the shopkeeper and, surprisingly, Sissa. When that woman decided to rest, she rested hard. While everyone else slept, I had a choice to make. Allocate focus point to increase Depth? Y/N I focused on the word Depth. Depth: Degree of intensity, measured in focus points. Investing focus points in an aspect of your being produces a qualitative difference in the aspect¡¯s strength, growth, and potential. Every level of Depth allows for greater awareness and mastery of yourself as related to the affected aspect. And here we have another layer of the System. Am I going to keep stumbling upon these for the rest of my life? The language being used here was interesting. I¡¯d thought of the System¡¯s numerical values as a concrete thing, standardized and categorized for every Exotic. The guy with 100 Body would be able to lift more than the guy with 80. Now, though, it was telling me that by adding one of these focus points, I¡¯d alter the formula somehow. It would be a qualitative difference where points with Depth meant more than points without. If I were able to look at other Exotics¡¯ status screens, did my numbers stack up with theirs? Did we even use the same scale? Of course, I had to do it. No mentor was going to pop out of the walls to tell me what was going on, and I needed all the edge I could get. The only question was where I¡¯d put the point. I chose ¡®Yes.¡¯ Then I was simply looking at my status screen. Ryan Kotes - Level 10 Animator (Uncommon) Type: Artificer (Common) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 130/130 MP: 113/113 Attributes: Body: 26 Mind: 24 Spirit: 38 Free attribute points: 1 Free focus points: 1 Abilities Shape 8 (Transmute) Consume 4 Iron Grip 4 Devouring Grasp 4 Volatility 3 Imbue 3 Trigger 4 Automate 4 Tempered Channels 1 Skills Climbing 5 Unarmed Combat 3 Running 4 Stealth (Gray Man) 9 Conduit 3 Split Mind 6 Spear 4 Deception 5 (+) Affinities: Goblinoid F Iron F + Steel F + Magnesium F Mendau Wood D Limestone E Okay. So what do I do? Experimentally, I honed in on the Body attribute. Allocate focus point to Body? Y/N So, it was as simple as that. No information. No fanfare. Of the three attributes I¡¯d been using since I received my Exotic status, I wasn¡¯t overly sure which one would be the most valuable. Body literally kept me alive, which I found incredibly useful. Making the stat better wouldn¡¯t be a bad idea. Mind governed my mana and a fair number of abilities and skills. Not only that, but it affected my mental acuity. What would a point of depth do there? Meanwhile Spirit was far and away my highest stat and did its fair share. Putting a focus point in that would, in theory, make all those points mean more. I¡¯d get the most bang for my buck if I chose that one, at least immediately. I blinked. Was I thinking about this correctly? Again, I focused on a different part of my status screen. Allocate focus point to Shape (Transmute)? Y/N Oh. That¡¯s interesting. I tried something else. Allocate focus point to Spear? Y/N I swallowed. A little lump had appeared in my throat. It was an option any number of the people in my Clan would have chosen. Maybe not the Spear skill. They¡¯d choose the skill that matched their heirloom weapons, of course. Just having the opportunity was¡­ It hurt. What I wouldn¡¯t have given to have this chance back on Proxis. I would have given everything, especially if I had the Sword skill. My father would have been so proud. Then the moment passed. I wasn¡¯t that person anymore, obviously. Okay, Ryan. Think. The System says that you¡¯ll gain awareness and mastery in all things related to where you put this point. What do you need? I needed everything. I was inadequate in lots of ways. My class was meant for building, not fighting. My HP and MP were constantly being taxed to their limits. My combat skills were severely lacking too. What sets you apart? Engine. The error messages. I¡¯d concluded long ago that Engine wasn¡¯t something I was meant to have. By some wildly improbable chance, I¡¯d been integrated while being run through with a spooky sword, and the System had compensated by rearranging things so that I could live. It was the first thing in my new life that wasn¡¯t what it was supposed to be. Then there was Volatility. I¡¯d received it through an error in the System, when I¡¯d earned an achievement meant for a different class. It was still a big part of my success. The fact that it never leveled left it out of the running though. There was another one too¡­ I checked my status screen again. There it was. I¡¯d nearly forgotten. Tempered Channels: By channeling multiple volatile, opposing mana types through your body, you have forced your body and spirit to adapt. Your mana pathways are permanently scarred. Sensitivity to and control of foreign mana types moderately decreased. Strength and control of personal mana type greatly increased. Personal mana type altered. That was, in a word, frightening. Apparently, not everything we Exotics did could be healed over time. I¡¯d done something to scar myself, and while it came with benefits, it had limited me somehow. Putting points into Tempered Channels would undoubtedly be interesting, but I knew nothing about the ability yet. That left Automate. It was an attractive option, since it encompassed a lot of different things. It used my highest attribute, I wouldn¡¯t have it if not for an error in the System, and it would be prohibitively expensive for any other Animator to use. My unique situation gave me the chance to not only acquire the ability but to use it enough to level it up. I also had to admit that I had a special affection for Automate, as it was an ability I earned on my own instead of having it handed to me by the System. I even got a special achievement for it. Plus, I was a mechanic at heart. I liked making things that worked. Allocate focus point to Automate? Y/N Focus point allocated. Depth increasing. Stand by.... Chapter 38 - Change the Equation Chapter 38 - Change the Equation Depth increasing. Stand by... I absentmindedly took a sip of my lumpy porridge cup as I stared at the message, but my depth remained frustratingly un-increased. With how much fanfare there had been before my choice, I had expected a bit more of an immediate payoff. Instead I was being asked to be patient¡­ Which was the word of the day. We¡¯d been down here for an indeterminate amount of time, and things were looking exactly the same. Hours of walking past identical looking bricks, identically grimy mortar, and identically empty lantern alcoves proved to be a different test to everyone¡¯s mettle. At least I had my System interface to stare at, but there was only so much that could be done in there. I had the combat log pretty much how I wanted it now, but that only killed a couple hours of time. That didn¡¯t stop me from scrolling through things, however. It was either that or stare at the back of the merchant. Even without looking, I knew where the sweat stains on his clothes were, the positioning of his hand on the wall to keep his balance. The rest of the civilians were in front of him, in the middle of our formation. Behind me was Trix followed by Samila who would be dutifully keeping an eye on our rear, a tiny lantern affixed to her belt to give her plenty of light to see by now that the locals needed it. Geddon had a similar one up at the front. ¡°Intersection. Bearing left,¡± Sissa¡¯s voice chimed in a sing-song sort of way meant to sound light and just a touch bored, her way of telling us she was just as affected by the situation as the rest of us. I could hear the indecision in her voice, though. She, as the ranking guard, was responsible for us all, and the passages were giving us nothing to go on. With every decision we were further from what we knew. The intersection was like all the others, perfectly right-angled with four arches meeting in the middle to form a point, a lantern alcove for each hallway. The group paused to allow Trix to scratch a set of arrows on the stones to indicate where we¡¯d gone, just to make sure we weren¡¯t going in circles. I took the opportunity to sip some more tasteless gruel. My Underfed debuff was gone, but Trix insisted I get more food in me, probably fattening me up for when he needed to heal me again. In light of recent events, I couldn¡¯t argue with that logic. I sighed. We were walking single file through the most banal death trap ever conceived. Of course, maybe that¡¯s how it got you, lulled you into a false sense of confidence then dropped the floor away. I shook my head and tried to focus. The kid didn¡¯t seem to feel the tension the grownups felt and started to act like a kid again. It had been a long time coming. Honestly, I was surprised at just how quiet his grandmother was able to keep him in the Undercity when we were being hunted. Now, in defiance of the oppressively boring environment, he bobbed and weaved through the group, ran his hands over the brickwork, played little jumping games where he¡¯d only step on the odd shaped stones¡­ kid stuff. It was during one of his little skips that he changed things for us. His foot landed badly, and he reached out to steady himself on the wall. ¡°Ow!¡± The kid¡¯s shout echoed off the hard surfaces of the tunnel and broke the plodding time spell we¡¯d all been under. He winced and pulled his hand away from the wall, sucking air through his teeth. A dam broke. Suddenly, everyone was engaged. ¡°I told you not to act a fool,¡± his grandmother chided, already wrapping the boy up in her arms. ¡°Twist your ankle and one of these people will have to carry you. We are all still in grave danger, and you mustn¡¯t make it worse.¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s not that, ma. It cut me,¡± the boy argued. Trix was moving straight away. He bounded up to the boy and stood to his full height to take the boy¡¯s hand and give it a look. ¡°It¡¯s alright. Let me see,¡± Trix said, leaning in close. ¡°I told you boy. I told you not to act a fool. When I speak of this to your father, he¡¯ll get an ear full,¡± the grandmother continued. Trix let out a displeased hiss. ¡°Please, Miss. Calm yourself and get out of my light.¡± He poked at the cut and pulled out a bandage from somewhere, wrapping it around. He turned to me with an uncertain look. ¡°This isn¡¯t from a stone.¡± Taking the cue, I bent down to the kid¡¯s level and examined the wall, running my fingers along it, over the imperfections in the rock, through the rough grooves between. Then I felt a prick on my fingertip. Something was protruding from the mortar, about a millimeter long and wire thin, very sharp. Sharp enough to get a bead of blood out of my finger before the System closed it back up. ¡°Looks like you are coming away from your adventure with a scar, young man, and what a story you¡¯ll have behind it,¡± Trix said encouragingly, finishing his binding on the wound. ¡°Your friends will be very impressed.¡± I rested my fingers on the little barb and probed it with Shape, letting my mana flow over it and map its contours. It was shocking just how fast I could do this now. I probably had Tempered Channels to thank for that. One point in the positive column. I still wasn¡¯t sure if I was happy with acquiring Tempered Channels. What little testing I¡¯d done concerned the hell out of me. Any ability that involved Volatility felt different now than what I remembered. I could still direct it, giving it a path to leave my body, but I didn¡¯t feel in control of the power as acutely as I once did. In fact, the experience had grown unpleasant, biting, like I was spooling barbed wire in the cold with numb hands. Using Shape and my own personal mana, on the other hand, felt like second nature to me. What¡¯s more, the mana itself was more forceful, more elegant, irresistible. I felt it twist and weave between the molecules of the thing in the wall, stretching on further and further. I felt the metal, sensing the matter and how it was bound together even before it was saturated. ¡°It¡¯s metal,¡± I announced as I channeled myself into it. The thing was long and thin like a wire but also had barbs and cutting razors at regular intervals that hooked into the mortar like hagbrush roots. I wasn¡¯t able to saturate it yet due to its size, but I could tell the general direction my mana flowed. It went on and on. ¡°Is it some kind of trap?¡± Sissa asked. I shook my head. ¡°Not sure. It¡¯s a wire¡­ a weird one. Wait!¡± I paused, blinking. My mana had reached the end, and I¡¯d reached full saturation. Slowly, I Shaped a finger-length piece of the stuff out of the wall and thinned out the middle until I could snap it off with my prosthetic. What came away in my hand was a silvery metal of some kind. Consume Tendril? Y/N You gain knowledge of Cobalt. [1/10] You gain knowledge of Nickel. [1/10] You gain knowledge of Deep Lead. [1/10] ¡°The end is that way,¡± I said pointing in the direction we were going. ¡°Don¡¯t know what it¡¯s for, but it¡¯s something.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. Sissa looked through me, lost in thought. ¡°The question is whether to follow it or get away from it.¡± ¡°I say we follow it. If it is connected to a trap, the architect of this place will have believed it is worth defending,¡± Geddon said from the front of the group. Sissa nodded. ¡°Better than running around down here for the rest of time. Let¡¯s go.¡± Just as my Shaping had told me, the wire ended about ten minutes or so of walking in our direction of travel. It wasn¡¯t connected to anything other than the stone, which Sissa appreciated. What had cut the wire, however, wasn¡¯t what we expected. Geddon held up a hand for us to halt and called us all up to have a look at what he saw. Our hallway, level and mostly straight, solid and dry, ceased to be all of those things right where Geddon crouched. It was as if a giant had stepped on our little tube we¡¯d been using to travel and snapped it like a twig. The hallway continued on, but¡­ lower. The route had been severed, the way forward several feet down from the one we currently used. Broken stones and loose earth packed in around the sides of the tunnel here, and the archway above our heads had crumbled until it resembled a cave ceiling rather than something built. Sissa had to crouch to enter the new, broken version of the hallway, and her feet hit the ground with a splash. After a quick look around, she turned back to us, only her upper torso and head visible. ¡°Looks like a collapse. Judging by the water, we¡¯ve either gone North or are in a tunnel connected to one that goes that way.¡± ¡°Is that good?¡± She shrugged. ¡°Are you a good swimmer?¡± No. No I wasn¡¯t, but I compensated for it in other ways. ¡°Rest up, everyone,¡± Sissa commanded with a grin. She finally had something in front of her she could assess. ¡°This will be the last time we¡¯ll be dry for a while.¡± ¡ª-------------------- ¡°You have the look of a man at the end of a bender,¡± Samila commented the next ¡°morning¡± as she strapped her shield to her back. ¡°Should I assume you built something last night, and that¡¯s why you never woke any of us for the next watch?¡± I rubbed my face tiredly then shook my head. ¡°It¡¯s complicated. You¡¯ll all need to hear this.¡± My voice sounded raspy and my mouth was dry. It had been a long night. The first thing I¡¯d done once everyone was bedding down was go looking for the severed ends of the wire and Shaping a manageable amount of it out of its hole, having to take time to smooth the barbs out and thin the wire enough so it could be pulled. It cost me a fair bit of scrap furniture wood to keep Engine going, but in the end, I got about eighty pounds of Weird Cobalt Alloy (my working name for it) from my work and an F grade affinity for the stuff. Then Detect Cobalt found me half a dozen more strands, some leading down into the next part of our hallway. That¡¯s where things got interesting. ¡°See here?¡± I asked, pointing to a particular strand of metal. ¡°It¡¯s another one of those wires, probably the continuation of the one we found.¡± ¡°How far does it go?¡± Sissa questioned. I shook my head. ¡°Don¡¯t know. I can¡¯t saturate it.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know what that means. Is that normal?¡± ¡°If something is too big or if it¡¯s a material I can¡¯t Shape, yes, but this is metal. I can definitely work with the stuff. The problem is that I can¡¯t even connect with it. Here,¡± I said, reaching out and putting a finger on the end of the wire. I let my mana flow out of me, pooling at the tip of the metal and pressing at the barrier of the matter, but that¡¯s as far as I got. The wire¡­ recoiled. Like a living thing, it shrank away from me and curled in on itself. Geddon was the first to comment. ¡°That¡¯s new. It doesn¡¯t seem to like you.¡± ¡°He¡¯s an acquired taste,¡± Samila chirped from behind me. Sissa just rolled her eyes. I cleared my throat uncomfortably and rushed to explain more of what I found. ¡°Not just that.¡± I grabbed the wire and attempted to hold it still for the Shaping. This time, the metal tendril reacted violently. It whipped back like a snake while several tiny barbs appeared down its length. I let go before it could do more than superficial harm. I turned to the rest of the group. ¡°Something else is in there,¡± I declared. The metal was alive. I couldn¡¯t really explain it. When I¡¯d used Devouring grasp on it last night it almost looked like it was in pain the way it writhed and retreated. Meanwhile, I couldn¡¯t for the life of me saturate it or get it to accept my mana in any way. ¡°Someone or something with a similar domain perhaps?¡± Trix asked. ¡°A member of the Order?¡± I blinked. ¡°Uh. No. Probably not,¡± I answered. If it was someone with powers like mine, they¡¯d have to be controlling the metal constantly and, considering there were lots of these wires, expending an ocean of mana every second they did so. Sissa nodded and stood up to address everyone. ¡°This tunnel is the best lead we¡¯ve had so far. Let¡¯s move quietly and keep an eye out for markings. No one touches any creepy living metal until I say so.¡± ¡ª------------------------------------ We saw our first yellow arrow a little farther down the partially flooded tunnel. The water was up to our shins, but it never got higher than that, though the floor was more uneven now, and turned ankles were more a danger with every passing moment. Trix spent most of his time riding on my shoulder again, but he was largely silent and brooding. I could sympathize. We all needed real rest and some natural light. Every problem we solved seemed to turn into another one, and that beat our morale down until it was in the mud. That changed with the spotting of our first yellow arrow. Sort of. It was on the left side of a four way intersection, pointing in that direction. However, it was old and faded, and someone had made another, only slightly more recent slash through the middle of it. That wasn¡¯t what we wanted to see. ¡°I say we follow it anyway,¡± Geddon opined, one hand on his chin and staring at the yellowed brick. ¡°Even if the mark means that the way is no longer safe, the fact that it is here means this passage at least leads somewhere the smugglers wanted to go.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t think they would have given up on a route easily if it were profitable to them. They likely saw something they couldn¡¯t handle and cut their losses,¡± Sissa rebutted. Geddon looked unconvinced. ¡°Thieves and crooks are generally cowards. What they saw might not be as much of a threat to us.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve got civilians with us, big guy,¡± Samila said quietly, reaching up to pat his shoulder. ¡°Maybe we could handle it, but if it¡¯s a running fight we can¡¯t keep them safe.¡± ¡°I¡¯m leaning toward trying a different passage, we have a one in two chance of taking the route the smugglers took to get here. From there, we just follow the arrows back until we get to a safe passage,¡± Sissa mused. I thought about the problem. We¡¯d been down in this lower passage for hours now, and the tunnels seemed to be as big as the city itself. Only the shopkeeper and Samila carried packs, and they were getting lighter by the hour. I still had a bit of food in my spatial storage, but clean water was a problem. I scooped up a handful of the water down at my feet and smelled it. Nope. Dysentery would be a hell of a way to die. We wouldn¡¯t be able to run around down here without direction, and the physical activity was sucking our supplies away. The kid was listening with rapt attention. His grandmother simply looked tired. She leaned heavily on the boy now, her aging body unable to keep up this kind of stress over such an extended time. I felt around in my storage. I had a good bit Weird Cobalt Alloy, a dwindling pile of scrapped furniture, food, and some of my weird loot from the mockvine. I could do something here. ¡°We should make camp,¡± I declared as authoritatively as I could. The church guards turned around as one to stare at me, Geddon with a frustrated grimace and the two sisters with looks of equal parts curiosity and incredulity. I cleared my throat. ¡°People are worn out, and this is a decision that needs time.¡± ¡°Time isn¡¯t something we have in abundance,¡± Sissa replied. ¡°What¡¯s more, we shouldn¡¯t sleep in this muck. One or more of us will catch our death. Brother Trix should only use his dom-¡± ¡°It is not my dominion,¡± Trix corrected with a hiss. ¡°Okay, sorry. He shouldn¡¯t use his healing magic-¡± Sissa paused to see if there was an objection to that one, but Trix simply looked sullen. She continued. ¡°If he does, our dwindling supplies will be depleted further.¡± I nodded. ¡°I get that. I have a stack of wood in my storage that we can use to keep fairly dry, and I have a plan for the water situation.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not all, is it, Brother Ryan?¡± Trix asked in my ear. His little black eyes were hard. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯m going to scout ahead,¡± I replied, attempting to sound sure. Sissa¡¯s refusal was a given. ¡°No. We stay together, and we¡¯ll get out together.¡± ¡°We have a choice of three ways,¡± I explained, turning to speak to everyone. ¡°Two of them lead to our deaths, one by the mystery monster, the other starvation or dehydration. We need to be damned sure of the way we take. I can eliminate one of them, removing the ambiguity.¡± ¡°It¡¯s still time wasted,¡± Sissa argued. ¡°Hold on, sis. He¡¯s got that look in his eye. He¡¯s going to build something,¡± Samila said with a little smirk. ¡°Right?¡± I couldn¡¯t keep myself from grinning. ¡°I¡¯m going to build something.¡± Chapter 39 - Go Monster Slaying Chapter 39 - Go Monster Slaying I ended up cannibalizing some of my gold coin collection to help with the water problem. One good thing about gold is just how conductive it is for heat, and it made for a pretty good boiler. Add to that a bronze tube that fit perfectly on top and another container to catch the condensation, and they would probably be able to get a couple gallons of drinkable water out of it before I got back. It took some of the pressure off of our supplies at least. Trix handed me my pistol as I was leaving. ¡°I¡¯d much rather you came back alive than have a weapon to hand while I watch the mold grow. I still haven¡¯t fired it,¡± he said. I nodded to him in thanks and handed him a glowing purple rock. ¡°I¡¯ll be back with it soon enough, and, if you¡¯re lucky, with a big monster you can shoot.¡± He took the stone and rolled it around in his paw curiously. ¡°Please do not do that on my account. What is this?¡± ¡°If that stone- uh¡­ explodes or suddenly stops glowing, it means I found something bad. I¡¯ll do my best to get back to you if it¡¯s safe after that.¡± Trix raised an eyebrow and set the stone down carefully on the pile of stones we¡¯d cobbled together in the middle of the intersection. ¡°Perhaps it¡¯s best I not keep it in my pocket then.¡± Choosing the tunnel that led in the opposite direction of the marked out smuggler¡¯s arrow, I set off at a jog, water splashing around my shins. I kept a finger sized rod of the cobalt alloy in my hand for light. The light was weak, but I didn¡¯t need overly much light thanks to the tunnel being so small and the water reflecting a good bit of it. At every intersection, I marked the way I went by scratching an arrow on the brick at about shoulder height. Detect Cobalt was going nuts. When I started out, only two of the wires ran through the mortar of the brickwork, but that changed quickly. At each intersection there was always a clearly more densely wired passage to take, a place where the strands seemed to flow together. While my passage had two, they would knot up with others in the ceiling of an intersection then continue on through another tunnel. It was as good as anything to follow. Soon, the tunnel I was in practically glowed to my extra sense. The wires were a twisting nest of barbed weirdness running on into forever channeled by the mortar highways they''d chosen as their habitat. I was so focused on Detect Cobalt that I almost missed the slow change in the environment. I didn¡¯t realize there was light or that the water was practically a puddle on the floor now, going from splashing under my feet to simply being slippery. Then the smell hit me. It wasn¡¯t just rot, though that was certainly a way that I might describe it. It was subtly different, the air thick with stagnation, stillness, and stale death, as if something had putrefied but even microbial life whose entire purpose was to break down the dead and dying wouldn¡¯t touch this. It repulsed me in a way I¡¯d not felt before.. Once I realized something was wrong I crouched down and stowed my light in my spatial storage. Then I listened for a solid minute. Air moved through the tunnel oddly at the best of times, blowing against my face one moment, at my back another. The slow trickle of water down the slimy walls was almost ubiquitous. Underneath that, I heard a sputtering hiss so quiet, I might have mistaken it for my own breathing. Stealth is now level 10. Upgrade paths available: Subtle Casting Blur Knife in the Dark Well, that confirmed that I wasn¡¯t alone, but it also confirmed that Stealth was working on something. I took that as an opportunity to stop and listen more. I had a choice to make. Subtle Casting: Your abilities are much harder to detect through means magical and mundane. Blur: Your outline is blurred to even the most observant onlooker, as long as they are not aware of your precise location. Once detected, Blur is removed until line of sight is broken. Knife in the Dark: Opponents that are not paying direct attention to you take X additional damage from your attacks and abilities where X = Stealth/5. All of them looked useful in the short term and long. However, Knife in the Dark held an opportunity. As Nali had said, I channel myself into the object I Shape. Was that because of the type of mana I used, the ¡®me¡¯ type? If that were the case, I used ¡®me¡¯ type mana in everything I did with the exception of Volatility. Would something like my turret construct get the damage bonus? How much ¡°me-ness¡± did my mana retain? Choosing Knife in the Dark would answer these questions, and that would be worth missing out on the others if only to know how it worked in the future. The worst that could happen if I took the ability would be if it was a straight up flanking skill, and even then that would be legitimately useful. I made the choice. Back in the moment, slowly, carefully, I set one foot in front of the other. The light coming from up ahead didn¡¯t strike me as daylight or the gentle glow of the filament stuff they used in the Undercity. It was a sluggish, red hue that turned the world into a blood-soaked blur, that is until there was a spark then a flash, sudden and violent, that pulsed down the tunnel, bright enough to hurt my eyes and leave little tracers in my vision. I found it easier to look down at the water and my feet instead of directly ahead or to pay attention to Detect. The tunnel was absolutely riddled with wires here, and the concentration grew thicker by the foot. I continued on until I found myself at an intersection unlike the ones I¡¯d seen before. It was bigger- no, grander than the others. It was a circular cavern type room with many different archways to tunnels that intersected this one. The high, vaulted ceiling, maybe fifty feet up, came together where a deep red crystal hung from the architecture, giving the room its light. Being this close to the thing didn¡¯t help the visibility problem much. Everything still appeared dreamlike in my vision, indistinct and shifting. Detect cobalt told me that all the wires were headed up that way just like the other intersections, until I lost them at the edge of the ability¡¯s radius, but I could make out naked silver further up the walls. Maybe there just wasn¡¯t room in all the mortar for the concentration of tendrils in this room The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. Then there was an explosion of sorts, a gout of white flame and an incandescent shower of sparks that trickled down to the floor to reveal a- What the hell is that? It was a creature of some kind, splayed on its back underneath the crystal. It was huge, longer than it was thick, maybe the size of a couple train cars put together, vaguely reptilian or maybe amphibian with mottled yellow-pink skin. Its head was partially obscured, but it was wider than it was tall. It¡¯s mouth gaped wide open to expose multiple rows of finger-sized teeth. The thing¡¯s eyes were closed, and though I wasn¡¯t an expert in extra-universal biology, it looked like it was enjoying itself. It stretched languidly under the blinding light and burning sparks like a cat in a sunbeam. Its multitude of long, muscled legs that all ended in two toed claws, curled and flexed with pleasure, and its muscled tail slithered back and forth as it basked in the presumed warmth. The sparks gave me a better view of the room as well. There was a gap in the floor in my tunnel¡¯s threshold as it fed into the room, wide enough for me to fit inside. Flaps of pale translucent material hung from quite a few of the naked wires running through the open air. Piles and piles of vaguely organic refuse were scattered about the room, and though it was hard to estimate their size, I suspected they would do much to block my view if I were to sneak through the room. I¡¯d seen enough. It looked like I¡¯d chosen the wrong way. The only saving grace here was that the creature seemed too big to fit into our particular tunnel, so I would need to count that particular blessing once I was far, far from this place. Even as I backed away, I reached out with my will and, hopefully, set off Trix¡¯s stone. I¡¯d never tried it from so far away before, and, if it worked, it would make for a good data point on how the ability worked. However, as soon as I sent the mental command, the creature froze, mid slither, so still it looked more like a corpse than a living thing. I froze too. Had it heard me? Had it heard Trix¡¯s rock? That shouldn¡¯t have been louder than a pop, and it was so far away. I had to imagine the party¡¯s footfalls and voices would have carried farther than that. I stared at the thing, unblinking, afraid to move. Stealth is now level 11. With sudden, explosive force, the creature was upright and moving fast, its dozens of powerful legs carrying it smoothly over the cavern floor, between the piles of refuse and up onto the walls where it circled erratically, sniffing, turning its head this way and that. The motion was so quick, the thing had already almost made a lap around the room before I even had a chance to take a breath. It never made even a whisper of a sound. The creature didn¡¯t seem to have eyes, though it did have some sort of vestigial sockets whose hollow appearance made me uncomfortable when they were turned my way. Nope. Time to go. I took a step back, slowly so as not to disturb the puddles on the floor, and I was about to turn away when my eyes brushed over a marking on my tunnel wall, a full arrow that was pointed down my tunnel. My magic metal heart sank. I¡¯d chosen the ¡°right¡± way after all, but our assumptions were wrong. Possible danger in front, definite danger behind. My mind conjured the image of a group of men carrying packs through the dark, a routine trip for them, transporting illegal goods from here to there, but as they reached this room, they found themselves set upon by a huge salamander thing. Would they stick around to cross out their yellow arrows near the creature¡¯ den? Probably not. Instead they probably marked passages as unsafe where they could. Definite danger here, but¡­ This creature was so large, too large to fit into my tunnel, and the way out was definitely this way. Lucky me, I knew someone that specialized in ranged combat. Remote ranged combat. I backed down the tunnel at a glacier¡¯s pace, not daring to disturb the water or make a sound until I was well out of sight and out of the red light. Once I was out, it was time to build. ¡ª---------------------------- When you are Triggered, feed mana into the aiming arms. Bring the sight as close to your target as possible. Feed a small burst of mana into the firing Trigger. Repeat. Do not shoot at or through me. Automate depth increasing [2 of 3] Apparently, the System had been waiting for me to use Automation to start increasing its Depth. I might have been frustrated if not for my brain entirely engaged on my design process at the time. I inserted the little automated wafer into the brain housing on my new turret and Shape sealed it shut, running through the final checks to make sure everything would work smoothly. Where my junk turret that fired ball bearings was long and slender, this monster was a bulky, squat sort of death machine with chunky legs, a barrel thick enough to swallow my hand, and a low center of gravity that would keep it from toppling over when it fired its substantial payload. Speaking of¡­ I grabbed the three pieces of my prototype shell casing, one that would break apart once it left the barrel and expose the real shot. Then I carefully began to pack the ammo inside. In this case, the ammo was thirty-four wickedly sharp cobalt-nickel darts wrapped around a foot long cobalt-nickel alloy spike, the tip of which I was touching now. When you are struck, feed mana into your Trigger and burrow into anything softer than yourself. Do not burrow into me. Thirty-four times I¡¯d had to give that command and channel that mana. It had used the last of my stored scrap wood, but if this paid off, it would be worth it. I wanted to end this fight in one blow, a surprise attack from the dark that would guarantee death or retreat from the creature. I didn¡¯t want it to surprise me with a ranged attack or go hide somewhere and wait for me to come into its lair. I wanted a one-and-done. The entire thing, loaded and ready to go, had to weigh as much as a full grown man and then some¡­ maybe more since my scale of physical fitness was out of wack now that I put points into Body. Cobalt was heavy stuff, and I¡¯d made the whole thing to last after scavenging a lot of wire from the tunnel walls. Unfortunately, it was too massive to put into my dimensional storage, so that had me lugging the whole thing back up the tunnel to the creature¡¯s den a good mile away. By the time I was back in the red light, my back hurt, and my heart was humming away like it had something to prove. I couldn¡¯t allow myself to breathe like I wanted to, and that had me seeing spots in my vision. Once I got close enough, I heaved my new turret off my shoulders and gently set it down on the stones with the barrel angled toward the mouth of the tunnel behind me.. Then I sent mana into the Trigger to key the activation. Now, it would just be a matter of luring the- ¡°You have returned.¡± The voice, low and sonorous, smooth like sandy silt at the bottom of a river, spoke to me. The force and will behind it was staggeringly huge. It scrambled my thought processes and shook my insides simultaneously. Hot, fetid breath tickled the small hairs on my neck. Then the smell, the turgid stagnant rot flooded my nostrils. Slowly, I turned around until I was face to face with the creature. Its mouth, wide enough to stretch from wall to wall of my tunnel, was slightly open, its jaw relaxed enough to display rows and rows of teeth in the gap. Nothing happened to me physically, but I had the sensation of my ears popping. Then, suddenly, I could hear the creature¡¯s breath, its tongue slapping wetly against the roof of its mouth, the scratching of its claws on the stone, and the distinctive sound of bones snapping as it wriggled another inch into my tunnel. The creature literally filled the hallway. It was packed from wall to wall as if it was a liquid. ¡°What strange tasting magic you are,¡± it said. The sound came from its mouth, but the mouth didn¡¯t move. ¡°It fooled me once, but now that you have troubled my home for the second time, I have you. If not for my many centuries in the dark my senses might have slipped over you and never been the wiser, little ape. My mind slides from yours so easily, as one might slide from a mossy rock into a grotto. My mind is drawn to the water, the air, the light, the stone, the other¡­ never you. So familiar, so known, yet mysterious.¡± I didn¡¯t know what to say, so I simply shrugged, doing my best not to look back at the turret I¡¯d just activated. A step to the side, and it would have a clear shot. ¡°Do not run, little ape. That path has availed no one thus far,¡± it said. I cleared my throat and attempted to call some moisture back into my dry mouth. ¡°I had thought about it,¡± I said. I kept my posture open and my movements slow, lest my host take sudden movements as an insult, or worse, get us right to the eating part of this encounter. ¡°They all do, but it all ends the same. Very tedious. If only they knew. My name means nothing to transient beings such as yourself but know this, the beasts of this world build shrines to me when food is scarce and starvation drives them to desperation. If you force me to chase you down, I will indulge my baser instincts only sapient prey can satisfy.¡± Chapter 40 - Tell the Truth Chapter 40 - Tell the Truth ¡°I- I certainly don¡¯t want that,¡± I replied, careful to keep my voice neutral and body still. No need to antagonize it one way or another being too aggressive or too weak. The uninitiated may have interpreted my stillness as a prey response, freezing in the face of certain death, but they would be wrong. My pants were already wet, you see. Besides, I was standing in front of the barrel of the turret after giving it explicit instructions not to shoot through me. If I moved, this party would kick off early when I was in prime biting range. ¡°Few do,¡± it replied and fell back into silence. It¡¯s eyeless stare and motionless body giving me nothing to go on. It didn¡¯t even breathe. ¡°So, what do we do now?¡± I asked haltingly. ¡°A pressing question, but it is not the right one, one you should already have guessed. Your life grows shorter with every tedious superfluous flapping of your mouth.¡± Its voice, while superficially pleasant, could be felt in my bones and in my head like tiny insects chirping from inside my marrow. ¡°You haven¡¯t eaten me,¡± I observed. I felt like the eating should already have begun, but, instead, this thing wanted to have a word. ¡°and I also haven¡¯t run. Uh- Why am I still alive?¡± Its expression stayed that cold, neutral mask, but its tone grew hot. ¡°A second tedious question, little ape. I will not bear a third.¡± This thing could have eaten me as it snuck up on me. Instead it chose to speak. It claims it could chase me down no problem, but it asks me not to run. I¡¯m not necessarily food¡­ yet. ¡°What do you want?¡± ¡°Ah,¡± it breathed, its breath noxious like rotten eggs and charred meat. Its slightly open mouth pulled back to reveal more of its teeth. ¡°We¡¯ve finally come to the correct question, little ape, as I knew you would. Even so, I will expect more of you if this conversation is to continue.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll do my best.¡± I didn¡¯t want to ask another question the creature would consider superfluous. Instead, I limited myself to statements. ¡°You just want to talk.¡± ¡°No. You frame this interaction as you would a moment between mortals. This is an insult and a grave error. A dragon such as I never wants just one thing from any moment in our lives. Small thinking such as this is what keeps mortals weak and afraid their entire lives.¡± It just laid the word ¡®dragon¡¯ on me, and I wasn¡¯t sure how I felt about that. This thing looked and smelled like it lived in a sewer, and that wasn¡¯t, at all, how dragons had been described to me. The multiverse was big, though. It probably had room for weird, gross, fleshy dragons, at least somewhere. Didn¡¯t Sissa and Samila say they were sires of dragons? I couldn¡¯t imagine a creature like this producing children like them. I tried to make sure not to show my disbelief on my face. Instead, I frowned and thought things through, since it didn¡¯t seem to mind long gaps in the conversation. What did I have that this ¡®dragon¡¯ could possibly want? ¡°You want something from me, and it¡¯s not necessarily food,¡± I said. ¡°Essentially correct, though you and all that are like you will forever be food for dragons. We take what we want until we cannot. That is the way of things. However, in this instance, what I propose is an exchange of truths. If you sufficiently entertain me, you will live, and, if you ask the right questions, you may more fully understand the danger that shadows you and yours.¡± Bones popped and claws dragged along the brickwork as the creature backed away a few feet to give me some breathing room. Then its head tilted slightly to the side as it waited for my response. Its word choice gave me pause. I felt my brow furrow and my mouth turn downward. For a moment the creature ceased to exist, and I turned the words over in my head, the danger it mentioned. ¡°You aren¡¯t talking about yourself, are you?¡± I asked. ¡°The right question, but we aren¡¯t playing the game yet. You have no reason to trust my words. Come fully into my home, and the exchange can begin.¡± It might have been a ploy to get me fully into the thing¡¯s lair. It painted a gruesome picture of what would happen if I ran or fought. Then it gave me an out that happened to bring me into its domain. Carrot and stick. It even baited me with teasing a greater danger lurking out there somewhere to sweeten things. I didn¡¯t like being kept in the dark, and I didn¡¯t like being trapped. This felt like it was doing both. I tensed, mentally calculating how much force it would take to jump to the side and what kind of moves I would have to make to rebound off the wall and take off down the tunnel. Then again. What if it¡¯s telling the truth? Ever since I¡¯d come to Ralqir I¡¯d been hunted. Scourge-touched, or rift spawn as we called them back home, didn¡¯t seem to need a reason to kill and destroy. They simply did. Did I really need a dragon to tell me why? Curiosity, as it always did, was going to get me killed. ¡°I will agree to your exchange of truths on one condition. I will be completely safe as long as we are playing the game.¡± ¡°Done,¡± it barked. Then came a sickening chorus of cracks and pops, and the creature was gone and slithering around the cavernous room, too fast to track. It moved so suddenly, so quickly, the vacuum left in its wake made me stumble forward a step. The red light was back now that the dragon wasn¡¯t filling my entire tunnel. I inched forward stiffly, putting one foot in front of the other like a man going to the gallows. I had the presence of mind to keep my body between the turret and the creature, so the programming wouldn¡¯t fire. Not yet at least. The mouth of the cavern grew wider and taller until I finally stepped over the water-filled gap that made up the threshold and into the full light. The smell was worse here, thick and suffocating. My head spun with the intensity of it. The red crystal flashed again and sparks shot through the room. I held up my hand to shield my eyes. ¡°Beautiful isn¡¯t it?¡± the dragon asked. ¡°Uh- Yes. It¡¯s a lovely shade of red.¡± The dragon hissed irritatedly. ¡°No, not the rock. No more sophisticated than a sump in a The¡¯si ice house. Watch, ape,¡± it said, motioning upward with its head to direct my attention to the crystal. The silvery wires, hard to pick out in the thick red hues, crawled up the vaulted ceiling in thick bundles, weaving in and out of the mortar and intertwining with one another over and over again to form a woven tapestry thick enough that sightings of the stones were few and far between, except next to the crystal. Very few of the wires ran there, and none touched it. I strained my eyes to see what the dragon meant. The red light played tricks on my vision, and things seemed to pulse and writhe in my- Wait. There was movement up there. One of the wires, more like a creeper vine with all of its multiple barbs and razors that kept it attached to the roof, approached the crystal and reached out to touch- ¡°It¡¯s- Uh¡­¡± ¡°Yes. The roots. The crusader steel. The roots are drawn to the power in the crystal, thirsty fumbling little things. Watch,¡± the dragon insisted. *Flash* *Sparks* The tentacles recoiled like snakes, like they did when I disturbed them with Shape. My brow furrowed, and I took another step forward. The crystal, now that I was looking closely, wasn¡¯t complete. Something had broken it on the half facing me, and there was some kind of dark shape lodged inside. ¡°What is this?¡± I asked. The dragon preened under the shower of sparks that played over its skin and only replied once the last spark was out. ¡°No, little ape. This is my home and my game. I go first. Where are you from?¡± ¡°Vistia,¡± I lied before I even had the conscious thought to do so. ¡°A lie, but that tells me much already. This is not a story you have concocted but one given to you, I think.¡± I kept my face neutral, but the dragon had me dead to rights. ¡°This is why I go first, little ape. To train. For each truth you give me, I shall give you another of the same quality. I know many many truths for I am older than the world you now scurry over.¡± If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°And If I entertain you, you¡¯ll let me go?¡± I asked Without warning, it surged forward, deathly silent, huge and menacing, only stopping when its mouth took up my entire field of view. ¡°Of course.¡± I didn¡¯t even have a chance to have a fear response, it happened so fast. Yet, I was still alive. ¡°Okay. I will amend my answer. I¡¯m not from Ralqir.¡± The dragon slithered backward until it returned to the center of the room and curled up to bathe in the light again. ¡°Vague but technically truth. I will amend my answer to match. You are cautious. Continue to be so, and you will be in danger of boring me. If you give me the stimulation I desire, I will allow you to run.¡± I breathed out through clenched teeth. I was vague, so he was vague. Nothing in his answer necessarily guaranteed I would live through this. My ace in the hole was right there if I needed it, though. with several pounds of atomically sharp cobalt to help matters. Still, if I wanted to get any water from this stone, I¡¯d need to do it right. ¡°Next question,¡± it continued. ¡°Where does your power come from?¡± ¡°My home,¡± I replied, pausing and choosing my words carefully before I went on. ¡°I was chosen to wield it, and I am still learning how it works.¡± ¡°I detect truth in your words this time, though I am unsure if you realize just how much. Delicious.¡± ¡°My turn then,¡± I said. ¡°What is happening with the wires and the crystal?¡± The dragon bathed in the light of another shower of sparks and made a wet, purring sound in its throat before it finally answered. ¡°It is a dance they have been doing for hundreds of years, through no fault of their own. The power inside the roots yearns to corrupt and assimilate, but the light of the maelstrom is elemental. It will not be changed or tainted. The roots don¡¯t understand why they are rebuffed. They can¡¯t. Their mind is ash, the hollow it left behind another sump for a different kind of power. It reaches for the power it craves so desperately and is burned every time.¡± So, if the rules the dragon laid out were still in effect, its answer was the truth, but I didn¡¯t or couldn¡¯t realize just how true they were¡­ probably? ¡°Why are you here?¡± It asked, taking its turn. This one was easy, since it was a sore spot for me. ¡°I was sent here against my will.¡± ¡°You are dangerously close to boring me, meat. Do so again, and I shall take offense.¡± The dragon loomed up high on its back end, its multiple arms giving it the appearance of a fleshy centipede as opposed to a dragon. Its mouth opened wide to display its rows of teeth and multiple tongues that slapped against its jowls though no sound could be heard. I tensed in preparation to dive to the side and let the turret fire, but the attack didn¡¯t come. I kept talking. ¡°Then I¡¯ll amend my answer. I was sent here against my will to learn when I was chosen to wield my people¡¯s power. I don¡¯t know why I was chosen. Things haven¡¯t gone as I believe they were supposed to. If I¡¯m being honest, I believe my ¡®power¡¯ as you put it isn¡¯t working the way it should.¡± That seemed to placate the dragon somewhat. It slowly lowered itself to the ground, arm by arm until it layed there facing me straight on, only a few feet from my body, as if to say: ¡®I could end this at any time. Don¡¯t test me.¡¯ I didn¡¯t give it a chance to change its mind. ¡°What are these ¡®roots¡¯ as you call them?¡± I asked. ¡°A symbiote that ultimately killed its host. It draws power from the collectors, crystals you call them, in preparation for a spell that cannot be cast. Where did your people acquire their symbiotes?¡± I blinked and turned my head to the side in confusion. ¡°We¡­ What? We don¡¯t have symbiotes or parasites or whatever.¡± ¡°Hmmm. Untruth but through mortal ignorance. I will not hold your answer against you, as you know too little to answer truthfully.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± ¡°It is still my question, as you could not answer mine. Will you ever be able to do what it does?¡± the dragon said, again gesturing up to the silvery wires with its foremost leg. I shook my head. ¡°I¡­ don¡¯t know a lot about them.¡± ¡°It, the dragon corrected. ¡°The other. A singular organism. A singular mind.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know,¡± I answered with a shrug. ¡°A lie.¡± ¡°No, it¡¯s not.¡± ¡°It is an untruth, through self enforced ignorance, a thing for which I have little tolerance.¡± ¡°If I were to try- um- using the metal like that, at the scale it does, I would have to expend so much mana I have no idea where I would get it all. Additionally, the way it moves is way beyond what I can do, and I have no idea if I ever will be able to.¡± ¡°So, it is possible, but you limit yourself in the scale of your thinking. Continue to do so, and this conversation will end, meat.¡± ¡°My turn,¡± I growled. I was just about done being insulted by a puffed up salamander with delusions of being a dragon. ¡°You said something about danger shadowing me. What did you mean?¡± ¡°The things from between. Void given form by breach of natural law, a sin against the very spirit of reality. It is the same danger that one brought to my world,¡± it said as it reached up to pluck at one of the wires like a guitar string. ¡°It, like you, was willfully ignorant of the damage you do when you visit us. You taint us. Take from us. Bring us low.¡± The dragon¡¯s tone grew more heated with every word as if giving voice to its truths fanned the glowing embers of its hatred, and fire was imminent. ¡°I haven¡¯t done anything to you,¡± I protested. ¡°Characteristically small thinking, yet again, meat. You are not simply yourself but the avatar of your species, a title inherited when you took up their tainted power. You have done and you will continue to do to us as long as you live. At what point does your power destroy you?¡± ¡°I- What?¡± ¡°Your symbiote, ape! Your dark passenger!¡± It boomed as it rose up to its full height, towering over me. ¡°It will, someday, overtake you as it does all it touches, as it did the other. At what point in your growth does this happen? How powerful are your elders?¡± Accusations and burning questions. The veneer of civility was quickly peeling back. I was about to be out of time. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. We live for-¡± I fell silent. Our elders back home did have a soft limit on their power. It was called the Wandering Threshold. At a certain point, almost every elite, high level Exotic tended to take off one day and rarely, if ever, come back. It took centuries and a ridiculous amount of experience to reach that level of power, but once you did, you tended to drift away. People generally attributed this to age and power slowly untethered Exotics from the concerns of mortal beings and made them desirous of greener pastures, much to the relief of some. But how could a jumped up lizard from another universe know this? ¡°You do not comprehend because you haven¡¯t asked the right questions of yourself, and you willfully refuse to be better. Weak. Detestable. Useless,¡± the dragon boomed inside my skull. This was about as south as this conversation could go. I needed to wrest control back somehow, if only to get more answers. ¡°I don¡¯t know what you want from me,¡± I shot back. ¡°I can¡¯t give you answers I don¡¯t have.¡± It stood still, high above, looking down at me. Sparks played over its flesh, but it no longer reacted to their touch. ¡°Final question, and make it a good answer, human. You become metal as it does. Can you drink from the collectors as it does?¡± ¡°No¡­Maybe.¡± ¡°Could you replace it?¡± The dragon slammed down to the floor, an act I could feel through my feet but not hear. Then it surged forward, its tongues dripping foul saliva on the floor inches from my body. Desperation oozed from its pores, and its voice grew higher and more shrill. Replace it? Why would I replace this ¡®other?¡¯ What did it actually want me to do? ¡°I care not for your Scourge or your pitiful slave existence. I have been too long below, little ape. I want to see my sun again.¡± Something clicked into place. The dragon called the thing in the crystal crusader¡¯s steel. Brightsteel. It¡¯s the term the System used so long ago in its description of the broken blade in my spatial storage. The brightsteel reacted badly to the tendrils when they touched but not to the crystal with all the mana. The tendrils weren¡¯t just being used by a dominion similar to mine. They were being Shaped. They were literally being Shaped¡­ by an Animator. Brightsteel reacts badly to our mana. ¡°Wait-¡± I didn¡¯t get a chance to say any more. The dragon was done waiting for answers. It was so fast. It picked me up with surprisingly warm claws, slimy but warm. I struggled to free myself, to get away as the mouth loomed closer, the tongues writhing like eels. ¡°Worry not. I will not end your life today. We have much to do, you and I, and I must leave to eat those you came with. You will not need to walk, not anymore.¡± It lifted me up into the air, rearing up on its back legs higher and higher while bringing its teeth down on my shins. Teeth sank into my flesh and grated against my bones. I screamed. *BOOM* The damage messages scrolled through my log too quickly to keep track of. The initial volley would have been 35 projectiles, but I waved the log away before it became too distracting. Ancient Wretchwyrm takes 21 damage. (19 base, 2 Knife in the Dark bonus)(Piercing) Ancient Wretchwyrm is bleeding. Ancient Wretchwyrm takes 17 damage. (15 base, 2 Knife in the Dark bonus)(Piercing) Ancient Wretchwyrm is bleeding. Ancient Wretchwyrm takes 50 damage. (48 base, 2 Knife in the Dark bonus)(Piercing) Ancient Wretchwyrm is bleeding. Ancient Wretchwyrm takes 21 damage. (19 base, 2 Knife in the Dark bonus)(Piercing) Ancient Wretchwyrm is bleeding. ¡­.. I could feel the impact even through the creature''s claws and its mouth. Big as it was, great amounts of energy was just transferred to its soft underbelly all at once. You are poisoned. [numbing] I fell to the ground with a thud, dropped. My legs weren¡¯t working. I got my arms underneath me and levered myself upright until I could see. The dragon writhed on the floor, its tail whipping back and forth, arms twitching and clutching at its skin, ripping at its own innards. That meant my ace in the hole was performing its secondary attack¡­ or attacks. I¡¯d first gotten the idea from my ammo worms and speculating what they would have to do to get back to me if they¡¯d been lodged in a target, what damage they might do. I¡¯d simply taken the idea to the next level thanks to the barbs and razors the cobalt tendrils liked to use. Right now, inside the dragon, the needles had deployed their razor spines, sharpened their heads, and grown a multitude of sharp tipped arms. What¡¯s more, the spines would be vibrating and sawing back and forth as the rounds burrowed their way deeper and deeper into their target. It used a lot of energy, but I only needed to use them once before they were out of juice. It was a hell of a way to die, but I couldn¡¯t afford to take chances. The dragon flailed as it panicked. It slashed at the air and at itself. It only remembered me after I¡¯d already dragged myself halfway to the tunnel from where I¡¯d come. The creatures gurgled something unintelligible followed by a deep, echoing ¡°NO!¡± that rattled my brain against my skull. Blood poured from the monster¡¯s mouth, as it came on like a freight train, having given up on extracting the rounds from its flesh and probably hoping to bring me down with it. If I had been crawling into the tunnel to escape that might have happened. Instead, though, I dragged myself forward, feeling the numbing poison working its way up my body now to my thighs and stomach. As the dragon reached for me, its claws only found air as I slipped my body into the gap between the floor and the tunnel and into the foul water below. Claws scrambled into the gap to find me, but I was already deep inside and sinking deeper, an aluminum diving tank appearing in my hand and Shape opening the aperture for me. Chapter 41 - Break and Enter Chapter 41 - Break and Enter You have been awarded 34,557 experience points. [84,322 base (+8,690 level, +9,002 camp, -67,457 non-combat class)] I waited until I received the experience notification to think about resurfacing. The poison had worn off sometime in the past hour or so, but my limbs still felt weak and tingly despite the System telling me I was fine. The level up process helped with that somewhat, the euphoric feeling chasing away some of the cobwebs and bringing life to stiff muscles. Level up! You are now level 11. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. My achievements window was about how I expected, giving me Boss Killer, Doing your Part, and Spirit of the Warrior yet again. Though nice in that they gave me lots of stats, I looked forward to the days where my levels came from making stuff instead of¡­ this. The crevice down below wasn¡¯t particularly deep, maybe about twenty or thirty feet, but the water was, in a word, nasty. The brickwork down here was no better, having a thick film of slime that sloughed off in my fingers that even my prosthetic struggled with. The only saving grace was that long years underwater had loosened things up somewhat, and the walls were an uneven mess. That left me handholds to pull myself to the surface and get my prosthetic up to the lip where I¡¯d entered the pool. The climb up to the top was made easier by the extra points in body from Boss Killer, which I was thankful for. Climbing is now level 7. When my head crested the water, I spit out my diving tank and finally took a big lungful of uncanned air.. I immediately wished I hadn¡¯t. The cavernous room was repulsive before, but whatever had happened while I was down in the water had pushed the smell into Biblical Plague territory. My eyes watered, and I fought my gag reflex as I pulled myself up onto solid ground to come to rest on the floor with a wet plop. Fireworks, or more accurately, brightsteel sparks, heralded my return to life above water level and lit up with room. Above me, flaps of translucent organic material hung in tatters from the web of cobalt wires. Charming. ¡°Oh, Light and gods of old, it¡¯s him!¡± A big, gauntleted had seized my neck and hauled me roughly up to a standing position. I thought about struggling, but the deed was done before I could get a hand up. I looked up to see Geddon there, his broad face plastered with a toothy grin. The furry giant twitched slightly, seeming to be waffling between going in for a manly hug or staying at arm¡¯s length, but he chose the latter with a wrinkling of his nose. He awkwardly slapped me on both my shoulders instead. ¡°We thought you¡¯d gone down fighting the beast, Brother Ryan, but I guess you¡¯re holding out for a more heroic death, eh?¡± Geddon turned to shout. ¡°Brother Trix. He needs healing again!¡± ¡°No. Don¡¯t.¡± I spat, trying to get the¡­ unique taste of the water out of my mouth, but it didn¡¯t help. ¡°I¡¯m fine, Geddon. Really.¡± ¡°Of course you are,¡± he replied with a sly wink. ¡°I just want to share this- ah- olfactory adventure with another man before it passes us by.¡± I gave myself a sniff. Maybe it wasn¡¯t the room itself that smelled terrible. Trix was there a second later, yelling my name. ¡°Brother Ryan! Brother Ryan!¡± The Volpa¡¯s claws scrambled over the bricks and around the piles of filth the dragon had kept around itself. He came on full bore before skidding to a stop a dozen feet from me, a pained look on his face. He reached up to put a paw on his nose. ¡°Oh, Brother Ryan. I am-¡± He was beset by a series of gags that doubled him over. Worried, I took a step forward to do something for him, but Geddon stopped me with a hand on my shoulder. A second later he let go with a grimace and surreptitiously wiped his hand on his already soiled tunic. I looked down at myself, then back to him. Yeah, I wouldn¡¯t want to touch me either.. ¡°No. No. Please,¡± Trix said after half a minute of looking like he wanted to be sick. ¡°I apologize, Brother. I have a very developed sense of smell. I just can¡¯t- *Mff* express how good it is to see you alive.¡± ¡°You smell like a musk eel spawning pool crossed with a slaughteryard,¡± Geddon explained, reaching up to cover his nose. However, he made the mistake of using the hand he¡¯d just used to touch me. I could see his gorge rising even under his armor. He tried to hide it, but I could tell. ¡°Oh,¡± I said, trying to look sympathetic to their plight but failing. ¡°Pardon me. As I look back on how I slew a monster of legend with one attack, there are some things I¡¯d do differently if only to spare your delicate senses.¡± Geddon started to laugh but what was supposed to be a mirthful outburst seemed to morph into something else half-way through. He made a dash to the tunnel mouth to throw up. ¡°Where are the others?¡± I asked as Geddon did his thing. ¡°And why are you here? The plan was for you to wait for me when the rock did its thing.¡± Trix looked apologetic but only just. ¡°Sorry, Brother. The stone had been fading for some time while you were gone until it was hard to detect light from it at all unless I took it down the tunnel for some distance into the true darkness. The last time I took the stone into the dark to check it, it was entirely out of light, and I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that it happened too abruptly.¡± ¡°You came looking for me,¡± I said reproachfully. ¡°Trix, you knew that was a terrible idea. What if I¡¯d found something dangerous?¡± ¡°That¡¯s precisely why we came, Brother,¡± Trix argued. ¡°Not just us,¡± Geddon interjected as he came back to stand near me like nothing had happened. ¡°We all came. Come on. The dragonkin sisters will have another reason to admire you after this.¡± ¡°Uh,¡± My brain¡¯s speech center sparked and caught fire. ¡°What?¡± Geddon turned back to give me a wink as he led the way into the maze of dragon refuse. ¡°One more than the other. You¡¯ll have a reprieve for now, but once we get you topside and into a bath, you¡¯re going to have your hands full.¡± Some kind of filmy residue squished under my boots as we passed between the piles of nasty, but after what I¡¯d just taken a swim in, my disgust level just wasn¡¯t going anywhere above a four. What Geddon was saying left no room to dwell on it anyway. The big guy¡¯s steps faltered for a moment, as if he¡¯d just tripped on something. Then he turned back to whisper to me. ¡°Don¡¯t tell them I told you. I just thought you needed a warning.¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± I said, paragon of wit that I was. We turned a corner around a pile of unmentionable things, and the full body came into view just as a shower of sparks played over its pale-pink skin as they did in life. The ancient wretchwyrm died in the exact center of the room under the crystal where the red light was strongest. The flesh on the dragon¡¯s underbelly was in tatters, falling in strips and ribbons and sagging down to the floor. The multitude of palsied limbs were all bent at strange angles, and the creature¡¯s jaw laid slack. Long tri-forked tongues spilled out of the mouth onto the blood soaked floor. ¡°Hell of a way to go,¡± was all that came to mind, not for the first time. There had to be some kind of law back home against the kind of weapons I¡¯d created. If not, maybe I¡¯d have to lobby for one since I was an Exotic now. Even so, I was glad the creature was dead and not doing to me what it hinted it would. The civilians stood huddled together far from the dragon¡¯s corpse, the grandmother clutching the boy close and shielding his eyes, while the shopkeeper gave us a respectful nod as we walked by, smiling slightly at seeing me alive but then turning away suddenly when the smell hit him. Sissa and Samila were both standing in front of the dragon¡¯s corpse, near the head, Sissa with her sword in her hand and Samila crouched down to examine the beast¡¯s face. ¡°Anyone know a good taxidermist?¡± I said in an attempt to break the ice. The both of them turned, Samila with that little knowing smirk on her face while Sissa turned from me to the dragon and back again, wild-eyed. Samila spoke first. ¡°I knew a guy that could mount anything, but that¡¯s probably not what you had in mind.¡± With a clang, Sissa¡¯s sword fell to the ground. Then, with stiff, deceptively quick strides she¡¯d crossed the distance and wrapped her arms around me, nearly lifting me off the ground with how fierce she embraced me. She even laid her head against my shoulder despite how wet I was. I didn¡¯t handle it well. Paralyzed for a full second, I just stood there while she gave me a spinal adjustment with how powerful her arms were. When my brain finally caught up to what was happening, I did this awkward, arms-out, air hug thing where I wasn¡¯t sure if I wanted to slime her more than she was already doing to herself but I also knew I needed to reciprocate somehow. ¡°We thought you¡¯d died,¡± she breathed, squeezing me tight, not bothering to acknowledge the smell or the horrible substance that soaked my clothes and my newly sprouted hair. Then, in a sudden reversal, she pulled away and slapped me, hard. So hard, I had to work my jaw to make sure it wasn¡¯t broken. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°You¡¯re so stupid. You know that? What made you think this was a foe you could fight? Don¡¯t try to feed me an excuse. I saw your turret machine. You didn¡¯t get caught, you planned this. Do you have any idea how lucky you are? How can you be so godsdamned ready to kill yourself?¡± She was at shouting volume just a few words in, and, by the third or fourth question, I started to catch on that they were rhetorical. She went on for a good thirty seconds before she paused to catch her breath, and I felt it was probably incumbent on me to respond. I had nothing, though. ¡°Uh,¡± I began, stalling for time, but I¡¯d just gotten done exchanging truths with the dead thing in the middle of the room. I wasn¡¯t sure if I had the answers Sissa wanted. Sissa had simply been waiting for me to try to answer to say more. ¡°You jump on every sword blade, step in front of every arrow. Who asked you to be everyone¡¯s shield? Who appointed you? Huh? You are my responsibility while we are down here, and no one gets to fucking die unless I say so. Do you understand, Brother?¡± In another turn of terrifying strangeness, the guard Sergeant began to laugh maniacally. Then it turned into sobs, tears beginning to flow down her blue cheeks as the scales under her eyes darkened in tone until they were navy blue. Everyone else just looked on in some form of shock, unable to figure out what they should do. None of us got a chance to do anything though. Sissa turned on her heel and marched back toward the dragon to pick up her sword. I had the urge to reach out and¡­ I don¡¯t know¡­ anything, but I was woefully incapable of reading this encounter. Samila, as always, came to her sister¡¯s rescue. ¡°We were all worried about you, monk, and when we saw this,¡± she said, gesturing behind her to the dead wretchwyrm. Then she shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s a lot.¡± ¡°Ancient enemies,¡± Geddon said from my right, nodding as if the two words said it all. ¡°My people will give you a title for this,¡± Samila continued. ¡°Or burn you at the stake. Depends on which ones you tell.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t know what this is about. I¡­¡± I hesitated. What could I tell them? ¡°Listen, I don¡¯t know Ralqir. Not the way you people do, at least,¡± I began. Samila rolled her eyes. ¡°Obviously.¡± ¡°Yes. Everyone is in agreement that you are woefully ignorant of the wider world,¡± Trix agreed. ¡°We¡¯ve all noticed.¡± I nodded. ¡°Thank you, Trix.¡± ¡°And your knowledge of peoples and history is also far short of any school worth its accreditation,¡± the Volpa continued. ¡°You¡¯re the dumbest smart person I know,¡± Geddon added helpfully. ¡°Right, well-¡± ¡°We¡¯ve talked it over, and we think you ride that line between bravery and being too stupid to realize what you¡¯re doing,¡± Samila stated flatly. ¡°Listen, all of you,¡± I pleaded, pausing to choose my words as best I could. ¡°Where I come from, things are very different. Everything was¡­ small, but it was everything. I had a family and a people. That was all there was, all I aspired to have, even when I did things that I thought were bigger than myself. Now that I¡¯m here, there¡¯s all this history and culture and people that I know precious little about, and so many things I¡¯ve never learned.¡± It felt dirty keeping things so vague with my party- my friends, especially after having to be so candid with the man-eating wretchwyrm thing. The words felt hollow leaving my mouth, but, at the same time, felt safer for everyone involved. ¡°Since I came here, I¡¯ve been on the run or on the attack. I¡¯ve nearly died a few times.¡± My voice dropped to a whisper, my mouth suddenly dry. ¡°I¡¯ve had to kill people. Someday I¡¯ll have to stop and think about that.¡± ¡°Brother?¡± Trix questioned, but I ignored him. ¡°I¡¯m out of my depth here, but the only thing I am absolutely sure of is that you are all worth whatever sacrifice I need to make, not that I¡¯m keen on dying in the process. I¡¯m just not willing to see anyone else die for me or instead of me. In the grand calculus of things, I feel like there are worse ways to live.¡± I paused, looking up from the blood-slime pool I¡¯d begun to stare into and catching Sissa rejoining the group, fully composed again. I cleared my throat and forced a smile onto my face. ¡°I¡¯m also, probably, only alive and sane because I don¡¯t know exactly what I should and shouldn¡¯t be afraid of. So, please, tell me what is the deal with big, pink and squishy over there.¡± Sissa grasped onto the question like it was a lifeline, going right into the good stuff. ¡°When Ralqir was thrown into the maelstrom, the planet was awash in the maelstrom¡¯s light. It scoured the surface of our planet and forced us all underground. That was the Purge. You know that much, yes?¡± I nodded. I¡¯d pieced something like that together so far, but I was happy for the confirmation. ¡°Well, dragons were no exception. They were the gods of our planet since the beginning, but even they could not stand in the light for more than a few hours at a time. Even then, displaced from their rightful seat in the cosmos as they were, their power was too great. The world could not sustain them anymore. So, for all our sakes, they chose to sleep.¡± Samila took up the story as well. ¡°Our sire is one of those. A blue. Not all of the dragons were content to hibernate themselves into obscurity, though.¡± ¡°Yes. Some of them, such as this one, took the wound the Purge dealt them and let it fester,¡± Sissa said, sparing a glance for the hulking, slimy corpse over her shoulder, like she was making sure it was still dead. ¡°They are evil, corrupting creatures. All of them. Dragons were the holiest, most powerful beings on Ralqir before the purge, but not all of them were good or wise. These¡­ the wretchwyrms, instead of letting their era pass in peace, chose to diminish themselves, go underground and gnaw at the fabric of reality out of spite.¡± I peered over at the dragon¡¯s face, the empty eyes and gaping mouth. I couldn¡¯t imagine it ever being a ¡°dragon¡± dragon. ¡°An evil god, huh? Am I going to have¡­ I don¡¯t know like a cult or something out for my blood for doing this?¡± Samila spat and her eyes hardened. ¡°No. Don¡¯t say that. It wasn¡¯t a god, not even an evil one. It was one, eons ago, but godhood is in what you are and what you do. This thing gave that up to become something else, lesser in every way.¡± ¡°Did you- uh- talk to it?¡± Sissa asked haltingly. I nodded. Her expression grew concerned. ¡°What did it say?¡± I took a deep breath before answering. ¡°A lot of things, mostly about me and my¡­ about my home. It talked about crystals and collectors and spells and symbiotes and-¡± I began, my mind wandering back to the half-revelations it had used to pry information out of me. ¡°It was angry, maybe not at me but at my people. It seemed to know a lot, but everything it said was frustratingly vague and riddled with contradictions.¡± ¡°Believe nothing it said,¡± Sissa said with absolute conviction. ¡°They only exist to corrupt. Whatever it told you was to hurt you.¡± ¡°It wanted to exchange truths,¡± I explained. It knew, or maybe guessed, about so much. My origins, the wandering threshold, the System. It could tell despite having never been to my universe. What did that mean? What did it mean by symbiotes? Did it mean the System? Maybe. The System didn¡¯t seem to have any influence over my mind in the way the dragon seemed to think it would. Did it happen as I grew in power? Then there was the presence of another animator here on Ralqir. They had to be old and extraordinarily powerful if they controlled all this. How long had they been here? I blinked, coming out of my spiraling thoughts and gave a little, half-hearted shrug. ¡°It gave as good as it got. That¡¯s all.¡± Why did the brightsteel react so badly to me? To us, I guessed. I watched as the tendrils tried to connect with the crystal again, the violent outburst of sparks that hurt to watch directly. Sissa reached out and grabbed my hand, giving it a squeeze. Her grasp was warm, gentle but firm. When had someone last taken my hand like that? She looked into my eyes, a pained look on her face like I was the one doing the crying just a minute ago instead of the other way around. ¡°Listen, Brother Ryan. You can¡¯t trust anything it said. Even the truths you thought you heard are probably not what you think they are. These things are incapable of doing anything good, even simple things like telling the truth.¡± That struck me as only partially true, maybe some kind of cultural bias. What it had said fit so well with certain parts of my life. Then again, maybe I had been taken in by the thing¡¯s riddles and vague hints , filling in the gaps so the dragon never had to. I still felt like there was something there I needed to think over. Brightsteel. Why does it do that? Whatever the wretchwyrm had said about them, I was almost entirely sure another Animator was here on Ralqir, and they¡¯d been reduced to what I was seeing here, a husk that only knew to Shape and to grow, to collect mana for something. A slave to some kind of design. It sounded like torture and mutilation to me. Something stank on Ralqir, and it wasn¡¯t just me. I mentally added another person to my list of people to be saved. ¡ª------------------------ I had to take apart my fat cobalt turret before we left, which meant everyone had to stand around waiting for me while I did it. I wasn¡¯t about to give up good material, though, not after it saved my life and could be used to do it again. I was able to save the smart card, but its connections to rest of the triggers and such would need to be reconnected once I brought the whole thing out of spatial storage. There was one other thing too. Loot Ancient Wretchwyrm? Y/N? Corrupted Dragon Bone x 18 - Bones of an ancient wretchwyrm of the planet Ralqir. Bodies of magical beings such as dragons are a product of their terrible will and these bones reflect that. This wretchwyrm chose a life of filth and loathing over a dignified hibernation after its world underwent a great upheaval. The bones are pitted and brittle but emanate a strong presence closely tied to hunger, desperation and darkness. One would do well to use these bones with care. The smugglers¡¯ arrows, crossed out as they were, still lead back and back, further into the tunnels. We were cautious in our approach but less so than we were before. The dragonkin ladies insisted the wretch wouldn¡¯t have left anything else alive down here for miles, but I wasn¡¯t convinced. I didn¡¯t want to have come this far only to trip over the finish line. Eventually, however, we found ourselves at a dead end, facing a black wall with a semi-circle painted on them in flaking, faded yellow. Hello, quellstone, my old friend. Since we didn¡¯t have a key, I needed to work some magic. Unfortunately, I was out of wood, so I ended up consuming the goblin herb pouch I¡¯d looted from the ambushers outside the city. That gave me enough just to get a spike of steel through the gaps in the quellstone. Then I set about expanding the width of the metal, atom by atom from the inside. Grueling work but not quite as bad as I remembered thanks to my greater control of my mana. I still felt the pull, but it wasn¡¯t as irresistible as before. Still painful and alarming, for sure, but more manageable. It probably helped that I wasn¡¯t charging it to blow, not in this confined space at least, especially given how we¡¯d come across quite a few collapses. The tedious process of thickening the steel rod took about an hour, but, eventually, I was rewarded with a sharp *crack* and the weaker of the quellstone bricks gave way, crumbling to the ground as it lost its shape. An alarming amount of light blasted out of the hole I made. Real, actual light. There was a voice too. ¡°Stop what you¡¯re doing!¡± Came a muffled shout from the other side. ¡°Stand back and make no sudden moves!¡± We all looked at each other, all hearing the exact same thing but not quite believing it. For the first time in forever, we¡¯d heard a voice that didn¡¯t belong to the eight of us. ¡°Stand back!¡± The mystery voice commanded. We did. What else were we going to do? Then, the bricks seemed to peel back, rearranging themselves in a folding pattern. They seemed to collapse into each other like chunky black liquid then into the wall on the other side, click clacking until we were looking at a smooth, arched entryway into- Someone¡¯s bedroom. Two beds on either side of a nightstand were pressed up against our threshold. A bookshelf hung on the wall on the opposite side of the room filled with bound papers and expensive looking leather tomes held up by metal bookends. Some kind of banner hung over the door, black with silver trim, a white bird on an equally white branch. There were also several armed guards with crossbows pointed our way. Their grim, unblinking expressions gave them an air of veterancy or at least professional bearing. Their fingers were wrapped tightly around the crossbows¡¯ triggers. Their commander, an unshaven Miur with some kind of insignia on his shoulder and a red-blotted bandage over one eye, addressed us. ¡°Lay down your weapons and get inside, lest this breach be the death of us all.¡± Chapter 42 - Retake the Initiative Chapter 42 - Retake the Initiative Tensions were high. The church contingent wasn¡¯t particularly keen on surrendering their weapons after so long in the dark, and it took some negotiation to come up with a way to do it. The guard commander wouldn¡¯t let anyone take a step without full disarmament and removal of armor. Sissa didn¡¯t like having her squad shown such disrespect, and she wasn¡¯t backing down. Meanwhile Geddon and Samila stood at Sissa¡¯s side with their hands ready to draw. Trix and I, on the other hand, had no weapons to drop as far as the guards knew, so we stood with the civilians, though the guards did eye my metal arm with some concern. One by one, all the quarrels slowly drifted over to point at me, and the commander had some probing questions about what I could do. ¡°He is a Brother of the Order of Dawn, and he¡¯s as trustworthy as any of us, you pillock,¡± Sissa argued in my defense. ¡°And I¡¯d wager he¡¯s done more to save innocent life in the past week than you and your band of bullies have your entire lives.¡± It was a bit much, but, as I said, tensions were high. Sissa¡¯s words didn¡¯t go over well. The commander¡¯s face turned red, and a prominent vein popped out of his forehead. ¡°I very much doubt that, young miss. You¡¯re lucky I don¡¯t just have you shot then seal this tunnel back up. Would be a lot less trouble for us, and we could go back to our posts.¡± ¡°I might be the first shot, but I won¡¯t be the first to die,¡± Geddon rumbled, stepping forward before Sissa stopped him with an outstretched hand. ¡°We have civilians with us, sir,¡± I said, hoping to appeal to his sense of duty or humanity¡­ miurity? ¡°Seal us in if you have to, but they don¡¯t belong down here.¡± The man¡¯s eyes shot over to me then to the civilians, calculating. Then his gaze came to rest on the kid. That took the wind out of his sails. He calmed, taking a big breath and relaxing his shoulders, closing his good eye for a good five seconds. ¡°Alright, all of you come inside, and we¡¯ll get this sealed up. Weapons sheathed and no sudden movements. You¡¯ll all then be taken to quarantine until you can be examined for plague. Is that acceptable, Sergeant?¡± He finally asked Sissa, putting a significant pause between Sissa¡¯s rank and the rest of the question. It was a start. Sissa turned back to look us all over and gauge everyone¡¯s feelings, then nodded. ¡°That is acceptable, but I won¡¯t stand for my people to be treated badly.¡± ¡°Neither would I,¡± The guard commander sighed. ¡°and I¡¯m protecting my people by confining you. You¡¯ve had too much contact with the plagued to not be regarded with some caution.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± Sissa agreed tersely, sheathing her sword and stepping to the side to allow the civilians to come through. The grandmother was weeping, the shopkeeper stoic. The kid, however, looked shell shocked, more than I¡¯d seen from him even in the undercity. Maybe seeing the adults at each other¡¯s throats removed a layer of familiarity he¡¯d been able to cling to for the entire ordeal. Hard to tell. After that, the guards took us in while the commander took a ring of little dangly charms off of his belt and waved it at the portal to the smugglers¡¯ tunnels which prompted it to close. All but one conspicuously missing brick of course. I wondered what the going rate for magical quellstone door replacements was. The guards gave me a wide, wide berth once they got a whiff of me. Trix, with his filthy church robes and small stature was treated with the most deference, surprisingly, with guards apologizing to him for their treatment and asking if there was anything they could do for him. Trix, for his part, seemed to deal with the attention by trying to hide behind whoever was close at hand, Geddon ideally, Samila as a backup. I caught Samila¡¯s eye and raised an eyebrow in question. She leaned in to whisper in my ear: ¡°Always be nice to the healer.¡± ¡°I heard that,¡± Trix said. ¡°Just to clarify: I¡¯m not a healer, commander. I can ward off death for a time, but it¡¯s not true healing.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll take anything we can get right now, Brother Yik¡¯i¡¯Trix,¡± the guard commander declared grimly. ¡°Even as you are, you are most welcome inside these walls.¡± ¡°Not to sound unappreciative, but whose walls are we inside?¡± I asked. ¡°You¡¯ve broken into the Spire, sir,¡± one of the guards said hoarsely, a young man with a dirty bandage wrapped around his throat. ¡°Specifically the Black University, if the banners and colors didn¡¯t clue you in.¡± ¡°Now if you¡¯ll come with us, you¡¯ve all been assigned an escort, and they¡¯ll take you to accommodations . Fennel!¡± The commander called to a young, lupine looking guard with sharp features and facial hair on all but his eyes. ¡°A bath for this one, then off the quarantine.¡± ¡ª-------------------------------------- I was separated from the group and escorted down a series of long, straight hallways of smooth, white walls and regularly spaced pairs of doors. My eyes were still getting used to how bright it was in here, and the white certainly didn¡¯t help things, my eyes tending to water and blur when I looked directly at anything. Were they overcompensating for just how dark the underground typically was elsewhere? Hard to tell. Our route took us past all the white then through a large room with multiple soft couches and tables that were set up for some kind of social occasion with softer light coming from golden lamps and flickering sconces. Books laid strewn on most of the tables along with playing cards and dice. I recognized the general setup, even if I¡¯d not been to university myself. A common room. We came in through a dormitory. The only people we encountered was after two flights of stairs where we passed a pair of women that, upon seeing us, retreated into one of the doorways, quietly engaging the lock with a click. Understandable considering how I looked and smelled but disquieting nonetheless. Any misgivings I had for my situation vanished, however, once Fennel showed me to an honest to Constance bathroom with running water, scalding hot and absolutely glorious. The bath was a big, group sized bowl, more like a shallow, steaming pool than a personal tub, but I had the place all to myself. On the wall were brushes, mirrors, and towels along with a bucket of white flakes that smelled like soap and worked into a lather when I experimentally rubbed them between my fingers. Slipping into the water, I felt the first warmth I¡¯d experienced in a long, long time that wasn¡¯t the result of self-immolation. I¡­ didn¡¯t know quite how to react to it. It felt wonderful, like a return home to civilized life but wrong somehow, like this moment of comfort was not what I should have been doing, not what I deserved. Soon, the questions were rolling in. Where were the others? Were they getting the same treatment I was? What had the dragon wanted to do with me? How was I supposed to ¡®send them home?¡¯ Would I need to send the people of Ralqir home to save them? Was that a good thing? How would I do that? How would I find the other Animator on Ralqir? What would I do when I found them? What was happening right now outside? What was I going to do about it? It was all so big, and I¡¯d just gotten to the point where I couldn¡¯t count my levels on my fingers. The pleasure I should have felt during my first touch of civilization was gone, replaced by a hollow, small feeling. I hurried to be done, cleaning myself as deeply as I could, scrubbing hard until my skin turned red and I started to get damage notifications if I lingered too long on one spot. ¡ª------------------------ Fennel had clothes for me when I stepped out, simple black robes and undergarments. He told me to leave the old ones. He¡¯d come dispose of them later, probably burn them. The man was in a hurry, nervously dancing around with his crossbow on his hip like he had somewhere to be, but he was tight lipped when I asked him what was going on. He wasted no time in getting me to ¡®quarantine.¡¯ Quarantine turned out to be someone¡¯s office, a very small office no bigger than a broom closet where the desk took up the majority of the room with only enough space to fit a chair on one side of it and a chair on the other for visitors. The rest of it was decked in papers and books. Real page turners. ¡°Treatise on the Formation of Isolationist Groups in Western Imperial Provinces¡± and ¡°Variance of Dominion Signs in Tribal Societies and Social Implications¡± were two of my favorites. I almost got through the opening paragraphs of those. The same feeling I¡¯d experienced in the bath was still there in my mind. I felt like I should be doing something. I had the urge to be somewhere. To know what I¡¯d set into motion. The guards that had come to get us all had injuries. Fresh ones too. Did that mean there was fighting? They wouldn¡¯t say one way or another, too concerned that we would be one of the plagued soon if we¡¯d made contact with infected people. The office had no windows, so I couldn¡¯t look outside. Reading wasn¡¯t diverting my mind. The walls were too close, the air too still. I imagined the undead scratching at the ground beneath my feet, chipping away at the foundations of the city until I would be back down there with them, in the dark. I can¡¯t stay here. The door, of course, was locked. The lock, however, was metal. One Shaping session later, I had the front cover off of the locking mechanism and the tumblers exposed. They were actually quite complicated from a mechanical standpoint, small and intricate with metal and rubbery bits jumbled together in some kind of knot. I didn¡¯t know much about locks. Engines were more my thing. So, I simply touched each tumbler one by one and Shaped it until I could just extract it from the lock as a whole. Then the scrap metal would go into my spatial storage. Soon, I was just looking at a rectangular hole where the lock used to be, and the door opened with a click. I smiled, stepping out into the hallway, feeling pretty pleased with myself for not resorting to explosives this time. That feeling left me two feet from the door when I bumped into a terrified looking Miur in black robes. The guy had to be about my age, maybe a little older with long, brown hair and big doe eyes. He was standing, mouth agape and staring at me, his bent glasses hanging down on his mouth like he¡¯d forgotten he wore them. ¡°Uh. Hello,¡± I ventured, giving him a little wave. In a move that seemed more like a socially ingrained reflex than anything, the Miur boy returned my wave and mouthed something akin to a greeting. I cleared my throat and continued. ¡°Sorry about the- uh- Sorry about the lock. I think it engaged by mistake. Was thinking about going for a walk.¡± The young Miur shook his head, his prominent antlers banging into the doorframe across the hall and bringing him up short. He didn¡¯t seem to notice, though. ¡°Yo- Your supposed to stay in quarantine until-¡± ¡°Hey, I know. I really do. But I¡¯ve been in there for a while. Look at me. I¡¯m obviously not infected.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve sent for the headmaster.¡± The words came off like assurance, like he wanted to let me know that someone was coming to help, but a warning as well, as if the mention of the headmaster should have kept me in line, but I was too ignorant to be cowed. There were some advantages to being an outsider, I guessed. I shrugged. ¡°Okay. Great. He can come find me when he gets here then.¡± The robed Miur looked left and right down the long hall and pushed his glasses back up to his eyes. ¡°You have to be in quarantine. The guards-¡± Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. I changed tacks. ¡°Listen, friend. What¡¯s your name?¡± ¡°Angol,¡± he replied after some hesitation. ¡°Angol, I¡¯ve been underground for a long time, and I¡¯m tired of it,¡± I admitted. ¡°And I want to know what¡¯s going on.¡± Angol shook his head vigorously. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but you can¡¯t wander around. You could infect others. You have to get back in the room.¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so, and I promise you I¡¯m not infected. I would know,¡± I assured him. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure the plague only works on certain types of things. I¡¯m not one of them.¡± Angol swallowed, looking like he wished desperately to have someone else here to back him up, but, despite his wishes, no one materialized. ¡°The guards said we need to be sure,¡± he pleaded. ¡°People can¡¯t see you out and about.¡± So now it was about who saw us instead of asking me to get back into the room. That was progress. ¡°Well, I¡¯m out now, and you¡¯ve made contact with me, Angol. Wouldn¡¯t you have to quarantine too if you followed the guards¡¯ orders?¡± ¡°I-¡± He paused, thinking. ¡°I don¡¯t know. Maybe. Probably n-¡± ¡°Looks like we¡¯re stuck together then.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how that works,¡± Angol said, some conviction seeping into his words now. ¡°We¡¯ll have to find another room,¡± he continued. ¡°And we¡¯ll inform the guards. We can bring you food too, if you cooperate.¡± He was thinking now at least, meaning I could reason with him. I stood my ground, channeling my inner Samila. ¡°I¡¯m not getting into another room, Angol, and you and I both know no one is here to make me. I want to walk, maybe see the daylight. I¡¯m sure you have better things to do than babysitting me.¡± ¡°You can¡¯t,¡± Angol declared with finality. I pulled out my trump card. ¡°I have to poop.¡± ¡°You must be joking.¡± ¡°Kind of,¡± I admitted. ¡°I¡¯m just pointing out that this whole thing isn¡¯t well thought out. Tell you what. Maybe you can come with me. Show me around. Keep me away from others. It¡¯ll be just like quarantine, but with fewer broken doors and soiled undergarments.¡± His expression grew calculating, and he looked down to the floor for a moment to consider. ¡°You wanted to see daylight?¡± I nodded. ¡°Okay. If I do what you ask, will you go to quarantine after?¡± I shrugged. ¡°Depends on what I see.¡± Angol frowned, not liking the answer. ¡°Just don¡¯t talk to anyone or touch anyone. Also, don¡¯t be seen by anyone.¡± ¡°Total gray man. Deal.¡± ¡ª--------------------- We went upstairs. We went up lots and lots of stairs. I¡¯m not going to say I was tired by the time I started to see daylight, but I knew that without my enhanced Body I would have had to take several breaks. Angol, on the other hand, took it like a champ. Maybe Miur were descended from mountain goats instead of deer like I¡¯d assumed. The guy was always quick to lead me up further and further, peering into hallways on each landing to make sure the coast was clear before we continued upward. The glimpses I caught of each landing definitely had the feel of a school to them. We left the dormitory section after a few floors and entered classroom territory. Grand lecture halls with wide open double doors would be right next to the stairwell while honeycombed cubicles and lab equipment would be on other landings. We encountered very few people, but the times we did were strange. Everyone looked on edge. Many were armed, not just a sword on a hip or two, I mean naked steel clutched in white knuckled hands. We gave those a wide berth. At one point, Angol had a tense, whispered exchange with a handful of students that had formed a checkpoint of sorts on one of the floors using turned over desks and stacked chairs, but they let us by unopposed once they saw my arm. The knives they carried looked sharp, their faces looked hard, but, apparently, they weren¡¯t ready to tangle with someone they perceived as being a practitioner. ¡°Charming people. I can see why folks are clamoring to get in,¡± I joked. I had no idea how popular the Black University was, but the whole thing felt wrong. Even if Angol spoke just to correct me, it would be better than all the nervous silence. Angol let out a high, strained laugh, painful to hear and probably more painful to do. ¡°Oh, they are clamoring to get in, alright, now more than ever. That is the problem.¡± ¡°How so?¡± I asked. ¡°We¡¯ve had to bar the doors.¡± He said it so matter of factly, it took a handful of seconds to sink in. ¡°The Returned?¡± I guessed. Angol nodded, not bothering to look at me, climbing another flight of stairs. When he spoke, he sounded tired. ¡°Everyone with a dominion or combat experience has been conscripted by the Prefect. That just leaves a handful of us.¡± ¡°Conscripted?¡± I asked. I knew what the word meant, but my clan had never been the ¡°fight against your will¡± type of people. If you didn¡¯t volunteer for a fight there was something wrong with you by Constance¡¯s standards. ¡°Yes. She called for faculty and staff as soon as the walls were threatened and then for qualified students shortly after,¡± he said as he waited for me on the next landing. ¡°Since then, there have been no more public announcements.¡± ¡°They have students manning the walls?¡± I asked, incredulous. ¡°Can they do that?¡± ¡°No,¡± Angol replied with a shake of his head before he added. ¡°Well, some took up posts on the wall, I guess, originally, but now I don¡¯t know where they are. Like I said, it¡¯s all the students with dominions and military experience. It¡¯s not unheard of. We¡¯re an Imperial school. It¡¯s just not been done in recent history. Lucky us, I guess.¡± ¡°So, it¡¯s just you and others that didn¡¯t meet the criteria?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± he said, his shoulders stiffening. ¡°We¡¯re still here, doing our best. This is our floor. Come.¡± Angol took me away from the stairs and to another landing with big double doors that stood closed, but I could see daylight streaming in from between them and under the sweeps. The lanky Miur pushed the two doors open with a hard shove to reveal a wide observation deck or, upon closer inspection, an outdoor amphitheater. We were up high where the seats were arranged in a semi-circle that went down step by step to focus on a podium with its back to open air¡­ ¡­and the city below. What I saw down there froze my breath in my lungs. I¡¯d never seen the city from above before, but I could tell things were all wrong. Smoke billowed from several different places where buildings laid collapsed in ash, the black columns casting huge shadows over entire neighborhoods in the golden evening sun. Two of the gates I could see were on their hinges collapsed or thrown open. Screams echoed up from the ground below, faint and indistinct from such a distance but harrowing, scenes of ending lives, made somehow more real by how small they seemed from up here. Flashes of something from the eastern gate preceded a sharp crack that came half a second later. Black shapes poured over the battlements of the walls and over the roofs of buildings, through the streets and out of doorways. Shouts and the clash of steel alongside wild, animalistic snarling formed a tapestry of background sound that I would not soon forget. ¡°You said you¡¯ve been underground for a long time, right?¡± Angol asked me. I nodded. Dumbfounded by the picture in front of me. I was going to save this? How? Despite looking down on the scene like a giant, I felt so small. Angol didn¡¯t come to the railing as I had. He stood behind me, turned away so that he wouldn¡¯t see. ¡°All the Returned in the city went mad all at once. That was bad enough. Then the beasts from the wilds came. The guards and the staff were called away, then some of the students. We were told to barricade the doors and lock ourselves inside. That¡¯s spared us much of the violence so far. I was up here when Queenshall fell. That¡¯s our sister school. I saw the Returned take them below,¡± Angol stated brittly. He paused to let me take it in, or maybe he was lost in his own thoughts. ¡°I just thought you should know what¡¯s going on if you¡¯re so eager to break quarantine and risk us all.¡± I worked my tongue around to try to get my dry mouth to work again. ¡°So, everyone that was in charge is gone, and you¡¯ve been left to your own devices?¡± Angol¡¯s slumping shoulders lifted slightly in a half-hearted shrug. ¡°We have the guards, but they are busy repelling the enemy down in the library. They were able to seal up the entrances to all but two of the Undercity arches,¡± he informed me grimly. ¡°They tell us what¡¯s happening sometimes, but it¡¯s mostly the wounded that come up to rest. Even then, I think they are trying not to tell us much, so we don¡¯t panic. My classmates and I, we formed a group that helped keep people fed and calm, and that¡¯s all we¡¯ve been able to do.¡± ¡°I see.¡±. ¡°So, if you could just¡­ get back in quarantine, and not give me another thing I need to worry about, that would help me greatly,¡± he said, taking his glasses off for a vigorous cleaning to give his shaking hands something to do. I thought for a moment, looking down at the chaos of the city, the carnage. Black shapes swarmed through the streets. Limp bodies were being carried indoors while others were being ripped apart. ¡°Angol?¡± I asked. ¡°Yes?¡± ¡°When you said you sent for the headmaster. He¡¯s not actually coming is he?¡± Angol¡¯s eye twitched. His jaw clenched. He looked like he wanted to deny it, but he couldn¡¯t bring himself to try. After a handful of heartbeats he shook his head in confirmation. ¡°He¡¯s out there somewhere, isn¡¯t he?¡± I guessed. ¡°They all are,¡± Angol whispered. ¡°We¡¯re alone.¡± I swallowed and drew myself up straight, turning to put my hands on both of Angol¡¯s shoulders like Geddon had done with me. I hoped I was doing this right.. ¡°Angol, you¡¯ve done a great job,¡± I began, putting as much force behind the words as I knew how. ¡°I mean that. I can tell you care.¡± ¡°I¡¯m just doing what anyone would do,¡± he muttered, looking away uncomfortably. ¡°Maybe so,¡± I conceded, angling my head to meet his gaze and hold it there. ¡°But, as alone as you feel right now, you¡¯re not. You have us. Were you told who I came with?¡± ¡°Some church guards and a healer?¡± ¡°Right. I have a proposition for you.¡± ¡ª---------------------------------- ¡°Here I was hoping for some time to take my boots off,¡± Sissa said breathily as she leaned on the railing overlooking the besieged city. Could I even call it besieged anymore? Didn¡¯t that require the enemy to be outside the walls? I didn¡¯t know. Maybe I¡¯d ask later. I nodded. ¡°Yeah, I thought maybe that was in the cards too, but even with a bath, I couldn¡¯t sit still until-¡± ¡°Until there was no more work to do. No more arrows to jump in front of.¡± I didn¡¯t answer, but she¡¯d hit it on the head. She shuddered, crossing her arms in front of her chest and rubbing warmth into her shoulders. ¡°It would have been nice if things had been handled after we did what we did. No more civilians to save. I was quietly hoping someone topside who knew what they were doing would have received our distress call and had this under control by now, someone with gray hair and ink stains on their sleeves. You know the type.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I answered. ¡°I think I do. Someone with a plan.¡± She sighed, wiping her eyes and stretching her neck tiredly and showing off just how bright her blue scales shined in the sun, a contrast to her black borrowed robes that practically drowned her. Down in the Undercity, I knew on an intellectual level that she was shorter than me, slighter in frame, but this was the first time I¡¯d realized just how small she was, fragile looking. I knew better than to believe that, however. Slowly, Sissa straightened, her shoulders flared out, and her back went straight, going from zero to soldier right before my eyes. Her mouth turned down, and her eyes hardened until she was staring down at Eclipse as a different person: the Sergeant. ¡°The way I see it,¡± she said with the force and confidence of her rank again. ¡°With the streets taken by the enemy, supplies and healers can¡¯t reach our fighters out in the field. See that? How the pockets of fighting are clumped so far apart? That means they are going to lose sooner or later. The enemy can afford to bring fresh troops in and fight even as they die by the hundreds. Meanwhile, every loss on our side can¡¯t be replenished. Every drop of sweat or blood is another mark against us. They¡¯ve been fighting like this for a week, you say?¡± She turned to Angol who stood off away from the railing, taking great care not to look over the edge. He nodded in answer. ¡°More or less, ma¡¯am. There used to be larger and more numerous battles happening down below, but they¡¯ve gone now.¡± ¡°We have to assume they were overrun,¡± Sissa said quietly to herself, biting her lip. ¡°Angol, you said that you¡¯ve been feeding everyone since this kicked off,¡± I reiterated. ¡°How much food and supplies does the university have access to?¡± He blinked rapidly as he did some calculations in his head. ¡°Our stores are supposed to feed a full stock of students and faculty, I think, with some things coming in daily from the market, but we have plenty if we ration, not the most appetizing stuff but edible.¡± ¡°Do you happen to have a med school? Doctors? Surgeons in training? Medical supplies?¡± I asked, fleshing out my half-formed plan. ¡°Uh. Yes, but no healers,¡± he replied. ¡°I¡¯m actually on the medical track but I don¡¯t have my dominion yet. We can only provide the basics.¡± ¡°What¡¯s that over there?¡± I asked, gesturing toward one of the gates where the sea of black bodies surged and flashes of magical power zipped around the area like angry hornets. Angol turned to follow my pointed finger. ¡°That¡¯s the southern gate house and refugee area. They¡¯ve held out the best so far.¡± Sissa nodded as if that wasn¡¯t a surprise. ¡°They had a lot of guards stationed there when the goblins started to come to us for help. Goblins tend to cause trouble, so more guards were dispatched to keep the peace. I guess that¡¯s worked to their advantage. Lucky them.¡± I had a pang of worry for the Stone Hearts that were probably housed there, but there was more to think about just now. Now it was time to lead the conversation to where I wanted it to go. ¡°Okay. If you were to set about rescuing one of these groups, how would you go about it?¡± I asked with a raised voice, meant to include the others. Geddon didn¡¯t disappoint. ¡°Overwhelming force, collect the survivors, charge back to a safe zone. Stop for nothing. Take heavy losses but gain capable fighters,¡± he boomed the second row of seats, his giant feet up on the row in front of him. ¡°Not much else to do.¡± Samila seemed to agree, coming in to stand on my right, opposite her sister. ¡°The big guy¡¯s not wrong about the situation needing a heroic charge for once. You have to be effective enough to relieve pressure on the group, enough to let them move safely, then have a corridor for retreat to a position of strength.¡± ¡°Well, we have one of those,¡± I said, slapping the railing with my natural hand. ¡°The Spire is holding out pretty well. That just leaves overwhelming force and a safe corridor.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t forget the ability to relieve the pressure,¡± Sissa cautioned. ¡°It won¡¯t do any good to get there and ask them to move if they¡¯ve already got one arm in the creatures¡¯ mouths.¡± ¡°Okay. Fine. I¡¯ll move it further up the list,¡± I said. ¡°What are you proposing, Brother Ryan?¡± Trix asked from Samila¡¯s shoulder. He couldn¡¯t see over the railing without some assistance, but he refused to climb on the railing. Maybe he just liked riding people now. I looked down at the rooftops, the straight streets with long lines of sight, the lack of civilians that might end up as collateral damage. With enough material, it could work. ¡°Brother Ryan?¡± Trix asked again, bringing me back to the moment. Blinking, I turned back to the rest of them, the plan cementing in my head¡­ kind of. ¡°He¡¯s going to build more of those things,¡± Samila sighed. ¡°And we¡¯ll be on scavenging duty until he¡¯s done.¡± ¡°Hey! Give me some credit!¡± I protested. ¡°I was going to take on some interns.¡± Samila grinned wickedly. ¡°We are at a school.¡± Chapter 43 - Plumb my Depth Chapter 43 - Plumb my Depth Not for the first time, I jolted awake before my hand could slip off of my new project, the beginnings of a mana headache starting to flare behind my eyes. In fact, that was probably the thing that woke me in the first place. I reached over to the left side of my workbench to my stash of flammable materials and Consumed something. I shook my head and concentrated. The mana levels were looking pretty good, positively overflowing with me-juice¡­ I needed to find a better way to think about that. Me-mana? Me-flavored? No, that sounded like a sports drink. Could I sell a me-flavored sports drink back home? Maybe. I really didn¡¯t want to be known as the sports drink Exotic, though. My mind was wandering. Stop it. Focus. Just a little longer. I kept the mana flowing, intent clear in my mind, with an emphasis on what part of ¡®me¡¯ to use. For the thousandth time, I went over the messages again, calling up the section I wanted from last evening. ¡ª---------------------------- You have created: Magazine Fed Auto-Turret. You have been awarded 2,500 experience points. [2,500 base] Automate depth increasing [3 of 3] Automate depth increased. Automate+: Program your creations with simple instructions and empower them to be extensions of your will. Strength, amount, and complexity of their abilities are dependent on your Spirit. ¡ª---------------------------------- It went without saying that I¡¯d not been blown away by my ¡°Depth¡± increase when it happened. I¡¯d just put the smart card in my fourth junk turret when the message appeared in my vision in one of the weird pop ups that I thought I¡¯d eliminated a while back. On the surface, the ability looked the same, did the same things, but I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that I¡¯d missed something. The feeling lasted until I pulled up the original description of Automate from before. How long had it been? Months? Not important. Right. Focus time. The previous description read differently: ¡ª----------------- Automate: Program your creations with simple instructions and empower them to carry out your orders independently. Strength, amount, and complexity of instructions are dependent on your Spirit. ¡ª------------------- The difference in verbiage wasn¡¯t huge, but it was different. Split mind is now level 7. Thanks, System. I know. I gave the bowl I was holding another full mana bar, practically having to force my eyes to stay open. I couldn¡¯t afford to have this fail because of a lack of mana. This really, really needed to work. I¡¯d spent too much time on it already, and if I was wrong about this, the cost we would pay would be in time, time we didn¡¯t have. The four turrets I¡¯d already made over the past couple days stood sentry against the far wall, watching me, judging me and silently saying: ¡®You gambled and lost. Move on.¡¯ The new designs looked otherworldly, like predatory insects with their new fan-shaped magazines and wide stanced, segmented legs. Then again, everything looked otherworldly in here. When I¡¯d told Angol about what I needed to get to work, he¡¯d led me to what was, from how he described it, a practice room for newly minted practitioners. It was, essentially, a barn-sized cube made of seamless, glossy, white glass(?) or maybe glass¡¯ cousin that had done hard time. It was tough stuff, tougher than anything I could throw at it at least, with steel reinforced barriers set up symmetrically on either side of the room, supposedly to shield from blasts or errant projectiles. The lighting was what made everything seem weird, though. There was no source. The light simply was. It was everywhere, from every angle. Nothing had a shadow, giving everything a uniformly sinister dose of the uncanny. Reluctantly, I let go of the metal bowl that had been the source of all my troubles for the past few hours. There. Screw it. If you don¡¯t have enough mana to do your job now, you¡¯re useless anyway. You have created: Prototype Casting Bowl You have been awarded 2,400 experience points. [800 base, +1,600 Doing your Part bonus] Well, at least the System recognized what I was doing. I got up from my stool and walked over to the pile of scrap metal my interns had acquired for me. None of them majored in metallurgy, so the pile was generally sorted by color with brass and bronze on one side while darker metals tended to make up the bulk of the middle. Then there was the shiny metals that merited their own pile to the side. For my experiment, I chose something from the dark metals, taking a loose handful of the smaller bits and walking back over to the workbench from which I selected a furniture nail, smaller than the tip of my finger. Then, I threw it into the bowl and waited. Nothing happened. Yay. Success. Nothing was supposed to happen, or, at least, nothing visible was supposed to happen, not with that amount of material. Sure, it would have been nice to have some kind of visual indicator on whether or not it was really working, but I was on iteration 0.1 here. I added a handful of other metal scraps to the bowl, mixing them around with my hand before returning to watching and waiting. This was the real test, do or die time. ¡°Come on. Please,¡± I whispered. ¡°You¡¯ve been alone too long if you¡¯ve started talking to your dominion, monk,¡± something behind me said. My heart seized in my chest, and I immediately went into some kind of fight or flight mode. I think my lizard brain wanted me to whip around and get into some kind of fighting stance or maybe grab something and beat whatever had startled me over the head, but what actually ended up happening was I did things all out of order. I did the grabbing first. In this case I was grabbing my workbench. Then my body tried to whirl around to do the beating, but I was holding onto the surface of a table heavier than I was. So, given my prosthetic¡¯s grip strength, I had no chance of dislodging it, and I didn¡¯t have the wherewithal to realize that. The end result was a pathetic flailing of my legs as my upper half jerked the workbench up off the ground and nearly tipped it over, my stool skittered across the floor to crash into the blast barrier behind me, and several loose tools I¡¯d left next to my legs tripped me up and sent me down to the ground. Sissa was there in the doorway, a plate of food in her hand, a cup of something steaming hot in the other, on her face, the look of someone unsure if they should run in to help or just run away. The dragonkin Sergeant, brave as she was, chose the former option, but she did it slowly, gingerly stepping around the bits of wood and metal that littered my workshop floor to approach me like I was a wild animal. She put down the food next to my hitherto unused cot then sat down on the edge, folding her hands to look me up and down appraisingly. Her frown was not one of approval. ¡°Am I to assume your work is proceeding apace?¡± She asked dangerously. I used my iron grip on the workbench to haul myself up, taking a second to smooth out my sweaty shirt and dress pants, all borrowed. ¡°Uh. Yes. Kind of. You know how it is, building superweapons in a school basement. It¡¯s got its highs and lows,¡± I hedged, moving to position myself shamefully in front of the bowl. ¡°You know it¡¯s morning,¡± Sissa said, her tone icy. ¡°I¡¯d guessed something like that,¡± I replied cautiously. ¡°I¡¯ve made some progress-.¡± ¡°The third morning.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± was all I could say. ¡°Oh is right,¡± she replied. That long. Why hadn¡¯t I requested a clock or an hourglass or something? ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m working as fast as I can. The university didn¡¯t have everything I needed in the way of ammo, and I¡¯m having to find a workaround. I¡¯m so close though,¡± I explained, the words just spilling out of me like liquid as surely as if I¡¯d tipped Sissa¡¯s drink onto the floor. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. Then I was babbling. ¡°First, it was about making the turrets. That went fine, but then I was doing the math, and I had the students check for the rotating tables with the ball bearings, but I guess they aren¡¯t as popular in an academic setting with no need for stupid spinning coffee tables, so I had them taking apart anything that moved but all we came up with was nails and hooks, which don¡¯t work worth a damn especially if there¡¯s no manufacturing base on this stupid planet and nothing is the same size unless it¡¯s from the same artisan. Would it kill any of you guys to have a standard set of sizes things come in? It would be so much easier if we had an assembly line or interchangeable parts. We¡¯ll have to invent that later. Whatever. So, here I am, having to skip the whole industrialization part of civilization, so that I can save it, and I¡¯ve got to do it all before zero hour. I don¡¯t know. Maybe it¡¯ll work. Maybe it won¡¯t. I just know this is the way forward, but I don¡¯t know if we have the time for it to begin with.¡± I took a breath, ready to go on, but Sissa¡¯s face shut me up. She didn¡¯t look angry anymore. She looked worried. She leaned forward, one hand tentatively reaching out, but she hesitated and, instead, bent down to pick up the cup. ¡°Ryan,¡± she began. No title. That was kind of nice. It was nice to be Just Ryan again. Then she went and ruined it. ¡°You need to eat and sleep.¡± ¡°Uh. Yeah. Of course,¡± I said. I did know. Eating and sleeping were both on my list, just not at the top. She raised a disbelieving eyebrow. ¡°So, you realize how¡­ stretched you seem?¡± ¡°Of course. I just have this little problem to solve before I sleep. Please tell me that¡¯s coffee. I¡¯ll run down to the cafeteria and buy them out now if that¡¯s coffee.¡± I knew I was speaking too fast, probably sounding like I was overcompensating. It didn¡¯t matter though. Was that coffee? ¡°What is coffee?¡± Sissa asked. I let out a long, mournful sigh. ¡°Something I miss. My mom liked it, and I got a taste for it. It¡¯s fine, though. I just have this one thing to do, and then I¡¯ll get some sleep.¡± ¡°Your helpers talk, and the stories aren¡¯t flattering. You¡¯re going to fall asleep on your feet or have a heart attack if you continue on like this.¡± Could I have a heart attack anymore? Probably not. That part of me was a magical mystery machine now. If anything were to happen to it, I¡¯d probably just explode or catch fire. My mouth kept moving despite my brain not being fully engaged. ¡°Cool. Cool. Thanks for the concern, but I can sleep when I¡¯m dead. Seriously, I know what this looks like. I just don¡¯t think I could rest until I knew.¡± ¡°Knew what?¡± She asked. ¡°If I¡¯d made the right decision, Sergeant Sissa.¡± She made a placating motion with her hand. ¡°Just Sissa, please.¡± No titles for her either. Also nice. ¡°Sorry- Uh- Sissa. I can¡¯t stop working until I¡¯ve solved a big problem. If I don¡¯t solve it, the plan is scrapped.¡± ¡°It also won¡¯t get solved if you work yourself to death, Ryan.¡± The fire was back in her voice. She wasn¡¯t particularly pleased with how I was treating myself, and on an intellectual level I understood that. I just couldn¡¯t afford to do this any differently. Not with the stakes as they were. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if that¡¯s possible anymore. I just¡­ need to know this. It¡¯s the only way. If it doesn¡¯t work, it¡¯s going to- I¡¯m going-¡± ¡°We¡¯ll be back in the same situation we started in and come up with a new plan,¡± she said forcefully. ¡°You don¡¯t have to carry the weight of the entire world on your back, Ryan.¡± Her face grew pensive, her eyes staring at something far away. ¡°Light and gods of old, listen to me. I sound like my sister. Listen. I get it. You have a part to play, and it¡¯s life or death. You pick up the responsibility and you can¡¯t put it down. Then you pick up more. But soon, if you¡¯re not careful, you¡¯re holding it all, even if it¡¯s not yours to hold.¡± To hear someone else describe it like that. To understand. To say I wasn¡¯t alone. It both warmed my heart and saddened me profoundly. It wasn¡¯t lost on me that she offered no advice on how to do it right. Maybe we were both figuring things out as we went. A wave of exhaustion hit me then. I took a deep, shuddering breath, closing my eyes deliberately for the first time in recent memory. They almost didn¡¯t open again. ¡°So,¡± Sissa began, softening her tone somewhat as she got up and leaned companionably on the table right next to me. ¡°What problem are we solving?¡± ¡°The ammunition problem,¡± I replied with a shake of my head. ¡°You guys have no standardized parts for anything. It¡¯s all hand made. If we¡¯re going to get the most bang for our buck, all the ammunition needs to be alike.¡± She bit her lip as she considered the problem I was posing. ¡°I follow you so far. Arrowheads are the same way. The guard tries to have them made uniformly, though they vary slightly depending on where you get them.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± I said, tilting my head to indicate the bowl on the table. ¡°What I¡¯m trying to do here is making a-¡± I spun around to face the bowl and stopped speaking. I even stopped breathing. Then I started laughing maniacally. Sissa spun around as well, her hand drifting to her sword, scanning the table for what had upset my sanity. ¡°What? What is it?¡± I was still laughing. While I¡¯d been talking to the nice blue girl with the golden eyes and fierce protective instincts, my new creation had been working unobserved. There, in the bottom of the bowl, two identically shaped conical bullets wobbled against one another while little blobs of excess metal laid off to the side. My constructs can use my abilities. Hot damn. The words burst out of me like an alien parasite. ¡°This motherfucker can SHAPE!¡± I shrieked excitedly. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. Ryan, are you okay?¡± She asked, grabbing my shoulders and trying to get me to meet her eyes. My mind was going a mile a minute. My stuff could make stuff! My stuff could make stuff that could make stuff! I wasn¡¯t Magneto so much as.... I was¡­ I couldn¡¯t conjure up any supervillains to reference. Dr. Robotnik? No, he put animals in machines. That was a level of weird I wasn¡¯t interested in exploring. Now it was all about how much I could automate before we needed to move on my plan. The more ammo we had the better, but the people of Eclipse wouldn¡¯t hold out much longer. I hadn¡¯t overpromised as I¡¯d feared. I could still do this. Relief washed over me, so intense my eyes stung with tears. I turned away so Sissa couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Ryan, talk to me. What¡¯s going on?¡± Sissa asked as she finally caught my eye. ¡°We just automated ammo production, Sissa,¡± I said shakily, my excitement bubbling up from within. ¡°The equation just changed again.¡± ¡°That¡¯s great, I guess!¡± She exclaimed, picking up on my feelings but not entirely able to understand. It was great. Better than great. I don¡¯t know why I did it. I was feeling giddy and drunk on victory with no sleep or food in however long. It was stupid and inappropriate, but I wasn¡¯t thinking. I bent down, grabbed the dragon woman around the waist and spun us both around like I¡¯d seen people do at dances back home. She felt lighter than I expected, delicate. I held her up high and twirled. We went around once, twice before we stopped, her borrowed robes flowing down over my arms and brushing my cheek. I held her up in the air for a half-second that seemed to stretch on into forever. She stared down at me, her yellow eyes frighteningly large, her lips slightly parted, her body tensed for¡­ something, like she wasn¡¯t sure if she wanted to claw out my eyes or go around again. Then my brain caught up with my body and I put her down, remembering to breathe again and meticulously fixing my already fixed shirt. My eyes were drawn to everything in the workshop except for her. ¡°Yeah. Um. Sorry. Anyway. Now that I know it works, I can make ammo in my sleep. It¡¯s a- uh- it¡¯s kind of a big deal¡­ for me. Maybe for everyone.¡± Sissa stood statue still, silent. I could see it from the corner of my eye, sense it somehow: I¡¯d done something wrong. I did my best to straighten up my work area, getting the alignment of my tin snips exactly right angled to the edge of the table. You¡¯ve got to align your tin snips properly, or the entire setup collapses into chaos. Chaos was a mechanic¡¯s natural enemy. I didn¡¯t see her leave, but her retreating footsteps sounded stiff and robotic in the echoing practice room. Once she was gone, I ran my nails roughly through my new hair. Why did I do that, especially to someone that valued being in control as much as Sissa? Well, I certainly wasn¡¯t going to sleep now. I grabbed another cooking bowl and began work on Casting Bowl 2. ¡ª---------------------------------------- I woke to the sound of rain. It was a hard rain, intermittent, staccato plops and snaps of fat falling drops slapping metal. It was a familiar sound, almost reminding me of my family¡¯s hab, when the whipping ice and airborne pebbles of Proxis¡¯ winds popped and panged off the walls. I rolled off of my cot, reaching down to the floor to grab my grimy shirt, but before I could put it on, I realized why I¡¯d awakened. A blue dragonkin woman was perched atop my stool, but not the one I¡¯d feared it would be. Samila sat there, a plate of food next to her on my workbench, another one of those steaming cups of tea next to it. ¡°Good morning!¡± she shouted over the noise. The rain was way too loud to converse any other way. I shook my head, pulling myself into an upright position and rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. No, not rain. I looked to my left. Along the wall, on a shelf I¡¯d had brought in last night by my interns sat five Casting Bowls, set snuggly into the wood in freshly cut circular holes. Heaping piles of metal debris from nails to dresser handles to curtain rods were piled on top of the bowls, so much, I worried the shelf might collapse under the weight. As I watched, one by one, the bottom of each bowl formed an opening through which a newly Shaped bullet fell through to land on a canted sheet of tin with an ear grating *clack.* The bowed tin sheet, angled as it was, funneled the fresh, rolling nubs of metal ammunition downward until they rolled into a wooden rain barrel. The barrel was full to the brim and then some. The trickle of bullets hit the top of the pile before rolling off and clattering to the floor. I really needed to empty that out. Next on the list, get the interns to load the magazines and get a second barrel. I looked back to Samila, a self-satisfied smile playing across my face. Ralqir just got its first factory. She didn¡¯t look impressed. She said something, asked a question maybe. It was hard to hear over everything else. What was on the agenda next? Tightening fittings for the deployable turrets, for sure. Definitely needed to fix the janky tracking on the big guns. Both important. Both dangerous if unaddressed. Motion. Oh, yes. Samila. The dragonkin hopped down from the stool and held out the food and drink. The tea smelled like the bitter stuff I¡¯d had yesterday, effective but sad in how far it was from coffee. She said something else, but I lost it to the combination of white noise and full brain. I tried to smile and nod, but she wasn¡¯t buying it. Instead, she crouched down in front of me, plate and cup in hand, tilting her head as if she expected a real response. I did have the wherewithal to accept the food and put it down on the cot next to me, finally taking the time to find the correct orientation for my shirt to slip it over my head. But then my shirt was gone. Samila, quick as a snake, had snatched it away and was yards from me before I could even react. Reflexively, I tried to dive after her and make a grab for the shirt, but she held it out so that I couldn¡¯t grab it without going through her. My reach was longer than hers though, and I ended up with a hand on the prize, fighting for control. Then the encounter changed gears. Samila¡¯s posture changed. She leaned in, one hand against my chest, the other behind her, slowly bending her arm to bring my shirt and, through our connection, my hand to the small of her back. Then she was up against me, close, her face nearly touching mine, the contested shirt and my arm firmly affixed to her waist. I froze. I imagine I was very deerlike in that moment, more so than any Miur I¡¯d met so far. She was still wearing that little smile she favored, the one that told you she knew something you didn¡¯t. Samila¡¯s hand slowly slid up from my chest to wrap around the back of my neck. She drew me close and put her lips next to my ear. ¡°Can you hear me now?¡± She said in a low voice. My hair, such as it was, stood on end. I simply nodded, slowly, afraid to move more than that. ¡°Good,¡± she purred with some satisfaction. ¡°You look like hell. You need a shower and a change of clothes. Take your food with you.¡± And just like that, the room had oxygen again. I pulled back. I had the shirt now, possession fully established. Samila was already sauntering away, somehow making her oversized robes sway with her hips. It was her turn to have a self-satisfied smile on her face. Then my train of thought finally pulled into the station. What had she said? I brought the shirt to my nose for a sniff test and immediately regretted it. My body, I was just noticing, wasn¡¯t much better. ¡°Monk!¡± Samila shouted from the doorway. I looked up. She was leaning on the door jamb. This time, her smile was conspicuously absent. ¡°Tomorrow morning! Clean and well rested!¡± That was it. There was nothing else to be done. I was out of time. Chapter 44 - Alter the Plan Chapter 44 - Alter the Plan ¡°I still don¡¯t understand why we aren¡¯t going together,¡± Trix complained from his perch atop the speaker¡¯s lectern as the guards and I strapped on our armor. ¡°We have faced danger such as this before, and we work well as a group. There¡¯s no reason we should be split.¡± I struggled with the strap to one of my oversized leg guards. It was tough, dark leather stuff, thick and unbending, the straps a horrible combination of tri-way buckles, ties, and other weirdness I couldn¡¯t wrap my brain around. The young Leori I¡¯d borrowed the set from said she¡¯d never worn it, but her father insisted she have it in case she met a ¡°good hunting mate¡± while she was away at university. She actually seemed pretty happy to get rid of it. Geddon seemed to think it was good stuff at least, saying he had one like it tucked away somewhere. Apparently, lots of sets like this were passed to Leori kids when they went out on their own. ¡°For one,¡± I began as I tried to cinch a couple more inches of play out of the straps. ¡°This plan is a hail mary, a big, stupid ploy for a similarly big, stupid situation. It¡¯s got a lot of moving parts, and it requires more than one group to get done.¡± ¡°We could ask willing students for their help,¡± Geddon suggested, but it was half-hearted. I shook my head. We¡¯d exhausted this topic long ago. The students had their parts to play, but it wouldn¡¯t be out there. They¡¯d been left behind for a reason and a good one. None of them had fought before, much less been under life-threatening pressure. I tried not to remind myself that, before a few months ago, I would have been one of them. On some significant level I still was. We were lucky enough to have some of the students on our side here. The few guards we saw above ground wanted us quarantined, and that was the only word they were willing to give before they went back down below and made us someone else¡¯s problem. Most of the student body were content to follow their orders, but Angol¡¯s contingent knew the score better than most, choosing to cover for us in hopes we¡¯d change things for the better. Trix looked unconvinced. He sprung from his perch and bounded over to the first row of seats on the observation deck and stood to his full height to look me in the eye. ¡°I could go with you, Brother Ryan. I can be your eyes and ears again, and I can help us avoid undue attention. You know I can. We can put Angol here at my post.¡± ¡°I need you here, Trix,¡± I insisted. ¡°You¡¯re going to be our ace. Once things start to move, and we get into trouble, you¡¯re going to be the one to bail us out. Just remem-¡± ¡°Yes. Yes, I know. You¡¯ve told me many times now. Flip the switch on the turret up here once our people get into the square.¡± I made a ¡®go on¡¯ gesture with my hand. Apparently those were universal where ¡®thumbs up¡¯ was not. Ralqir was a silly place. Trix hesitated, thinking, but then he recalled the rest. ¡°And have my helpers constantly load the magazines and feed the turret ammunition.¡± ¡°Good,¡± I replied with a nod. ¡°One correction. It¡¯s a gun emplacement, not a turret.¡± ¡°Semantics. What concerns me is that you are leaving me behind and yourself exposed for no good reason. You¡¯ll understand if I interpret this as you keeping me out of the real fight, Brother,¡± Trix said bitterly. ¡°Because it does exactly that.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not like that, buddy,¡± I insisted. ¡°I need a real person doing the aiming this time. I¡¯m afraid the targeting logic on these things isn¡¯t really up to life or death decision making, especially when you¡¯re giving cover to a big group of friendlies. You¡¯re the brain on this one, Trix. You can make the tough decisions. We need you up here.¡± ¡°Not all fighting is done with a sword and shield, Brother Trix. You are our position of strength. Do not forget,¡± Sissa added earnestly. She was already strapped and helping her sister into her set, but she was paying great attention to everyone else. Her game face was on. Defeated, Trix made a show of standing a little taller. ¡°Very well then. I¡¯ll just have to do my best and hope I¡¯m not right.¡± ¡°Did I ever tell you the story of how I once fired a ballista by hand? It was only through my prodigious strength and steady hand that I-¡± Geddon began. We all knew this story. He knew we all knew this story. He was just trying to lighten the mood, and we knew that too. My eyes shot over to the gun emplacement, a double barreled monster I¡¯d cobbled together out of piping I¡¯d appropriated from the school¡¯s irrigation network. I¡¯d reinforced them, thickening them until the action was about as wide as my wrist while the barrels were longer than I was tall. A wheelbarrow sized seat (because I¡¯d made it from a wheelbarrow) was welded to the side of the joint housing with a crude pilot¡¯s stick jammed in the middle that sent signals to the aiming arms when it was moved. ¡°Just watch where you aim the thing,¡± I warned him. ¡°It¡¯s got uh¡­ lots of firepower and very little precision at this distance.¡± My recoil suppression system was the opposite of sophisticated, just a locking pin that kept the ball joints still when the trigger was depressed. Another reason I didn¡¯t trust the aiming system to not do its thing once the action kicked off. Better to have someone cautious like Trix than trust the cold logic my turrets used. ¡°Angol, is your door team ready?¡± I asked. The young Miur nodded, turning to his friends behind him, around a dozen of them. Some of them looked wrung out. I¡¯d had them up a lot of the night loading magazines and feeding my Casting Bowls scrap, not that I¡¯d been spared that. I had to get up a couple times during the night to recharge the things. ¡°Yes. When I get the signal, we¡¯ll start clearing the door and getting ready to receive people,¡± Angol declared. ¡°Good. Rescue team? How are you doing?¡± ¡°Worry about your own part in this, monk,¡± Samila grunted as she hefted a webbing backpack up onto her shoulders. The barrel of the turret inside stuck diagonally past her shoulder and above her head. ¡°Could you have made them any heavier? Hrmf. Or more awkward? I have a metal knob up against my kidney.¡± ¡°Uh. Yeah. Sorry. Still working on that kind of thing. Maybe in the next version.¡± ¡°Easy for you to say when you can just magic stuff out of thin air,¡± she growled. ¡°Not too bad for me,¡± Geddon quipped with a cheeky grin, hefting his pack up onto his shoulders with a single hand. ¡°As long as I don¡¯t have to run, I¡¯ll gladly carry five of these.¡± Sissa looked at me and frowned. ¡°You could come with us, you know.¡± I was tempted. I really was. It would be nice to have some backup out there, someone I could trust. It wasn¡¯t possible, though. ¡°Too risky. If they recognize me, I¡¯ll bring down all sorts of hell. Easier for me to skulk around for the setup. Don¡¯t worry. I¡¯ll be around.¡± ¡°You better be,¡± Sissa replied with a simultaneous slap on my chest. Her gauntlet rang off the metal where my heart should be. ¡°Like I said. No one gets to die without my say so.¡± ¡ª---------------------------- We moved in the darkness of the early morning, not that it was ever truly dark in Eclipse. The moon, huge and wreathed in flaring auroras as it was, always shed some light on the city. Today was close enough, though. Cloud cover smothered the moon in gray, while brilliant shafts of otherworldly color stabbed down through the thinnest parts of the fog to illuminate the odd block or part of the glade outside the walls. The Returned could see in the dark better than any of us other than maybe Trix, but, as we¡¯d observed from the Spire, the undead didn¡¯t make up the entirety of the scourge-touched swarm. Maybe a few of them had crappy night vision like me or even worse. Sissa was counting on it being a factor, at least. We lowered ourselves down on a rope from the Spire¡¯s north side, a balcony built on top of one of the big gates they¡¯d added to the building¡¯s architecture to make the place more welcoming to people that wanted to visit the observatory. It was the lowest, safest spot on the Spire, but that didn¡¯t mean it was that low. We still had to be lowered about fifty feet before we had the ground safely beneath us. I was the last to go, by necessity. I was wearing a hood and a face mask, but I didn¡¯t really know how the scourge-touched recognized their prey. If I went down there before it was time and tripped the alarm, the whole game would be over before it began. ¡°Good luck,¡± Angol whispered as he nodded to the others on the rope line. Then they started to lower me down. As my feet hit the pavers, Geddon helped me out of the harness. Then we tugged on the rope to get Angol and his people to pull the thing up again. From this point, we were on our own. The rescue team and I nodded to each other before going our separate ways. Sissa and Samila looked cold, stern and professional, while Geddon just grinned like Geddon. For my part, my stomach was doing backflips and handstands. This was my plan, my gear. My friends on the line. Suddenly, now that I was down here, I didn¡¯t feel so sure anymore. What the hell was I doing? Six months ago I was fixing wheels on farm equipment. I wasn¡¯t a warrior or even a monk or even a fighter. If not for my fake title, nobody would even give my ideas the time of day. I was going to get these people killed. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. It was too late to back out, though. Sissa, Samila, and Geddon were already moving, loping to the far edge of the square, staying low and in shadow. The square around the Spire was big and open, like no one really wanted to build anywhere near the footprint of the thing, leaving the University practitioners to do their thing while the normal folks just got on with their lives elsewhere. That left anyone wandering around in the square exposed. That worked both ways, though. I saw dark shapes out there sniffing the air and pawing at loose debris. There weren¡¯t a lot of them, just enough to make you realize you weren¡¯t alone alone, a thin enough crowd to avoid being within spitting distance. Not all of them were the lanky, misshapen forms of the Returned. I could also see packs of smaller shapes skittering over the square on all fours, gibbering that way I was so familiar with. It had been a while, but I recognized the Black Ones easily. We¡¯d been roomates for a while, after all. I crouched low and started toward the edge of the square to the east, aiming for where I saw the fewest roaming figures. Quick and quiet, I crept from pile of debris to pile of debris, stopping to watch and listen before setting out again. Nothing saw me or paid me any mind. Was this Gray Man at work? Impossible to really know. The edge of the square was tantalizingly close when I suffered my first setback. I slid behind a row of stone planters in front of the building I was aiming for when I heard something. Chewing. At least that¡¯s what I think it was. Wet, ripping sounds assaulted my ears followed by crunches and the smacking of lips, slow and methodical. I was forced to double back and try a different way. Stealth is now level 12. Upon leaving the square, I went west, crossing one of the canal bridges to come to the correct street, another one of the combination market/residential strips where the buildings were built too close together and signs clogged up the sky. We chose this particular street for our plan thanks to how wide it was and its generally long sightlines. None of the streets in Eclipse were truly straight, but the city planners had some kind of vision when they paved this one. For its entire length that ran all the way to the western gates, it had all of two turns, both under 30 degrees or so. What¡¯s more, the Western gate was noticeably higher in altitude than the rest of the city, giving the road a general slope that led it down through multiple neighborhoods, over three canals and all the way to the Spire. I chose one of the shops at random, one of the four story ones whose door hung off of its hinges. As with the other shops I¡¯d been inside, the stairs were right next to the entrance. ¡ª---------------------------------- Hopping from roof to roof was taxing, physically, made more so since I was concerned about noise. It took me half an hour to get to the first turn where the two straight parts of the road met at a corner. One last jump and I was on top of a tavern of some kind, the roof of which was a seating area with big circular tables, a miniature bar, and a wooden awning overhead covered in ivy that kept the whole place in perpetual shade. It looked posh, like people would come up here to sip on expensive cocktails and stare imperiously down at the crowd down below. Perfect. I squatted down in the shadows and listened for a minute before I got to work. Snarls in the distance. Swords clattering. A howl from somewhere to the north. None of it was near me. I summoned my first turret of the night in pieces, barrel first, then the action, then the legs. Quietly, I slipped the action onto the leg housing then the barrel into the action before Shape-welding them together. Last, I summoned one of my new, fan-shaped magazines. The ¡®fan¡¯ was pretty much a row of separate three-foot-long, spring-loaded tubes that shoved my manufactured bullets into the bolt with such force I wasn¡¯t comfortable handling the springs bare handed. I¡¯d Shaped them inside the tube instead. The idea was that, once one tube was out of bullets, a charged plate at the ¡°bottom¡± of the magazine would touch the action, which would then rotate itself clockwise to align with the next tube¡¯s opening. The entire ¡®fan¡¯ held about 900 rounds. Next, I secured the turret¡¯s legs to the floor of the building¡¯s deck with sandbags, again, summoned from my spatial storage. The legs were wide and heavy, but I was still worried about the recoil moving the whole turret around during the fight. When I was done, my predatory insect automaton was staring over the wide street, covering two separate lines of sight, one directly to the Spire, the other going as far down the road as the next canal. One down. I repeated the process three more times, focusing most of my firepower on the corners of the street where the turret could cover multiple angles at once. The only exception was the bridge, the one that connected this neighborhood to the gate district. That bridge needed to stay clear. My final emplacement was set up there, its field of fire concentrated so that it could aim only at or directly around the bridge. Four. Phase one, done. I checked the sky. I needed to hurry. Sissa would probably murder me for what I had planned for phase two. Time to step in front of another arrow. ¡ª---------------------- I arrived on the roof of a marble building on the edge of the Spire square, nearly back where I¡¯d started, except I was to the north of the spire this time, on top of some kind of administration building. It was grand in size but almost brutally utilitarian in construction with great marble blocks holding up great marble columns, holding up a great big marble slab that made up the roof, the only access to which was a stairway secured by a singular storm door I¡¯d Shaped open to get up here. Tilting my head and holding up my thumb, I looked up to the observation deck where Trix would be sitting in his gunner¡¯s seat. The deck was still in shadow, but I thought I could almost make out the big barrels jutting out of the side of the railing. I wanted to wave, see if he was watching and that he remembered what we¡¯d discussed, but I didn¡¯t dare. It didn¡¯t matter anyway. What mattered was that he was able to see me from where he was. He was the only other that knew this part of the plan. The way I imagined it, the rescue team would be arriving at the western gate right about now. There would be a sea of scourge-touched there, surrounding a knot of beleaguered and wounded soldiers and guards, tired from days of straight on fighting. Samila and Geddon would set up their turrets, get themselves ready, pull the levers to begin the assault. The guns would fire up, the guards would cut the enemy down, and the two forces would meet. From there, I could see it playing out in my mind. They try to get everyone moving, but the soldiers won¡¯t leave without their wounded. The wounded have to be helped or carried. Everyone is already tired. The line bogs down. The turrets either run dry on ammo or are destroyed. Then they are all trapped together, but now they¡¯ve taken more losses. The end is inevitable. A handful of turrets weren¡¯t going to turn the tide in the way everyone hoped. But me. I could do that. I plopped down on the southernmost part of the roof, closest to the Spire, and summoned the rest of my turrets, three of them. Then I went through the process of assembling them and anchoring them in a wide triangular formation around myself. The roof had a sort of lip that was maybe a foot tall, preventing the turrets from seeing down below and into the Spire square. That sucked. I hadn¡¯t seen the lip from up above. That meant my turrets couldn¡¯t get a good angle on targets as they approached the building and would need to engage as the baddies climbed up onto the roof. Danger close stuff. I¡¯d just have to roll with that. I summoned my extra magazines, laying them out in a line. Then, I looked to the horizon, to the west this time, where my friends should be. They should have engaged by now. Trust. I summoned my emergency pile of wood, pungent with the oil I¡¯d soaked it in. I summoned my pistol, checked to make sure it was loaded and ready before sticking it in my belt. Finally, I summoned my sword. My stupid, weak, fleshy hand trembled as it gripped the hilt. The sword was a simple thing, a blade of Shaped steel with a handle of wrapped leather cords, long enough to be held with one or two hands, pointy at the end, sharp as sharp on the edges. Holding it, though, wasn¡¯t so simple for me. I¡¯d not held one of these since I was a kid, before the accident. Before I¡¯d been broken and cast aside by nearly everyone I knew. If Dad saw this, he¡¯d probably be ecstatic. His Exotic son was taking up the sword again. ¡°By a miracle of Constance the System fixed my boy,¡± the clan chief would say in his heart of hearts. He wouldn¡¯t cry. He was too stoic for that. He would just see it as the world going back to the way it was supposed to be, his son back to being a proper warrior son of Constance. How nice that would be for him. He could pretend like the accident never happened. Like I¡¯d never been broken. Like Mom had died alone. The thought of throwing the sword over the rail flashed through my mind, tempting. If it all went well, I wouldn¡¯t even have to use it anyway. I could get by without. I didn¡¯t need to be their perfect warrior. I never needed to be perfect. I¡¯d done so much already without their precious rules and traditions, without their help or training and despite their scorn. It took everything I had not to at least put the sword away where I didn¡¯t have to see it. I couldn¡¯t get rid of a tool like this, though. Not now. That would be foolish, and too many people depended on me. I had to bring everything to this fight. My new life didn¡¯t afford me the luxury of casting aside my past. Whether I accepted it or not, the accident happened, my exile happened, and despite what the clan thought, that didn¡¯t make me any less worthy to carry my family¡¯s legacy. Becoming an Exotic didn¡¯t fix me. Say it. Mean it. ¡°I¡¯m not broken,¡± I proclaimed. The words, long in my heart but never spoken aloud, felt right. The chord they struck resonated within me. My heart thrummed. My trembling hand stilled. Somewhere, far to the west, distinct eruptions of gunfire, too rapid and numerous to count, began to echo over the roofs of the city. There was no slow ramp up to full intensity, no hesitation. The turrets were going, immediately, full bore. Scourge Touched Goblin defeated. You have been awarded 10 experience points. [10 base (-4 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group, -8 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Goblin defeated. You have been awarded 12 experience points. [10 base (-4 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+2 chain, -8 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 25 experience points. [16 base (-2 level, +2 nemesis, +16 group, + 6 chain, -13 non-combat class)] ¡­ It had begun. ¡°I was never broken,¡± I whispered softly and with fragile finality. I closed my eyes and took a deep, cleansing breath. I forced myself to relax, to concentrate, to bring the entirety of my being into the present where I was needed. I brought my surroundings and myself, kicking and screaming into hyper focus. My enemy didn¡¯t know it yet, but I was done being hunted. Done hiding. Today, I was the predator, and I was going to exact a cost for everything they¡¯d done. Mentally, I flicked the Volatility detonation switch I¡¯d been holding in my mind. The three turrets on my roof jerked to life, their barrels standing at attention and scanning for targets. Far away, on the westbound street and next to the canal bridge, my other turrets powered on and immediately added to the crackling peels of thunder in little fits and starts as they cleared the way for my friends. I gripped my sword and made my way over to the lip of the roof, placing one defiant foot up on the rail and standing tall. Strangely, the dark shapes down below seemed to pause all at once, hesitant, one by one turning their heads to look my way as I ripped off my hood and mask. I filled my lungs with the cold morning air, lifted my chin and roared: ¡°Come on, you little shits! I¡¯m right here!¡± Chapter 45 - Turret Mage Chapter 45 - Turret Mage The entire city howled. It wasn¡¯t just in my immediate area, though the distinctive, mindless scream of the scourge-touched did come through clearest from the creatures I could see nearby. No, this was everywhere. It was like a demonic choir conductor had just swiped his baton. Every creature in every part of the city contributed to the chord, perfectly in sync in baying for my blood. I fought to not let the unease I was feeling show. This wasn¡¯t quite what I expected. I¡¯d expected the howling, maybe a chain of them starting from ground zero where I was and making its way outward and around the city eventually, but this¡­ The scourge-touched all had their fit at exactly the same time. It hit me. That¡¯s why I¡¯d never seen them communicate. A hive mind? Maybe something like it? If that was the case, I¡¯d just given every scourge-touched in the city(maybe the world) my exact position. I¡¯d counted on getting a lot of attention but I¡¯d hoped the horde of flesh eating monsters would at least have to ask for directions before they got here. I stepped back from the marble lip and walked into the middle of my triangular turret perimeter, my sword clenched tightly in my hand. Well, the idea was to create a distraction. Hurray. I didn¡¯t have to wait long. Soon enough, claws raked across the metal storm doors of the stairwell. A single scourge-touched wasn''t going to get those open, though. I¡¯d Shape welded them shut in multiple places, even freezing the hinges. The murderous bastards would have to come up the fun way if they wanted to make my face into a loincloth. My first lucky customer on this fine gray morning was a scourge-touched goblin who¡¯d elected to climb the building¡¯s facade instead of taking the stairs. Sharp, grasping claws preceded a midnight black, leering face with owlish eyes and a demonic grin as it pulled itself up into view, eager to be the first to take a bite out of this world¡¯s only human. It was barely able to get its shoulders above the lip of my roof before- *BRRAP* Scourge Touched Goblin defeated. You have been awarded 20 experience points. [10 base (-4 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)] For being the first, it was rewarded with a quick death. The turret on my left tracked almost too quickly for the naked eye and put two, maybe three rounds into the monster¡¯s face. Then said face was gone as quickly as it had appeared. If not for the leftover chunks of skull still sailing backward in sedate parabolas down into Spire square, I might have thought I¡¯d imagined the whole thing. Then they came in in little fits and starts. Two or three creatures (not always goblins, but they were the most prevalent) would climb up the sides of the roof at the same time only to be cut down in a hail of gunfire. *BRAP* BRAP* The targeting on the turrets was flawless, if I do say so myself. With actual rifling on the inside of their barrels and properly shaped projectiles, their accuracy was a thing to behold. Nothing survived the first volley, and sometimes a burst of fire would take out two or three targets at once. The monsters skittered forward and were cut down within seconds, their bodies becoming new obstacles for their comrades to overcome. Meanwhile, the doors to the stairwell were quickly becoming popular. They groaned under the pressure of the growing number of bodies pressing against them all at once. Claws raked over their insides and powerful blows rained down on wherever the creatures could reach. I was under no illusions that the doors could hold forever, though. In minutes I¡¯d probably have lots of company. The experience points were flowing in too quickly to keep track, the group and chain bonuses to experience already at their max. Individually, these monsters were worth a pittance, but together, as a horde, they were going to put me through Exotic college, if that was a thing. Not all of the messages were coming from my rooftop either. The gunfire on the wind had ceased to be discernible as separate emplacements at separate locations finding and engaging targets. Judging by the sound, it was a storm of lead over there across town. I silently hoped my people were doing alright. The relative calm on my end didn¡¯t last. I was busy supervising my turrets as they cut down the trickle of climbers and watching the experience notifications roll in when the turret directly behind me, the hitherto silent one that was supposed to cover the stairwell doors, let loose with a long peel of thunder. I whipped my head around. Somehow, the creatures had found a way onto the roof that wasn¡¯t within the turret¡¯s line of fire. They¡¯d come up behind the boxy stairwell doors, using them as cover to gather and build up sufficient numbers for a charge. By the time I was aware of the problem, the turret had already cut down a handful of them, its withering fire reducing their bodies to mewling, broken piles of flesh and bone, but there were still five able-bodied Black Ones left, coming on at full speed. My turret laid the hate, raking its fire across the line of them, center mass or some approximation of it. Two of them went down with multiple holes in their sternum and a third caught an unlucky round on the crown of its skull, splitting it open while the creature tumbled forward to dash what was left of its brain on the dusty marble of the roof. The other two took to the air, doing that grasshopper jump thing that almost ended me on my first day as an Exotic. They sailed over the turret as their comrades died, already past where the gun was programmed to track. I didn¡¯t really have time to think. Before they had a chance to land, I found myself rushing forward to meet them, a silent warcry on my lips. The tip of my sword took the first goblin right above the collar bone, sliding inside with a nearly inaudible *pop* as the blade broke the skin. There was absolutely no resistance. I¡¯d made the edge sharp at the molecular level. The sword entered the creature at a near vertical angle, going down through the soft flesh and into the lungs. The creature¡¯s momentum dragged my blade down, but Dad had taught me well. I flexed at the knees and sprung back to disengage, my weapon retracting before the goblin¡¯s body weight could bind the blade up. On instinct, I brought my sword around in a quick slash to counter the attack I suspected was coming from my left, and the Black One that had just been about to cut my hamstring lost two fingers. It reeled back, not out of fear or pain but to tense its legs and go for another jump. Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. I advanced before it could set itself, however, reaching in with my left hand, my prosthetic, and wrapping my fingers around the thing¡¯s face so that when its legs finally received the proper nerve signals to make the jump, all they did was push my stupidly heavy, enhanced body back an inch or so. I saw its black eyes widen through my metal fingers. Its feet kicked at me, and its claws dug into the sleeve of my armor. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] Status Gained: Engine: [+2 MP/sec for 5 min] You gain knowledge of material: Goblin Bone [19/50] I let the ruined monster drop to my feet, feeling a cold wash of adrenaline now that I allowed myself that luxury. My grip on the sword was shaky once more. Skill unlocked: Sword. Your current skill level is 1. The three turrets around me were tracking targets every couple seconds now. Packs of snarling faces would pop up from the lip of the roof, some attempting to sprint toward my position, some electing to leap as their more successful fellows had. Not many of them made the trip intact, but they were making it. So many. And this was just the beginning. I was already seeing spots, and my heart was going a mile a minute. I had to force myself to move, force my legs to take me where I needed to go. The sword knew what it was about, though. Those scourge-touched that ended up inside my perimeter, died as quickly as I could reach them. Their fault for not bringing their own swords, really. You are now level 12. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: S- I killed the combat log. I didn¡¯t have time to read them. There was too much going on, too much at stake. The three turrets barked. *BRRRRRRAP* *BRAP* *BRAP* The scourge-touched never stopped. They died by the dozens, but not all of them charged in mindlessly. Clumps of them were forming on the lip of the roof now, hanging from the side with their sharp claws, peaking over their cover from time to time to tempt the turrets. The targeting logic wasn¡¯t handling that particularly well. *BRRRRRRRRRAP* Chunks of marble spun off into the morning air as the turrets tried to engage with all they saw but maybe one in three bullets found flesh. The Black Ones were adapting. They weren¡¯t just coming straight on anymore. They were clumping up and getting ready for a charge. They were starting to think. No. We can¡¯t have that. I sheathed my sword and summoned a nicely shaped throwing rock from my spatial storage. Volatility [1 MP/sec] One. Two. Three. Four. Five¡­ I¡¯d need to time this- That¡¯s when doors to the stairwell finally failed, not at the welds like I¡¯d expected. The hinges gave way with sharp, individual cracks that sent dust pluming out into the air. Then the doors blew off their hinges and slammed onto the marble floor with a muffled *clang.* Snarling, pale Returned bodies spilled out from the now open doorway, while more of them bubbled up from underneath, shoving their way into the open through a sea of flesh. They¡¯d been stacked like cordwood in there. Just as the Returned contingent joined the fight, the goblins made their move as if they¡¯d planned it this way. With their long, powerful arms and muscular legs they sprung up from their perches on the roof¡¯s lip, and, suddenly, I was facing a towering wave of howling monsters. The turrets opened up on full blast. Sound lost all meaning for me. My world was the ceaseless peel-crack of the guns. The air shook with the violence of it. I hadn¡¯t counted on this. I didn¡¯t expect them to change tactics. I was going to need my sword, but here I was holding an exploding purple rock. After a short, preparatory roll of my shoulder, I chucked said rock into the roiling cauldron of undead things, as far into the stairwell as I could. *BOOM* Bright purple flashed from within, the walls that once housed the doors cracked and then buckled as what my explosion started, the weight of the Returned¡¯s bodies finished, and the stairwell housing collapsed like a tiny building undergoing demolition. I stopped. Blinked. I hadn¡¯t expected that to work so well. Sure, it wouldn¡¯t hold them forever, but it would keep them back for a moment or two. Meanwhile, the scourge-touched made their move. They loped along the ground, bounded into the air, scrambled over their fellows, a tide of black eyes, sharp teeth and wicked claws. The barrels of my turrets spewed death. There was no gap between volleys anymore. An unending torrent of lead (and a few other heavy metals) tore into the wall of monsters, pierced them and tore open their backs, then entered those unlucky enough to be directly behind. *BRRRRRP*BRRP*BRRRP** Black aerosolized blood or whatever the scourge had in its place misted against my face, filled my nostrils and coated the back of my throat. I fought not to gag. The turrets, arguably, had it worse, the blood mist sizzled against the superheated metal of the barrels, while chunks of pulverized meat and bone slapped against their legs as they engaged the horde at close range. Yet, the scourge came on. Too many. Perimeter breaches quickly became the norm.. The sword was out again, whatever finesse I¡¯d remembered to employ when I was fresh was quickly forgotten for the sheer amount of things that needed to die. My feet carried me from one breach to the next. My opponents didn¡¯t all arrive healthy and whole, but they had to be put down regardless. They didn¡¯t stop trying to kill me until they were utterly dead. You are now level 13. Sword is now level 2. Sword is now level 3. I slashed at their faces. I chopped at their necks. Stabbed their hearts. The bodies piled up around us, me and my machines. As fatigue loomed, I switched my sword to my metal hand. It wasn¡¯t nearly as adept at this kind of thing as my natural one since it had no nerve endings, but it was the best solution I had. I summoned another rock to throw, but the scourge-touched wouldn¡¯t let me breathe. I was always moving, always chopping. No time. Screw it. Please let this work. I summoned more stones, a handful of them at a time and began to channel. Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Split Mind is now level 8. *BRRRRAP*BRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* It was a constant. The turrets had so much to shoot at. So many hateful faces. I needed space. I needed it now. I channeled Volatility into the rocks in my hand as long as I dared until the splitting feeling became unbearable, then I cocked my arm back and let fly with a side armed pitch Vince would have been proud of, a throw that released all of my glowing stones at a different point in the arc. The stones fanned outward, past the stairwell turret and into the line of monsters. *BOOM**BOOM**BOOM**BOOM**BOOM* You are now level 14. The world went quiet. Status gained: Deafened. [1 min] Breathing hard and feeling a full mana migraine flare behind my eyes, I staggered over the broken, perforated forms of my enemies and to my pile of oiled wood. Status gained: Engine [14 MP/sec for 10 min] You gain knowledge of material: Mendau Wood [1,092/1,250] You gain knowledge of material: Pex Oil [1/10] I got my feet under me. The roof spun in place as my ears wept blood, and I fought to stay upright. ¡°Come on! Come on!¡± I shouted at their faces spinning around to make sure they all saw I was fine, and I was unafraid. ¡°You wanted me! I¡¯m still here!¡± Of course, the multiverse being what it was, that was when the first turret ran dry. Chapter 46 - Just Hold On Chapter 46 - Just Hold On The turret facing the stairwell, the one that had been hardest pressed up until this point just went dead. Oh shit. All things considered, I was lucky to have seen it happen. As deaf as I was just now, it could have taken me a long time to notice, and then I¡¯d be drowning in monsters and never knowing why all the way up until they ripped me apart. The scourge-touched within the blast zone were slow to get up, their crumpled bodies and shell-shocked neural tissues making them sluggish and clumsy. They were tenacious, though. Some of the more robust specimens were already pulling themselves forward using whatever limbs they still had, snarling and burbling silently as they advanced on my position. They had no fear, no response to pain or loss, and fresh, grinning faces were starting to stream in. I had maybe a few seconds before the tide would be lapping at my feet again. I wobbled to where my stash of spare magazines were supposed to be and used my foot to roll the good part of a Returned corpse off of them (where the rest of it was I didn¡¯t know), revealing the slimy but still functional row of spare ammo fans. Drunkenly and with considerable effort, I bent over and snagged one of the magazines without falling to the ground to join them. The world was spinning around me, and it was all I could do not to lie down and wait for it to stop. My ears really couldn¡¯t heal fast enough. My salvation in hand, I turned and stumble-sprinted over to the dry turret, smacking the release lever with the hilt of my sword to disengage the empty magazine. Stuck. Not thinking, concussed or maybe a combination of both, I then made the obvious mistake of using my fingers to work the lever. I snatched my hand away with a frustrated growl, one I couldn¡¯t hear but I could most certainly feel. Even through the leather of the gloves, the extreme temperature of the turret¡¯s action cooked my flesh within half a second. To say that my turret design had heat issues would have been a gross understatement. I filed this flaw away in my mental ¡°to address if I live¡± folder. Hot metal: bad. Do not touch. My metal hand was much more able to work the thing, but the time I¡¯d wasted flash frying my pointer and middle finger came back to haunt me immediately. I was just disengaging the spent magazine when I caught swift movement out of the corner of my eye, and I pulled back from the turret just in time to get my sword up. Something hot and wet slapped against my sword arm, my chest, and the bottom of my face. The surprise coupled with the weight and force of it made me take a reflexive step back, but I was disoriented and dizzy. I went down to the ground, hard. Now on my back and covered in¡­ something, I struggled, kicked my legs, grunting with the effort, though, again, I couldn¡¯t hear myself and not just because I was deafened. My mouth, like a large part of my upper half, was literally covered in some kind of yellow, oily sheet that smelled of rotten lemons, and the grip the sheet had on me was getting progressively more and more thorough. It seemed to slide over me, expand its surface area like spilled liquid over a table. Bending my neck, I struggled to look down at my feet to see what I was dealing with. Yes. I was wrapped in something yellow, slimy and vaguely organic. Most of me was covered in whatever it was, and the rapidly vanishing parts of my body that weren¡¯t bound up in puss colored bed sheet were quickly being smothered in the stuff as well. My sword was the only thing free, having punctured its way through the slick membrane by sheer luck or old reflexes from training I barely remembered. Around my navel, a thick¡­ proboscis?... tentacle?... Something struggled against me, forcing me down on the marble roof and holding me still. It was a tube of similarly slimy yellow that bloated and pulsed to a beat I couldn¡¯t hear. Meanwhile, my fleshy prison expanded to cover more and more surface area. By now, it was fully wrapped around my back and was working its way up my neck. My eyes tracked to the end of said fleshy tube and saw something along the lines of a giant snake. A fat, giant snake. At least that¡¯s how my mind categorized it at a glance. Its head was at least shaped like a snake¡¯s, but after that, Earth biology became less and less helpful. The body, though longer than it was wide, was only just so, and a plume of yellow spines grew down its back like a mohawk. This monster, like the other ¡®touched¡¯ beings, looked worse for wear, with rheumy white eyes and patches of missing scales, but it certainly had all of its teeth, rows of them. The thing¡¯s body was as wide as the entire stairwell, and, as it wriggled its way onto the roof, I could see other, less fortunate scourge-touched crushed against the sides of the marble walls. Where a snake snake was long and generally fit for slithering, this one seemed to locomote more like a worm, except for a prominent, overdeveloped ribcage that started a few feet below its head, the sides of which were pumping like bellows, flapping in and and out, stretching the creature¡¯s grayish green skin then sharply contracting over and over. When its body contracted, the tube attached to my prison expanded noticeably and the yellow flesh tarp tightened around me. Muscles contracted in the snake¡¯s throat, and the tube that connected us shortened visibly with every second. It may have been struggling to make it all the way onto the roof, but it was getting ever closer to eating me. It was reeling me in, its inwardly curved teeth ready to grab and never let go. What¡¯s more: Status gained: Necrosis [2 HP/sec] I was being digested. This was the second time in my new life something had tried to digest me without doing the polite thing and killing me first. Ralqir was a silly place. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. Just then, my hearing came back, a whine at first and then things resolved into something akin to normal, in time to experience the sound of the creature *HORF*ing as it pumped biological mystery juice into my yellow flesh sac. It sounded like a giant cat trying to hack up a hairball except far more sinister, which was a feat and a half based on the cats I¡¯d met. Well, if it was going to do the eating now and the killing later, I was well within my rights to do the killing now and the dying later. I groaned against the slimy tissue, flexed my sword hand at the wrist, and made use of my enhanced Body score. The supernaturally sharpened blade did most of the work cutting through the membrane, and, soon, my arm burst from it with a slurping sound I would probably have nightmares about later. The scent of sour fluids and half-cooked armor and skin permeated the air. I tried to ignore that. Think about it later. Either that or forget about it entirely. Then my blade arced over to the proboscis and severed it with two short chops. Clear fluid spewed from both ends of the severed tube, and the creature shrieked indignantly. Instantly, the pressure around my body ceased, and the yellow sac seemed to shrivel and bunch up around my chest until it flopped to the ground next to me, a wrinkly pile of goo and fibrous muscle more like a tongue than whatever shape it had taken before. The creature yowled, but it didn¡¯t stop advancing. As it wriggled closer it slurped its remaining tubage up like a meaty spaghetti noodle. That nearly did me in. Do. Not. Vomit. Thankfully, the monster wasn¡¯t fast, probably an ambush predator, or maybe it was just dumber and slower after falling to the scourge plague. As it finally freed itself from the stairwell it trundled forward at the speed of a chubby toddler, albeit one with a taste for human flesh. I had to force myself to look away from slowly approaching teeth and fumble for my magazine. Finally, I slapped the new bullet fan home and engaged the locking lever. Instantly online, the turret was back to dispensing death with a deafening volley of shots into the creature¡¯s face. Flesh and bone were quickly parted from the rest of the body, the fresh stream of bullets so intensely kinetic, they sawed through the fat-snake¡¯s insides, splitting it down the middle until the turret found something vital or the creature just stopped moving. You have defeated Scourge-Touched Joroba. You have been awarded 360 experience points. [150 base (+30 nemesis, +150 group,+150 chain, -120 non-combat class)] I forced myself to breathe again. Guess the scourge has gotten to the wildlife too. Peachy. Then the auto-turret was on to the smaller targets and just in time. The scourge-touched undead and goblins had fresh bodies to throw at me now that the stairwell was unobstructed again, and they were already too many and too close for my liking. I staggered back to the center of the triangle. My skin felt like it was on fire. When I moved, I could feel the tender parts of my flesh rubbing together painfully, weeping sores coating the insides of my clothes. Whatever poison or acid the joroba had used was still active in some way, or it just hadn¡¯t gotten to my nerve endings yet. I couldn¡¯t stop moving, though. The scourge-touched were already back inside the perimeter. Then I was back to hacking and stabbing everything that moved. What I couldn¡¯t kill with my sword, I crushed with my metal arm, either with Devouring Grasp or through the sheer blunt force of a closed fist and amplified¡­ what was my Body score now? Not now. Check later. The lip of the roof was just gone, the courtyard beyond too, their memories replaced by a wall of sagging meat. The dead became the walls of my fortress, and their comrades clambered over them only to die and add to the mass. They never stopped coming. I waded through the lucky ones that breached the perimeter, dispatching the fresh enemies first and the wounded ones when I could spare a second, but I took stinging wounds to my legs, my arms, and my hands. For each enemy I ended, another was right there to make me pay a price for it with claws or teeth. Nothing I did came for free. The North-facing gun went silent next, as I¡¯d feared it would. I just didn¡¯t know what I could do about it, I was so pressed. The monsters, seeming to collectively sense their opportunity to end it, boiled up from the corpse wall with renewed vigor for their final charge. I pulled my pistol out of my belt. Faces appeared before me and were cut down. I hardly had to aim with my pistol, so close was I to my targets. My fat ammo worms punched ragged, gaping holes in whatever they hit. Slash. Fire. Slash. Stab. Fire. Fire. Slash. With every downed foe, I couldn¡¯t help but look up to watch more enemies piling over the north wall. They¡¯d figured things out quickly. And I was drowning in monsters. My world was steadily reduced to a desperate, bloody struggle just to stay alive. Hands reached for me. Mouths shrieked as they snapped at my face. Hack. Slash. Stab. Fire. Slash. They were too many, too close. Their claws raked me even as they died. Their teeth gnawed at my legs. Gulping for oxygen, blood trickling down into my right eye and tainting the world red, my sword arm hanging limply at my side, I looked up one last time. The black ones leapt down from the overrun battlements, something akin to glee on their expressions as they rushed to be the first to rip me open. They howled in unison, in anticipation of their triumph. Only to be obliterated from above. Too fast to perceive as anything other than streaming gray streaks of force and mass, a volley of projectiles slammed down upon the monsters¡¯ shoulders, backs, and heads. Supersonic wasps of iron and lead broke limbs, shattered skulls and spines. The multitude of corpses the monsters had used for handholds quickly turned to mulch. *THWUP* THWUP*THWUP*THWUP* I let out a long, shaky sigh of relief. Slowly, my blurring vision traced the stream of death up, up from my grim redoubt to the Spire, to Trix¡¯s position on the observation deck. Strobing purple-white muzzle flashes bloomed from the ends of the twin barrels of his gun emplacement, and the lead fell like rain. Trix was scratching my back. That meant two things. I had the little Volpa¡¯s attention, which was nice. It felt good to not be alone. The other thing was that the fight had been going on longer than I¡¯d realized. Trix wasn¡¯t supposed to reveal his position until all of our friendlies were at least inside the Spire square. My heart thrummed at that thought. They were here, I was alive, and I wasn¡¯t alone. The hand that had been tightening around my chest seemed to loosen its grip, slightly. I used the breathing room Trix gave me to grab two more magazines. I replaced the one on the dry gun and then preemptively refreshed the other, less pressed turret. It would have run out soon anyway. Once I was back in business and my guns were active, Trix seemed to get the hint and turned his fire elsewhere. That was okay. If someone else needed him, I¡¯d hold. The longer I held, the longer I was doing my job, the longer the rescue team had to run to the Spire. You are now level 15. It wasn¡¯t even a question. HP was a resource that I needed right now. I slapped all of my available points into Body and felt myself begin to knit together instantly, my tired muscles feeling that much fresher, and my breathing becoming that much smoother. Just a little longer. Hold on just a little longer. Chapter 47 - Follow the Light Chapter 47 - Follow the Light The breathing room Trix gave me didn¡¯t last. That was the problem with opponents that had no instinct for self-preservation. They were perfectly fine throwing themselves at me and being reduced to a puddle of goo if there was even a remote chance of said puddle of goo making my footing slightly more tenuous. I did use the window of relative calm to charge up another handful of stones, though, if only to give my body a rest. Split Mind is now level 9. Conduit is now level 5. I was glad at least someone appreciated how difficult the trick was. That biting, cold feeling I experienced when using foreign mana types (thanks Tempered Channels) ripped at the edges of my concentration every time I pulled this little maneuver, and I knew I was tempting fate with every additional rock I added. This time I made sure to be well away from the blast zone before I launched rocks toward the growing mound of corpses that used to be the stairwell. I aimed for the top of the pile, having the rocks zip over the peak before I triggered the detonations directly on top of the creatures currently climbing over. A panorama of purple explosions ripped through the rising tide. *BOOM*BOOM*BOOM*BOOM*BOOM* My head absolutely throbbed. I wasn¡¯t low on mana, far from it, in fact. My oiled wood technique seemed to be working beautifully in keeping me topped off. However, the constant bottoming out of my mana pool and subsequent drink-through-a-firehose recharge was starting to do something to me that was decidedly unpleasant. I felt empty yet brimming with energy, like I¡¯d gone two days eating nothing but coffee grounds. Maybe, more accurately, I felt like I was a passthrough for all of this mana instead of in control of it like I should have been. The stairwell side suppressed for now, I turned my attention to the rest of my defense. The turrets barked as the flow of scourge gradually grew from a trickle back to a roar. ¡ª------------------------------ I slapped a new magazine into the stairwell side turret and got it back in business. By this point I wasn¡¯t as worried about the stairwell as I was about the North and East side turrets. The slain monsters, though both a blessing and a curse everywhere else, had begun to choke the stairwell entrance to the point where the press of bodies was keeping the flow of Returned to a steady drip. That didn¡¯t stop them from coming up that side of the roof, but without the stairs, it bottlenecked a large part of the enemy host up to where they were manageable., Everywhere else, the Black Ones were making my life an absolute nightmare. They used their dead as cover to climb up onto the roof, grouping up near the top of the corpse walls to come at me in larger numbers. They were starting to do their grasshopper leaps before they even crested the ¡®battlements¡¯ of my ever growing fortress, and that left the turrets with precious little time to track and kill them all before they were in my face. What¡¯s more, the amount of ¡°things¡± on the roof was quickly becoming the biggest problem. Not only were my fortress walls growing in height but, as physics dictated, in width as well. With every downed foe, the base of the wall of dead things crept closer to my perimeter, a noose of my own making that was slowly tightening as the fight wore on. The scourge-touched I¡¯d had to dispatch with my sword laid at my feet, now a thickening carpet of tripping hazards that leaked blood and unmentionable fluids everywhere. They made moving from breach to breach with any speed or technique almost impossible. My now higher Body score was helping with that, my supernatural balance and grace keeping me upright, but soon I¡¯d be walking on nothing but dead scourge. At that point it would only take one stumble to end it all. I had to keep moving, though. To stop moving meant death. The scourge-touched were starting to adapt to our strange equilibrium. Now, instead of going into a murderous rage every time they saw me, some of them would eschew the direct approach and lunge for the turrets. Usually, that plan would just end with another dead goblin, but about one in five that tried would make it as far as the turret¡¯s legs. Fewer still would get a hand on the machine and have a chance to flip it over. It only took one nearly catastrophic incident to vindicate my practice of killing breaches as they happened. I had a hell of a time flipping the turret back over. It was heavy and awkward, and its programming didn¡¯t particularly care whether it was upright or not. I¡¯d never been a livestock guy, but if I had to create a metaphor for the situation, it would involve trying to lift a pissed off, three legged, mechanical murder bull. Oh, and the bull¡¯s shoulders and head were hot enough to ignite fibers and fry skin. Yes, after that, I was very attentive to breaches. Movement was key. I had to be everywhere, protecting the turrets so they could protect me. I had to imagine my ammo worms were having a hell of a time trying to fulfill their programming to return to me, or maybe they already had but I hadn¡¯t noticed in all the chaos. The focus and technique Dad drilled into me was doing me some good when I had a chance to use it, but Dad didn¡¯t teach me fighting like this, the mad scramble for survival amid hundreds of tiny threats that would stop at nothing to draw just a little of my blood. This was butchery, mass slaughter. I had no room for a proper parry or riposte, my feet couldn¡¯t turn or slide the way I¡¯d been taught, and there was a massive qualitative difference between a duel between armed opponents and a swarm of monsters that just threw themselves at you without regard for their own lives. The best I could do was jump at opportunities for free hits and swing for the fences. Just a little longer. ¡ª------------------ Sword is now level 4. You are now level 16. The arc of my swing connected with the undead¡¯s neck, the creature¡¯s spine stubbornly halting my swing before the blade could cleave all the way through, and I felt the muted impact in my chest even through the metal of my arm. The scourge-touched, unphased at the sword embedded in its neck, grasped the sides of my cuirass and used its unnatural strength to pull itself closer in an attempt at a bite. Growling, I set my pistol hand against the monster¡¯s chest and slowly straightened my arm until I had the right amount of space. Then, I jerked my blade free to slam it down again and again until the thing finally fell over dead. Spots danced in my vision, my muscles burned, and my lungs cried constantly for more air, air untainted by the foul emanations of all of this¡­ I didn¡¯t know. The battlefield was a horrific slurry of broken bodies and gore. The turret barrels sizzled in the polluted air, and the smell was everywhere. I missed the sword¡¯s atomically sharp edge desperately just now, but I had no time to re-Shape it back to what it was. I just had to endure a little longer. *PHOP**PHOP**PHOP* The stairwell turret was getting low on power, and the barrel had a noticeable bow to it now, the heat finally making the steel pliable enough for gravity to warp it in such a way. The gun still tracked and fired, but it was having a hard time. Its individual rounds, with a less than straight path out of the barrel now, were more sluggish and less impactful when they hit. I just felt lucky the action¡¯s spring was weak enough to keep the feed of lead going. My right hand hung down at my side, and I could feel the hot rush of blood pumping through torn muscle fibers. Overworked tendons throbbed at my joints. The effort I¡¯d expended to wrestle with that last Returned was all I had left. I could barely even lift the pistol in my hand anymore. My body was tapped out, my prosthetic the only part of me not weak and bleeding. I slapped my new free point into Body and felt the effects immediately, like I¡¯d just gotten an injection of electrolytes and saline. It wasn¡¯t much, just enough to take the edge off, but it was something. ¡°Come on,¡± I whispered hoarsely against the polluted air. The boom of the guns and the howls of the scourge-touched drowned out my voice, but this was for me more than it was for them at this point. ¡°Come on¡­ you little shits.¡± Just a little longer. Just then, something flashed in the corner of my vision, pale-blue, arc welder bright. What was this now? Turning my head, I tracked the intensity of the light up, North, toward the Spire. A flare. A bright blue flare was floating lazily down from somewhere near Trix¡¯s observation deck. What had that meant? It had been part of the plan, the plan I¡¯d made. My brows knit together in thought. It felt so long ago, and I was so tired. A scrap of a thought blew lazily through the hollows of my mind, tumbling before finally clipping the edge of another. Blue meant¡­ safe. They were safe. They¡¯d made it back to the Spire, and they were safe. It was time. It was time to move. Forward. Move forward. I wobbled forward, toward the light. A Black One loomed up to block my view. My body reacted. Scourge Touched Goblin defeated. You have been awarded 18 experience points. [10 base (-6 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)] Stepping over the crumpled form, I followed the light, past the Northern turret, its rate of fire now in sluggish staccato bursts of *FWUPFWUPFWUP* *FWUPFWUPFWUP,* a beat I could feel in place of a pulse. Any other day, I¡¯d hesitate to get in its way, but after spending all this time in a constant state of knife¡¯s-edge tension, I had a hard time rising above the level of a 2 on the fear scale anymore, especially for my own machines. It had my back, just as I¡¯d asked it to when I¡¯d made it. I pressed forward, my sword hacking at the monsters that presented themselves to me. My sword strokes were weak and slow, only serving to keep my enemies¡¯ grasping claws temporarily away from my body. That was okay, though. I just had to keep moving forward. The turret did what I couldn¡¯t. The best the scourge-touched could hope for was one, maybe two swipes at the human before they died in a hail of bullets. All I had to do was survive. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there. When I came to the wall, I climbed. The smell was worse here. It didn¡¯t matter. I¡¯d think of it later. What mattered was getting over, getting through, getting to the light. The mound was unsteady. The bodies gave when I stepped on them, slid down when I grasped them, landslides of dead things. I¡¯d think about it later. Then I was standing at the top. Before me was a nightmare. The city was swarming. Teaming masses of monsters crawled over rooftops, flooded the streets, choked the doorways. All of them flowed toward me, like I was the drain in a bath. I was a nexus, the black hole where they meant to cast out their lives in the hopes of drowning me under their combined weight. As one, they wordlessly roared their desire to do so. It turned out I still had room in my mind for fear afterall. My legs nearly gave out at the sight of it. Holy Constance preserve us. Holy shit. Holy shit. There was only one island of order amidst all the chaos. At the center of the square, beyond the black sea of scourge, ranks of rescued soldiers stood in neat lines, shields and spears leveled and at the ready, waiting for me. That was where I had to go. The scourge-touched were climbing up from down below me, others were rushing in from my sides. Forward. Move. Move now. Another handful of rocks appeared in my hand. I needed a few seconds. One. A claw slashed at my shins, scoring across my armor. Two. A Black One lept at my face from the approach to my right. It didn¡¯t take much convincing for my legs to give out, collapsing to the floor to allow the monster to sail overhead. Something from within the mass of corpses grabbed my neck from behind, weak but still alive, its broken claws attempting unsuccessfully to open my throat. Three. I sat up and stabbed out with my sword to take one of the scourge in the stomach. It didn¡¯t die, but its lower half gave out, sending it tumbling down the wall and over the lip of the roof. Four. Something jumped on my back, digging in with its claws, and its teeth sawed into the armor on my shoulder. That felt familiar. Five. I couldn¡¯t wait any longer. With one, final lungful of breath, I screamed as I forced my tired leg muscles to straighten, and leaped from the battlements of my fortress. The sea of black rushed up to meet me. *BOOM**BOOM**BOOM**BOOM**BOOM**BOOM* My charged rocks hit the ground before I did, a carpet of wild, explosive power that pulped the scourge-touched down below, as packed in as they were. From above, hundreds of angry hornets zipped down in blurry gray lines to lay waste to everything they hit. The scourge-touched were mown down like wheat. *ZUP**ZUP**ZUP**ZUP**ZUP**ZUP* I landed badly, among the shell shocked monsters. I had the sense to tuck and roll, but when I made impact, the air left my body in a *woosh* and I tumbled forward to hit some of the only exposed paver stones for many yards. Status Gained: Broken Bone [Arm] I laid there for a full second, opening and closing my mouth like a fish suddenly pulled from the water, but I knew I had to move. Moving was all I could do if I wanted to live. I got to my feet and stopped, blinked. What happened?. I¡¯d lost the Spire. Where was it? *ZUP**ZUP**ZUP**ZUP**ZUP**ZUP* The blue. The blue light. Where? Spinning, I tracked the light, orienting myself. It gleamed off of teeth and claws, cast shadows behind individual monsters in the swarm. Behind. There. Behind me. The Spire. I had to get to the Spire. I hobbled forward following the track Trix¡¯s withering fire gave me. He blasted huge swathes of monsters in five second bursts. Wherever he turned his fire the entire area became a mess of fountaining blood and flying splinters of bone. Then he would move to my side or to my back. Crossbow bolts zipped past my ears, one of them inches from my skin before it sank into something behind me with a *thwuk.* The dying breath of whatever it was caressed the hair on the back of my head. I couldn¡¯t think about that either. I kept moving forward. Always forward. Trix and the crossbowmen paved my way. An undead rose up in front of me, missing an arm, its head listing sideways but not entirely damaged enough for it to stay dead. I tried to swing my sword but found that I¡¯d dropped it somewhere in my landing. So, instead, I reached out and slammed my fist into its face with my prosthetic then shoulder charged the creature until it vanished from sight. I didn¡¯t bother to finish it off. I kept moving. The world narrowed. All I could hear was my own breathing. All I could feel was my burning lungs and pumping legs while the rest of me was just cold. All I could see was the sliver of light between the gates. Between me and it, the ranks of people, real live people, gesturing me forward. Cheering. ¡°Come on! Come on!¡± They mouthed at me. ¡°Don¡¯t stop!¡± I kept moving. My eyes felt heavy. Only one of them could fully open anyway, but for the life of me I didn¡¯t know which one. It didn¡¯t matter. I knew where I was going. Something heavy battered me from above. A burning line traced down the center of my scalp. I reached up and grabbed, triggering Devouring Grasp, and then it was gone. Forward. Forward. No stopping. *FWOOM* Then, the air went still. With great effort, I opened my eyes. I was among faces, the faces of people. The two closest people, male Miur in ragged robes and severe looks of concentration on their faces, sweat pouring down their brows, held up their glowing hands confusingly. That wasn¡¯t the light I was following. Mine was blue. The Miur didn¡¯t get in my way, though. My feet kept moving. Forward. Something tried to grab me, but I put a stop to it. No. I was so close. Nothing could stop me. I had to get to the Spire. The ranks of soldiers, Miur, Leori, and a few species I didn¡¯t recognize in their armor, all slowly parted to let me pass. None of them said anything, like the still air had put a hush spell over them. My rattling breaths seemed to be the only sounds allowed to bypass said spell. They echoed in my head, only accompanied by the hum of my metal heart. Up the stairs. That took some time. My leg wasn¡¯t working right anymore. No one made a move to stop me. I reached out for the door. Then, in a turn I could never have foreseen, a skeletal Miur with ridiculously pronounced cheekbones interposed himself between me and my goal. He bent down, his hawkish face peering into mine with a look of¡­ concern? Frustration? It took me a handful of breaths to really get a good bead on it. He was saying something. I shook myself, blinked blood out of my eye. ¡°What?¡± I heard myself say. He reached out hesitantly for my arm, his fingers wrapping around my bicep and steadying me, his look of absolute disbelief amplified by his gaunt features. ¡°It¡¯s alright, Ryan, we¡¯ll take it from here,¡± He breathed softly as if he were calming a wild animal, shaking his head before adding: ¡°Unbelievable.¡± Jassin? What are you doing here? -------------------------------------------------------- EPILOGUE: Dad Proxis 3: Now. Myron Kotes sat on a dirty fabric camp chair, staring at a rust colored stain on the rocky ground, his eyes tiredly blinking away the grit. The winds were mild today and at his back, giving his face a break from the goggles he¡¯d been forced to wear day in and day out for however long he¡¯d been at this. The sand blasted cliff where the System had seen fit to snatch his boy wasn¡¯t the most sheltered of places to camp, more exposed a campsite than he would have chosen to use. He reached up to itch his beard, resisting the temptation to rub his eyes as well. The skin there was red and raw, and if he got too enthusiastic, his fingers might come away with blood. His scalp itched as well, the dust in it turning his jet black hair prematurely gray. Normally, he was such a well groomed man, upstanding and respected among his peers. Now, he wasn¡¯t sure if any of the clan would recognize him. A metal thermos of coffee thumped against his shoulder, warm to the touch. The rich, bitter smell of it tantalized him. Worse, it tempted his mind to relive better times. ¡°Take it,¡± a cold, robotic voice said from behind him. Myron reached up and took the thermos, using his dirty nails to crack open the top and expose the liquid inside while grimacing at the unpleasant idea of drinking the stuff. Riley had loved coffee, and she¡¯d passed that love along to Ryan. Myron himself had never been a fan, though, too singularly focused on whatever thing was in front of him to remember he had a drink in his hand. It always went cold before he could finish a cup, and those unpleasant experiences had piled up until he grew an aversion to the stuff. He did like the smell, however dangerous it was. ¡°Thanks,¡± he croaked after a long swig of the near boiling liquid. When was the last time he¡¯d spoken? ¡°This marks thirty days, Mr. Kotes,¡± the man behind him droned. He droned well, professional-like, like he was a bureaucrat in an office somewhere instead of camping in a portable hab in the middle of nowhere waiting for the System to regurgitate its latest Chosen. The tone reminded Myron of the synth voices they used on passenger trains. ¡°He¡¯ll make it,¡± Myron affirmed for himself for the hundredth time. It had become a mantra of sorts, one he now repeated even in his dreams. He¡¯d begun to speak it ever since they¡¯d come to rescue the boys that fateful morning, when Myron had learned his boy was taken. Taken from this very spot. The ground was still stained with Ryan¡¯s blood, though it was fading in the elements, wind blasted like all of Proxis 3. Like Myron himself. Myron wouldn¡¯t forget where the spot was, though. ¡°Of course, Mr. Kotes,¡± Mr. White said, punctuating his words with a pair of slow, awkward pats on Myron¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Once again, allow me to put you up somewhere while we wait. You can still come out to this location whenever you wish, courtesy of a CRF transport.¡± ¡°No,¡± Myron replied as he¡¯d done every day now. Mr. White, the man behind him, was an Exotic, probably an old one. Of that Myron was increasingly sure. The way he moved was too graceful, too deliberate and exact, his presence too domineering even when he was silent. White carried no weapons, wore no protective gear, just a simple coat with buttoned pockets and a wide-brimmed hat that covered his shaved head. Myron was fairly sure the man didn¡¯t actually sleep in the portahab he¡¯d set up either. All of it felt off, like a terrible thing trying to imitate a human instead of being of them. Plain, wiry, deadly, White wasn¡¯t at all like the Exotics the Colony put on the airwaves. He was a man to be watched closely, a killer born if Myron had ever met one. ¡°I¡¯ll be waiting for him when he gets back, Mr. White,¡± Myron said, fighting not to let his hand stray to his belt where he kept his pistol. ¡°He deserves someone that''ll be there for him.¡± Someone that should have been there. ¡°You are a leader among your people, are you not? Do you not need to be there for them as well?¡± Myron shook his head, keeping his eyes fixed on Ryan¡¯s fading blood. ¡°They¡¯ll understand. I¡¯m going to do what¡¯s right by my boy.¡± The Exotic sighed performatively, this time resting a gloved hand on Myron¡¯s shoulder and giving it an uncomfortably hard squeeze. ¡°Then he will find us both, I am afraid. This- The waiting- is what I do.¡± Myron turned and narrowed his eyes at White. ¡°Is it really? By my recollection, what you do has been a different thing every time it¡¯s mentioned. What was it last time? Documentation? Security? What really is your job, Mr. White?¡± He asked for what must have been the fifth time now. ¡°To be there for the birth of rogue Exotics. To ensure their safety and to guide them home. To tell them their places in our society,¡± White intoned, his too-pale face moving to sound out the words and no more. Myron might as well have been talking to a moving corpse. Still, it was a longer answer than he¡¯d gotten before. Maybe White was feeling magnanimous today. ¡°Integration can be traumatic for mortal born Exotics,¡± White continued. ¡°He will need someone here who understands.¡± ¡°I think I understand my own son, Mr. White,¡± Myron growled, probably showing a bit too much anger than was wise. Secret agenda or not, Myron didn¡¯t need to antagonize this creature. Watch, yes. Be ready to shoot, yes. Antagonize, no. Consciously, he forced his body to relax and his blood to cool, no small feat staring into Mr. White¡¯s pale dead glare, knowing he might have¡­ intentions for Myron¡¯s only son. Perhaps it was time for a more direct approach. ¡°I know when I¡¯m being fed a line, Mr. White,¡± Myron challenged. ¡°I also know Ryan has been gone for too long for it to be good, even considering interversal time differentials. Why did they send someone like you out here to wait on a boy that may never come home?¡± Mr. White¡¯s mouth twitched upward slightly, just a little thing, the first bit of expression Myron had gotten out of him since the day the Colony Exotic had arrived. He couldn¡¯t be sure, but Myron thought he saw something then, in White¡¯s eyes, an inky shadow that passed like a cloud over night sky. Myron suppressed a shiver. ¡°They send me to all rogue Exotics, Mr. Kotes. Ones that are chosen as opposed to born. The process of integration is unpredictable and poses significant risk, the mitigation of which I have made my purpose in life.¡± Unsure if he wanted to know the answer but simultaneously unable to resist posing the question, Myron swallowed. ¡°What kind of risk?¡± He asked in an unintentional whisper The look on Myron¡¯s face must have amused the Colony man, because Mr. White slowly peeled back his lips to show his teeth. ¡°The kind you send someone like me to handle.¡± Chapter 48 - Force Some Honesty Chapter 48 - Force Some Honesty My eyes fluttered open. I was in a room, a plain room made of stone, windowless and undecorated. It was small, just big enough to stand up and take two short steps before running into a wall or three steps out of the door near the foot of the bed. The bed I was on creaked and cracked as I shifted my weight. With how heavy I was, I wondered if I would have to be super careful about where I slept for the rest of my life. If anything, hammocks were right out as were most cots. I¡¯d probably end up sleeping on the floor more often than not. At least I wouldn¡¯t feel sore afterward with Exotic level recovery. The sheets scratched and crackled as I sat upright. They peeled away from my skin and clothes, clothes I didn¡¯t recognize, to reveal patches of the otherwise white sheets that were brown with dried blood and yellowed with dried sweat. I reached up to rub the gunk out of my eyes, surprised to find a bandage over one of them and a big bundle of white cloth tied to my scalp. There were a lot of those, actually. Bandages were all over me from head to toe, including a big one that wrapped all the way around my stomach. All of them were more rust colored than their original bright white. Gingerly, I peeled the one wrapped around my wrist away to find clear, unblemished skin underneath. Exotic healing was no joke. I¡¯m never going to get used to this, am I? Maybe if I ever do, I should start worrying. A whiff of something savory hit me just then, which I tracked to two bowls that sat on a table next to the head of my bed. No steam came off of them, and a quick check with my fingers told me they¡¯d been there for some time. My stomach gurgled, regardless. I took up the bowl and grabbed a spoon with a shaky hand. I must have been in here for a good while considering how hungry I was and the dryness of my mouth, not to mention the weakness I felt. How long had I been out? It was so quiet and still. I wouldn¡¯t say I missed the sound of the guns, but their absence did trigger an unease in me that was hard to pin down, a sort of unsettledness akin to how I felt my first few days on Ralqir and its lack of moving air when compared to home. Without the guns, who was holding back to scourge? The guards probably. My friends. They shouldn¡¯t have to, though. They didn¡¯t heal like I did. I needed to get out there. I frowned into my bowl. That was it. If my guns weren¡¯t working, I wasn¡¯t helping, The scourge-touched were coming for me, and others were doing the fighting for me. That would not do in the slightest. The longer I stood still, the higher the chance someone got hurt as a result. Still, the soup was delicious, some kind of salty, vegetable blend with dark, dark broth and chunks of some kind of starch I wasn¡¯t entirely ready to call potato. Too gritty. The bowl was clean before I knew it, and I was on to the next one. As I¡¯d become accustomed to doing when I was idle nowadays, I opened up my status screen to check on things and was immediately bombarded with notifications. Many, many notifications. The notifications stacked up on top of one another, seeming to blink in and out of the foreground of my vision like each wanted to be the first in line for attention, but all they were doing was threatening to make me cross-eyed. I cleared it all away and started filtering by category. Level up! You are now level 16. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] Doing Your Part: Some of your creations have been used against agents of the Scourge. [+200% experience awarded for new designs next level] Ambitious: You have defeated a foe above your level. [+1 to lowest level ability] Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] Reversal: You gained 100% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+3 to highest attribute] Mass Slaughter: You have defeated more than 1,000 foes this level. Combat related abilities and skills gain power 50% faster for the next level [ERROR: Ability:Volatility:class_mismatch] My level up notifications, though numerous, weren¡¯t surprising, but seeing the achievements laid out like this felt so strange and humbling. They all looked generally alike with the exception of level 11, which had things like Big Spender, Inventor, Soulful and the like, which made sense with all the time I spent in the lab during that level. Reversal was a new achievement, and it was understandable that I hadn¡¯t gotten that one up until this point. 100% of a level just from fighting just wasn¡¯t normally achievable at my level of skill and with my class¡¯ limitations. The achievement itself was what people referred to as a snowball condition where a small victory quickly turned into a series of larger and larger victories over time. The fact that my highest attribute was Spirit made leveraging the influx of points more difficult, though. It was a weird stat, one I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how it worked. I imagined if Body had been my highest stat during the fight, the bonuses could have kept me going for a long, long time as the levels rolled in. Of course, if I was a Body guy or a combat class, I probably wouldn¡¯t have had the experience flowing in like I had in the first place. Yesterday¡¯s fight had been a culmination of a lot of time, preparation, and experimentation, stuff I couldn¡¯t have done if I wasn¡¯t what I was. I checked my character sheet to see what changed and nearly fell out of the bed. Ryan Kotes - Level 16 (?) Animator (Uncommon) Type: Artificer (Common) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 220/220 MP: 186/186 Attributes: Body: 40 Mind: 33 Spirit: 77 Free attribute points: 0 Abilities Shape 9 (Transmute) Consume 5 (?) Iron Grip 4 Devouring Grasp 5(?) Volatility 3 Imbue 4 Trigger 4 Automate 4+ Tempered Channels 3 Knife in the Dark 22 (?) Skills: Climbing 7 Unarmed Combat 5 (?) Running 5 (?) Stealth (Gray Man) 11 Conduit 5(?) Split Mind 9 Spear 4 Deception 5 (?) Disguise 1 Sword 6 (?) Pistol 4 Affinities: Goblinoid F Iron E Steel F+ Magnesium F Mendau Wood D Limestone E Cobalt E Deep Lead E Nickel E Copper F ***Spirit: 77*** My Spirit stat had doubled overnight. The other stats had climbed significantly as well. I let my eyes sift down the screen, looking over the numbers. I had a number of question marks on the page now with milestones reached in a number of skills and abilities, and their associated prompts seemed to jump out at me when I gave them even the slightest bit of attention. I ignored them, though. I wanted the big picture right now. ***Knife in the Dark: 22*** What the actual hell? Knife in the Dark had been something like¡­ three?... maybe? Before yesterday the ability had been one of my lowest, but now it was far and away the largest value in its category. The last time I¡¯d used it I- Constance, forgive me for being an idiot. The whole point of taking Knife in the Dark was to conduct an experiment. I wanted to see how much ¡®me¡¯ my turrets retained when I Automated them, since they were essentially using a ton of ¡®my¡¯ mana. The verbiage on the ability boiled down to ¡°if a target isn¡¯t paying direct attention to you, do bonus damage,¡± and I¡¯d wanted to see exactly what that meant. My first test had been on the wretchwyrm under the city, but I hadn¡¯t been in a position to think about it after it happened. There¡¯d just been too much going on, what with me poisoned and breathing from an air tank in funky sewer water. I went back to check the logs from yesterday. Scourge-touched Undead takes 18 damage. (15 base, 3 Knife in the Dark bonus)(Piercing) Scourge-touched Undead takes 21 damage. (18 base, 3 Knife in the Dark bonus)(Piercing) Scourge-touched Goblin takes 15 damage. (12 base, 3 Knife in the Dark bonus)(Piercing) The amount of messages just like this could have filled books, maybe reams of paper. My head spun at the sheer amount of it. Every time my turret shot a monster, I was using Knife in the Dark and getting the bonus damage. It was no wonder the ability leveled up so quickly. I had eight turrets out there putting holes in the scourge. Each magazine held about 900 rounds, 900 attacks, not to mention those emplacements with extra magazines and someone to feed them¡­ That meant I had to have used Knife in the Dark at least 10,000 times in the span of a few hours, and the System counted each and every one of them as progress toward the next level. That was, in a word, ridiculous. Oh, I¡¯m going to exploit the hell out of this. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. First, though. I needed to get to my workshop. No, scratch that. I needed to find out what was going on, then get to my workshop. No, I needed to know if everyone was okay, what was happening outside, how our supplies were holding up. Then it was workshop time. I snatched up the half-full bowl of soup and reached for the door handle only to have it slam into my open palm, bending it backward painfully. ¡°Gah!¡± I yelped, pulling back and shaking my hand to work feeling back into it. Jassin in all his Skeletor-like glory, poked his head into the room, not opening the door all the way, opting to lean in through the gap like he was just checking in. ¡°Ah, you¡¯re awake,¡± he said, not seeming surprised in the slightest to find me up, but he did seem a bit short of breath, his pale skin taking a reddish hue and a sheen of sweat barely visible on his forehead. ¡°Jassin. Uh. Yeah.¡± I replied. ¡°Eloquent as ever, my boy,¡± the Lord replied. ¡°You¡¯re looking well. I see you enjoy wearing bandages as much as I enjoy sabatacles.¡± I looked down at the pile of dirty cloth on the floor. ¡°They were dirty anyway.¡± He smiled at that and shook his head. ¡°Unbelievable. When I saw your injuries I was understandably cautious, but when I spoke to your holy church comrades they all said something along the lines of ¡®yes, he does that¡¯ and dismissed my concern out of hand. I didn¡¯t believe them right away, but now that I see it, your legend is going to shine even brighter if word gets around.¡± There was a tight feeling in my stomach. ¡°My friends, are they-¡± ¡°All fine. Do not worry,¡± Jassin said placatingly as he stepped all the way into the room. ¡°They are well taken care of and are probably more tired of being thanked for their heroic actions than of their regular duties.¡± I sighed in relief. That was one worry off my mind. Wait- ¡°Did you say ¡®my legend?¡¯¡± I asked. ¡°I have a legend?¡± ¡°Oh, yes. The guards that witnessed you at the gate, the talkative ones at least, are abuzz about the one man army, the Rising Sun of Eclipse. Your intestines were hanging out of you when you dragged yourself up to the doors, you know. They¡¯ve been making toasts in your honor, thinking you a martyr already. If only they knew.¡± Blinking, I tried to wrap my head around that thought. The Rising Sun of Eclipse. Right. If only they knew. Jassin didn¡¯t choose his words lightly. I knew that even from the brief time we¡¯d spent together on the road. He wasn¡¯t that type of man. ¡°I was just leaving,¡± I probed. Jassin nodded. ¡°I gathered that, but doing so right now would be unwise. It would be wiser to keep you out of sight until it is time.¡± My metal hand twitched at my side. ¡°Why?¡± I asked cautiously. ¡°Mostly for your sake, some for theirs,¡± Jassin answered. ¡°It is important we discuss something before you decide you want to go out there.¡± I looked around the room, at the bare, solid walls, ones Jassin probably thought were nice and sturdy, hard to break. I worked hard to keep the frost out of my voice. ¡° Does it have to be in here? I think I¡¯ve proved that I¡¯m here to help, right?¡± ¡°And there it is. It took you all of nine sentences.¡± Jassin said with a sigh. ¡°You¡¯re ¡®here to help.¡¯ The way you say it, so casually like you¡¯re dying to divulge your secret and cast us into ruin.¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m not divulging anything,¡± I argued. ¡°Dying or otherwise. I just want to get back out there before someone else gets hurt.¡± ¡°Before you do that, I feel the need to impress upon you that you must use care in your words and your actions. The secret you have in your possession is the very secret that could rip our world apart, and intentionally or not, you broadcast it to all who know how to listen.¡± He said it so matter of factly, like it was the most obvious thing that I should be locked away and kept in the dark, like I would hurt others just by being near them. I raised a dubious eyebrow. ¡°From where I¡¯m sitting, I don¡¯t think I¡¯m even in the top five most dangerous things on this planet, Lord Jassin. The monsters outside count as just one, by the way. I¡¯m pretty sure of that by now. The main point is that my machines can man the walls so your people don¡¯t have to. No secret I have can offset that.¡± ¡°Ah. I see,¡± Jassin considered with a series of thoughtful nods. ¡°We are coming to this issue from different perspectives. You see a horde of angry monsters outside and believe them to be Ralqir¡¯s greatest threat, and maybe from your perspective they would be. I will admit that flesh hungry armies of beasts are a cause for concern. However, from my perspective, you could do far, far more lasting damage to Ralqir than the mindless beasts that now lay siege to this place, and you don¡¯t even have to lift a finger.¡± ¡°How?¡± I asked indignantly. ¡°By just being who you are, Ryan.¡± Ominous, cryptic statements about me¡­ me, a subject of which I was more than qualified to be the world¡¯s leading expert, were fast becoming my least favorite part of my new life. ¡°I don¡¯t understand,¡± I ground out between my teeth. ¡°And I don¡¯t expect you to yet, as young as you are but-¡± His words stopped having any meaning. The bare walls, the blocked door, the man in front of me. All of felt like the jaws of a trap snapping closed, keeping me in the dark, alone. Hidden away. A pariah again. ¡°That¡¯s bullshit!¡± I exploded, making Jassin twitch slightly. ¡°Leave my age out of this and just tell me! No one¡¯s asked for my age even when they¡¯ve tried to kill me or use me, and you don¡¯t get to start caring about it now. I was dropped here with zero knowledge of anything. I¡¯m stumbling into all sorts of trouble, and I get that. But I¡¯d do much less damage if someone would just tell me why the hell I¡¯m such a big deal!¡± Jassin worked his jaw as he thought, briefly. ¡°Your point is taken,¡± he said, an apology in his eyes. ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied cooly. ¡°In my line of work,¡± Jassin continued, ¡°you tend to assume all the players know at least some part of the game and the stakes. It wasn¡¯t fair of me to assume this about you. I also want to take this opportunity to thank you. It should have been the first thing I did upon entering this room, but I failed at that. You had no reason to fight for us as you did, but you saved us anyway, at great risk to yourself, no less. That speaks to the strength of your character. Thank you.¡± I could feel the ¡®but¡¯ coming down on me like a meteor. Jassin didn¡¯t keep me waiting long. ¡°Be that as it may, if you go out there and mix with my people, you sow the seeds for centuries of hell, despite your benevolent aims. You are unwittingly reckless with your secrets, and it will potentially kill millions.¡± ¡°How?! Look at me! I¡¯m just one guy! I kept my identity a secret on your request, and I¡¯ve been doing fine so far, all things considered.¡± I countered. ¡°Been doing fine, you say,¡± Jassin prodded, putting his hands on his hips. ¡°Have you? I have spoken with your ¡®friends¡¯ from the Undercity, the innocents you rescued as well. They¡¯ll sing your praises until the light burns us all to ash, but ask them who you are or anything personal and they become quiet as mice, almost as if they have something to hide. Their stories would never stand up to more than casual scrutiny.¡± I shrugged uncomfortably. ¡°Sounds like a normal response to interrogation to me,¡± I said. ¡°They suspect you, Ryan. They might not know what you are, but they suspect you are not what you seem. They suspect you, yet they protect you,¡± Jassin mused angrily, pausing to look pensively at the floor. When he spoke again, his tone was a bit more gentle. ¡°I imagine that was something you earned rather than something asked for, but they are betraying themselves and their loyalties when they speak for you. It is not something you should put them through.¡± I opened my mouth to say something but stopped. The lies I was forced to tell, they hurt me to tell them, yes, but I hadn¡¯t considered what I was implicitly asking of the others, even if they didn¡¯t fully believe what I told them. I¡¯d kind of hoped we¡¯d just moved past the expository part of our relationships already. Did they not ask anymore because they trusted me or because they didn¡¯t want to hear the non-answer they knew I¡¯d give? ¡°They seem like good people, loyal companions, but if you are as careless among others as you are with them, your secret will be out,¡± Jassin warned, as if that were the worst thing that could possibly occur. ¡°Would that be so bad?¡± I asked, my voice just above a whisper. ¡°Yes!¡± Jassin hissed, his eyes flashing and the vein in his forehead popping out. He took a step back, closed his eyes, and breathed as he fought to get himself back under control. He looked exhausted in that moment, the lines on his face more pronounced than before, his eyes sunken, skin hanging off of his bones like he¡¯d aged years in the span of a couple weeks. ¡°That is what I have been trying to impress upon you, Ryan. Your origins must be kept a secret, but¡­¡± He steepled his fingers and frowned in contemplation for several seconds before finally continuing. ¡°I am also unwilling to imprison you like others have. Here is my proposal: You do not have to believe me forever. Believe me for an hour,¡± he implored me. ¡°Just one hour. Then you can decide if you want to thrust your presence onto the world, damn the consequences. Let me show you why I ask this of you, and, as a bonus, it would involve leaving this room,¡± he finished, turning slightly in the direction of the door. I followed the gesture with my eyes, trying not to let the carrot part of the Miur Lord¡¯s offer obscure the stick. I wanted a nibble of that carrot first, to make sure it was real. ¡°What did you plan to do with me once we entered the city?¡± I asked pointedly. Jassin¡¯s face assumed the perfect amount of restrained embarrassment. ¡°To keep you safely away from other practitioners and have this very conversation.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not stupid, Lord Jassin," I said. I had points in Mind now, so it was technically true¡­ probably.. "We could have had this conversation in private on the road, but you decided to string me along until we could get to your university. What, exactly, was your plan for your captured human?¡± Jassin¡¯s expression darkened at the casual mention of my species, and he reached behind him to shut the door quietly. The door latched closed with a nearly inaudible click. Then the Miur Lord stepped closer, speaking in a low, dangerous voice almost in my ear. ¡°What would you like me to say? That I was one of the very few and very privileged people in the world that even know what a human is? That I would have liked to get you into a lab where I could take you apart and put you together again over and over to see precisely what the Dark Lord saw? What if that had, indeed, occurred to me? Would that change things? Would having a villain in your story help you internalize your position? Would that make it simple enough for you?¡± His hard eyes flashed, and his nostrils flared. I¡¯d touched a nerve, apparently. Good. I wasn''t going to get honesty from a mask. Shaking my head, I leaned in to make sure he knew I wasn¡¯t intimidated. ¡°I wasn¡¯t looking for simple. I was looking for true.¡± ¡°Good¡± he spat. ¡°If you ever discover a simple truth, I advise you to distrust it immediately. He took a deep breath, seemingly looking for the right words. ¡°My position as headmaster is only the most recent in a long line of tasks assigned to me by my queen, Ryan. She has asked me to be many, many things. All of them, without exception, required a complete rearrangement of my life and a new skillset to be mastered. For each role, I studied, sometimes for years, to become what my queen needed, slipped into my role as an actor slips into hers, deeper even. I became my part. This role, however, required nothing from me at all. In fact, it was one I would choose to do if my queen no longer had need of my services. Headmaster, Scholar. No more dirty taverns or blood soaked decks. No sabotage, knives at my throat, or dismembering of corpses. This was going to be a reward for years of service.¡± His eyes bored into mine, the intensity of them making me want to look away, to allow for some breathing room, but I didn¡¯t allow myself that reprieve. I wasn¡¯t backing down. Not yet. Not when he seemed ready to be candid for once. Jassin went on: ¡°It was strange, actually, not having to be someone else. I didn¡¯t even know what I was anymore after so long. I was still coming to grips with the strangeness of it when the universe dropped, unannounced, a potentially world-ending extradimensional creature, a living, breathing legend, into my lap. A young man, not a devil.¡± Jassin sighed and closed his eyes, the picture of weariness. He reached up and rubbed one of his temples as he calmed. ¡°When I realized what you were, it was too late. A different me would have done what was needed without hesitation, but that wasn¡¯t who was in the carriage that day. Just Trayalo Jassin did not have it in him to kill the boy he¡¯d just met.¡± Jassin admitted tiredly. ¡°Now, we¡¯re living with that decision, you and I.¡± We stared at each other in what was maybe the first truly honest moment between us since the day we¡¯d met. The man looked like he was carrying a great deal. I could understand that. I broke first, swallowing the ball of righteous anger that had been building in my chest. ¡°You¡¯re proposing a field trip, then, Headmaster?¡± Slowly and with great effort, Jassin seemed to come back, to slip his mask of confidence back on. He straightened and rolled his shoulders to work some of the tension out then smoothed his hair. Within seconds, he was composed again. ¡°If you classify walking down many, many flights of stairs as a field trip,¡± he said. ¡°Maybe I could use the exercise,¡± I allowed. I wanted out of this room, and if that was going to come with answers, I was on board with that. Jassin nodded slightly, turning to leave before thinking better of it and holding out a hand. ¡°Sorry. I nearly forgot. First, we need to get control of¡­ all of this.¡± he declared with an energetic flourish that seemed to encompass the entire room. ¡°What?¡± I asked, looking around to see what the man was talking about. A little smile tugged at the corner of the nobleman¡¯s mouth. ¡°Your aura. I mentioned it once before, if you¡¯ll remember. We need to get your aura under control.¡± ¡°How about we stop pretending I should know anything about my aura, and you tell me.¡± ¡°Yes. Of course. Zero knowledge. I suspect your previous statements about your absentee master were true, in a way. Your aura is your field of influence, an external manifestation of your magical presence, and we need to do something about it. Right now it is on display for all to see. When we met, it came off annoying and rude, but now¡­ it¡¯s like standing next to an open furnace. I could feel it before I even entered the square yesterday, and I guarantee other practitioners are having a much harder time than I.¡± ¡°A hard time?¡± I asked with a raised eyebrow. ¡°Is having an aura bad?¡± ¡°No. No. We all have them, but we restrain them, a simple matter of holding it within. It¡¯s almost second nature by the time you¡¯ve had your dominion for longer than a few years. My practitioners, however, the ones who are still alive and functional after our ordeal, are students, barely coming into their dominions. Your aura is¡­ disruptive for them.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not doing anything to hurt anyone-:¡± ¡°Nothing like that. It is your presence that is disruptive. When we met, I thought it was residual magic from the creature you slew or perhaps a flaw in your spirit, but your aura has changed in quality since then. It is hard to describe to a layman. Let me see. Imagine a terrible storm, violent and dangerous, but no matter how you try, you cannot perceive the storm with your senses. You know it is there. The wind whips at your face. Houses tumble by. Ancient trees are uprooted and cast down. The effects are plain to see, but you cannot seem to bring your mind to process the storm. That is the type of aura you have. Distracting to say the least. Discombobulating. If you were any other student, I would put you up in a centralized location in the Spire and make the new practitioners hone their magic in your proximity. It would be an excellent way to train their focus. However, I must work with what I have right now, and I need them at their best.¡± ¡°Fine,¡± I replied with a shrug. ¡°What do I do?¡± ¡°Hold this. It should mute the effects somewhat. Are you healthy now, Ryan? Have you healed fully?¡± Jassin asked. ¡°Uh. Yes. Pretty sure I¡¯m intact.¡± ¡°Unbelievable. Very good. I apologize for how unpleasant this may be.¡± Jassin took a sack from his belt and opened the cords on top, upending it to dump something round, cold and dark into my hand. ¡°Quellstone?¡± I asked rhetorically. I knew what it was. I just didn¡¯t like it. Quellstone was in my top five least favorite stones, a real contender for the title if things kept going like they were. Jassin squinted at me, moving his eyes over my face, down to the stone, and back, leaning slowly from side to side as if he was trying to see from different angles. ¡°Better have another,¡± he said after some thought. Out came another piece of quellstone. I noticed Jassin himself didn¡¯t seem to want to touch it. He was careful to dump the pieces directly from the bag into my hand. Again, Jassin squinted at me. Then, with a frustrated sigh, he emptied the bag into my waiting hands, eight stones in all. Jassin shook his head. ¡°Unbelievable. This will just have to do. Keep those next to your skin and think small thoughts while we walk.¡± ¡°No problem,¡± I grumbled, my hand already going numb. Chapter 49 - See the Future Chapter 49 - See the Future Jassin was right about the number of stairs we¡¯d need to take to get to where he wanted to go. Apparently, my room (read: closet) was near the top of the Spire, even above the observation deck where we¡¯d surveyed the city and set up Trix¡¯s gun emplacement. Jassin walked in front, leading me downward. The question was: Why up here? Angol told me the practice room I¡¯d been using as a workshop was shielded to protect the rest of the school from spooky magic stuff. Wouldn¡¯t that contain my aura? I was willing to bet it would. That meant Jassin put me up here to minimize my aura¡¯s effects on his people but probably also to hide me. It was possible no one knew exactly where I was, except for Jassin. I stared at the man¡¯s back as if it would give me some clue as to his motives. Unsurprisingly, it gave me nothing. While we walked, I glanced at my status screen from time to time. The amount of choices was staggering. I probably just needed to start at the top and see what was there. Consume is now level 5! Upgrade paths available: Mass Upgrade: Increased mass limit of material able to be Consumed. Mass Upgrade will continue to grow as Consume gains power. Efficiency Upgrade: Consumed material is converted to energy more efficiently and knowledge of material is gained more quickly. Reservoir: Energy gained from Consumed material may now be given form instead of processed. Conversion process has a 50% efficiency rate. Only one Reservoir may be active at a time. Passive Consumption: Engine may now passively draw energy from the environment around you, increasing your mana regeneration. Active activation of this ability is significantly more powerful. Well, damn. Those all looked useful. It would have been nice to have an easy choice as my first. I would have to assume that any upgrade I gave my Consume would at least partially translate to my Devouring Grasp, so I had to take that into account. Devouring Grasp is now level 5! Upgrade paths available: Strength Multiplier: Strength multiplier of Devouring Grasp is increased to +100% x E (where E = current MP/s value of Engine) Breach: Sacrifice Status Effect: Engine to increase kinetic force of Devouring Grasp by Engine¡¯s total value. Magivore: Devouring Grasp may now be used to Consume external, structured, magical phenomenon in a limited capacity. Type of mana Consumed retains high ratio of original type. I didn¡¯t have access to a Ralqir calendar, but it had to be Christmas morning somewhere. I wanted it all, and I wanted it now. However, I would have been lying to myself if I didn¡¯t admit that Devouring Grasp having two upgrade paths that had to do with just how hard I could grip things was kind of disappointing. Oh, yes, I knew they were both powerful, given how many times the ability had saved my life, but they were too similar for my taste. What needed to happen was synergy, something that would have these two help each other. I¡¯d just been using Devouring Grasp as the attack version of Consume, but I didn¡¯t have to do it that way. I could make both abilities more than what they were, together. Magivore: Devouring Grasp may now be used to Consume external, structured, magical phenomenon in a limited capacity. Type of mana Consumed retains high ratio of original type. Yeah, I was choosing that one. I could grab harder some other way, some other day. What¡¯s more, I had a practitioner walking in front of me whose intentions I wasn¡¯t sure of. Could be useful if only to knock down hostile spells when they started flying my way. How it worked¡­ well, I guess I¡¯d come to that. Which Consume ability would compliment it the best? Mass and Efficiency would probably let me get more mana out of every Devouring Grasp, which was amazing. Efficiency would probably cut down on materials I would have to consume and keep me from having to spend time and/or money to go get materials to burn, saving me a mountain of stuff in the long run. The only problem was that I hadn¡¯t run into that problem yet. I kept finding more and more good stuff to Consume, and my issues were more about getting the Engine rate right than getting material at all. That made Reservoir an attractive option with Passive Consumption a close second. Reservoir wouldn¡¯t even be on the short list if not for Magivore being my pick for Devouring Grasp, though. Reservoir was pretty much a much worse version of Automate, in that it let me store mana in an object but didn¡¯t let me do stuff with it like Automate did. Tempered Channels and its nerfing of my ability to process foreign mana saw to that. But what if I never had to have the foreign mana inside of me at all? Reservoir could do that. Maybe I could find a way to use weird mana types outside of my body, maybe as part of a construct. I made my choices, bidding goodbye to some pretty cool options. Maybe I¡¯d see them again some day. I had my doubts, though. When I hit ten in stealth, all of my skills seemed to vibe with my chosen upgrade path, in a way. It would probably be similar for Consume. By the time I was done we were near the ground floor where we took a left turn and made our way further into the interior of the building, past a heavy set of doors Jassin had to use one of those magical keys on a chain to get into, though this one wasn¡¯t on a ring like the guard captain had used. Jassin kept this on a chain around his neck and held it up to an otherwise unremarkable spot of bare wall. An unseen lock disengaged with a click, and Jassin pulled the doors open, stepping inside and holding them open for me. The room beyond was bare and cube shaped with another set of doors just like the first directly in front of us. It¡¯s an airlock. ¡°Shut the door quickly, please, and we¡¯ll get this over with,¡± Jassin ordered. I found myself reaching back and grasping the handle of the open door without even thinking. I stopped. ¡°What are we getting over with?¡± I asked. ¡°It is a security measure. Once you close the door, we will be in darkness, but I advise you to close your eyes nonetheless.¡± I gave him my best skeptical look. ¡°Did I mention I hate all this vague talk?¡± Jassin sighed tiredly. ¡°This room cleanses every being going in and coming out. It is not a design of the Dark Lord but of those that came after. There will be a brief moment of darkness and then a flash.¡± ¡°That¡¯s it?¡± ¡°Of course that is not it. If I explained the entire thing, you would need to learn years of theory. I only told you what you need to know and you can understand. I am simply asking for one hour of trust, Ryan. Can you still do that, still?¡± In answer, I shut the doors. Despite them being stone, they felt surprisingly easy to move, well balanced. I heard the lock reengage once they were closed. We were cast into absolute darkness. I stayed where I was, feet apart, muscles tensed, waiting for whatever it was to happen. The quellstone was beyond freezing in my hand by this point, cold to the point of biting numbness. The world flashed white, so bright it was like a physical blow. Even through my closed eyes, it was absolutely overwhelming. My head smacked into the door I¡¯d just closed with a *thwack.* Spots danced in my vision and the world swam. I reached out with my hand to make sure the area in front of me was clear. ¡°You did close your eyes, yes?¡± Jassin asked from somewhere in front of me. I nodded as I tried to blink the sensation away. ¡°Hm. Perhaps you are sensitive to it. Concerning.¡± Once my eyes healed up, we were moving again, this time through the second doorway and onto another stairwell. We were in a cylindrical tube with glossy black walls except for the stairs upon which we stood, which stuck right out of the side of the outer wall like they¡¯d been grown there. Toward the center of the room, out of reach but just barely, a central pillar stabbed downward into the darkness and seemed to go on forever. Jassin handed me the sack on his belt. ¡°Here. You do not need the rocks anymore.¡± I hurriedly put the quellstone back where they came from and made a move to give them back, but Jassin was already moving down the stairs, deeper into the tube. Shrugging, I made the whole sack disappear into my spatial storage. You never know when you might need soul sucking rocks. Down we went. We didn¡¯t come into this room from the top, it went all the way up until I had to crane my neck to see the end of it. What really caught my eye, though, was the central pillar. It was the same, smooth, black stone as the outer walls, but it wasn¡¯t perfectly smooth and featureless like the wall we hugged. It seemed to flash and sparkle erratically as we plodded down the stairs, subtle and just rare enough to where I¡¯d chalked it up to my imagination at first. Out of the corner of my eye, I¡¯d see shapes formed in the flashes, symbols of some kind, but they were gone before I could focus on them. I tried to catch a couple by staring at the pillar as I walked but to no avail, as if even the slightest turn of my head or movement of my body ruined my angle so I could no longer see what had attracted my attention in the first place. ¡°What is this place?¡± I asked. ¡°The Spire, Ryan. The true Spire.¡± ¡°You are insufferable with that cryptic language, you know that?¡± Jassin laughed at that. ¡°Apologies. Over the years, I have made it a habit to only give what information is truly necessary, especially as it pertains to sensitive subjects like this. This central pillar goes all the way up to the observatory and all the way down to the base of the Spire. Further, actually. It is the central pillar upon which the Dark Lord¡¯s dominion spell rests.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve heard a bit about that,¡± I mused, recalling the snippets of history I¡¯d gotten from Trix. ¡°The entire city is part of the spell, right?¡± ¡°Correct. The undercity, the roads, the moon, they are all one grand ritual that draws in power and once shaped it to the Dark Lord¡¯s purpose. The Spire is the foundation and focus of that design.¡± If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. I blinked. If the System had any sense of humor, it would have given me a Stunned status effect. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, did you say the moon?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°The moon is part of the spell?¡± ¡°Yes. One part.¡± ¡°The whole moon?¡± ¡°Yes. What do you not understand about this?¡± I could feel my eyebrows crawling up my forehead. ¡°I just assumed the ritual was to anchor the moon here or something. Give the Dark Lord some shade during his retirement after the Purge. The scale is- Just-¡± ¡°I did tell you to think small thoughts, Ryan, but that was when we were trying to suppress your aura.¡± I could just hear the smug on the man¡¯s voice. ¡°Very funny,¡± I said. ¡°Are you really going to hold it against me that I didn¡¯t factor entire moons into the equation?¡± ¡°When there is a giant moon suspended above you all day every day, yes. With that in mind, tell me. What are your thoughts?¡± ¡°Sure. Uh,¡± I paused, gathering my scattered bits of knowledge I¡¯d acquired in my time on Ralqir. ¡°Starting with the questions: Why is the moon stuck over Eclipse? What does it do for the spell?¡± ¡°Good,¡± Jassin said. ¡°Those are good questions, and you probably have the answer. Continue down that line of thought.¡± ¡°The moon must do something magical, because it¡¯s not actually about the shade.¡± ¡°Correct.¡± ¡°You have an observatory on top of the Spire, don¡¯t you?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Who built it? You or the Dark Lord?¡± ¡°Ah. I think you¡¯ve got it or at least the beginnings of it. The observatory is of the Dark Lord¡¯s design, always aligned with the moon. Keep going.¡± Jassin did seem to be having fun teasing the connections out of my brain. I was glad someone was enjoying themselves, at least. ¡°Is that moonlight shining through the central pillar?¡± I asked. ¡°No, but close enough.¡± ¡°The moon is¡­ a filter? I saw all the different colors of aurora out there during the day, like the moon has a magnetosphere or something like it. Does it do something to the light to make it useful?¡± Jassin made contemplative noises down below me. ¡°Hmm. Close. Do you know how lenses work, Ryan?¡± I went with the simple explanation. ¡°They bend light.¡± ¡°Good. Think of the moon as a lens.¡± ¡°Where I¡¯m from, lenses are supposed to be transparent.¡± ¡°Anywhere else, that would also be true. Not here, though.¡± ¡°To what end, though? The Dark Lord literally moved the heavens to make this happen. What does it do?¡± Jassin was silent for a few heartbeats, and all I could hear was our footfalls on smooth stone. ¡°Right now, it is the only thing protecting Ralqir.¡± ¡°From what?¡± I asked. Jassin didn¡¯t answer. We¡¯d reached the end of the stairs, and he was already ducking into an arched entrance. I followed him through. Into an office. The walls were made of warm colored wood, oiled and lacquered until they shined. Skylights overhead cast soft, yellowish light that gave the impression of it being a sunny afternoon outside, even though we were far underground. Elaborate carpets covered the floor in reds and yellows, and they softened our footsteps as we came further into the room. A simple, sturdy, wooden desk sat in the middle of the room, tall enough to work on while standing. A fireplace crackled in the corner, well away from all the wood and carpet, and a singular chair sat next to it a comfortable distance away. Shelves climbed up the wall to our right, all the way to the ceiling which was maybe twenty or so feet high. There were no books or tools on the shelves. Instead, resting in regular intervals on every shelf were silver, four clawed stands that held smokey crystal spheres, perfectly round. Jassin saw me gawking. ¡°Phylacteries. The Dark Lord did not trust his memories to paper,¡± he said. ¡°Not just that,¡± I explained. ¡°It¡¯s so- I don¡¯t know-¡± ¡°Not what you expected?¡± Jassin asked. I nodded, drifting over to the shelves and the ¡®phylacteries.¡¯ I approached one, feeling the desire to reach out and touch it, but I wasn¡¯t stupid (or at least I was trying not to be). I looked back at Jassin. ¡°It is safe,¡± he assured me. ¡°For the untrained, they simply speak to you or maybe show you an image or two. If you want to dive deeper, it requires practice.¡± ¡°They speak to me? Like they know I¡¯m here?¡± Jassin gave me a non-committal wobble of his head. ¡°In a rudimentary way. They sense you and determine the best way to communicate their information clearly, that is, if they want to. They aren¡¯t always in a mood to cooperate. The Dark Lord was a willful being.¡± It hit me then. I¡¯d seen one of these before. It had caught fire and screamed at me, way back in the mockvine cave. I pulled up the appropriate logs, the messages I¡¯d received when I was looting the place and I¡¯d run into something I couldn¡¯t store like the rest. Vost¡¯ralixal I mumbled the name aloud as I read it in my log, tasted it on my tongue. Jassin was suddenly at my side. ¡°What did you say?¡± ¡°Vost¡¯ralixal,¡± I repeated. ¡°Before we met. I found a- uh- one of these, and the System labeled it Vost¡¯ralixal.¡± Jassin frowned and bit his lip. ¡°The pages of history continue to turn. You humans¡­¡± ¡°It¡¯s a name then?¡± Jassin nodded. ¡°It has long been suspected, but there has been no proof that this was the Dark Lord¡¯s name. It explains much, however. Vost¡¯ralixal was a study in wasted genius, the youngest born of a minor house that would never be allowed to rise due to his station. His holdings were nearby, across the river. I would very much like to know where you found a phylactery outside of this place, Ryan.¡± He paused, looking up at the crystal balls like he was currently recategorizing everything he knew about them. ¡°But our hour is almost up. We had an agreement. Come. It is just this way.¡± Another heavy stone door led to another set of stairs going down. This place, as a contrast to the office, was clean and colorless, just black on black. We were at the bottom of the big cylinder finally. The floor was a flat, smooth surface like the walls. The room was tall, easily fifty or sixty feet high, and the central pillar that we had been following for so long came down only halfway to the floor, terminating in jagged lines. Where the stone pillar stopped, a shaft of white, pure light shined down in a perfect vertical ray so intense that all but engulfed a singular shape in the center. I stepped closer, tilting my head to get a better angle. On a plinth in the middle of the incandescent shaft of light was a vaguely humanoid figure. It had two arms and two legs, one head, the usual stuff, but its body seemed to have something against the concept of symmetry. It was grotesquely muscular but in the oddest proportions, bulges upon bulges stacked on one another seemingly at random like a bad drawing of a bodybuilder done from a child¡¯s description instead of a picture. Its chest was deep and wide, shoulders so round they came up around the thing¡¯s neck until it probably couldn¡¯t turn its head anymore. The legs seemed shorter than they should have been but I¡¯d seen trees thinner than these calves. It had no genitals that I could see, just more muscle. Sharp, exposed bones jutted from its joints and out of the sides of its ribs. The face, though, the face was bulbous, misshapen. The mouth split vertically as well as horizontally, and it had teeth to fill out both. Eyes, many, many eyes that ran over the thing¡¯s entire head and down its neck to its shoulders blinked independently as they squinted into the light. Its skin was a mottled contrast of flowing white and black that seemed to shift like globs of heated oil in water. The black flowed and changed, seeming to grow before my eyes, flowing through the creature''s body along its arms and legs to disappear into the chest. As it did so, the muscles would flex and bend in response. Smoke rose out of its pores, and as it tried to move, different parts of its skin burned away in the harsh light only to be regrown nearly instantly. I found myself drawn to that dance of color, and the burn. I didn¡¯t know why. I just needed to see it, know what it was. It felt, at once, disturbing yet so familiar. As I approached, I could hear the creature¡¯s strained breathing, the leather-band pops and cracks as it flexed against its restraints. Its restraints, silvery barbed metal that pierced right into the skin at the wrists, ankles and neck, writhed along with the creature. Where the skin was pierced, black fluid coagulated and¡­ moved, seeming to defy the law of gravity, trailing up into the air as if it were a living thing. That is, before they caught fire and burned down to nothing in a flash of intense heat, only to start the process again. The smell, old sweat and unclean flesh, was so familiar, yet there was something else there too. Sweetness, rotted meat, tar, aged putrescence. My mouth filled with saliva, and I turned away to be sick. ¡°What is it?¡± Jassin asked. ¡°The¡­ smell. I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°There is no smell. The light cleanses all of it, even the smoke.¡± My stomach spasmed, but I marshaled myself before I lost all of my stew. It was a close call. Then I turned to find I was within arm¡¯s length of the burning light. ¡°Stay back. It¡¯s deadly.¡± Jassin whispered now that we were this close to the thing. ¡°Contrary to popular belief, the moon does not shade us here in the Glade. Instead, it collects the maelstrom¡¯s light, even when our side of the globe is in darkness.¡± Another piece clicked into place. I cleared my throat to get some of the strength back into it. ¡°And the moon focuses all that collected light here, through the observatory.¡± I guessed. Jassin nodded in affirmation. ¡°Observe how it changes, the taint that spreads through its body. The light counters it, somehow. Purges it. Any other being that stepped into that circle would die instantly. This creature has been inside of it for centuries. It will not die, not by any means we possess.¡± I held my hand up to my nose, trying and failing to keep it together. Now that I¡¯d noticed it, it was all I could do to push past the revulsion I felt. ¡°What is it?¡± I asked. ¡°A lens of another kind, or if you ask the Church, a fulcrum. The mechanism the Dark Lord used to create Dominion magic. Magic, you see, is a primal force, wild in its natural form. Only those with extraordinary natural talent could shape it back when the Dark Lord was simply Vost¡¯ralixal, and he coveted this power more than anyone has ever coveted anything in their lives.¡± ¡°Cryptic. Jassin-¡± ¡°I am getting to it. Vost¡¯ralixal¡¯s life changed when he happened upon a being of nearly limitless potential, something not of our world. Not only did it have access to powerful magics but its magic was ordered, structured and logical, a completely foreign concept to us at the time. When he asked the visitor how it was able to accomplish this miracle, it said: ¡®my people hold dominion over the stars.¡¯ ¡° ¡°And this thing is what he found?¡± ¡°Yes. He captured it when it was weak, locked it away and¡­ experimented.¡± The way he said it, I could tell he didn¡¯t want to elaborate. I didn¡¯t ask. I probably wouldn¡¯t understand anyway. ¡°The Dark Lord learned much from his guest, enough to usher in a new age and rule the entirety of our world.¡± ¡°Your dominions. They all come from that?¡± I asked. ¡°The knowledge comes from the Dark Lord¡¯s notes, recovered after his death centuries after his rule ended.¡± I still couldn¡¯t fit all the pieces together. ¡°So, he learns everything he can from our friend here, gets his wish. He had everything he wanted. Why did he purge the planet?¡± ¡°He found out too late that the power he siphoned from his captive was tainted, a taint you can observe here. Its presence became a wound in our world, one that festered. His captive grew beyond his control, and his undead servants turned against him. The Dark Lord was a prideful man, however. He did not enjoy the idea of failure.¡± I nodded in partial understanding. ¡°So he magicked you to the Bera Maelstrom, where the light could purge the infection.¡± Jassin¡¯s voice grew quiet, as if saying the words was transgressive in itself. ¡°Judging by what is happening now, it appears the infection was only dormant. And now, you visit us again.¡± ¡°Wait- You can¡¯t be serious.¡± I paused, peering at the thing on the plinth, how misshapen it was, mutated and mutilated. It seemed impossible. Still, it all fit. The scourge-touched goblin conveniently at my insertion point so long ago. The constant glitching Nali was going through despite her failsafes¡­ void corruption she called it. The way brightsteel, the crusaders¡¯ weapon of choice, reacted to my mana. The wires down below, constantly being shaped. The dragon, how it said my people¡¯s power was evil, insisting my ¡®dark passenger¡¯ would overtake me someday. My sensitivity to the light. I activated Detect Cobalt. The barbed restraints that held the thing down- They were wrapped around the creature¡¯s bones, wound around the plinth, reached down into the floor, spread wide in branching patterns that resembled the roots of a tree. Roots whose barbed shape and composition were particularly familiar to me. I¡¯d found the other Animator. I¡¯d found it, and it was showing me my future. I- No. We, Exotics, were touched. We were scourge. Carriers or maybe something worse. We brought the infection with us wherever we went, spread it, and, for a reason I couldn¡¯t fathom, they hated us for it. ¡°I am sorry, Ryan,¡± Jassin said like he was giving me my last rites. With the utterance of my name, something changed. Every single eye the creature possessed turned my way in that moment. Other eyes I¡¯d not noticed flowered open on the creature¡¯s arms and chest, straining against the light but ultimately turning my way as well. They focused their individual gazes on me, their misshapen pupils pulsing and vibrating out of sync with one another. My body went rigid. My lungs seized, the air inside them thickening and refusing to move. I felt¡­ ¡ª----------------------------- I awoke seconds (?) later back in the Dark Lord¡¯s office. Jassin was over me, his fingers prying my eyelids open. He slapped me again, the sting bringing me all the way back to the waking world. Jassin shouted in my face. ¡°Ryan! Ryan!¡± ¡°Y¨CYes! Ow! Stop!¡± Jassin, heaving for breath, flopped down next to me with shaking hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. I saw the connection form between the two of you, and I feared the worst.¡± ¡°A connection?¡± I coughed. ¡°Wh-¡± A message flashed on my screen, demanding my attention: Ephelir (Level ???) has challenged you. Stakes: Experience, Death. Do you accept? Y/N Chapter 50 - Break the Machine Chapter 50 - Break the Machine ¡°I didn¡¯t think you¡¯d be content with being a prince in a tower,¡± Samila chided over her cup of tea. She daintily brought the cup up to her lips to have a sip, expertly dodging the ridged collar on her breastplate. Everyone was suited up today, except for me, of course. My armor had to be recycled after my little skip through the square. ¡°I¡¯m not a prince in a tower,¡± I insisted. ¡°I¡¯m working.¡± ¡°Working on making yourself irrelevant,¡± she replied. Trix, not willing to have my good name besmirched in such a way, chimed in, turning away briefly from the set of bubbling beakers and tubes where he had been concentrating. His hair stood on end, even under his robe, giving him a portly look, and the air around him crackled and popped with static. ¡°Brother Ryan is as brave as they come, Sister. If I know him, he has good reason to spend all of his time hidden away in his room. Brother Ryan, not to complain, but why am I doing this again? I look silly.¡± ¡°It¡¯s electrolysis,¡± I told him. ¡°I need lots of oxygen, as pure as I can get it, and you can use the amulet thingy.¡± ¡°It tingles in unfortunate places. Are these hieroglyphs?¡± I shrugged. ¡°I¡¯d have to ask the goblins I got it from.¡± Trix made a face I couldn¡¯t interpret. ¡°I¡¯m guessing this blood is theirs then. It¡¯s not even dry.¡± ¡°Oh, uh sorry,¡± I apologized. ¡°I¡¯m not sure. Maybe a little of mine too. I can get you a cloth or something. To better address your concerns, Samila, I¡¯m working here because I¡¯m backed into a corner, and I need to find a path out of it.¡± The ¡®corner¡¯ I was trapped in was more like a Rube Goldberg machine of destruction and death, but I didn¡¯t want to get into it. Not only was I trapped and under siege by a limitless tide of monsters that wanted to kill me, I was also trapped by my aura and how it played havoc with other practitioners, practitioners we needed for the defenses. If my true nature was discovered, the church and the monarchy would want me dead, for fear of someone finding a way to send Ralqir back to where it belonged. Other factions would use me to do what the Dark Lord did but better this time. Then there were the crazy people that would worship me. Wars would be fought over my fate. Let¡¯s not forget there was the tiny problem of the supremely powerful former human locked in the basement. It almost killed me with a look. That was a fun Sword of Damocles that had been hanging over Ralqir¡¯s collective heads for a long, long time too. The church, and by extension, my friends here literally worshiped the maelstrom¡¯s light, saw it as a holy force for good, and they were even partly right. Currently, it was the only thing keeping the world from ending. If the human in the basement somehow got out and shook off its suntan, I got the feeling things would go badly for everyone and not just people on Ralqir. The problem was that the taint purging, maelstrom light was deadly to everything else too, except for the Mendau trees. The worst part, though, I was trapped in time, so to speak, stuck in neutral, because I had no idea what the influence of the System was doing to me as I gained experience. It had to be a gradual thing, the corruption of the self, or else people would notice as they changed, but I couldn¡¯t help but look at all the experience notifications I was receiving while I worked and feel a sense of dread. The System was changing me in more ways than I¡¯d realized, and there was no way to tell how much. What a damned mess. I needed something new, a factor I hadn¡¯t thought about yet, something I could use to change things, because, as they were, they sure as shit weren¡¯t looking good for anyone involved. My mana flowed into the Trigger on my new magazine design, but a more accurate term would be a tank or a reservoir. Once my mana entered the Trigger, what was once a head-sized balloon of steel slowly shrank down to its other, much smaller form. The Trigger nearly tapped me out on mana, but I had some Mendau wood right there to put me back in the double digits again. Letting the construct gradually do its thing, I swiveled on my stool and turned to check on the bundle of damp cloth sitting next to me on the table. Slowly, and with great care, I isolated one of the fibers that streamed off of the back of it and traced it to the end before splitting the tiny fiber down the middle with my little work knife, observing the way the inside of the fiber glittered as the mana made contact with it.. Willing Edge [2 MP/sec] On a little knife like this it didn¡¯t take much to encase the whole thing in a sheath of mana. Supposedly, my new sword ability was meant to preserve the integrity of your blade at the expense of your MP, something I would have found particularly useful in the last battle. I¡¯d gotten some use out of it in the workshop, preserving the atomically sharp but fragile edges of my tools, but I was more interested in other applications. My machines could use my abilities now. How much mana would it take to sharpen a whole projectile or even just the tip? Not much, I¡¯d wager. Magical armor piercing bullets? Yes, please. I placed the split end of the fiber in a clear jar next to the unaltered control one and triggered the low powered Automation pebble I had wrapped up in the bundle with the larger part of the mockvine bulb. There was a muffled *FWOOMPH*, and both test jars lit up with purple light. The intact fiber, the one I hadn¡¯t cut, produced a straight beam that strobed rapidly on and off for a full second before it went dark. Meanwhile the split fiber jar flashed only once then slowly faded away. I observed how the ends of the fiber retained some of the glow before the energy was all the way spent. The water never rippled or bubbled, meaning none of the kinetic or thermal energy was transferred. I checked the wording of the logs again. Mockvine Fiber Bundle: Fibers gathered from the remains of an Ancient Mockvine. These fibers perform many duties while they are alive within a specimen, carrying nerve signals, nutrients, sunlight, and mana to all parts of the plant. With age comes sophistication, and mockvines are not an exception to this rule. These fibers are of the highest quality and conduct complicated patterns of mana nearly instantaneously over long distances. Okay, so the bulbs work as repeaters, but they need intact fibers and water. Samila pointed to the now smaller metal ball on my bench. ¡°Is that shrinking? I could swear I see it shrinking.¡± ¡°It¡¯s shrinking,¡± I replied distractedly. Geddon¡¯s curiosity was piqued. The big man got down on one knee next to me to watch the metal ball do its thing. ¡°You can do that? Can you grow them too? I wouldn¡¯t mind a bigger sword.¡± I blinked, finally registering the misunderstanding and forming the words to dispel it. ¡°What? No. Unless you give me more metal to work with or something. This was hollow on the inside, see? The mass doesn¡¯t change.¡± Geddon face scrunched up as he thought this over. ¡°So¡­ it¡¯s- Smaller and the same?¡± ¡°It¡¯s part of the new design. Hang on.¡± I scooped up the construct now that it had shrunk down to something about on par with a baseball. Then I gave it a little tap with my metal fingers. Solid. Stable. Good. I knew, on the inside, the walls had thickened significantly like I did with my air tanks, and the contents would now be under extreme pressure, the oxygen compressed down to almost nothing and mixing with the other substances. The Automated stirring mechanism hummed quietly in the stem. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. Shaking my head to chase away any distracting thoughts, I walked over to my new turret design, a taller, sleeker model with a slender barrel and several of my new compression bulbs attached to the back of the action. I carefully inserted the final magazine and Triggered the activation sequence. Focus time. ¡°Okay. Go over it again,¡± I said, retreating back from the turret to get behind one of the anti-explosive barriers in the workshop. Everyone else slowly ambled over to join me there. Geddon spoke first, eager to tell his story again. Every time he did, he seemed to add more embellishments, but I just needed the timeline, really. ¡°It was dawn on the day of our heroic victory, and we had just reached the cusp of the battle we were meant to descend upon. The light shown off of our enemies claws, and steel rang out from the beleaguered guardsmen-¡± ¡°The turrets were duds,¡± Samila interrupted. ¡°We set them up like you asked, up high. We picked a roof where they could blast the creatures down below without risk of hitting our people. But we flipped the switches, and they wouldn¡¯t fire. They just turned back and forth like they were looking for something to shoot, even though the enemy was plainly right there.¡± I nodded. ¡°Right, and then?¡± ¡°The brave dragonkin sisters did something that made me proud. They suggested a full charge, despite not having your machines on our side. It almost brought a tear to my eye. However, I am not one to leave such mighty weapons behind where the enemy might find them, so I put your turret on my back once more. It resisted being moved at first, not wanting to stand still, but I am irresistible.¡± Geddon grinned, flexing his armored biceps. ¡°It was taking a long time, and Sissa was getting pretty pissed,¡± Samila interjected. ¡°Indeed,¡± Geddon replied, holding up a gauntletted finger. ¡°I insisted, however. I even went so far as to pack up Sister Samila¡¯s turret too. The weight didn¡¯t bother me overly much, given my prodigious strength.¡± ¡°I admit, I didn¡¯t have as much faith as he did,¡± Samila added, unashamed at the admission. If she felt the need to spare my feelings, she didn¡¯t show it. ¡°I told him to leave the turrets behind. They were just going to slow us down.¡± ¡°Good thing I didn¡¯t!¡± Geddon bragged. ¡°It was glorious! We unsheathed our swords, strapped on our shields and charged with the rising sun into the waiting jaws of death!¡± ¡°The creatures spotted us after the first or second kill,¡± Samila continued. ¡°Then they were all over us. That¡¯s when the turrets started to do their thing on the big man¡¯s back.¡± ¡°Blood! Brains! Tissue! Shredded organs festooned my armor and my weapons!¡± Geddon gesticulated wildly, flinging imaginary guts all over the room and making surprisingly convincing gunshot sounds with his mouth. ¡°He laughed like a madman and spun like Death¡¯s Handmaid to hear the guards tell of it,¡± Trix added. ¡°They had to be convinced our people weren¡¯t some new breed of enemy.¡± ¡°So the plagued had to be close to the turrets,¡± I considered. ¡°Almost within sword range,¡± Samila replied with a helpful outstretched arm to indicate distance. ¡°Alright. Take this.¡± I said, handing Samila a scrapped table leg. ¡°Throw it in front of the turret once I step out of the room.¡± Summoning the sack of quellstone, I dumped the contents into my hand, feeling the cold seep in through my skin. Like Jassin had suggested, I focused on how I felt at that moment, diminished or maybe ¡®less¡¯ was a good word. It wasn¡¯t a great feeling. I really didn¡¯t want to feel like this all the time if I ever got control of my aura. Then I stepped outside and shut the door. After a minute or so, someone knocked on the door hard to let me know it was okay to enter again. I came back in to find the scene unchanged, unfortunately. The scrap wood was on the other side of the room where the turret should have been able to see it and engage. Not good. ¡°Was that supposed to tell us something?¡± Samila asked. ¡°Just confirming a theory,¡± I replied, slowly walking forward toward the active turret. Samila¡¯s voice followed me forward. ¡°And are you still confirming it, or are we safe to come out now?¡± ¡°Still working. Probably safer if you stay behind the barrier.¡± ¡°What¡¯s going on, Brother Ryan?¡± Trix asked. I stepped closer, past the workbench. Nothing. I took another step. Now I was close enough to reach out and touch the turret¡¯s leg. Experimentally, I slipped two of the quellstones back into the sack. The action was instantaneous. The turret snapped into line, aiming directly at the piece of scrap wood. There was a purple spark at the end of the barrel, and a jet of orange flame shot out of the end with a *FWOOSH.* The heat on my face would have been alarming if not for my superhuman range of pain tolerance nowadays. Setting yourself on fire a couple times tended to recalibrate your pain scale a bit. As it was programmed to do, once the turret doused the target in sticky, burning Pex oil mixture, it fanned back and forth to cover the entire area, a good twenty degree rotation that expanded the pooled inferno. I stood there, watching the machine work. Once the area was ablaze and the turret stopped spewing its payload, I reached up and turned it off. Geddon¡¯s curiosity got the better of him first. ¡°So, did you just solve the problem, or am I meant to wear one of those on my back for the next battle?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve always wondered how my doodads perceive things,¡± I said as I stared into the flames. ¡°They don¡¯t have eyes or anything. Turns out, they¡¯re using my aura.¡± ¡°This new turret of yours is safe, I take it?¡± Trix asked, rubbing his arms and watching the end of the room burn. The smoke never thickened or spread around the room, though. It seemed to pass into the ceiling and disappear like the solid matter wasn¡¯t even there. They really did design this room for everything. I could only shrug. ¡°Safe¡± wasn¡¯t a word I would use for anything I did. ¡°Why didn¡¯t they work for us?¡± Samila asked. ¡°I¡¯m willing to bet you were on the edge of my area of influence, maybe slightly out of it. The turrets couldn¡¯t ¡®see¡¯ anything until they got close enough to touch. Then they did what they were supposed to do.¡± ¡°And thank the light they did,¡± Geddon laughed. ¡°I¡¯ve never had that much fun. It was a sad moment when the enemy lost their will to fight.¡± ¡°I wouldn¡¯t say they lost it,¡± I argued. ¡°I had plenty of company the whole time.¡± ¡°Sissa is never going to forgive you for that, you know,¡± Samila stated matter of factly. I reached up to re-Shape the turret¡¯s fuel bulbs back closed before disengaging them from the housing. ¡°And I guess I have to live with that,¡± I said. ¡°And she gets to live with it too. Just glad she¡¯s alive to hate me.¡± ¡°I didn¡¯t say she hates you,¡± Samila argued. ¡°You hurt her, though.¡± I turned back to give her my best incredulous look. ¡°She hurt me too.¡± ¡°A little black eye that you lost in minutes.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not just that. It¡¯s emotional damage.¡± I brought a hand to my chest to emphasize the point. ¡°The way you keep going on about it, I believe you,¡± Samila replied dryly. ¡°For all she knew, I was still recovering from grave injury, and the first thing she does is deck me. That speaks to a willingness to really hurt.¡± Samila shook her head in pity. ¡°I¡¯m going to tell her she made you cry.¡± ¡°Who¡¯s crying? Nobody¡¯s crying,¡± I argued. ¡°I¡¯m building flamethrowers in a magic faraday cage-¡± ¡°Ones we cannot use until you get your aura under control, apparently,¡± Trix interrupted. ¡°I don¡¯t think a guard would touch your new turret for even a year¡¯s worth of pay. I feel the ends of my fur curling up even from here. I still think it¡¯s time you rejoined the battle, Brother Ryan.¡± Samila piled back on. ¡°Short and poofy is right. You¡¯re hiding. Work on your aura and stop hiding from my sister.¡± I frowned, remembering the frustration of my previous failures. ¡°I¡¯m doing the stupid exercises Jassin gave me,¡± I grumbled. ¡°Have you considered doing them better?¡± Geddon asked. ¡°I happen to be very good at exercise. Perhaps you need a trainer.¡± ¡°We miss you, Ryan. All of us,¡± Trix said, putting special emphasis on the ¡®all.¡¯ ¡°We hate to see you locked away, no matter your reasoning. No need for you to be locked away anymore, not when the enemy is on our doorstep.¡± That struck a chord inside of me. Yes, I had plenty of good reasons to stay in here, but I¡¯d gone, rather easily, into hiding hadn¡¯t I? Did I slip into the hermit role because it was what they needed of me or because it was a well-worn path in my mind? In truth, no matter what I did, things weren¡¯t going to get better before they got worse. Simila went in for the kill. ¡°Listen, monk, if it helps, we¡¯re not just asking because we like your company. There¡¯s a war council coming up, and we¡¯re not invited. We¡¯re outside their chain of command.¡± ¡°So much for the hero treatment,¡± Geddon rumbled under his breath. Samila leaned in conspiratorially. ¡°According to our man on the inside, it¡¯s a big operation. They¡¯re going to do a raid. Multiple fronts. One is headed for Riverside to grab as much food as possible for everyone here. The other is headed for the drawbridges. We think they¡¯re getting ready for a mass evacuation via the river. The only problem is, we still have people at the southern gate. The church, I mean. Our people.¡± ¡°They¡¯re not going to leave them behind, are they?¡± I asked skeptically. ¡°No,¡± Samila said with a head shake. ¡°Probably not, anyway, but they are using them as a way to take pressure off of their forces until they can accomplish their missions. I can see why they¡¯re doing it, but-¡± ¡°But¡­¡± Trix continued for her. ¡°Seeing as how they¡¯re not using us, maybe we can add something to the plan, remind them that we are fully capable of meeting our problems head on.¡± ¡°You want to just show up to the war council?¡± I asked. ¡°And expect them to let you in?¡± ¡°Nope!¡± Geddon boomed. ¡°The Rising Sun of Eclipse is showing up to their war council.¡± I considered the pros and cons, briefly. I wasn¡¯t getting anywhere in here, and my problems were all closing in while I stood still. There were dangers in what my friends were proposing, but I was quickly becoming convinced something needed to change. The trap that I was in was a complex one, but the thing about complex machinery was that it only took a single failure in the right place to turn it into a paperweight. If I still wanted to save Ralqir, I¡¯d need to find that failure point. ¡°Sure,¡± I said, unbuckling my tool belt. ¡°I guess I can play the hero.¡± Chapter 51 - Clear the Way Chapter 51 - Clear the Way Clusterfuck. I never truly appreciated that word up until now. I¡¯d never been in the middle of a major operation before, so I had no real way of knowing how they were supposed to go. However, the amount of running back and forth, gear being taken off and put on, pissed off Sergeants, and last minute inspections, all happening at the same time, dispelled a lot of illusions for me about how big military groups were run. People ran to and fro, carrying things, dropping things, shouting to one another. Formations were called together, broken apart, and reformed elsewhere. Beleaguered students with clipboards trailed behind officers, hastily flipping through pages of checklists. At the center of it all, Jassin, flanked by Garret, his Master at Arms. They floated from group to group solving problems, changing group compositions, and keeping the runners running to get everyone what they needed. The two didn¡¯t come near my group, however. Jassin never even glanced my way, which came as no surprise. We¡¯d had our talk. I knew the stakes. Now, it was up to me how to proceed. He was going to treat me like my cover was real, meaning disinterest at best, mild hostility at worst. When we¡¯d shown up to the planning session for the war council, the man slipped into that mild hostility role like he¡¯d practiced it, but we got the go-ahead for our part of the plan in the end. Our participation would cost the regular army nothing and gain them the use of my machines. As far as everyone except Jassin was concerned, there were no downsides to allowing us a spot in the operation. Sissa had hammered that point home repeatedly. I just stood there and did my best approximation of dark and mysterious. We were underground, somewhere between three floors below street level and ten. The Spire got grander the lower you went, flaring outward until its base went out twice or three times as wide as the above ground portion, more spacious too. This place we were using as a staging area gave me the impression of a converted warehouse or storage room. It was tall and wide with even flooring, big barn doors, and empty shelving hastily shoved to the perimeter of the room to give the military more space to maneuver. ¡°Glad to have you with us, Rising Sun,¡± a stocky man carrying a pike against his shoulder said as he hurried by, tossing a hasty salute my way and not waiting for a response. I did my best to make encouraging noises as I waved back at him, but I wasn¡¯t sure if I pulled it off. I wasn¡¯t handling this ¡®legend¡¯ thing very well, and I wasn¡¯t getting any better at it, even after all the practice I¡¯d had in the halls as of late. No one warned me that being famous was an awkward thing where people recognized you and respected you without you ever having met. I pulled my borrowed cloak tighter around my shoulders, not quite ready to cinch the hood yet but wanting to seem like I was preparing myself just like everyone else was, if only to get them to stop looking at me like I was an example to follow. ¡°He¡¯s not even armed. No armor either. Takes balls, it does,¡± I heard someone say. ¡°Maybe more of him¡¯s metal than we see there,¡± someone replied. ¡°If you take my meaning. Eh? Eh?¡± ¡°I take it just fine. Just wasn¡¯t prepared to think about it like that. Saw him crush an undead¡¯s head with that hand. Hate to see what he could do with the other bits.¡± Was it too late to fake my own death? ¡°Did you really have to give away my turrets?¡± Geddon whined for the third time. ¡°I¡¯m going to miss the thunder.¡± The big man emphasized that last word with clenched fists and looked wistfully upward as if reminiscing about the boom of the guns. ¡°The Riverside crew are going to need them,¡± I replied, relieved to have someone I knew to talk to instead of trying and failing to not be noticed. ¡°They¡¯re a known quantity, and we know they¡¯re effective without me there to feed them. Relax, I¡¯ve got the new ones.¡± Geddon¡¯s mouth turned down in a textbook cringe. ¡°That¡¯s what concerns me. Those just don¡¯t have the¡­ impact of the loud ones. There¡¯s still time to switch, you know.¡± ¡°Our Brother doesn¡¯t want to catch fire, Brother Ryan,¡± Trix admitted on Geddon¡¯s behalf. Trix, like me, didn¡¯t have a whole lot of gear to put on or adjust, so he stood to my side watching all the other dramas play out. He carried his new Kotes¡¯ Carbine (patent pending) covered on a makeshift sling and a belt of extra mags over his shoulder. That didn¡¯t stop him from picking up some of the nervous energy in the room, though. Every once in a while, I saw him stroking the weapon, and it wouldn¡¯t surprise me to hear him whispering to it as well, so intense was his love for his new toy. Even now, without any outside stimulus, I saw one of those Volpa full body shudders take hold of him. We¡¯re going to have to talk about that sometime. I rolled my eyes. ¡°For the love of- No one¡¯s catching fire this time, and I still brought a couple of the ballistic turrets. I just don¡¯t want to use them until we¡¯re all set up. More effective that way,¡± I assured them. In reality, I wasn¡¯t entirely sure how the scourge-touched shared consciousness worked or how strategic its thought process was, so I didn¡¯t want to reveal that card until we were dug in. Would they recognize my old turrets? If so, would they come running, thinking I was there? ¡°Besides, they spit out metal at or above the speed of sound, they deafen you, and they run hot enough to char skin. How are you okay with having that on your back and not the new stuff?¡± I asked Geddon. ¡°It¡¯s the aesthetic. Also the accuracy.¡± Geddon said, mumbling the last part and throwing a dubious glance over my shoulder as if he could see into my spatial storage. I wasn¡¯t about to let my new babies be insulted like that. ¡°The new ones hit their targets too.¡± ¡°And then some,¡± Samila quipped quietly under her breath. I grimaced and wobbled my head side to side, pained to admit they were in, totally immaterial ways, correct. The new turrets were awesome, though. Everyone would come around eventually. ¡°Okay. One in ten isn¡¯t a great success rate, but they make up for it in volume.¡± ¡°Sounds like only a slight improvement over Geddon¡¯s proficiency on the range,¡± Sissa stated, emerging from the crowd of hustling soldiers to enter our little circle. She, like the rest of the church guards, was already strapped into her freshly polished and repaired plate and chain, carrying her helm under one arm and resting her other hand on the pommel of her sword. I observed the patches on her chain, the scuffs on her gauntlets. I could have done better work than that, but I¡¯d not been asked. Sissa turned to me to give me a look. ¡°You are going to stay with us this time, I assume?¡± I tried to not look guilty and failed. Still, I¡¯d gone over the last battle time and again in my head, and even knowing how much trust I squandered, I¡¯d do it all again if given the chance. ¡°That¡¯s the plan,¡± was all I said. She raised an eyebrow. ¡°Is it, though?¡± There was a long, meaningful pause. I left it alone. It was going to take time to build trust again, and it wouldn¡¯t happen any faster if I insisted on having the last word. ¡°Our guide should be meeting up with us shortly,¡± Sissa announced, finally turning to address everyone else. ¡°We have a guide?¡± Trix asked, tilting his head to the side. ¡°Since when?¡± Sissa shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m as surprised as you are. I thought we¡¯d use the smuggler¡¯s key and be on our own again like always, but, apparently, Headmaster Jassin has access to some unsavory sorts, Riverside rats, most likely.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not doing much for my civic pride to know that the university knew the smuggler¡¯s tunnels so well and had a plan to use them,¡± Geddon said. ¡°And had people familiar enough with them to act as our guide. Probably criminals,¡± Sissa agreed with a nod. ¡°That¡¯d be me then,¡± someone said from behind me. We all had different reactions in that moment, when Corporal Fidus Bole sauntered out of the crowd to sidle up to us. The man had a new look, bearded, dressed down, and a little gaunt, but his voice and his demeanor belonged to the same man I¡¯d fought down in the Undercity. His guard issue armor seemed to have been scrapped for a set of form fitting, black leathers and his truncheon swapped out for a pair of short swords. A quick flash of Detect Steel told me there were knives behind the man¡¯s belt and at his wrists just above fingerless gloves with steel reinforced knuckles. His unshaven face still managed to look strikingly roguish, helped along by the smug grin he had plastered across his face. Sissa hissed¡­ I mean she literally hissed in the man¡¯s face. Geddon put his hand on his sword and took a challenging step forward, ready to throw down. Trix scrambled up my cloak to perch on my shoulder so he could be eye level with the man. I heard the click of the Vulpa letting the charging handle of the gun lock into place from within the leather cover. As for my reaction, I was already halfway between the rest of the group and Bole, looking back and forth between my comrades and the Corporal like there was a tennis match being played in front of me. Samila, in contrast to us all, got very small, tucked herself into the back, well away from her sister. That was interesting. Bole smirked, looking from face to face, pausing for a lengthy time on Sissa before he said: ¡°Good to see you all again, especially you, darling. Feel like we¡¯ve been missing each other for a while now.¡± His tone could grease pistons. Sissa shook her head slowly, her expression morphing from disbelief to something hotter, volcanic. She looked back at her sister, nostrils flared wide as if she were ready to breathe fire. Could they do that? I hadn¡¯t asked. ¡°This,¡± she hissed. ¡°This is your man on the inside, isn¡¯t it? This is our source?¡± Samila, for the first time since I¡¯d met her, looked ashamed. She wouldn¡¯t meet her sister¡¯s eyes. In fact, she wouldn¡¯t look up from her own boots. ¡°You¡¯ve been speaking with him the entire time? You ran cover for him? How long?¡± Sissa asked. Samila, again, didn¡¯t answer. Then Bole did the worst thing he could possibly do at that moment. He spoke. ¡°Don¡¯t be so hard on her, Siss. We¡¯re all on the same side here. You¡¯ll want your best man ¡®round for this one, trust me.¡± Sissa¡¯s blade was out and against Bole¡¯s neck before anyone could react¡­. Anyone except Bole. I¡¯d forgotten how fast he was. Bole didn¡¯t react the way you might expect with a sword coming to end your life. He didn¡¯t pull his own blade. Instead, he lifted his chin and stepped into it, dragging his jugular across the edge all the way from the point toward the hilt. The blade ran down his unshaven skin. The hair parted. At the last moment, Sissa¡¯s wrist bent and changed the sword¡¯s angle. Then they were eye to eye, a sword between the two. Bole just stared at his attacker, unafraid, that stupid grin still on his face. Triumphant. Sissa bared her teeth. The Corporal had scored a point, however. He¡¯d just gambled and won. Bole banked on the fact that Sissa was better than himself, and he was demonstrating that he could do all sorts of nasty things with that knowledge. The two of them stood like that for a full second before Sissa pulled away and sheathed her sword in one motion. Her armor hid it, but I thought I saw the hint of a shudder pass through her body. ¡°Keep up, don¡¯t get in our way, and we¡¯ll get along fine, ¡®best man,¡¯¡± she declared tersely. Bole bowed slightly. ¡°Your wish is my command, my lady blue,¡± he replied. Sissa turned on her heel and stormed off into the bustling crowd. Samila put out a timid hand, but her sister recoiled, yanking her arm away and not stopping until she was gone from sight. ¡°So,¡± Bole began as if he hadn¡¯t a care in the world. ¡°How¡¯s everyone been? Hello, Monk. So, you¡¯re a hero now, eh? You cut a better figure without hair if you ask for my opinion.¡± I ignored the barb, sparing a look for the rest of my friends before taking a cautious step toward the man, leaning into polite conversation range. ¡°Bole. You¡¯re alive,¡± I observed. ¡°Never waste a day or pay in full,¡± he replied. It sounded like an idiom, something culturally significant. I let it slide past. ¡°Last time we spoke I asked you to get everyone out,¡± I said, remembering the civilians we¡¯d sent with him to escape the Undercity. ¡°Not to worry. I did just that. If a man sets himself on fire then gives you a quest, you get it done, especially if you were gonna do it anyway. The trip through the tunnels was smooth, but the dead were up our asses soon enough. Came out in Riverside just ahead of the ¡®em, and we had to live for a couple weeks on a boat in the middle of the channel.¡± ¡°Everyone?¡± I asked. ¡°Yeah. Is that so hard to believe?¡± ¡°Absolutely. One hundred percent,¡± I answered honestly. Bole leaned back and clutched at his chest indignantly. ¡°How dare you. You don¡¯t even know me, Monk.¡± ¡°You did try to kill me for a minor slight.¡± He snorted. ¡°Yeah, that was great. But I consider the two of us square now. Had some friends in that lot you helped out of their tight spot earlier. Good job. We just gonna stand around talking or are we going to finally get to it?¡± ¡ª-------------------------------------------- The six of us stood next to the familiar solid quellstone wall that I¡¯d come to associate with exits from the smugglers¡¯ tunnels. This one was at the top of some stairs, and all of us crowded together as close to the wall as we could get without touching it. Geddon stood at the front with Trix tucked directly behind. Sissa and Samila stood on opposite sides of the stairs pressed up against the stairwell¡¯s walls, trailed by Bole and myself. the two of us bringing up the rear. ¡°If we¡¯re in the right place, we¡¯ll come out in a basement,¡± Bole whispered softly. ¡°Stairs are on the left. Locked door leads to a loading ramp that should be looking directly at the South Gate. The idea was to crate things up and slip into traffic after the inspection point. Gate¡¯s a bit of a run, though.¡± Sissa turned to us all, her face stone, all business. ¡°We come out hard in the basement, then gather at the stairs. Force the door then we move.¡± Figuring I was far enough from the Spire now, I reached into my shirt and scooped out the quellstone, making them disappear into my spatial storage again. I instantly felt warmer and more healthy, more here. As I¡¯d been taught, I let my mind drift into that place that was out of focus, the one Jassin said I touched with my magic in that moment between being suppressed and being fully open. I didn¡¯t see anything with my eyes, but I did feel something happening there now that the quellstone wasn¡¯t trying to kill me, an expansion, like I was the epicenter of a slow motion explosion¡­ but a good one. Then the feeling was gone. I sighed in frustration. I put up the hood on my cloak and slipped on my cloth mask in preparation for the fight to come. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. Sissa spot checked all of us, nodded, then pulled the key necklace out of her armor to wave it at the wall. The bricks click-clacked aside, and we were moving. We stormed into a basement just like Bole had said. Crates and casks were everywhere. Lots of them were broken open, others intact with a solid layer of dust on the top. Particulates floated lazily in the air, illuminated by sunlight streaming in through the doorway up above. At Sissa¡¯s signal, we gathered at the stairs and charged up them as well, Geddon shouldering the door at the top aside and nearly taking it off its hinges. It took me only a second to get used to the morning daylight. Bright blue sky. Huge flaming moon. Deep shadows all around. Blurry shapes resolved into closely packed wooden buildings to my right, a stone wall to my left, muddy cobblestones making up the road. Straight ahead, through the mouth of the alley I could see the big wooden gates that I¡¯d entered a long time ago, shut now, and the giant arch above with parapets that overlooked the glade beyond. It was maybe a block and a half away. Between us and the gates, predictably, were scourge-touched. Packs of black and pale bodies padded on bare feet from one building to the next, ducking into doorways and back out again. Black Ones clambered up gutters, leapt to window sills, hissed and howled at things they saw. Beyond them, a makeshift barricade of overturned wagons, scrap lumber, and sharpened stakes was jammed between two buildings, effectively blocking our way to the gates. Smoke billowed up from behind it. We were in the right place. I got the nod from Sissa and went to work. This turret was a tall one, about a foot taller than myself once it was set up, with thin, multi jointed legs that ended in hooks. On top, I affixed a circularly packed bundle of long barrels, twelve in all, to a boxy containment housing with a circular hatch on the bottom side for me to reload the thing. I didn¡¯t need to Shape-weld the pieces together, since it wasn''t going to have any recoil to speak of, so the whole setup process took maybe thirty seconds with me summoning a piece from my storage and fitting said piece into place the manual way. I felt every one of those seconds, though. Eyes were everywhere. ¡°You¡¯re using one of the blinky ones?¡± Geddon whispered. The guy¡¯s voice wasn¡¯t made for whispering, but he gave it a Geddon try. That is to say: forcefully and with zero subtlety. It sounded more like he had a cold than anything. ¡°I thought we were setting things on fire,¡± he continued. I shook my head, pulling on the fastener to secure the barrels snuggly into the box housing. ¡°Fire is for later. Everyone remember what I said.¡± ¡°We remember,¡± Sissa assured me. ¡°Now focus and get it done.¡± Finally, I slipped the specialized, Automated glow rod into the ammo housing, making sure it made contact with the smart card before closing the hatch and securing the clasp. Instantly, the hooks on the turret¡¯s feet contracted with a quiet *crack* as the hooks dug into the cobblestones. Good luck flipping this one, you little bastards. ¡°Done. Ready.¡± I called quietly. Sissa got beside me and began the countdown. ¡°Three, two, one. Go.¡± I triggered the activation sequence with my mind, a simple trigger that unleashed all of the Volatility mana in the core in a series of sequential ¡®mild¡¯ explosions, not nearly hot or forceful enough to destroy the turret, of course. Most of that excess energy was dispersed harmlessly through generous ventilation holes in the back of the housing with a quiet *FWOOSH* The new turret went on absolute rampage. The Trigger rod shot energy through all of the turret¡¯s systems, activating its rotator joints and its targeting programs. The turret, fully powered now, tracked and fired non-stop. Purple beams of concentrated light blasted out from its twelve barrels simultaneously, laying into the scourge-touched and raking silent death across the scattered monsters (and a lot of the alleyway) with ruthless vigor. Searing white sparks flew out of vents on the back of the housing, bright enough to blind. The enemy, wherever it was touched by the light, simply fell apart. The violence had no associated sound, not that could be heard above the background noise of the dead city anyway, except for a faint sort of *thrrrrrrrup* as¡­ something¡­ scored hundreds of hits in under a handful of seconds. I wasn¡¯t sure what it was that did the hitting (I was still working on that). I just knew that it was there based on experimentation and the System. The mockvine bulbs and fibers, it turned out, weren¡¯t very good for burning things or activating Triggers in my machines, no better than the basic stuff I could make anyway. What they were very good at was conducting mana, light, and all sorts of stuff the plant had used when it was alive. ¡°Signals¡± the System had called them. Though the heat and kinetic force of Volatility were the things that did the heavy lifting to lay the hurt when I used it normally, the mana and light, it turned out, were also considered part of the attack by the standards of the System. Not much of the attack, but it qualified. So, after some experimentation, I determined that if I put a Volatility charged rod next to a heat-shielded mockvine bulb that acted as a repeater, I could conduct said light and mana down the fibers and put on a pretty fantastic light show with the resulting signals. The cool thing was that the mockvine bulbs repeated the ¡°signal¡± they were getting perfectly and multiple times to multiple fibers, meaning the wild mana and the purple light were getting repeated and sent down a dozen different paths every time the bulbs received them, and every single one of these copied flashes of fun retained their¡­ ¡®Attacky-ness¡¯ in the System, qualifying them for the bonus damage from Knife in the Dark. Every hit lit up their victim, and I became aware of them like I did when using my Detect abilities, except not. The feeling was fundamentally different. I brought the combat log up to confirm what I was seeing. You hit Scourge-touched undead for 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Scourge-touched undead is marked. Scourge-touched undead is cursed. Scourge-touched undead takes 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Scourge-touched undead is marked. Scourge-touched undead is cursed You hit Scourge-touched undead for 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Scourge-touched undead is marked. Scourge-touched undead is cursed Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched undead takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Yeah. Hundreds of attacks per volley. They did very little damage on their own, but the bonus ate away at flesh and sawed through bone given there were enough. And there were an absolute shit-ton of them. The two upgrades I¡¯d selected for Knife in the Dark were already proving their worth. Mark: A successful Knife in the Dark attack marks an opponent. Marked opponents take more damage from additional attacks and are visible to you. Curse of Obfuscation: Opponents struck by Knife in the Dark are now Cursed. Cursed opponents are now less likely to detect you and your actions. The alley was awash in purple laser lights. The aim was terrible, since I didn¡¯t know a thing about lenses, making this iteration of ¡®laser turret¡¯ a bad choice if you wanted to defend a strong point, but it did wonderfully for clearing an area of all living things. When it came to unprotected flesh, this thing was a buzz saw. Scourge-touched fell apart, reduced to piles of minced, vaguely organic puddles. Wood splintered and fell to dust. The cobblestones and any exposed stone supports fared just fine, however. Whatever Knife in the Dark was using, it seemed to only work on organic materials. Where the light touched inorganic stuff, strange, multi colored, oil-smudge marks covered the affected area. Instead of heat, like you¡¯d expect from a laser, this was entirely ¡®bonus¡¯ damage, which was a strange, unqualified thing that defied explanation no matter what queries I made of the System. ¡®Weird damage," I was calling it, for now. The turret stopped firing, the barrel sagging down to point at the ground as the housing box hissed. The metal box clanked and popped under the stress of all the heat. Whether it was glowing or not, I couldn¡¯t tell in this light. I disengaged the release to let the previous charged rod fall to the cobbles with a *clang,* and wIth one, smooth motion, I summoned another charged rod and jammed it into place, ready to fire again. When I looked up, everyone was staring at me, mouths in various degrees of open, the collective sentiment a mix of horrified fascination, awe, and healthy disgust. I shrugged sheepishly, then summoned my sword in preparation for the next part of the plan. Did they have war crimes tribunals here? If so, I¡¯d need to be long gone before they could put one together. After just a couple seconds more of hesitation, Sissa ordered the charge, Geddon slipping in front with Trix riding on his shoulders. The rest of us fanned out behind them, the Sisters and then myself and Bole in as much of a wedge formation as the alleyway would allow. After ten or fifteen clanking steps, a trickle of curious scourge-touched began to poke their heads into the alleyway. A bunch of their own had just died here, and if their collective consciousness worked like I thought it did, they¡¯d know there was something here that needed killing. They streamed in and scattered, inspecting it all, crawling over the remains and looking for the cause. A singular Black One turned our way, affixed its stare on us and howled. Trix let out a squeak and fumbled for his rifle, pulling off the cover. It was a short, carbine type weapon I¡¯d made for him, about the size of a large pistol for a human but with a butt stock and a longer barrel that put it squarely into long-gun territory, at least for a Volpa. It didn''t have the power of one of my turrets, only shooting tiny conical spikes of iron as ammo, but it had almost no recoil and very little report. *THAP* *THAP* Trix, it turned out, was a natural marksman¡­ a marksvolpa¡­ shootyfox. Two scourge-touched including the one that started the alarm went down in less than a second, and Trix didn¡¯t stop there. He let the lead fly. Every shot hit, most of them an instant kill with tiny, nearly invisible holes blossoming from targets¡¯ heads and chests. I hadn¡¯t tested the gun enough to guess by sound if it wasn¡¯t on full auto, but it might as well have been. Trix deftly tracked targets and filled them with daylight before they could even think to get in our way. All the while, he trembled that way he did, but it didn¡¯t seem to affect his aim. Soon, though, the word was out and the alley was wall to wall with more enemies than Trix could handle. Those, Geddon rolled over like a boulder. The massive Leori came through like a freight train, bowling handfuls of the scourge-touched aside at a time, his sword chopping down and wounding or killing all it touched. Samila and Sissa were just behind him at his flanks. Their swords flashed. The scourge, already stunned and wounded, never had a chance to get to their feet. My sword was already in my hand, and it did what it did. Honestly, there wasn¡¯t much I needed to do in the back of the formation aside from finish off those I could and stay close to the dragonkin sisters. My new sword model wasn¡¯t anything fancy, but it had an edge on both sides and stabbed just fine. I made sure to preserve my edge while I could, though. Willing Edge [2 MP/sec] Scourge-touched crowded in, pounding out of doorways and jumping down from windows to land in the alley with us. I took one in the throat and followed up with a reverse slash across another¡¯s eyes, but that was all I saw of those two. We kept moving. To stop meant to be bogged down and overwhelmed. I couldn¡¯t help but observe how much less painful this was with a team. Maybe there was something to this whole teamwork thing. Bole was next to me, slashing and stabbing on his own, every strike to something vital. It was actually impressive to see how he moved, fast and accurate, with a confidence in his body and proficiency I lacked. There was a rhythm to it too. Nothing survived more than two moves. I hugged the wall slightly to look beyond Geddon. We had maybe a half of a block to go. The alley was filling up fast, though. Too fast. Gradually, our momentum stalled as the road flooded with living opponents, but true to his nature, Geddon never stopped pushing and plowing through, trusting us to have his back while he devoted everything to muscling his way to the goal. Attacks were coming more frequently from the rear now, and Bole and I were forced to backpedal to defend ourselves. That¡¯s why I didn¡¯t notice we¡¯d arrived at our destination until it reached out and touched me. I nearly impaled myself on a sharpened stake that the rest of the party had dodged. Luckily it caught me in the metal part of my shoulder, the tip of the spike snapping off and catching in my cloak. Unfriendly faces and bared teeth pressed in around us, and we quickly went from being surrounded to being smothered. The armored folks got out on the edge of our half-circle and kept the baying creatures back while the rest of us worked on a way to get over the barricade. There was a shout from behind the barricade, muffled but intelligible. It was one of those wordless calls, all vowels and harshly pronounced stops. Sissa answered something back like ¡°BOLTA.¡± Again, no translation from the System. Probably a code. Whatever they¡¯d said, it must have worked. A length of coiled rope hit me in the back of the head, and arrows started to whistle in the air above us. ¡°Duty and mercy!¡± Sissa shouted, putting her will behind the call to help us get through this next part. That golden feeling suffused her words like they did in the Undercity, and the battle came into razor sharp focus. I felt my pulse quicken and hair stand on end. At Sissa¡¯s direction, a panting and sweating Geddon fell back and tied the rope harness around himself, tugging on the end to get pulled up. Trix hopped onto the big guy at the last second and used the spent Leori as a firing position, squeezing off rounds as he rose out of my view. I didn¡¯t watch them go all the way up. I stepped into Geddon¡¯s place between the dragonkin sisters to help hold the line. I heard something wet gurgle behind my back and turned to find Bole there, skewering a Returned with both of his swords, wrenching the blades out hard to spill the rest of the undead¡¯s guts onto the ground. He caught my eye and flashed that grin of his. I didn¡¯t have the mental bandwidth for this right now. I was busy batting at reaching arms and dancing in and out with my sword while the shield users took the brunt of the real punishment. The sound of the rope smacking on wood sounded behind me. ¡°Next!¡± Geddon bellowed from above. Trix¡¯s rifle barked again and again and scourge-touched closest to our flanks began to die. Bole went next. Then, Samila. She shook her head at first, not wanting to leave Sissa but I shouldered my way over to get into her spot. Then she had no choice. Our circle had shrunk to just a few feet of breathing room. Full sword swings were impossible, but the monsters didn¡¯t seem to have the same suicidal urges as the last time I¡¯d fought them. They responded to my attacks as I thought a pack of rabid animals might, shrinking away from the dangerous point of my sword but never giving too much ground, always attacking where I wasn¡¯t paying attention. An interesting data point for later. ¡°Time!¡± Geddon shouted. ¡°Get out now!¡± That was the signal. Geddon had spotted something. The alleyway was about to become very, very popular. Sissa and I couldn¡¯t see over the press, but we had to trust Geddon to see when things were going to be too much for us. ¡°Get on the rope,¡± Sissa ordered. ¡°Now! Trouble coming!¡± Geddon roared. Not waiting for permission, I grabbed Sissa by the waist and yanked her back to the rope. Then, I grabbed the end with my prosthetic and triggered Iron Grip. There was a momentary resistance to what I was doing I could feel through her body, but it lasted all of a half second. Then she was swinging with her sword and bashing with her shield to keep the creatures at bay while I did my best to hold on. Our feet left the road. The scourge-touched swarmed underneath us, leaping up to slash at us. One of them latched onto my leg and tore into the calf. ¡°Sissa!¡± I called. ¡°I know!¡± She said. ¡°Up! Up!¡± She called to the rope pullers. ¡°Sissa!¡± I shouted, hoping she remembered what I¡¯d said before we started. ¡°Look now! Look at the turret!¡± I triggered the next volley. Being on this side of the carnage was a different experience. The strobing lights danced over the entire alleyway, a fire hose of purple beams, indiscriminate, seemingly infinite in number. Intellectually, I knew that every beam I saw had another four or five behind it, too fast to perceive from this distance with the naked eye. The general direction of the light tracked back and forth, bathing everything in that purple. There was a moment, a collective breath from all of us, Sissa and myself, the horde. Everything stopped for a heartbeat. Then a tipping point was reached. The horde at our feet liquified in slow motion, starting at the back and surging to the front, like the scourge-touched¡¯s bodies just gave up on staying together all at once and decided smaller chunks were the way to go now. I didn¡¯t dare look away from the turret to observe the process, though. Neither did Sissa. One lapse in attention would be an opportunity for Knife in the Dark to Mark us. Then we¡¯d be in a world of hurt. Sissa and I stared at the turret, neither of us daring to blink, though I was pretty sure we were allowed to blink. We just had to be paying direct attention to the turret to not be affected. Sissa would probably have been fine with the armor she wore, but we weren¡¯t going to take any chances either, not with our precious eyes and faces exposed to the world. Then the alley went dark. I blinked tears out of my eyes, scanning the area to see if anything was left alive. I saw movement, but nothing that went beyond a pathetic crawl. Nothing that could run or jump. Good. We crested the top of the barricade and Geddon got us up the rest of the way, letting us drop on the uneven wooden surface what looked like doors and scavenged wooden chests. Sissa squirmed, spinning around to look my way, her eyes wide. She reached up to wipe black blood off of my forehead with her sword hand. ¡°Ryan. You can let go now,¡± she said. Oh yeah. I let go of her waist, nearly sending her tumbling down, before turning away bashfully, suddenly very interested in what was going on in the yard beyond the barricade upon which we stood. Church guards hustled everywhere, fully armored, swords in hand and battered shields at their sides. Our barricade wasn¡¯t the only one clogging up the streets that lead into the gatehouse area. They¡¯d piled up an impressive amount of garbage to create their fortifications, and they were manning the ¡®battlements¡¯ as best they could. The enormous gates themselves were shut and barred, making up the back wall of the camp, and the black city walls on either side of the gate were manned by crossbowmen and spears alike. What surprised me, however, were the goblins. They were everywhere. They ran over the yard, carrying things, throwing things on the giant bonfire in the middle of the half circle the fortifications made. Others carried spears and ran alongside Miur and bow legged guardsmen whose species I didn¡¯t know the name for. Others shot arrows from crude bows up and over the wooden barricades as a guardsman directed their line of fire. Still more sat next to the pyre sharpening lengths of wood with tiny knives and burning the ends to temper the points. Suddenly, my view was blocked. ¡­by a gaggle of children. Goblin children. Lots of them. Where¡¯d they come from? High, squeaky voices seemed to come out of the crowd, not from any individual child but from the group itself. ¡°They have lots of stuff.¡± ¡°We can take it? A black one eats my dad¡¯s spear yesterday.¡± ¡°But they have swords. Does your dad use a sword?¡± ¡°No.¡± ¡°Tie a sword to a pole and you have a spear,¡± another voice suggested. ¡°True. True. Maybe one of the little ones. We can take them.¡± An older child, taller, well muscled, and mohawked like a warrior, shoved his way to the front of the gaggle, pushing the smaller ones aside and mean mugging the crowd with impressive aptitude. He turned to each in turn and stared them all down, forcing them to shrink away. ¡°No,¡± he growled, probably in an intimidating way to other goblins, but to me it just came off as cute. ¡°They keep their stuff.¡± ¡°Awwwww.¡± Came the collective moan from the rest of them. The big kid wasn¡¯t having it, though. ¡°Come on. We take them to the big one.¡± ¡°Yay! The big one!¡± Chapter 52 - Eat a Curse Chapter 52 - Eat a Curse The children pressed closer, their little black eyes wide and innocent, but I saw more than one that made to grab for stuff that wasn¡¯t theirs. I headed them off as well as I could. ¡°Hey! We¡¯re keeping our weapons. And who¡¯s this ¡®big one?¡¯¡± I said specifically to them, focusing on speaking goblin. Again, a voice came out of the crowd, not so much from an individual kid. ¡°Oo it speaks! Can we buy your sword? That¡¯s a good sword. I can tell.¡± ¡°Stop it!¡± The big one scolded.¡±We take them to the big one. That¡¯s it.¡± I did a quick check on my companions. No one had been swarmed by little green things with sticky fingers yet. The two groups were standing at a moderately respectful distance from one another, but Trix was standing dangerously close to the edge of the barricade, staring at the carnage down below, his hands clenched tightly around his rifle. No part of him was still, the shudders were so heavy. ¡°Trix?¡± I called tentatively, but the little Volpa didn¡¯t look like he¡¯d heard me. ¡°Trix!¡± He started, nearly fumbling his rifle and losing it over the side. Then he looked around, bewildered, wild-eyed. ¡°Are you still with us, buddy?¡± I asked. Trix opened his mouth to answer but shut it again almost immediately, choosing, instead, to nod. Samila squatted down next to him and ruffled his hair, saying something to him I couldn¡¯t hear over the- ¡°Big one! Big one!¡± The little goblin shouts had turned to chants now that they were on the same page. I stood on my tip-toes to try and find the oldest kid that had calmed them before. No dice. Sissa was staring at me, the obvious question on her mind: Why do you speak goblin? ¡°I¡¯ll explain later,¡± I mouthed to her. ¡°Who is this big one?¡±¡± I asked the children. ¡°You know their tongue, sir?¡± A Miur with short antlers, the beginnings of a beard, and a lot of ragged holes in his armor asked as he coiled our rope around his forearm. He must have been the guy that came to our rescue. ¡°Command will be happy to hear that. The little ones just kind of do what they want, and we¡¯ve just counted ourselves lucky they want to help for now. Some coordination wouldn¡¯t go amiss.¡± ¡°I know a little bit. Where might Command be?¡± I asked. ¡°Over that way,¡± the guard said, pointing at a boxy building with a canted roof butting right up against the city¡¯s giant outer wall. ¡°The big one. The big one!¡± The little goblins collectively shouted. I retried my previous question. ¡°Who is this big one?¡± ¡°Don¡¯t know. He¡¯s big.¡± Right. There¡¯s the language barrier, and I¡¯m talking to kids. ¡°He got a name?¡± I asked. ¡°Probably.¡± I sighed and looked to the rest of the party, but, of course, no one else understood the conversation. Trix was on Samila¡¯s shoulder now, a thousand yard stare on his face, but at least he wasn¡¯t going to get lost if we started moving. ¡°Guess we¡¯re going that way,¡± I said, pointing to the building the guard had. ¡°Big one!¡± The energy level was climbing. These kids must have been surviving on energy drinks and rock candy. I started climbing down from the barricade, having to slip down between handles that used to belong to some kind of cart, then sliding with the loose debris my weight kicked loose until I was on solid ground again. Now that I was on ground level, the semi-circular yard these people had made their home was a bleak picture. Tired faces stared at me from all around. Guards sat on stools around little campfires that littered the cobblestone square, though none came close to the wooden ramparts. Wouldn¡¯t want to trap yourself in an oven of your own making. None of the guards were entirely intact, either, or at least their equipment wasn¡¯t. People were missing gloves, helms, or entire boots. Chest plates were dented or torn. Shields missing edges or entire halves. The goblins seemed the liveliest of the bunch, hustling back and forth in lines and carrying stuff on their backs like ants. They carried furniture, doors, loose stones and the like and brought their things up the precarious climb to the top of the ramparts to deposit the objects with uncharacteristic care. An older goblin in a ragged shirt stood at the top of their work area where the construction was happening, yelling at them all while bending down to make minute adjustments on where the garbage was placed. Was I looking at a goblin engineer, or was he just too old to do the manual labor? Whatever he was, he was in charge but not universally respected. Before I¡¯d passed, at least two of his workers gave the old goblin the finger, which he returned with double the enthusiasm he put into the rest of his work. I saw why the bonfire wasn¡¯t very popular with the guards. It was hot, it produced a ton of rancid smoke, and then there were the bones. Blackened bones, teeth and other, unidentifiable things littered the pit where the bonfire burned. ¡°Nice setup. They better give thanks to their light every chance they get. Lucky bastards,¡± Bole said quietly. Sissa hissed at him again. ¡°Shut up, Bole. Not one more word.¡± Bole rolled his eyes but stayed quiet. I looked questioningly at Samila¡­ behind Sissa where she couldn¡¯t see. She leaned over to whisper to me. ¡°Their gear looks like it¡¯s been through it, but they¡¯re all healthy and well fed. Odds are good they¡¯ve got a healer or two tucked away and a stash of food. Better than most have fared through this.¡± ¡°Wouldn¡¯t a healer drain their food?¡± I asked. Samila shook her head. ¡°No. Not a church healer. Trix isn¡¯t one of those.¡± ¡°What is he then?¡± I asked, leaning forward a bit to check on the little fox. He was just staring straight ahead and holding on tightly to his weapon. ¡°A rarity,.¡± She looked like she wanted to say more, checking over her shoulder to make sure the little Volpa wasn¡¯t listening, but then she thought better of it. Probably for the best. The little guy had good ears. ¡°Ask him yourself if you really want to know,¡± she said before clamming up again and getting back into line behind her sister. We made our way to the little building next to the city wall and entered through a door frame whose previous occupant appeared to have been forcefully ripped out, probably used in the building of the barricade. The little goblin children streamed into the building in front of us, still believing themselves to be our captors but also really excited to get into the place for some reason. The kids all gathered around a¡­ well, it was a big one. A big man to be more precise. A familiar big man in what used to be white robes, more dirty and ragged than I¡¯d last seen them. Bishop Kolash, the hulking, slightly damp, frogman stood in the center of a circle of occupied sick beds, one hand raised in the air, the other resting on his staff. A low, humming song suffused the room, deep and resonant with something in my soul. It reminded me of family dinners, rides with mom, straight As on my report card, and Christmas afternoons all at once. Golden light surrounded the bishop and everyone within ten feet of him. All of the people gathered around were wounded, most bleeding from their extremities, but they all seemed to rest easier as the song progressed. Their skin, those that didn¡¯t have fur at least, looked less and less pale as well. Sissa put a hand on my arm to stop me from getting closer. ¡°Better to not,¡± Sissa whispered to me. ¡°He likes to sing alone. Where did your sword go?,¡± one of the goblin children whispered in my ear. How the hell did she get up there? ¡°It hides. This is the big one?¡± I asked. ¡°The big one. He¡¯s very big.¡± I had to agree. He wasn¡¯t Geddon big, but he was impressively large but more Frog Santa Claus than Incredible Hulk. Sissa looked from me to the kid on my shoulder. ¡°What are they saying? Also, you speak goblin? What else are you hiding?¡± ¡°They say this is the big one. They were supposed to bring us to him. We can¡¯t go further right now, though.¡± Sissa nodded. ¡°Glad the goblins could be taught that much. Don¡¯t want to step into an already active ritual. You wait for it to-¡± The Bishop¡¯s song crescendoed, deepening in its tone and resonance. His voice broke or maybe expanded, and suddenly, I could feel it pass through me like a shockwave, burning and crackling all the way and absolutely overloading my nervous system until I saw (and tasted) yellow. I stayed on my feet, but it was a close call. Damn, that was much worse than the first time he¡¯d hit me with one of those. I looked around to check on everyone else. My friends all seemed¡­ better. Refreshed. Bole, however, was conspicuously absent. Had he even entered the building with us? The song was over. Two of the wounded soldiers were already putting their feet over the edges of their beds and putting on already soiled clothes. Their wounds were entirely gone. Wow. This really was a breed apart from Trix¡¯s magic. ¡°Brothers and Sisters, it gladdens me to see that you have thus far survived our great trial,¡± the Bishop croaked as he hobbled toward us, his staff making heavy *thumps* on the wooden floor as he went. He was leaning heavily on it, much more heavily than when I¡¯d met him. ¡°It is good that you have come now. We have need of strong sword arms and tempered resolve.¡± He waved his arms over his head gently, making shooing motions at the gathered crowd of green children. ¡°Go on then, little ones. Go find somewhere else to play. Go.¡± The goblin kids got the hint. I almost didn¡¯t feel it when the little goblin girl jumped down from my back to be swept up in the river of little bodies heading out of the door. ¡°Your holiness,¡± Sissa began once the noise died down. ¡°It is good to see you alive as well. We come to you with news. There is a large contingent of survivors and enlisted people in the Spire, and they would have you and our people come join them. They have a plan to get everyone out of the city.¡± Kolash¡¯s shoulders relaxed slightly, and he let out a long sigh. ¡°Thank the light for that. We run short on supplies and people. The infection worms its way into our ranks every day, and we cannot always be vigilant. What would you have us do, Sister Sissa?¡± ¡°We have a way to get our people to the Spire, through the smugglers¡¯ tunnels,¡± Sissa said. ¡°From there it is a nearly direct route to safety. Headmaster Jassin offers a place for us all and a way out.¡± The Bishop made a displeased sound in the back of his throat. ¡°The plagued will not make this an easy thing. We, too, had the idea of fleeing the city. We lost half of our own, and now the enemy wears familiar faces when they come for the rest of us.¡± ¡°They wear- Are the living turning as the Returned did?¡± Sissa asked. Kolash shook his head mournfully. ¡°Not yet. The goblins insisted we burn the dead, theirs and ours. At first we did not see the purpose behind it, and we had no way to ask for an explanation. Their queen, however, was adamant, so much that we allowed them to burn their own but kept ours in repose in one of the empty barracks.¡± If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. He stared into the middle distance for a long few heartbeats as he recalled the difficult memories. ¡°Would that we had listened to their warnings. There was a raid two nights after our failed escape, not in overwhelming numbers, mind you. At least, that is what we thought. The plagued, however, took our honored dead below, and now we see them again from time to time, come back to haunt us. It has been¡­ disheartening.¡± ¡°There were never any bodies,¡± I observed quietly. In the Undercity, even in the places we were sure were a slaughter, there were never any bodies. I had just assumed the scourge had been eating the living. Everything had to eat, right? Apparently not in this case, or at least not everyone that died was food. The scourge-touched must have been recruiting. ¡°Quite so, young man¡± the Bishop said, turning to me. So the dead could be ¡®touched.¡¯ What did that mean? Returned were already dead. That made some sense. As for goblins, I¡¯d not heard of any live ones getting turned, no infections. To hear the Stone Hearts tell it, their people were always taken or outright killed. Interesting. ¡°Your Holiness,¡± I ventured. ¡°Have you had a chance to examine a living example of the plague? A goblin perhaps?¡± ¡°*Glorp* Yes,¡± he replied with a hint of trepidation. ¡°Why?¡± ¡°So,¡± I began. I had a theory cooking in my head somewhere, but it wasn¡¯t done yet. ¡°They were alive in the conventional sense? They aren¡¯t like the Returned?¡± ¡°In the early days of the plague, all of them were more or less alive. Quite mad but technically alive. ¡± He punctuated his sentence by reaching out and putting a heavy hand on my shoulder. His tone was grave. ¡°You have insights, I imagine.¡± ¡°Maybe,¡± I answered. My mind was working hard, taking the pieces and rearranging them to try and make sense of them all. ¡°There has to be some common thread between them all. I can¡¯t explain it all yet.¡± What was it that united them all? Blackish blood? Maybe. Once they were too far gone, they didn¡¯t speak. There was that too. ¡°Perhaps you could start with explaining how it happened to you.¡± The Bishop said. He had me there. I was a data point on living infection, but that was useless because I was different. I got my infection from the Sys- Every thought in my head came to a calamitous, crashing, halt. What did he just say? His countenance fell until the corners of his mouth hung well and truly past his bottom jaw. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, young one,¡± Kolash croaked. He sounded genuinely sad, like he was giving me my last rights. Oh, no. Kolash was one of the only people in the city that could detect the scourge, and I, as of recently, just got a(n) (un)healthy dose of experience and stats through the System. I was more scourge now than I had been last time we¡¯d met. Everyone I cared about turned toward me, worried expressions all around. My mouth had gone dry, and my throat tightened until I could barely breathe, not because this was a revelation for me. Of course I was infected. Apparently, all Exotics were infected. That was item number 4,025 on my list of impossibly complex things to fix in the near future. What upset me was that I¡¯d planned to tell them all eventually, when I figured out how to confess to the whole human thing without causing some worldwide religious schism, but now this giant frog man had taken a portion of that truth I wanted to share and just slapped my friends in the face with it. It was just another breach of trust I would have to reckon with later. If I didn¡¯t act soon, I wouldn¡¯t have any confessions left to make¡­ or friends to make them to. I reached up and took off my mask. Kolash¡¯s eyes widened in shock. ¡°Brother Ryan. *Grop* I did not realize it was you. A true tragedy. I had hoped you were still out there and working to save us. I am very sorry.¡± Resignation dripped heavily from his words. Sissa reached over and grabbed my arm, squeezing so tightly it hurt. ¡°Ryan? You- You don¡¯t look surprised,¡± she breathed. I shook my head, guilt sealing my lips. Sissa pulled on my arm until we were facing each other. She stood tall to try and look me in the eye. ¡°How long?¡± She asked. ¡°Why didn¡¯t you tell us?¡± Samila cut in, stepping forward to flank her sister, her tone quietly accusatory. ¡°Because,¡± I started, but Kolash cut me off. ¡°Let go of him, Sister,¡± the Bishop ordered. It didn¡¯t sound like something said in my defense, though. It was something else. Sissa did let go, but she looked confused, as if she¡¯d done it by reflex. At the edge of my awareness, I felt something then, a tingle in Kolash¡¯s hand, a current of unpleasant warmth flowing into my skin. The air around me quivered in anticipation, and then, some kind of tipping point was reached. Something seized me from the inside, took a hold of my body and squeezed. Stabbing, electrifying pain ran down my arm and burrowed into my chest.. ¡°How did it happen, Brother Ryan?¡± Kolash asked. ¡°Did they take you? Did they speak to you? Do they tell you to do things?¡± I shook my head in answer, suddenly very dizzy. My vision blurred, and I felt my muscles go slack. There was motion out there, disembodied voices. ¡°What is this? What did you do?¡± Sissa demanded. Samila sounded even more alarmed. ¡°Ryan? Look at him. He¡¯s-¡± ¡°It is as I feared. He is too far gone. Do not touch him.¡° ¡°What?¡± ¡°He was just fighting with us! We need him!¡± ¡°He will turn on us. It is only a matter of time.¡± The world was out of focus. The System was nice and clear, though. Status effect gained: Cursed [10 hp/sec] ¡­. -a purge of his body. It will buy him more time if he lives.¡± ¡°No! Take it back!¡± ¡°I will not. I will not have a being as dangerous as he turn to the side of the enemy. He, of all people, would understand.¡± My thoughts were slowing down, grinding gradually to a halt as my world dissolved into fire. I knew this much, though. The Bishop had cast a spell on me, and I didn¡¯t remember the last time I¡¯d taken a breath.. I felt my body shudder as a bead of sweat dripped down my nose. Come on. Breathe. It should be easy. Just breathe! Kolash was purging the scourge from my body. Unfortunately, the scourge was a part of what I was, an essential part. Suddenly, my limbs lost their battle with gravity, and I fell to the floor, face first with a *whomp.* Concerningly, I didn¡¯t feel the impact in the slightest. ¡°Ryan!¡± ¡°Do not touch him, unless you wish to join him. The infection is insidious.¡± ¡°Your Holiness,¡± Trix squeaked. ¡°This is extreme. Brother Ryan has-¡± ¡°He has done his best but failed his mission. We can only bid him farewell now.¡± ¡°I thought you said he could pull through?¡± Sissa sounded irate, bordering on full on panic. ¡°No one has done so yet, but if his spirit is strong enough, he may. Understand that we do this because it is necessary. We cannot allow the infection to walk among us. We have lost too much already.¡± Kolash didn¡¯t sound, at all, like he held out much hope. Inside of me, I felt the Bishop¡¯s spell cling to me. Then it blossomed, folded out from itself and latched onto my soft tissues, my arteries, my channels, and systematically began to destroy them. Blue tinged me-mana haplessly flowed through the cursed area of my body but never escaped, dissolving into nothing. The tempered walls of my mana channels cracked and split like dry wood. My entire body burned. Tempered Channels is now level 4. ¡°He¡¯s dying! Let me help him!¡± Trix¡¯s voice. ¡°Sacrifice, Brother Yik¡¯i¡¯trix. This is how we have survived thus far as a people. We cut out the infected flesh so the body may survive.¡± ¡°Ryan!¡± I was burning to death from the inside. Scoured. Purged. With one final desperate effort, I gasped a single shallow breath. The edges of my vision darkened. Then¡­ I stopped breathing altogether. I missed having a heartbeat. It was a good way of making sure I was still alive. That had been taken from me, however.. Not your best move, System. The world around me went out of focus then melted away like old film on a hot projector. Fog swept in. More like smoke really, billowing up to obscure the physical and cloud everything else, a byproduct of the burning furnace inside of me that was using my life as fuel. In the smoke, however, there were some things that didn¡¯t fade like everything else. Little blue motes, tiny, bowl-shaped things that glowed against the backdrop of the dead world, drifted sluggishly upon nothing, still, stale. That didn¡¯t seem right. So strange to have everything so still. It felt like the motes should be moving. Like me. I should be moving. It¡¯s weird that I¡¯m not moving. Why am I not moving? I wasn¡¯t sure why I wasn¡¯t moving anymore. There was something that was happening, something important. I poked one of the little glowing motes, mentally, a sort of numb fumbling slap from my fading consciousness. I should have been concerned about that¡­ the fading. Emotion was hard to conjure in this place. The little blue thing quivered in response to my touch. There were more of them too, not just outside of my body. The motes were in me, clustered in greater numbers, too many to count. The blue motes bobbed through my mana channels, a lazy, cool river of life that illuminated what they touched¡­ No, it wasn¡¯t illumination. I wasn¡¯t using my eyes. Whatever the little motes touched, I could feel, touch, smell, hear, and see all at once. Perfect knowledge. Not everything, though. The metal of my prosthetic pieces were notable exceptions. Those were as cold as a dead star. As I watched, the little motes flowed throughout my body, bringing soft blue light to all they passed. That is, until they reached my shoulder. The Bishop¡¯s curse was a cluster of golden shards of light with razor sharp edges that cut and ripped as they darted through my soft tissues. They swarmed my blue motes with angry zeal, attached to them, brought them down, and burned them to dust. Hey. I needed those. I needed¡­ my mana. That was my mana, and my mana was me. My attention swerved toward my status. HP: 50/220 My mana had to flow. Needed to flow. Or I would die. A problem to be solved. I liked those. The first step was to get things moving. There was an emptiness within me that called for it. The curse was killing me by starving me of my mana, and I was critically low already. I focused on the vacuum it left as it destroyed me, the hollow. I reached out and swept one of the motes inside. It seemed eager to go, like it, somehow, knew I needed it there. Success. So I gathered another, then another. I gave the new additions a place to go, paths to take. Move. Move together. They did. Sort of. They drifted through me mostly on momentum, slowing to a crawl unless I was actively moving them, but every cell they touched felt healthier, alive. I reached for more. I brought it all into myself, as much as I could reach, gave it momentum. Nudged it until it was all moving as one. I made it flow. The Bishop¡¯s spell was voracious. It penetrated and dissolved mote after mote when they came into range, but soon I¡¯d gathered so much, the sheer volume of mana flowing through my body overwhelmed the golden light constructs. The motes flooded the cursed area and drowned the invaders in a sea of blue before spreading through the rest of my body like water breaking through a dam. I lost so much but gained more. More. For the first time in seemingly forever, I gasped, sucking in a huge, cold, rattling breath, and my mana rushed into me like a tide, naturally joining the currents I¡¯d already established inside of me and turning the trickling streams into rushing rivers. My burning limbs twitched as oxygen starved muscles finally received what they needed. HP: 30/220 With great effort, I rolled over onto my back, my metal hand coming up to rest on my opposite shoulder. This was going to hurt. Devouring Grasp (Magivore) [5 MP/sec] The metal fingers dug into my flesh. The bones in my shoulder cracked and popped under the pressure. This was physical pain, though, something I was familiar with. The important part was still- Fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuck! Like metal fillings under an industrial grade magnet, the sharp, little golden constructs were ripped from my body. Blood vessels burst, and my mana channels blew ragged holes in their sides. The little golden bastards did a lot of damage on the way out. Create reservoir? Y/N No way I wanted that stuff inside of me again, even to use as fuel. I chose ¡®Yes.¡¯ Reservoir created: Purge Unclean [Total value: 210 MP (light)] I layed there, weak and hurt but alive. The bones in my shoulder were a mess, my insides scrambled. The pain was overwhelming. My mana, however, flowed within me, which I consciously encouraged. There was nothing else I could do. Wherever my mana touched, I felt better. When I searched for more to sweep into myself, there was none to be found. Skill unlocked: Mana Manipulation Your current skill level is 1. Skill unlocked: Curse Breaking Your current skill level is ERROR (invalid_me:core). Resolving¡­ Skill unlocked: Curse Breaking. Your current skill level is 0. Slowly, normal feeling returned to my limbs as my HP climbed toward its max. The bones in my shoulder stabbed and sliced my already tender tissues as they came together again. I longed for the days of being unconscious for that part. However, I wouldn¡¯t let myself slip into sleep. There was too much to do. I kept my mana moving, healing. I didn¡¯t think I needed to anymore, but it felt right. By the time I was near max HP, I was feeling energized. More so, I was feeling pissed, increasingly pissed as time went on. Kolash had tried to kill me. Worse, he tried to kill me in front of my friends. He¡¯d hurt me, and he¡¯d hurt them in turn. What were they all thinking right now? Were they mourning me? They had to think the worst. I heard the pain and fear in their voices when I was dying. Kolash had done that. I opened my eyes and rose, slowly, from the ground, muscles flexing, hands balled into fists. I was aware, now, of how my mana flowed in my channels and how my heart was humming again. A finger-sized yellow crystal fell to the stone floor with an angry *clang.* Oh, yeah. My captured spell. I didn¡¯t want it anywhere near me. Looking around, I realized I was somewhere else now, a different room. This one was dark and dirty, a little damp too. The ground under me was stone, slightly wet with condensation that pooled in the grouting. Wooden pillars jutted up from the floor and held up thick, cobwebbed joists that supported the flat ceiling. A basement, maybe? The area around me was littered with odds and ends. Leather pouches, bowls, cups, stained cloths, a tiny mortar and pestle. Pungent smoke slithered up from a stick of some kind of incense. I needed to find my party, get them out, tell them everything, save the world. What about Kolash though? Kolash was- Someone cleared their throat. I whirled around to see¡­ no one. Wait. There in the shadows. A figure in the corner of the room, picking his nails with a tiny knife. A quick pulse with Detect Steel revealed lots and lots of otherwise hidden blades like little constellations of stars. ¡°I know that look, monk,¡± Bole rasped in the dark. The little knife danced across his knuckles before disappearing into his sleeve. ¡°And it warms my black heart to see it there. Who do we kill first?¡± Chapter 53 - Break the Machine Chapter 53 - Break the Machine Bole grinned, showing off those stupidly perfect teeth. ¡°You¡¯re part of a big club now, monk. The church has decided that you should be ground up to grease their wheels. How does that make you feel?¡± His words oozed smug satisfaction. He was reveling in the pious monk being brought low. I decided against punching him, not because I agreed with him. The fleeting desire to hurt him came from Bole just being Bole. He wanted me to feel betrayed by the church, maybe spur me on to take revenge. I¡¯d thought about it, angry as I was, but I just couldn¡¯t get there. I, despite what Bole mistakenly believed, was never a part of their faith. I was a big dumb fraud, and that was insulating me from whatever feelings of betrayal a real Rising Sun might have in this situation. Hell, Kolash wasn¡¯t even on the top 100 list of things that had tried to kill me on this planet. He did get a prize for coming close, though. Taking a deep breath to reply with something pithy just resulted in me coughing up some kind of bitter, pasty substance into my hand. I rubbed it between my fingers. It looked gray in the half-light of the basement, and I could see little bits of leaves or plant fiber in there. I spit the rest out onto the floor. ¡°*Mlech.* Guess I was the first to fall asleep at this party,¡± I said, sticking a finger in my mouth to drag out the rest of the debris. ¡°Waking up with weird things in my mouth is probably the tamest thing I could have hoped for. To answer your question: I¡¯m feeling pretty good, considering.¡± Someone shouted outside. The walls muffled it enough to where I couldn¡¯t pick out individual words, but they sounded insistent. Bole spared a look for the ceiling above our heads but went right back to playing with his knives. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about them. They¡¯ve been blustering outside since the goblins brought you in here, but they don¡¯t have the muscle to break in and defend the walls at the same time. The mighty Church of Light have been reduced to diplomacy. Heh.¡± With some effort, I got on my feet and stretched myself. My entire body felt like it had been through a blender, especially in the shoulder. I looked around and tried to get my brain back in gear. Basement. Pouches, herbs, incense, bandages. People outside that want in. Bole. Bole didn¡¯t fit into this picture. ¡°I didn¡¯t figure you for the healer type, Bole,¡± I probed. He sneered as he rolled the knife across his knuckles. I wasn¡¯t really playing into his revenge fantasy right now, and he didn¡¯t seem to like it. ¡°I would like to reiterate that you don¡¯t know me, monk,¡± he replied then spat on the floor. I arched a disbelieving eyebrow at him, holding the stare until he gave up. He rolled his eyes contemptuously. ¡°Alright. Alright. I¡¯m not a healer,¡± he admitted. ¡°The goblin queen brought you back.¡± He snatched his knife out of the air and gripped it tightly as he pointed the end of it my way. ¡°I swear, monk, if I had half the luck you have with women, I¡¯d move to Manse and sire my own army.¡± The comment hit me like a punch. I blinked, trying to grapple with pretty much every part of that sentence. ¡°Hold on now. What do you mean by luck? Goblin queen? Why would she help me?¡± I left the whole comment about Manse and armies thing be. There were some things I really didn¡¯t need to know about Ralqir. I was just content with saving it. Since when did the goblins have royalty, though? They were a tribal people, and the highest station I¡¯d ever encountered was a chief. ¡°Fuck if I know. She must have just liked your face, like, really liked it, because they were about to throw you on the pyre when she happened by and lost her mind. Her guards held the church people at spearpoint, wouldn¡¯t let ¡®em touch you.¡± ¡°And this is all her stuff?¡± I asked, gesturing to the scattered healer¡¯s items. ¡±I assume that the voices outside are the church guards asking about me.¡± ¡°Demanding your body, yeah. Everyone gets burned. Amazing just how fast the church throws away its tenets, eh? No last rites for you.¡± ¡°So, they¡¯re assuming I¡¯m dead.¡± Bole nodded and licked his lips. ¡°Makes plotting your revenge a bit easier, doesn¡¯t it? What would you say is a proportional response to what they did to you, monk? I was thinking a direct approach, but, then again, we could just leave them to their fates too. A bit poetic on that one.¡± I gave him a look that I hoped communicated just how disinterested I was in what he thought was a proportional response. ¡°I¡¯m less worried about revenge than what they¡¯ve done with our people.¡± ¡°Fuck ¡®em,¡± Bole spat a bit more forcefully than I¡¯d expected. The prodding, playful tone in his voice was gone, replaced by something dark and cynical. ¡°They¡¯ll get their minds right soon enough, probably quicker when they¡¯re convinced you¡¯re dead. They¡¯ll be taking orders like good little kids by sunrise. It¡¯ll be like you never existed.¡± Of all the things the man had said, that got the most response out of me. My anger bubbled up from inside of me, hot, explosive. The world turned red for a microsecond, but that was enough to loosen my tenuous grip on my mana, and the flowing streams of blue inside of me came apart. I tried to recover, but I just wasn¡¯t in the right mind for it. My aura bloomed to full strength again, exploding out from me and announcing my presence to every practitioner in the city. Bole¡¯s knife clattered to the ground, bouncing end over end across the floor. He cursed, producing another within a heartbeat. Well, damn. So much for doing this quietly. Kolash would know I survived. The desire I was feeling to go kick in Kolash¡¯s door and hash this out right now wasn¡¯t a good sign. It meant I, on some level, found Bole¡¯s predictions believable, and I hated that. My fear of being discarded and forgotten wasn¡¯t a rational one, but that didn¡¯t stop it from hijacking my entire thought process. It was too plausible, especially to a kid that spent the last seven years as the clan pariah. Break the machine. My cover, despite Jassin¡¯s intentions, had become a part of that machine. Time for it to go. It had become a weight that was holding me back more than helping anyone. Decision made, I turned on my heel and made for the stairs, not sparing another thought for Bole. ¡°Hey! Monk! Where are you going?¡± Bole called from behind me. I could hear him scrambling to his feet, knives being slipped into sheathes. I stomped up the wooden stairs, probing my spatial storage to take inventory. I had my sword, some stones, a bunch of turret parts, assorted ammo, scrap wood, a bit of metal, an exploding broken blade, and a bunch of odds and ends that were more useful in a workshop than here. It would have to do. The door at the top of the stairs was characteristically gone, probably part of the barricade outside now. I came out of the basement and rounded a corner to enter a large, open area, long and narrow with a low ceiling and regularly spaced windows. It gave off the vibe of a barracks, minus the beds and footlockers. In place of whatever furniture had been here before were goblins. Lots and lots of goblins. Goblins were stacked like folded laundry, some sleeping, some in little circles talking among their immediate neighbors, others were¡­ I looked away from those. What an interesting and open society goblins had. Not at all weird. At least they were under blankets. My heavy, human footsteps trumpeted my presence to the room as effectively as someone announcing me by name, and, one by one, every green face turned my way. The goblins under the blankets too. They did have the courtesy of stopping what they were doing, though. Not sure how I would have handled it otherwise. I cleared my throat uncomfortably. The wind had really left my sails fast, probably a sign of a weakness of character, but if I didn¡¯t go through with this now, I was never going to do it. ¡°Can anyone tell me where my friends are?¡± I asked. The goblins looked at one another, exchanging unsure glances. ¡°The people I came here with,¡± I clarified. ¡°Two dragonkin, a leori, and a volpa.¡± Recognition blossomed in more than one green face. That sparked a flurry of activity. Goblins jumped up from their sleeping piles to put on clothes. Others grabbed spears from the floor and slipped on weird, hodgepodge armor made out of rope-bound wooden planks. Soon, I had an armed entourage. Bole came up behind me, using his hand to cover his nose. ¡°You¡¯d think you¡¯d get used to it eventually, but you don¡¯t. I¡¯d take musty basement over this¡± he said. I shrugged. He¡¯d probably get used to the smell too if he¡¯d lived with goblins as closely as I had. The leader of the little group, a balding, older goblin with a scar over his eye, stood up as straight as he could, craning his neck to look me in the eyes. ¡°The cells. We¡¯re escort,¡± he said, tone flat. ¡°Thanks, uh, what is your name?¡± I asked. ¡°Paula of the White Beaks,¡± he replied, puffing out his chest. ¡°Paula?¡± ¡°Yes. Paula.¡± I nodded. Just one more thing for the ¡®I¡¯m far from home¡¯ pile. ¡°Thanks, Paula of the White Beaks. Are you sure you want to- uh- escort me? I can probably find it, and you guys don¡¯t have to get caught up in my trouble.¡± ¡°We¡¯re sure. You goblin, and we all stand together.¡± ¡°I am?¡± I wanted to add a ¡®You do?¡¯ to that too, but I decided against it. Goblins were contentious little guys, all too ready to screw over their fellow goblins if that meant an advantage for their own clan. At least that¡¯s the impression I got from Chief Kuul and then from Jassin when we¡¯d talked about it. ¡°Yes.¡± Was all the answer I got. ¡°Any Stone Hearts among you?¡± ¡°Yes.¡± ¡°Where?¡± ¡°Outside.¡± He really wasn¡¯t giving me much to go on. I¡¯d get answers to my questions faster if I just went with it. ¡°Okay. Uh. Lead the way then, Paula.¡± Then we were moving, to the far end of the building and out into the night. Immediately outside, there was another loose group of five goblins, but these were facing off with a very annoyed looking Miur and his two buddies. No one had drawn their weapons, though the goblins had no way to sheathe their spears¡­ familiar looking spears. I did a double take. The armor they wore was familiar too. Iron, bulky, and loud, an amateur attempt at Shaping that, now that I looked at it, could probably be improved in a bunch of tiny ways. In the middle of the two armed groups was- ¡°Holy, shit. Tiba?¡± The astonished words burst forth from my mouth, loud and clear without consideration for my situation. Everyone within earshot turned my way. The church guards reached for their swords, the goblins leveled their spears at the guards, and my gaggle of escorts rushed over to surround everyone involved. Tiba turned into a green streak. She squealed a sort of girly, goblin, yowl like a cross between an angry cat and a bird call, and she was hugging me in short order, my bottom half at least. She was short. ¡°Ryan!¡± She squealed. ¡°You return to us! You¡¯re a goblin now, by the way. Hunty would be proud!¡± I tentatively reached down and returned the hug as best I could, mostly making contact with her shoulders. ¡°Uh. Thanks, Tiba. I- Wow. What is all this?¡± I asked with a general flourish that I hoped encompassed everything. What was going on? Tiba pulled away and stood, back straight, chin raised proudly. She looked different. She wore her hair down now, long enough to flow down her back, her posture was straighter, stronger, and in her hand she held Hunty¡¯s spear like it was an old friend. It had acquired a bundle of bright feathers that bristled out from behind the head since I¡¯d last seen it and a few notches in the shaft. I tilted my head. Was Tiba taller too? This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. On top of all that, there was something my brain purposefully avoided processing until absolutely necessary. Tiba was what I would describe as ¡°underdressed.¡± Her outfit was all strings and rough, thin strips of recycled linen that had to have the toughest job in the camp trying to preserve her modesty. ¡°He lives, and he speaks their tongue,¡± the leading guard said, immediately earning him the label of Captain Obvious. I didn¡¯t actually know his rank, but he was a captain now as far as I was concerned. ¡°Send word to his Holiness immediately,¡± Captain Obvious ordered the Miur behind him. ¡°No need, Captain,¡± I said. ¡°He already knows.¡± ¡°It¡¯s, uh, Lieutenant actually, sir. I have orders, though. We were assigned to dispose of your body, but¡­¡± He trailed off, not quite sure how to handle the new development. ¡°Would you be willing to come with us, and we¡¯ll get this cleared up? You¡¯re obviously not infected.¡± ¡°No, I don¡¯t think so¡± I said flatly. ¡°Tiba, was it you that healed me?¡± She beamed up at me. ¡°I keep you alive. You are strong, though. I barely have to help.¡± ¡°Sir. Rising Sun. I really must insist.¡± Lieutenant Obvious took a step forward, but the Stone Heart warriors put a stop to that quickly with the tips of their spears. They didn¡¯t draw any blood, but the Miur was good and stopped with pokey bits in uncomfortable places. ¡°Thanks, Tiba. You saved me again. I won¡¯t forget it.¡± ¡°Sir. Could you tell the queen we mean no harm to her people or yourself?¡± Lieutenant Obvious asked. His hands were raised now, his sword held in a loose grip by two fingers, and his underlings were following his example. I smirked at Tiba. ¡°He¡¯s calling you a queen.¡± ¡°He is?¡± Tiba¡¯s eyes went wide. ¡°Yeah. Queen Tiba. I¡¯m guessing the linen bikini is part of your royal attire then.¡± Tiba blushed slightly but didn¡¯t seem all that bothered by it. ¡°There¡¯s a story there, I bet,¡± I added with a raised brow. Tiba grinned in a way that showed off all of her canines. ¡°I don¡¯t know what a bikini is, but the chief title of the Stone Hearts comes to me. Then, when the Black Ones come, the rest of the tribes look to me for answers too. The chief title grew big. Way big! Me too! Do you see?¡± She looked down at herself and reached down to adjust her outfit to make sure it preserved what little modesty it left to her. ¡°And warriors need a little help sometimes to remember to fight hard.¡± She shrugged. If it worked, it worked, I guessed. Guys really were that simple sometimes. ¡°Should I tell him?¡± I asked, gesturing toward the lieutenant with my head. ¡°No!¡± She squeaked, holding out a hand to forestall anything else. ¡°No- ah- if he wants to call me a queen, I- Well, he can if he wants to.¡± Another blush. ¡°Your secret is safe with me,¡± I said, putting my finger up to my lips. ¡ª----------------------------------------- The pair of guards assigned to the cells didn¡¯t really know what to make of it. A boisterous gaggle of goblins boiled around the corner of the barracks and approached the doorway to the building. In their midst, a lone human that just came back from the dead, walking up to them like they ruled the place. As far as the goblins were concerned, Tiba really did own the place. When she barked her orders (an experience both shrill and intimidating at the same time, even to me) they hopped to without question. The Stone Hearts with Kotes¡¯ brand armor never left her side and never let anything not a certain shade of green anywhere near their chief, except for me. The other goblins took their jobs seriously as well, mean mugging the guards, the open windows, and the darkness in general. They didn¡¯t seem to believe they were doing their jobs unless they were mean mugging something. ¡°I need some privacy,¡± I told Tiba. Then, I turned to try and convince Bole to wait outside too, but he was nowhere to be found¡­ again. Did I leave him back where we detained the other guards? ¡°Okay, Ryan,¡± Tiba chirped happily. ¡°Boys!¡± She shrieked. My ears rang at the sheer pitch of her voice, not to mention the volume. Holy hell. The goblins fanned out, ¡®gently¡¯ ushering the church guards away from the doorway. No one got hurt during the change of the guard, but they knew they were being changed. The guards seemed unwilling to draw on any of the goblins, which I was thankful for. They¡¯d all been fighting side by side for weeks now, afterall. The church folks just looked confused. I smiled at them as I passed in a way I hoped was interpreted as friendly. The building itself was small, maybe the size of a single family hab back home. Most of it was taken up by stone cells finished in iron bars with a walkway on the right side that allowed you to patrol down the entire length of the building and check on all the prisoners. I stepped over a discolored spot on the floor that I bet used to contain a desk. All that was left of that little area was a cork board inlaid into the wall and an empty rack of key hooks. The interior was dark, but moonlight streamed in from high set windows all along the top of the walls. The shadows cast by the windows were deep, however. It was hard to see anything other than the shining pale beams and what they fell upon. It sure was quiet here. Nothing moved, not even the wind. I¡¯d expected to come in and hear snoring or yelling or fighting, but the place was tomb quiet. Tentatively, I took a heavy step, ground my heel into the dusty floor. The sound it made felt wrong, like my ears were under pressure and they had yet to pop. I narrowed my eyes. Interesting. I switched on Detect Iron and scanned the place again, not having to use my eyes. Three cells with iron bars that went three or so feet into the ground. Bars on the windows. Four figures in the last cell of the row, two were pressed up against the bars, the largest one, Geddon I assumed, and one of the sisters. Trix was in the corner, trying to scrabble up what had to have been the wall. Lots of motion from that cell. I didn¡¯t hear anything, but they looked like they were shouting, the way their chests expanded and how rapidly their blood rushed through their circulatory systems. There was another figure in the cell adjacent to my friends. It was a large one, round in the middle but thick in the shoulders and arms as well and it carried something in its left hand. The other was raised slightly, its three fingers at an unnatural angle (for a human hand at least.). Kolash. With the realization that something was wrong here, I felt my perspective change slightly, and I could observe the scene from the outside. I felt it then, the thickness in the air. I let my eyes unfocus and watched the motes of my aura and how they moved. It was wrong. They were there but being shaken, brushed by something invisible. There was magic in the air. Well, I guess I invited something like this when I let my aura do its thing. It was an accident, but I¡¯d hoped Kolash would sense me and either seek me out or make some other kind of move. Apparently, his move was to wait in ambush next to the rest of my party. That told me something, didn¡¯t it? I had been preoccupied at the time trying not to die, but he¡¯d told Sissa that he was purging the infection from my body. Purging it. No one had survived the process so far, but if I was strong, maybe I¡¯d be okay. If he was openly hostile to me now, despite having survived his purge, then I had to assume he did not want me to survive. He knew what I was. It was the only explanation. You wouldn¡¯t kill an elite fighter like a Rising Sun on a whim. You¡¯d rejoice that he shook off the evil plague and welcome him back or maybe examine him again. Assuming he knew I was a human, his lie about trying to cure my infection made sense. Waiting in ambush made sense too. Why didn¡¯t I ever research non-lethal ammunition? Carefully, I began my slow, methodical walk forward to the end of the room. I kept it casual, a slow stroll in the moonlight without a care in the world. I forced myself to look relaxed, look straight ahead. I was just here to rescue my friends. Nothing at all suspicious here. I didn¡¯t get any levels in Stealth or Deception, though, which wasn¡¯t a great sign. Man, was I bad at stuff like this. Kolash didn¡¯t reveal himself as I went past. In my mind¡¯s eye I saw him tense when he saw me. I could perceive that much with Detect Iron, but, apparently, he was waiting until I was good and distracted before he would make his move. Curious, I let my eyes glance his way, but there was just an empty cell, all bricks and moonlight. The big guy could hide if he put his mind to it, or maybe it was part of his magic. Then the third cell came into view, and it nearly made me forget about the Kolash, despite him being my most immediate concern. Samila was there at the bars, both hands gripping them tightly and screaming at the top of her lungs. Silently. No sound reached my ears. Geddon was halfway up the bars, arms gripping the top and legs braced against the bottom, flexing to try and dislodge the barrier. Sissa leaned on the wall behind them, eyes scanning the floor in thought. When they saw me round the corner, they didn''t look relieved. They looked horrified. The air was sludge, so thick it messed with my inner ear, making the room swim. Samila silently screamed my name, shook the bars. I caught her eye, and she said something urgent, but it was useless. I held up my good hand in a gesture I hoped was calming, then I gave her a wink. I jerked my metal hand up to eye level, the fingers curled into claws, and caught the Bishop¡¯s outstretched hand before it could make contact with my body. My fingers wrapped around the giant frog¡¯s wrist and dug into the complex and essential bones in the joint. Iron Grip [0.1 MP/sec] I turned to look the Bishop dead in the eyes, giving my head a tiny shake. Kolash now firmly in hand, I wrenched my body at the waist, took a step to my right, and flung the hulking frog Bishop off his feet and over my outstretched leg to crash down to the ground. I felt more than heard the impact of Kolash¡¯s mass smacking into the stone floor through my boots. My other hand snaked out, caught Kolash around the throat, and squeezed. Suddenly, Kolash¡¯s vocal chords weren¡¯t working like they needed to. *RRRRRRMMMMGGHHGGGPHLMP!* The room brightened significantly. Glowing bulbs I hadn¡¯t seen before sputtered to life, bathing the room in white light. The world exhaled, and the air began to move. Suddenly, the tiny building echoed with shouts and cries, muffled struggles. Below me, Kolash sputtered, struggling to bring his other hand up to my face. He was much bigger than I was, his arms longer, but the 40 Body I was rocking after my drastic jump in levels more than compensated for that. Plus, I was heavy. I put a knee on his chest and tried to get my foot around to stomp on the upper part of his arm, but his hand got to me first. Golden light coalesced around the Bishop¡¯s fingers, and his sticky palm wrapped around my forearm. ¡°Stop! What are you doing?¡± Sissa¡¯s voice came from the cell. I couldn¡¯t tell which one of us was the target of the question. Kolash croaked something I couldn¡¯t understand. The System didn¡¯t translate, so maybe it was unintelligible due to the choking or- A look of victory fell over the Bishop¡¯s face. No. Not this time. With a crack, I broke Kolash¡¯s wrist, freeing up my prosthetic. The Bishop, had he use of his vocal cords, would have yelled or shouted, but it came out in a series of choked gurgling sounds. Meanwhile, the golden light seeped from Kolash¡¯s hand into my arm, the sensation subtle but all too familiar. This was the more pleasant part of the curse¡¯s application, but the fangs would be out soon enough. I reached over with my now free prosthetic and made with the curse breaking. Devouring Grasp (Magivore) [5 MP/sec] Create reservoir? Y/N Reservoir created: Purge Unclean [Total value: 210 MP (light)] Previous reservoir destroyed. Our bones broke together, his hand, my arm. Good thing it was just the spell being consumed, or this would have been a lot more gruesome. This time, Kolash did get to scream. That was okay though. The little yellow crystal that contained Kolash¡¯s spell materialized about an inch from my chest, a perfect sphere of yellow at first that then formed sharp edges and shining faces like a gem until it grew to the side of an apple. It hovered there for about half a second, then tumbled down to bounce off the Bishop¡¯s forehead. *BINK* My arm felt like it was on fire. Blood rushed to the injury and pooled there. Already, I could feel the tissues swelling around the break in the bones and the damage the spell had done on its way out. I looked into Kolash¡¯s eyes and put my full weight on his chest through my knee. ¡°Not this time.¡± I ground my teeth around the words. ¡°You do not belong here. You have killed us all,¡± Kolash croaked, shakily reaching up to rub his throat with his hands, but his hands were useless wrecks. ¡°Brother Ryan! You¡¯re alive!¡± Trix yipped. He was up against the bars now, hanging from them like he¡¯d been climbing them. ¡°He is no brother of yours,¡± Kolash burbled. ¡°He is a thing from beyond, hiding among us.¡± His eyes were wide, darting around the room, manic. There was madness there along with the pain he was experiencing. ¡°I should have seen it! I should have seen it before!¡± He cried. ¡°Bishop, I am not here to hurt anyone¡± I said as calmly as I could. The pain and adrenaline weren¡¯t helping with that. Kolash didn¡¯t hear me. His stare was beyond me, his wide set eyes focused on something far far away. ¡°I should have seen it before all of this¡± he replied very quietly. Aching guilt seeped from his words. ¡°I should have seen it. I should have seen it before. You. The thing inside of them. I should have-¡± So, he blamed me for the plague. He blamed me for everything. He blamed himself too. I shut my eyes and summoned as much calm as I could. What a mess we¡¯d caused, us humans. Not purposefully, but that didn¡¯t matter. I¡¯d blame us too, if I were Kolash. Who else was alive to blame? The Dark Lord was long gone along with the civilization that produced him, his pet human was an ax hanging above the head of every living thing on the planet, and the gods had all gone to sleep. Now, the rotten fruit of that pestilent tree was good and ripe, and there was no villain left to rally against. We were all tiny pieces in a game set up and abandoned a long, long time ago. Sighing, I reached over and snagged the glowing hand the Bishop was just about to place on my calf. The curse fizzled harmlessly without my having to Consume it. Thanks Detect Iron. I bottled up my anger and indignation at being convicted of something out of my control and then sentenced to death on the spot, a sentence the Bishop kept trying to carry out. These emotions weren¡¯t going to help me right now. I opened my eyes and looked down at Kolash to see him renewed, determined. Even though his limbs were broken and he was on his back, he was still trying to kill me. ¡°You know what I am, yes?¡± I asked him. ¡°Precisely what I am?¡± His eyes narrowed, and his lips curled back to bare pink gums, entirely lacking teeth. ¡°Yes,¡± he gurgled. ¡°Good. You don¡¯t need to be awake for this part then.¡± I hauled back and punched him in the face. My metal fist *clanged* off of his jaw, and his head lolled to the side. His eyes blinked rapidly as he fought unconsciousness. Ah. Damnit, that would have been much cooler¡­ and more humane¡­ if it would have worked on the first try. The Bishop was a big dude. Big dudes needed more than one punch, I guessed. The second time worked like a charm. Slowly, I stood up from Kolash¡¯s chest and let his arm fall to the ground. Bishop Kolash Mro¡¯ahn defeated. You have been awarded 10 experience points. [50 capped for non-lethal (-40 non-combat class)] Out of breath, despite the encounter only lasting about a minute, I had to collect myself for a handful of seconds. Then I turned to my friends, who all had expressions ranging from horrified to¡­ whatever Samila had. I was terrible with girls. Rolling my shoulders, I bent down and grabbed Kolash by one of his feet. He was heavy but not terribly so. Honestly, I was still coming to grips with having so many points in Body now. My scale was all out of whack. ¡°Trix,¡± I grunted. ¡°Do you mind? I want to make sure I didn¡¯t hurt him too badly.¡± Trix hesitantly reached out from the gap in the bars and pushed aside Kolash¡¯s robe to touch the flesh of his ankle. ¡°He¡¯ll be okay with time,¡± Trix announced after a handful of seconds. ¡°I don¡¯t understand, Brother Ryan? What is going on? Why?¡± I just needed to do it. Rip the tape off. Do it now or It¡¯ll never get done. ¡°So, I¡¯ve been meaning to have this talk with you for a while now,¡± I began. Chapter 54 - Show some Humanity Chapter 54 - Show some Humanity ¡°I¡¯m human.¡± There it was, out there for all to see. I said the thing I¡¯d been dreading to reveal for the majority of my time on Ralqir. The knowledge was radioactive. It damaged everyone it touched, and they might not even feel the effects of that damage until much much later when I was long gone. At least that was the situation according to Jassin. I¡¯d been willing to go along with that interpretation of the situation too, all the way up to the point of my secrecy becoming an integral part of the trap I was in. How was I going to help these people if I had to hide from them? Those were two very difficult things to have on my plate, made even more impossible by them being opposing forces. I was convinced, now, that I could not do both. Either my secret was going to indirectly get someone else killed or get me killed, and I had way too much shit to do to entertain the idea of being dead. My revelation hung in the air like the ringing of a bell, one that couldn¡¯t be unrung. Everyone in the cell blinked, looked at each other, and turned back to face me, each in their own time. Geddon gave voice to the collective sentiment. ¡°Wow. Uh. Is it¡­ treatable?¡± he asked, reaching up to give the top part of his mane a scratch. I could feel the corners of my mouth turn down, losing their fight with Ralqir¡¯s gravity. My disappointment was immense. Right. The word ¡®human¡¯ wasn¡¯t available to any but the privileged few, probably people with direct access to the Dark Lord¡¯s notes. ¡°Uh. Okay.¡± I began again. I¡¯d need to do this carefully. ¡°I¡¯m from another world.¡± I stopped, checking for signs of understanding with the rest of the group. I didn¡¯t get as much as I wanted, especially from Geddon, but they were at least all paying attention. Everyone was up against the bars now, hands resting on the metal. Trix was the hardest to read. He was looking down at the Bishop, ears drooped, hair bristling. ¡°I¡¯m from another world that¡¯s not like this one, another universe, in fact. Where I come from, a very select few people are Exotics- uh, practitioners, and they are either born to other practitioners or chosen at random or at least in a way that we can only guess is random. That¡¯s not important, I guess. Sorry. Back home, I was no one. I was a crippled kid from a shitty rock at the ass end of space. I¡¯d carved out a sort of niche in my community as the guy who can fix things. I was good at that, and they were okay with me doing that as long as I stayed out of sight. Then, for no reason other than pure, stupid cosmically impossible luck, the System chose me and sent me here. Don¡¯t get me wrong. I¡¯m not complaining. I was being impaled at the time, and anywhere would have been better than right there. I¡¯d just seen my only friend in the world murdered, and I was about to join him, and then the cosmos were like ¡®Hey, kid. Here¡¯s a whole new life.¡¯¡± I pointed at the back wall of the building that I hoped was to the South. ¡°My new life started somewhere over that way, in the middle of a forest where the first living being I saw tried to eat me. Since then, I¡¯ve been hunted, enslaved, eaten, blown up, immolated, disemboweled, and, most recently, cursed. Worse, though, is that I¡¯m pretty sure I played some kind of role in the current apocalyptic conditions we¡¯re living through, and I have no idea just how large my share of the blame is.¡± They were all looking at me now in that way I feared they would, like I was a stranger. I didn¡¯t blame them. I was a stranger. It didn¡¯t make things easier, though. I sighed and let my eyes drift down to the floor. ¡°I¡¯ve been telling the truth. I really do want to help. I started small, just¡­ trying to save who I could, but that was in the short term. I have no idea what to do to keep the rest of the planet from becoming like this place. Deep down, I think I¡¯m still that guy that¡¯s good at fixing things, but I¡¯m way out of my depth here.¡± ¡°You¡¯re the fulcrum,¡± Trix breathed. ¡°The harbinger of change.¡± I did a non-committal wobble of my head. ¡°I¡¯m ¡®a¡¯ fulcrum, I guess, though I contend that I am a person, not a thing. I don¡¯t want to act as a fulcrum. The last one that came here didn¡¯t do you guys any favors, and he¡¯s not looking so good nowadays anyway.¡± Trix¡¯s use of the term sparked recognition in everyone else¡¯s eyes. The sisters¡¯ demeanors changed the most, from trepid curiosity to stunned realization with a healthy bit of fear. I could see them putting the pieces together in real time. Sissa spoke first. ¡°Assuming this is all true. You know nothing, do you? About our world.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Not much. I picked up what I could from the people I met.¡± ¡°I should have known. I¡¯d say something, and you¡¯d get that look in your eye like I¡¯d just given you a precious gift or asked you to do Miur calculus. The whole time- Light and gods of old, we thought you¡¯d just never left the monastery- Wait. How did you know to impersonate a Rising Sun?¡± ¡°That was kind of foisted upon me,¡± I answered with a shrug. ¡°I was hairless at the time, so I guess it made sense.¡± The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there. ¡°No it doesn¡¯t¡± Sissa sputtered. ¡°There¡¯s a whole- You have to- Ugh. The whole gods¡¯ damned time?¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I sighed. ¡°He did seem very talky, in hindsight,¡± Geddon observed. ¡°I¡¯m not very good at lying,¡± I replied. I¡¯d been getting by on being vague, the immediacy of our circumstances mostly, and probably a nudge or two from my Gray Man skill, but I really didn¡¯t want to open that can of worms. I¡¯d already lied to these people. Best not to spring mind altering magic shenanigans I had no control of onto them just yet. ¡°I couldn¡¯t just come out with the truth, though. If this,¡± I gestured down to the unconscious bishop on the floor. ¡°If this had happened the first day I¡¯d shown up on Ralqir, I¡¯d simply be dead, and I¡¯m pretty sure, at that point, all of this would have happened anyway given time.¡± Sissa put her hand to the side of her head and stared into the middle distance as she thought. ¡°From a strategic perspective, you¡­ probably made the right call. I could think of two- no, three different groups of people that would want to use you. Oh. The dragons. Some of the dragons would definitely be tempted to reverse the Purge. Wait. The wretch down in the tunnels. It knew, didn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°That¡¯s the impression I got,¡± I replied with a nod. ¡°It knew a lot. Too much.¡± ¡°So, you killed it,¡± Trix said. The accusation hit me out of nowhere. I blinked. ¡°What? No. I killed it because it was going to eat me and then the rest of you.¡± ¡°Furball, don¡¯t,¡± Samila warned the Volpa. ¡°No!¡± Trix shouted. The anger in his tone shook the air and left the others silent. ¡°No,¡± he continued. ¡°Brother- No. Just Ryan, I guess. Ryan has been lying to us since the beginning, and I believe that his slaying of the only other being that knew his secret is a valid subject to question. I know not everyone spends all their time in the sanctuary like I have, but you should all have at least some understanding of how dangerous the fulcrum is. There is a reason they are represented as the tip of the triangle, at the intersection of light and dark. He indulges in both aspects. He hides when he must, kills when he must,¡± Trix stuck out an accusatory paw to draw everyone¡¯s attention to the unconscious Bishop. ¡°brutalizes when he must. This, I could forgive of an animal attempting to survive far from home, but he is not an animal. Upon first contact with our civilization, his first instinct was to lie. What we see all around us right now. This is the cost of those lies.¡± ¡°I-¡± I began, but stopped myself. Would defending myself accomplish something right now? Yes, I had lied to them all, but it was with sound reasoning at the time, given what I knew. I didn¡¯t realize the scourge-touched were already in Eclipse or that the scourge-touched were after me, specifically, or that my presence would be such a big damned deal to everyone. Did my ignorance actually matter, though? What happened happened, whether I intended it to or not. Would someone buried under a landslide care if the person further up the mountain meant to trigger it? Trix shook his head, mournfully and looked down to the floor. ¡°Brother- Damnit. Ryan, the night we met, do you remember?¡± I nodded, thinking back to Kolash escorting me through the streets and into their Sanctuary. The altars. The glass. Trix and his sandwiches. ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied. ¡°Volpa do not have the best of reputations,¡± Trix lamented. ¡°Did you know that? Of course not. That¡¯s obvious now. We, as a people, are known as deceivers and cheats. We lie, we steal. It is a way of life. If you are taken in, it is commonly accepted that you trusted too easily and somehow deserved it. Our magic is the same way. It is mist and shadow. The illusion of power. There is no substance to speak of, nothing that survives a light brush with truth anyway. We are all like this, or, at least, the vast majority, enough for other species to not care about the exceptions.¡± He was shrinking before my eyes, like a balloon losing air. I wanted to reach out. He continued. ¡°So, when you came into the sanctuary that night and trusted me to share in your voice¡­ It was a minor miracle to me. Instant trust from an accomplished warrior. What a joyful gift, a reward for living my life without guile. The very next day you had me watch your back in combat. Me! You trusted me! Then you gave me the means to fight. It was horrible, bloody, beautiful stuff, and it- was- real. You made me believe I belonged here, among heroes doing something that mattered.¡± He took a deep, shuddering breath, finally lifting his head with what looked like a monumental effort to look me in the eye. ¡°And it was all because you didn¡¯t know any better.¡± That was it. He said no more. Neither did I. Everyone stood silent and watched Trix weep. It was a quiet thing, no theatrics or wailing, just soul crushing sadness eating someone from the inside. Eventually, Samila reached, tentatively, down to put a hand on Trix¡¯s shoulder, but he shrank away, getting down on all fours and scrabbling into the darker parts of the cell before curling up in the back right corner. I shut off Detect Iron out of respect for his privacy. Of all the things I could give him right now, that was probably what he wanted the most. Then the spell was broken by the Bishop letting out a long, wet snore at my feet. I squeezed my eyes shut and tilted my head back in hopes the changed angle could rattle loose the right thing to say. I came up with nothing. Instead, I figured it was time for action rather than talk. I patted down Kolash and came up with the keys. Finally, as cell door swung open there was nothing left that separated us. My friends all stood there, though, hesitant to- Samila surged forward and nearly bowled me over, her arms around my back, her face buried in my chest. ¡°That all sounded very lonely,¡± she said, looking up at me with those big, golden, dragon eyes. They had stars for pupils. I¡¯d never noticed that. ¡°And I¡¯m sorry about your friend. I¡¯m sure he was wonderful.¡± I made a wordless noise that rushed out of my throat and got stuck somewhere near the back of my tongue. The room blurred until it was just blue and gold. ¡°Uh-¡± I turned my head, tried to take a step toward the door, to get away, shield them all from¡­ I didn¡¯t know. But Samila was holding on tight. I reached up to push her away, but I didn¡¯t have it in me. The tension and stress I¡¯d been holding for months left me in a rush leaving me empty and weak, the muscles in my body no longer having the strength or will to carry on without. I, eventually, stopped struggling. Someone else put a hand on my shoulder. I wasn''t sure who. Then I, for the first time since I became an Exotic, let myself just be human. Chapter 55 - Take the Streets Chapter 55 - Take the Streets *BRAP* *BAP* Scourge-Touched Undead takes 18 damage. (18 base)(Piercing) Scourge-touched undead is marked. Scourge-touched undead is cursed. Scourge-Touched Undead is bleeding. Scourge-Touched Undead takes 15 damage. (14 base, + 1 Marked bonus) Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 12 experience points. [10 base (-6 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+4 chain, -8 non-combat class)] I loved the smell of Volatility in the morning. It gave off a sort of tingly, ozone scent with a dash of purple that really blended well with the sunrise. I also loved the smooth efficiency of a machine well made and put to use in the right way. That was the good stuff. The turret I¡¯d just activated tracked and fired, cracking off short bursts of thunder in oddly spaced fits as it dealt with the many separate tracking angles and the complicated field of fire it was tasked with keeping clear. The time between volleys was longer in this iteration, the targeting program taking more time to hone in on something and take it down, but I¡¯d designed them for economy over firepower this time. Gone (hopefully) were the days of a partially obscured monster wasting ten or twenty bullets of my turrets¡¯ magazines. Now the turrets dealt with the monsters out of cover first then worked their way down from least obscured to the most. At this moment, the newly activated death machine didn¡¯t need to track very wide, the horizontal angle only about thirty degrees or so, but the alleyway I had it facing down had lots cover such as drainpipes, balconies, gutters, and rubble, not to mention four stories of vertical space to keep clear. *BRRRRAP* *BRRT* *BRT* Scourge-touched, previously allowed to roam and slink around with impunity, picking over the remains of the city they¡¯d murdered, found themselves and their closest friends suddenly very unwelcome in this part of town. This was my alleyway now, so sayeth my meticulously crafted, magic powered, automatic, boom stick. My turrets tended to start high, I¡¯d noticed, this one, like the others, tracking up to a window sill high above where a scourge-touched goblin was perched like a gargoyle, sniffing the air, quivering, twitching and generally being creepy like they did when they didn¡¯t have a living being to chase down and kill immediately to hand. A burst of automatic fire, three rounds in under a quarter of a second, took the creature in the temple in a glorious show of precision marksmanship. The monster¡¯s head rocked sideways, slammed forcefully into the far shoulder as the rounds drilled neat holes in the skull. The scourge-touched¡¯s body spasmed just once more before it tipped forward, arms shooting out in front of it like an old-timey pugilist as nonsense nerve signals were sent to its limbs from a brain that had just been forcefully rearranged. As it fell three stories to the street, the scourge-touched¡¯s scalp flapped in the rushing wind to expose the collapsed remains of its skull until its body came to a full stop against the cobbles with a *slap*. The turrets¡¯ aim was good before, but now it was uncanny. I¡¯d dialed the power on the individual Volatility explosions down slightly with this latest iteration and shrunk the buffer spring, giving this model a sliver less of a punch but far, far less recoil with every shot. The result was a slightly quieter, far more accurate machine that could put a grouping of three or four rounds in a circle about the size of a coin. I wouldn¡¯t trust them at extreme ranges, but that¡¯s not what I needed them for today. I needed lots of things dead at medium range, and I needed my machines to go the long haul, cool enough to grab and store when the time was right as well. I made a mental note. The slower, less energetic projectiles didn¡¯t have the penetrating power of their previous iterations, but they did their job well on small fries like this. I dared not go lower on the power output, though. The last thing I wanted was to reduce lethality. This was the sweet spot, enough to crack through bone and get to the vitals but not so much that it was overkill. In theory, it would delay the rate at which the action and barrels overheated, but I probably wouldn¡¯t get entirely past that problem unless I developed some kind of cooling system. Yes. I was aware of exactly how my thought process sounded, cooly calculating just the right amount of *oomf* to put into a machine so that it could kill hundreds of (kind of) living beings with maximum efficiency. I got it. My conscience just couldn¡¯t seem to muster up a whole lot of sympathy for the scourge. Not anymore. When I did get a flare up in the conscience department, all I had to do was look at the bloody streets and remember how full they were when I¡¯d walked through them before. My sympathy generally sat down and shut up for a while when I did that. The scourge-touched killed for killings¡¯ sake, and I wasn¡¯t about to waste emotional bandwidth on pondering if I was doing the right thing. As they¡¯d done with every avenue of approach I¡¯d fortified so far, the scourge-touched reacted to the sudden change in their circumstances with aggression. Every face on the street turned my way, and they surged forward as one. They howled and bared their teeth, just as they had on the other approaches I¡¯d set up today, but it wasn¡¯t the suicidal rage mode they entered when they saw me without my disguise. Their special brand of hate was, apparently, for humans only, and they could only get good and frothy if they knew their target was human. The monsters came on as a coordinated group, the old and the new. Infected beasts were a more common sight out here near the outer walls, apparently, and I was just getting acquainted with dealing with them. Goblins leaped from building outcroppings. Gangly, misshapen undead lurched over the filthy puddles and loose stones of the street. Blind, hissing rodents that looked like they would be at home digging through soft soil and munching on crops, scrabbled toward me, their metallic claws sparking off stone. Some kind of gray skinned, amorphous something tried to pull itself out of the gutter half a block from my position, but it didn¡¯t get far enough into the open for me to get a good picture of its full form. The turret was on it immediately. A dozen buzzing bullets ripped down the length of the monsters¡¯ body in a neat line until its wrinkled skin burst open and spilled black fluid onto the street like a burst water balloon. After that, the rest of the corpse slipped back into the sewers below. That was a new one. I pulled up the combat log to take a look. Scourge-Touched Smothering Thrag takes 9 damage. (16 base, -7 resist)(Piercing) Scourge-touched Smothering Thrag is marked. Scourge-touched Smothering Thrag is cursed. Scourge-Touched Smothering Thrag takes 11 damage. (16 base, -5 resist)(Piercing) Scourge-Touched Smothering Thrag takes 17 damage. (16 base, -2 resist, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Piercing) Scourge-Touched Smothering Thrag takes 16 damage. (16 base, -1 resist)(Piercing) Critical hit! Scourge-Touched Smothering Thrag takes 32 damage. (16 base, 16 bonus)(Piercing) Critical hit! Scourge-Touched Smothering Thrag takes 35 damage. (16 base, 16 bonus, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Piercing) Critical hit! Scourge-Touched Smothering Thrag takes 32 damage. (16 base, 16 bonus)(Piercing) Not the first Resist text I¡¯d seen, but despite the animal dying quickly anyway I didn¡¯t like to see it. It meant we were starting to pull wildcards from the deck, and things were going to get progressively more interesting as more of Ralqir¡¯s wildlife was turned. The ¡®smothering thrag¡¯ was emblematic of a shift in threat level. I probably should have seen this coming, since I¡¯d nearly died to something called a joroba the last time I¡¯d been outside the Spire. ¡°Sir. They¡¯re getting close. Shall I call for a volley?¡± Lieutenant Obvious asked nervously, mouth right next to my right ear so he wouldn¡¯t have to shout over the guns. The archers, guards and goblins alike, were set up behind us down below in the yard, prepped and ready, arrows nocked and awaiting the signal. I shook my head, hoping the gesture translated well enough through the hood and the mask. This approach was a pretty narrow one. The turret didn¡¯t have much area to cover, at least not as much as I¡¯d seen them do on the other avenues. It should be fine, barring a legitimate swarm. ¡°I think they¡¯re getting it, Lieutenant! We¡¯re fine!¡± I shouted, resisting the urge to give a thumbs up (stupid alien culture) while trying to sound reassuring, but the volume I had to use probably diminished the calm I was trying to convey. As he and I watched, the turret cut down dozens of monsters as they tried and failed to swarm our position. The narrow alley was the near perfect ground for the gun to dispense death. Any charge of sufficient numbers the scourge put together was quickly decimated, the front rank getting a facefull of lead forcing their friends to jump over their corpses or take the time to dodge around them, but the turret¡¯s tracking was quick and exacting. Those that took the air came down dead, and those that stayed on the ground were picked apart even as they dodged. The climbing monsters were no better off. Their bodies rained down from above to slap wetly onto the stone and stain them an unnatural black. Just as they had on the other approaches, the scourge¡¯s charge broke just as suddenly as it formed, and the disparate survivors scattered into the empty doorways and the interiors of the buildings or slipped into the storm drains and gutters. Bodies of slain monsters littered the open ground, three here, ten there, a straggler or two in odd repose draped over rubble or debris in the middle of the street. The closest they¡¯d gotten was maybe six feet from our barrier. The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. Now, if they kept to their previous behavior pattern, the scourge would keep their heads down, at least for a while. They got way more timid after a showing like this. As a general strategy, the scourge seemed to be opportunistic in nature or a flavor of it, content to nip at and harass the scattered pockets of armed resistance down over time as opposed to committing to a big stupid battle where they risked a lot to gain very little. It showed some kind of tactical or strategic thinking that I wasn¡¯t comfortable seeing from the murderous assholes. Then again, maybe the swarm tactics were simply saved for special people such as myself. I resisted the urge to retie the catch on my mask. No need to call attention to it. The camp was essentially approachable from five avenues, three of which, the ground level ones, I had pretty much cleared of monsters now. There were two side alleys like the one I¡¯d just cleared and the main road that led straight away from the gate. Four turrets now stood sentry to cover all that ground. The main road, blocked off by the big semi-circle of piled up crap or ¡®junk berm¡¯ as the goblins called it, was framed at the corners by two old, stone and mortar buildings that had once been businesses that served incoming traffic from the gate. The avenue itself was at least fifty yards wide here and roughly straight with only a few overturned carts and piles of rubble from collapsed buildings to get in the way of my turrets¡¯ lines of fire. Its size, though, warranted two separate guns to cover it all. If it were me, I would have shrunk the junk berm a bit to give my guns a bit more room to fire without big old buildings giving the monsters cover and concealment to approach the wall, but the survivors hadn¡¯t designed the defenses with me in mind. They were just trying to make it to the next day. I¡¯d just have to make do with what we had and hope for the best. The other two vulnerabilities in our setup were both the city wall. It was higher than any of the roofs of the buildings, and it was nearly impossible to stop climbing monsters from finding their ways up there and getting into the camp by jumping or scaling down. That was my next problem to tackle. Right now, it was being handled by a firing line of crossbows and a detachment of spear goblins that would finish off any living stragglers and retrieve all the bolts, but that wouldn¡¯t work during the upcoming evacuation. We¡¯d need all those people down on street level. Obvious and I slid down from the top of the berm to land in the yard again. Preparations for our escape were happening at a breakneck pace. People ran everywhere, carrying stuff, piling things into crates, stuffing things into packs. The mood was generally rushed but hopeful. Everyone was more than ready to get out of here and finally have real walls between them and the monsters, and I didn¡¯t blame them. Tiba and her honor guard marched up as we got to our feet but didn¡¯t waste time with pleasantries. ¡°The Tribes are ready soon, but things are uncertain,¡± Tiba announced with a hint of tiredness. Though her words were dutifully stoic for her followers, her expression held the hint of uncertainty. ¡°Before, when we try to move, the Black Ones are everywhere. I feel like it happens again if we wait too long or move too soon.¡± I did a quick sweep around the yard, making note of all the angles, trying to picture a gaggle of people waiting to stream out of here and down the alley to safety. Once the barrier came down, there would be a bottleneck at the exit followed by a run down the narrow street my party and I had used to get here. Then, even if we had someone there with the key to open the door to the tunnels instantaneously, we¡¯d have to contend with an even narrower bottleneck as everyone streamed into the underground, all while the enemy closed in for the kill. The last people to get off the street would probably have a hell of a time. That¡¯s why I was going to be one of them. How the plan would hold up to a nearly instantaneous swarm, I didn¡¯t know. That would be the worst case scenario, and I was increasingly worried that was exactly what we were in for. If it were me giving orders to a few hundred thousand ravenous monsters, I wouldn¡¯t waste numbers going after fortified positions like this one, especially considering said monsters didn¡¯t have to eat or drink like regular folks. No, I¡¯d wait people out, starve them, and end them when they were vulnerable, like, say, when they were making a desperate dash for safety. ¡°Yeah. They¡¯ll come at us hard. That¡¯s the feeling I get, at least,¡± I admitted. I wasn¡¯t going to sugarcoat it for her. I respected Tiba too much. ¡°I think they¡¯ll pounce when they sense we¡¯re vulnerable. The bright side is that we¡¯re not going far, and we¡¯ve brought lots of firepower.¡± ¡°They surround us like hunting dogs,¡± Tiba remembered. ¡°You see it in the caves, and I see it again outside the walls.¡± ¡°This time, we have a plan and a real place to go, and I¡¯m not stuck in a cell.¡± I tried to smile reassuringly at her. I was doing a lot of that lately, reassuring. ¡°Your human magic is not much like the stories say.¡± she said, sparing a glance for the turret over my shoulder. It came off like an apology, like she was sorry she¡¯d gotten it wrong or the stories got it wrong. ¡°That is probably good, because I don¡¯t see how sharper spears help us here. The stories speak of great things but nothing like what you do.¡± ¡°I think my path has deviated somewhat from what it was supposed to be. Maybe that¡¯s for the best, though,¡± I posited. I was probably only alive thanks to said deviation, so I wasn¡¯t about to complain. ¡°What do the stories say, though?¡± I asked, curious. She shrugged, her forehead wrinkling as she tried to remember and boil it down for the tourist. ¡°Mastery over metal. Unbreakable armor. Swords that cut through whole trees. We trade for these things before the Dark Lord finds out, but the best things are lost or broken now.¡± I fought to pick my jaw up off the floor, blinking once, twice. ¡°Hold on. You- Goblins traded with humans? Like¡­ before me? Before the Dark Lord even?¡± Tiba¡¯s eyebrows knit together in confusion like I¡¯d just made the most obvious observation there ever was. ¡°Yes? The stories say word reaches to the tribes that a human is here, and many of us pick up our best things and come see, the smiths especially. They are always excited to meet new humans. This is before the Dark Lord and the Black Ones. One of our old ones can tell the stories better than me, though. They hear many times and are better at telling.¡± ¡°Uh. Yeah. Just- Did the goblins live near the place where humans-¡± I searched for the right word to describe the insertion point, something that would be understandable from a goblin perspective. ¡°The ruins where humans would appear. Did you guys live near there?¡± Tiba shrugged. ¡°Different clans back then, so maybe. Doesn¡¯t matter. The Black Ones live there now. No one goes there anymore, except the stupid and very brave.¡± ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve been told I ride that line between those two concepts,¡± I said absently. Tiba had just thrown me another piece of the puzzle. The Black Ones¡¯ territory encompassed the tutorial facility. There was a reason they were the first living things I¡¯d encountered on Ralqir. This meant¡­ what? That they were spawn campers? They couldn¡¯t even talk. How did they know to stick around and wait for newbies to get tossed into a new universe when they could be out murdering to their black hearts¡¯ desires. Tiba didn¡¯t wait for me to think things through, though. She was concerned with the now. ¡°I am still worried about moving, Ryan. We won¡¯t leave goblins behind to become Black Ones. I am not leaving goblins behind.¡± She held her chin high, daring me to contradict her, and her eyes went hard as stone. I nodded, not about to tell a queen how to take care of her people. ¡°We¡¯ll make it happen. Lieutenant, you hear that? Oh. Sorry. Of course not. Uh- Queen Tiba is expressing concern for our dead if the worst is to happen. What can we do for her?¡± The man stood up tall, shoulders back and actually saluted the little goblin chieftess. The gesture went over her head, of course, short as she was. Hard to stand at attention and salute a woman that only came up to your navel. ¡°Assure her highness that no one will be left behind, dead or alive. Our crossbowmen will get one, maybe two shots off before they will be on crowd control duty. They will be tasked with taking care of the wounded, goblins and tall folk alike.¡± I translated for Tiba and saw her visibly relax as I did. Her grip on her spear never loosened, though. ¡°That gives me some comfort,¡± Tiba said. ¡°Our dead burn or we risk them being taken.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been meaning to ask about that,¡± I said. The goblins knew more about the Black Ones and, by implication, the scourge plague, than even all the healers and scholars still alive in the city. We¡¯d have to sit down sometime and talk about what she knew about the Black Ones¡­ about a lot of things, actually. A short Miur and a team of goblins rushed past us carrying a half dozen coils of thick rope between them. Together, they started tying the ends of the rope to different points of junk in the wall. The old goblin engineer, whose name was Flog, I¡¯d learned, was among them, directing workers on where to pull and what to anchor on. Together, they¡¯d be bringing the barrier down when it was time for our little exodus. Apparently, it had been designed to fail in this way, according to the ancient green man. Made of junk or not, he¡¯d directed every piece of wood, every length of rope, every hinge that was placed upon the pile to make sure it was fit for this purpose. He knew where the keystones were and what it would take to bring it down. ¡°Goblins,¡± he said, ¡°always have a way out. We know it, or we make it.¡± On the other side of the bonfire, I spied Sissa, Samila, and Geddon as they knelt in a loose formation with another company of guards, listening to a briefing by the last remaining Captain in the camp. Everyone, including them, would have their place in this operation, and the professional military people would have to pull a lot of weight and be ready to pick up more when things started to inevitably fall apart. As if she sensed me looking, Samila turned her head slightly and met my eyes, and that little smirk of hers sprouted on her face as she shot me a semi-private wink. I returned the sentiment with a tiny wave, but that was the end of our little indulgence. She was right back to listening intently to what the Captain had to say, and I had to get back to my part in all this.. I scanned the rest of the camp, running my eyes over all of the motion, following the activity, checking down at shin level for what I wanted to find. Nothing. No Trix. There was that hollow, chilly feeling in my stomach again. I hadn¡¯t seen him since last night in the cells. Kolash was similarly absent. We, the church guards and myself, made the collective decision to not lock the Bishop up despite some good arguments otherwise. The arguments against restraining the big frog came down to a few inescapable facts. Firstly, we couldn¡¯t spare the people to carry him hogtied or unconscious when we evacuated the camp. Second, we needed him. He was the only healer in the city that we knew of, and it would save lives if we made nice. Third, no one was comfortable with keeping him a prisoner just because he was afraid for his people. Yes, he tried to kill me, but the aim of the act was to keep others safe. I could respect that. He¡¯d just need to come around or stay out of my way. Besides, I wasn¡¯t overly worried that the Bishop would come at me with a curse or get his guards to kill me either. No, he wanted my existence kept a secret, like Jassin. Why else would he curse me then tell everyone else that it was an attempt to cure me? Well, that was about to backfire on him if he was still interested in a fight. The fact that I¡¯d survived the spell and wasn¡¯t a member of the shambling monster horde was public knowledge now, and the Bishop would have a hard time explaining why he wanted one of his supposed elite fighters and only practitioners dead on the eve of battle. No, he¡¯d have to come at me in secret if he still wanted me dead, and he¡¯d have to wait in line like everyone else. Suddenly, the turrets on the main approach simultaneously came to life, letting loose a long, sustained stream of fire, drowning out all other sound. Everyone turned to look, all conversations put on pause. The guns hadn¡¯t done this since I¡¯d first set them up, and not nearly for so long. They should at least pause slightly as they acquired new targets and reengaged. This was a long bout of sustained fire, though. It was over in under ten seconds, but the quiet afterward was equally deafening. It had a chilling effect on everyone in the camp. No one went back to what they were doing. They stared in silence at the guns. Wow. That must have been a big group out there. Maybe the scourge were massing for a charge after all. I poked that part of my brain that seemed to keep track of things with Detect and, more recently, Marked things. Nothing. Then it happened again. The guns spun up, this time in fits and starts and then a big grinding crescendo to finish. That was a lot of rounds spent. Detect, again, showed nothing. Wait. no. There was something out there, distant, indistinct but getting closer. The shape was strange, angular, winking in and out of my awareness as my Mark struggled to keep whatever it was highlighted for me. I looked down at Tiba, raising an eyebrow. Maybe I needed to- Again. The air split with sustained gunfire. What the hell is going on out there? I took a breath to excuse myself from the group, simultaneously pulling up my combat log to get some kind of clue as to what the turrets were killing when one of the goat-legged guards did what I was about to do. He shouldered his crossbow and bounded up the junk berm in long surefooted leaps, until he reached the top. Once his head was above the crest, he froze. Whatever he saw up there, he didn¡¯t like it. He staggered backwards in his shock, then turned back to us, wide-eyed. He cupped his hand to his face. ¡°It¡¯s a Bra-!¡± *BRTRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR* The goat guard¡¯s message was cut off as the turrets went full blast on something very very close. Then the far edge of our defensive wall of junk exploded. Chapter 56 - Seal the Breach Chapter 56 - Seal the Breach The left side of the semicircular junk barrier exploded into a cloud of wood splinters, dust and debris, the force of it so intense it sent individual cracked and broken pieces rocketing through the air to smack into the stunned crowd. Clusters of goblins were slapped to the cobblestones. The bonfire caught a half of a wagon wheel at its base and toppled over in a shower of sparks that forced the formation of guardsmen to scatter. Splinters slapped against the material of my cloak as I spun around to shield Tiba from the storm, wrapping the two of us in at least cursory protection. Thankfully, I didn¡¯t get any damage notifications, but it was as far from the origin point as you could get. Others probably weren¡¯t as lucky. The air shook as the turrets on every approach began to lay into targets in their field of fire. Too much. Too constant. I stood up again, flinging the cloak to the side to scatter the debris that had come to rest on my back and turned to survey the damage. The barrier on the far side was now a scattered mess of rubble, obscured by a slowly dissipating cloud of dust. In the middle of the cloud, a dark shape shook itself and stomped one, heavy foot into the street. Old pavers shattered under the force of it. The creature was massive, 7 or 8 feet tall at the shoulders, almost as wide, blocky almost, like carved stones stacked on top of one another until they were the general shape of an animal except exaggerated in every way. Its front half was bulky to the point of absurdity, massively muscular, armored in grayish tan rock with lots of hard corners and straight edges that eventually tapered organically into a back half that wouldn¡¯t be out of place on some kind of bovine animal complete with thick fur and a long, tufted tail. Its four legs ended in wide-based hooves, the front of which had sharp edges like shovels or rounded axes. I squinted, trying to make sense of what I was looking at. The thing was a mountain in the front, a buffalo in the back, its shoulders piled up to dwarf everything else. I squinted, trying to differentiate the moving parts in the midst of the armor plating to spot the creature¡¯s triangular head, almost comically tiny in the middle of all the bulk. The head, too, was armored, even the eyes, leaving only a small, horizontal slit across almost like a knight¡¯s visor. Everyone stood there for a shocked few seconds, taking a collective breath in dread of what was about to come. Our party had just been crashed by a completely different class of monster. The thing shook its head, the armored plates clacking and grating against each other loud enough even to be heard over the remaining guns. It snorted. *BOOF* The dust that remained in the air around the creature along with a good bit that was lodged between the cobblestones was blasted away, and I could feel particulates ping against my cheeks. A long, mournful, lowing escaped the creature¡¯s mouth as its body exploded forward, just this motion creating a miniature shockwave that I could feel in my stomach. Ancient sediment between the old bricks of the structures around us fell down in dusty trickles. Goblins who had been assigned to stack and pack the food and supplies scattered to make way for the beast, abandoning their goods and trying to evade the oncoming charge. The slippery little green guys juked one way then another to shake its pursuit, but the creature could corner surprisingly well. It chose one out of the many goblins it had targeted and lowered its head like a battering ram. The goblin ran, tried to dodge, but the creature had him dead to rights. I watched in horror as the monster closed in, got within inches of the goblin and... The triangular head clicked and spasmed, turning itself clockwise like a tumbler in a lock, then retreated back into the armored plates, ending in a final *CLACK* *BOOM* An explosion without sound tore through the area directly in front of the creature. The cobblestones rippled with the force of it before giving way and flying out in a wide arc that slammed into the stone of the city wall and the locked gate. The poor running goblin was a cloud of pink mist. Holy- What the hell is this thing? I brought up my combat log, searching for the messages from the past thirty seconds. Where. Where. Where. Whe- There! Scourge-Touched Bray Knight takes 0 damage. (13 base, -13 Armored)(Piercing) Scourge-Touched Bray Knight takes 0 damage. (11 base, -11 Armored)(Piercing) Scourge-Touched Bray Knight takes 0 damage. (16 base, -16 Armored)(Piercing) Scourge-Touched Bray Knight takes 0 damage. (18 base, -18 Armored)(Piercing) Scourge-Touched Bray Knight takes 15 damage. (16 base, -4 Resist, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Piercing) Scourge-touched Bray Knight is marked. Scourge-touched Bray Knight is cursed. Scourge-Touched Bray Knight is bleeding. Scourge-Touched Bray Knight takes 0 damage. (18 base, -18 Armored)(Piercing) Scourge-Touched Bray Knight resists mark. Scourge-Touched Bray Knight takes 0 damage. (16 base, -16 Armored)(Piercing) ¡°Uh- Tiba! Get your people to high ground!¡± I shouted, not entirely sure what they would be able to do after that, but up on the wall was better than nothing. The thing looked too big to be able to climb or to get up the stairs to the battlements. Those stairs were meant for soldiers, not walking tanks. I already had my sword in my hand as I started forward. I didn¡¯t know what I was going to do about this thing, but I knew I had to do something. I had a couple more turrets in my inventory, but then there was the problem of the armor and- ¡°Ryan! Stop!¡± Tiba called. The way she said it pulled me up short before I could get very far. I looked back, sword up still and body still trying to carry me into the fight. Tiba was pointing with her spear toward the collapsed part of the barrier the Bray Knight had just come through. ¡°There¡¯s a hole, Ryan! They come!¡± Tiba yelled. Even now, pale faces of the Returned were streaming into the breach, capitalizing on our distraction. Everyone was so focused on the armored nightmare buffalo thing, the other scourge were coming in uncontested. I looked from the hole to the bray to Tiba to the bray and back to the hole again. Which threat was greater? Where could I- A shovel sized hand slapped me on the shoulder hard. ¡°Go plug up the breach, Ryan,¡± Geddon bellowed, an intense glowing grin on his face as he slipped his helm down onto his head. ¡°Once that¡¯s done maybe you can watch us work.¡± ¡°Work fast and maybe we¡¯ll save some for you¡± Samila said from behind the giant leori. She already had her helmet on and her shield strapped to her arm. Her eyes were locked on the Bray Knight with a hungry intensity that sent a chill through me. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. ¡°Ready, big guy?¡± She asked. ¡°I¡¯ve been ready my entire life,¡± Geddon replied, not even getting to the end of the sentence before he was charging, shield forward, sword in the air. The armored monster hadn¡¯t charged anyone else yet, seemingly content with rubbing its head on the bloody shattered ground where the goblin had met its end. It didn¡¯t even seem to notice as crossbow bolts panged into its plated shoulders or even the lucky ones that sank into its furry hind legs. If the combat log hadn¡¯t told me it was scourge-touched, the lack of pain aversion would have clenched it for me. I spared a glance for them before I went my own way, wishing I could¡­ do something for them, anything, but no. They knew the situation and had asked me to do this. Shaking my head to narrow my focus, I ran toward the breach. They were right. I was good at this. I could do this part, and I would need to trust them to do theirs. As I ran I loosened my shoulder and settled my grip on my sword. The Returned were slowly streaming in, pale grinning faces furtively checking for signs they¡¯d been detected by the defenders. Goblins came through as well, climbing over the much reduced pile of rubble before bounding off to make trouble elsewhere in the camp. There wasn¡¯t a flood of them like I¡¯d seen in the past, but I got the impression I was seeing as many of them as were available in the area. There was that strategic thinking again. They¡¯d sent in a battering ram and had troops ready to head into the breach it created. Had they noticed we were gearing up to move and decided to do something about it, or was this something else? What level of thinking was I witnessing here? Somewhere out there, I had a gun down, among the rubble. It wasn¡¯t positioned in the disintegrated part of the berm, but it certainly caught a part of the blast. Now it was missing. If I could get it back up, that would go a long way toward stemming the tide. The question was: would I be left alone long enough to do that? I scanned the area, looking for signs of metal or movement hoping the gun was still trying to track and fire while it was on the ground, but I came up with nothing before my grace period was done. Then I was set upon by the horde. Two Returned, gangly, pale, emaciated things draped in rags charged me on all fours, springing up to swipe at my face once they got in range. Their dirty nails raked over my cloak, grasped the material before their owners went in for a bite. I stabbed out with my sword to take the first one in the midsection, but it dodged back before I could do real damage. The other was on me from my left, slashing at my neck. I blocked the strike with my prosthetic, spinning on my leading foot to shift into a punch that landed solidly in the middle of the undead¡¯s face. Its head snapped back, and I heard popping sounds from the vertebrae in its neck. Willing Edge [ 10 MP/sec] The followup downward slash with my sword nearly bisected the creature, my blade slicing through the top half of the Returned from the collar bone all the way down to the pelvis. My mouth dropped open in shock, only to get an intense sample of that all too familiar scourge ick. 40 Body. Need to get used to that. The other undead capitalized on my sword being lodged in its friend¡¯s insides (now outsides) and lunged. It wrapped itself around me in a tight bear hug from the back. The hold tied up my sword arm while it went to bite the side of my face. I struggled to get my metal hand around to peel the thing off, but I had no leverage or reach to get my fingers around more than its clothes. My eyes widened as the misshapen mouth closed in on my tender face. It will come as no surprise to anyone that even the threat of something biting you in the face has a tendency to cause mild panic. ¡°No! Gah! Gahhhh! Get off!¡± My mind was a whirling tornado of ¡®No no no no no.¡¯ I screeched, fumbling for something to use. Hardened Defense [9 MP/sec] Hardened Defense: User may harden one part of their body for 1 second for X MP/sec where X = 5% of total MP, increasing resistance to cuts, abrasions, burns, broken bones, etc. It wasn¡¯t a perfect fit, but it was all I could think to do in the situation to keep my cheek from being ripped off. I¡¯d gotten this new ability when I¡¯d leveled up my Unarmed Combat to level 5. In my subsequent tests after selecting it from the menu, I¡¯d determined that the part of the body that I could harden was distressingly small, about the size of a fist, but I wasn¡¯t thinking about the limitations of the ability just now. I wanted my face to stay where faces should be, hopefully forever. I didn¡¯t have a hard time concentrating on the area I wanted to harden. I felt the mana leave my core and coalesce in my right cheek, cold and fortifying. The undead¡¯s teeth stopped cold, cracked, and shattered as it continued to try to maul me. It didn¡¯t seem to care though. It bit and bit, getting nothing for its efforts but dental destruction until it was just chowing down on me with bleeding gums. It didn¡¯t occur to the thing to stop and preserve its only effective weapons. Breathing hard, I got a shoulder out of the bear hug then jammed my metal hand into the creature¡¯s mouth, slipping around the cheek and getting a good grip on the bottom jaw. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] Then it was just a matter of peeling the defanged undead off of me, far enough to run it through with my sword. The light left the monsters¡¯ eyes and it dropped away only to be replaced, immediately, by another. I dropped my Hardened Defense to preserve my mana and cut this one down the old fashioned way. ¡°Duty and mercy!¡± Sissa shouted from somewhere behind me. She¡¯d joined the fight sometime during my face biting funtime. I was out of range for the buff, but it was nice to hear she was alive. Other shouts, wavering, fearful, didn¡¯t sound nearly as confident as she did. Already breathing hard after just a few kills, I advanced upon the breach until I was within about ten feet of the edge of it. Only a few of the monsters seemed interested in me at one time, content to send a few of their number to tie me up while the rest spread around the camp. I was small potatoes, apparently. What a nice change after the last time we¡¯d met. I counted myself lucky the face biting undead hadn¡¯t ripped off my mask. This position was as good as I was going to get. I needed to plug this if we were going to get this situation under control. The scourge-touched clawed and snapped at me. I deterred them with wide slashes of my sword while I thought about what to do. My downed turret was nowhere to be seen near the wreckage. It wasn¡¯t firing either. Not to mention, these things weren¡¯t going to let me pick through the rubble to find it. This is a bad idea. A really bad idea. I was hoping to avoid this until we were good and ready to leave. Then again, the camp was in danger of falling apart right now. What more damage could I do than had already been done? A lot, actually, but it was either this or nothing. I slashed at an undead face and bound backward to get some space, flipping my sword into my left hand and using my right to summon the top part of one of my new turrets. The stubby cylindrical action, about the size of my forearm, was already loaded with multiple pressurized bulbs, and the Volatility charged ignition stick on the end of the turret¡¯s barrel glowed menacingly at the tip. Two more slashes with my sword and another step back, and I had enough room to position the turret in my metal hand. I wasn¡¯t stupid enough to do this with my fleshy one. I was done being on fire. I held the top half of the turret out as far from my body as I could possibly get it, and the corners of my mouth turned down in a flinch to end all flinches as I reached over and opened the pressure valve. *FWOOSH* A bright yellow jet of flame spewed from the barrel of the flamethrower, a solid line at first then dispersing into a loose, globular spray that covered a solid three foot cone of hurt. I¡¯d just so happened to be aiming directly at one of the Returned when I activated the targeting card, so the programming just decided to do what it did when it had a lock on something. The yellow stream was so bright and hot I grunted and growled as I held on for dear life, unable to look directly at what I was doing. I blindly waved the flamer back and forth in a wide arc, covering everything at eye level and below. The turret sputtered and spat as its nozzle passed over valid targets, turning on the juice when it saw something to burn only to instantly cut off when the nozzle passed over empty space. It wasn¡¯t full coverage like I would have wanted, but¡­ you couldn¡¯t argue with the results. The monsters went up like flares. The burning pex oil/alcohol mixture stuck to the creatures¡¯ skin like syrup then popped and fizzed as it spread like fire is wont to do. The undead were especially susceptible to it for some reason, their skin going up like dry paper, their insides sizzling as whatever they were using for blood boiled away. The flames also blinded them, and they struck out at their comrades in their desperation to kill me even as they met their doom. It was about as chaotic as chaos could get. My world became a raging inferno. ¡°Aaaaaahhhhhhhh!¡± A tortured, panicked scream escaped my mouth, more high pitched than I would have admitted to anyone back home. I think I might have developed a minor aversion to fire since I¡¯d last nearly burned to death. Of course, the metal part of my body felt nothing, just the vague, semi-directional push from the recoil as the turret discharged its payload into the targets in front of it. The skin on my leading leg and my neck stung with the heat, and the edges of my cloak smoldered. Meanwhile, everything in front of me was engulfed in sticky, liquid yellow. Regardless, I advanced, waving my firestick in the general direction of the enemy. The disembodied turret head did the rest. I was right in front of the breach, feet crunching over splintered wood, by the time the turret stopped activating at all with no targets in range to engage, but I needn¡¯t have bothered going this far. When I finally looked, the breach, the berm, the building next to it, along with a multitude of twitching corpses, were already on fire, and the fire was plugging the hole better than I had any hope of doing with a fixed turret. And the fire was spreading. Chapter 57 - Make things Worse Chapter 57 - Make things Worse The wall was on fire. The ground was on fire. Most pressing, however, was that my cloak was on fire. I tried to put it out, but the liquid flame I¡¯d used in my flamethrower design was sticky stuff. I ended up having to grab the offending edge and triggering Devouring Grasp. Interestingly, my Engine buff flickered on for about a quarter second when I did that, but it was gone before I could look at the values. I¡¯d check the log later, if I thought about it. I backed away from the flames. They were already climbing up the facade of the corner building, using the wood accents and window shutters to spread to the interior. The adjacent junk berm¡­ well that was 90% wood, and there was a healthy breeze coming from the west, making the spread of my little campfire an inevitability. The window of time we had to get out of the area was definitely measured in minutes, probably in the single digits. Behind me, all the shouts, twanging crossbows, hissing scourge, and the hollow roar of the Bray Knight told me that I still had work to do. Maybe it was best I put the flamer turret away just now, though. It disappeared in a flash. The yard situation wasn¡¯t that much better than the raging inferno that was once my part of the wall. While I¡¯d been fighting the scourge and plugging the breach, the big Bray had been having a field day with every solid structure in the immediate area. Half of the building that held the cells was a collapsed heap along with the gatehouse adjacent to the stairs that climbed up to the top of the wall. The crates where we¡¯d been gathering equipment and supplies was now a vaguely conical splatter of debris. Currently, three guards were in front of the bray, slapping their swords on the edges of their shields and dancing side to side to keep its attention while the monster shook its tiny head and huffed. Tens of crossbow bolts stuck out of the creature¡¯s back and out of its sides, but the problem was that the bray just wasn¡¯t feeling it. It was bleeding from countless wounds, but nothing was even close to slowing it down, much less killing it. Approaching the monster from the back, Sissa and Samila flanked the bray, armed with a white bedsheet or maybe a table cloth. While the others guards ran distraction, the sisters crept up on the monsters¡¯ side and, with a surprising amount of strength and grace, Samila vaulted up and over the bray¡¯s back, letting the sheet billow in the wind to cover a good bit of the monster¡¯s head. Then it was time to scatter. The bray went insane. It bucked wildly trying to remove the sheet from its head. The hard edges that made up its armor were working against it just now, keeping the cloth from just slipping down to the ground, and the beast didn¡¯t have the wherewithal to stop and remove the blindfold with a hoof. The surrounding guards closed in to capitalize, chopping with their swords at the tender flesh on the back part of the monster, but it was dangerous business. One guard got too close and failed to retreat quickly enough, and the back end of the bray came around to knock him to the ground. His desperate scream was cut off as a heavy hoof came down directly on his chest, crushing his breastplate and silencing him forever. I briefly considered summoning the flamer again to see what that would do, but I decided against it. We had enough problems dealing with the Bray Knight without making it a Flaming Bray Knight. The remaining turrets barked as more scourge approached the berm. Level up! You are now level 17. Well, that was nice at least. What could I do now, though? We were on a definitive time limit. Our defenses were about to cook us, and if they didn¡¯t cook us, we couldn¡¯t hide behind a pile of ash afterwards. I sprinted forward, getting my sword out again and casting Willing Edge. 40 Body and a sharp sword had worked so far. Maybe I could do damage where the others couldn¡¯t. I took a curving route to keep behind the bray, twisted at the waist like a coiled spring, and let loose with a high vertical chop as the bray kicked out. My sword¡¯s edge cut through the meat of the monster¡¯s thigh and sank deep. Scourge Touched Bray Knight takes 4 damage. (26 base, -22 Resist) (Slashing) My sword stopped cold, my arm vibrating in its socket like I¡¯d just hit a steel beam. *BONG* Scourge Touched Bray Knight attacks you for 40 damage. (-50 mitigated) Then I was flying. It was a brief flight, less than a second. I barely had a chance to register what was happening. You take 1 impact damage. You take 2 impact damage. You take 1 impact damage. Status gained: Stunned [10 seconds] You take 6 impact damage. Then I was rolling. My world alternated between gray and blue and back to gray a half dozen times before I finally came to a stop against the collapsed structure of the cells, staring up at the sky. ¡°Umf,¡± I grunted as the sky wobbled in my vision. My thoughts spun with it, whirling drunkenly, refusing to coalesce into something coherent. Sluggishly, I got my arm moving and ran a hand over my body, checking for missing or broken parts. Everything was sore, my clothes were ripped, and the inside of my hood felt sticky, but I was otherwise intact. The flesh surrounding my prosthetic side did seem tender, though. Did I take that blow in the spooky metal parts? That would explain a lot. A hand reached down and snatched me to my feet. My still recovering equilibrium didn¡¯t like that. ¡°A good try, monk, but a bull like that¡¯s not a job for swords,¡± Bole¡¯s voice said. I closed my eyes and shook my head, trying to get the world to stand still again, and it seemed to do the trick. The corporal¡¯s face materialized nearby. I focused on it, fighting my stomach to not expel breakfast. ¡°Umf,¡± I said again. Real speech was still an aspirational thing right now.. ¡°Around. These church zealots make me want some alone time,¡± Bole answered a question I hadn¡¯t thought to ask. He squinted, scanning the remains of the camp, not lingering on any particular thing while rolling one of those knives on his knuckles. ¡°Well, that¡¯s us fucked then, isn¡¯t it?¡± Bole asked. I assumed the question was rhetorical. I worked my tongue around inside my mouth and spit out a mouthful of blood and a bit of something soft and chewy. ¡°Not if we kill thissh thing firssht,¡± I said. Damnit. Had I bitten my tongue? It didn¡¯t matter. Bole¡¯s assessment did have merit, though. I didn¡¯t know how to kill this thing without time we didn¡¯t have. We couldn¡¯t move, either, not with the bray at our backs. If we tried to bring everyone down the alley while the hulking cow was still alive, we¡¯d just be lining up bowling pins. Squishy bowling pins. Another guard died as the bray suddenly stopped bucking and charged forward blindly. The guard tried to dodge, but the edge of the creature¡¯s armored shoulder clipped her trailing arm and that weird shockwave attack the bray used ripped the woman in half, along with the tablecloth blinder. I cast about for my sword, finding it only a few feet away, mind whirling for a solution. Bole put a hand on my arm, stopping me. ¡°Don¡¯t. Let them distract it.¡± ¡°We¡¯re losing people,¡± I growled. ¡°Sissa, Samila, and Geddon are still- Bole pulled on my arm, but I was heavy. He couldn¡¯t budge me. Instead, he ended up just pulling himself forward until he was in my way. ¡°Stop. Let them do their job,¡± he said, pointing to my right with his chin. The stairs. The stairs that led to the top of the battlements were a popular place right now. A circle of goblin spears were gathered around the base of the stairs as people rushed upward to flee to high ground, two at a time. A few of the scourge lay dead around the base of the stairs, ragged holes in their bodies from sharp goblin spears. The church guards were getting personnel up there too, mainly those with visible injuries, I noticed. I had told Tiba to get her people to high ground, didn¡¯t I? She worked fast. There had to be a way I could help. ¡°Brays are tough bastards,¡± Bole said in my ear. ¡°This one¡¯s just under a Prince, only three or four of ¡®em in a herd. Culling one of them usually means digging a spike pit or burying a blade trap then running like hell. Unless you¡¯ve got any of those in your magical mystery pockets, you¡¯re just going to get in the way.¡± ¡°Brother Ryan, Brother Fidus, do you require healing?¡± Suddenly, a hand clamped down on my shoulder, three thick, black fingers stuck to my cloak. I gritted my teeth, preparing myself for anything, then spun to find Bishop Kolash there, his robes dirty, his face lined and wrinkled with exhaustion. His staff was held loosely in his still broken hand while the one on my shoulder seemed whole. I glanced at the appendage twice to make sure there was no glow from a curse or some other attack. Nothing. Kolash saw me look, let me look, but kept staring at me and not letting go. Bole had had another knife out in a flash and held it between himself and the Bishop like a crucifix warning away a vampire. ¡°Don¡¯t you call me that. You don¡¯t get to fucking call me that,¡± he cursed. Love what you''re reading? Discover and support the author on the platform they originally published on. Kolash only had eyes for me, though. ¡°We have no time for this. Am I required here, or shall I move on to assist others?¡± He asked. That was a strange way to phrase the question. Additionally, he wasn¡¯t trying to kill me, despite having a free shot while my back was turned. He¡¯d called me Brother just now too. Kolash, without saying as much, was proposing a truce. ¡°We¡¯re fine for now, your holiness.¡± I replied tentatively. Bole just spat at the Bishop¡¯s feet. Nodding slowly to me, the Bishop turned and began to limp away, working his way around the edge of the yard toward the next clump of soldiers. Well, if Kolash was a problem I could put off until later, I was okay with that. I looked up to the top of the city wall, fifty or so feet above our heads, at the line of people filing upward and disappearing onto the battlements. ¡°Corporal Bole?¡± I had a plan formulating, something that would work with our current situation. ¡°What?!¡± Bole snapped. He spun to face me, only just now tearing his burning stare from the Bishop''s back. His expression was one of white, hot rage. ¡°The stairs,¡± I began, picking up my sword and pointing toward the city wall. ¡°These can¡¯t be the only stairs that lead up to the top of the wall, right?¡± Bole¡¯s face went slack as his brain switched gears. He blinked a couple times, his mouth screwing up into an absent sneer. I was beginning to think that was his default look. ¡°A- eh- a half mile or- No. Every quarter of a mile or so,¡± he amended. ¡°How close is the next one to our basement door?¡± Bole caught on quickly, but he didn¡¯t like what I was proposing. ¡°No way. The wall isn¡¯t the road to your gran¡¯s house. It¡¯s even narrower than the side street, and it¡¯s exposed.¡± *THOOM* The Bray Knkight laid waste to the entire bottom floor of the barracks. The structure sagged on its mutilated supports and collapsed, the first floor simply disappearing like it was never there. ¡°Better there than trapped in an oven with that,¡± I countered. ¡°Fuck.¡± Was all Bole had to say. ¡°Make sure everyone gets up there!¡± I shouted over my shoulder as I took off at a jog, not waiting for more input from Bole. I circled wide around the bray fight and bounded up the alley-side junk berm with more grace than I thought I had but not quite as much as one of the goat legged folks. I¡¯d need to find out what they were called. I only fell once, the janky construction giving way under my weight and causing a minor avalanche of cabinet drawers and chairs. The turret I¡¯d been aiming for was still dispensing lead. The scourge were bolder now that they had monsters on the inside of our defenses, streaming out from doorways and slinking behind cover to get closer to the gun¡¯s position. A couple bodies lay splayed just below the turret¡¯s leading leg, a close call. Subsequent ones would get closer and closer as the enemy became more numerous. That wasn¡¯t going to happen, though. I disengaged the activation lever and detached the magazine, working quickly to disassemble the gun and get it stowed. The scourge didn¡¯t catch on right away that the gun wasn¡¯t firing anymore, but once they did, they came on in numbers, scrabbling from hidey holes and jumping from windows to join the fray. The legs were the last to go, disappearing in a flash into my spatial storage, then I leaped down to the yard, the flamer already appearing in my hands again. The bravest of the scourge was just poking its head above the berm when I triggered the activation sequence again, dousing said face in liquid fire. I winced. Even though the scourge wanted me dead, that had to have been the worst way to go. The berm immediately around the dying monster went up like a tinderbox. A good start. I waved the decapitated turret around, catching the scourge as they tried to climb over, and the berm¡¯s fire problems got much, much worse. Soon, the entire mouth of the alley was ablaze. Stowing the flamer again, I moved on to the next turret, running across the yard, through our beleaguered guardsmen. Every turret I could save from the oncoming fire was another I¡¯d be able to use up on the wall. ¡°Sir! What are you doing?¡± Lieutenant Obvious called after me as I sprinted to the other alley approach. ¡°Get everyone onto the wall, Obvious! Do it quickly!¡± I didn¡¯t have time to look at him. I just hoped he understood how urgent this was going to be. ¡°It¡¯s Begdel, actually, sir!¡± ¡°Get them out now, Lieutenant!¡± ¡°Yes, sir! Very good, sir!¡± The other alley approach worked the same way. Pack up the turret, wait for the scourge, set the berm on fire. The temperature in our general area was sweltering now. The fire was closing in. Sweat beaded on my face and ran down the sleeves of my jacket and shirt. One more. Up onto the main approach. The fire was close to this one. I had to dance in and out of the heat while I worked, unable to stay more than a couple seconds, and the gun was extremely hot to handle. I did the disassembling mostly with my prosthetic, slapping the component pieces in my fleshy hand and stowing them away before they could do real damage to me, but I still ended up with burns. Exotic healing would have to carry me through. I stowed the legs and leaped down into the yard again, not bothering to slide down the side. The flamer was already in my hand by the time I got back to my feet. I peered up, through the smoke, waving my fire spitting pain machine back and forth frantically to sweep over the much more extreme angle I was having to cover. ¡°Come on. Come on,¡± I whispered. I needed one to show its face so I could start the fire. Damnit, why didn¡¯t I create a manual firing mechanism for one of these? Oh yea, because it would be super dangerous and stupid to hold one while operating it¡­ like I was doing. ¡°Look out!¡± My cloak wrenched itself to the side, pulling the catch across my neck, choking me and making me stumble. A good thing too, because something huge blew past me on my left, so fast and powerful it didn¡¯t even register before it clipped the wrist of my prosthetic and- *BOOM* *BOOM* My world went white. A few things probably happened at once. The Bray Knight, having just made contact with something it wanted dead (me¡­ or more specifically, my metal arm), unleashed its shockwave attack, disintegrating the junk berm, the cobblestones, and, most distressingly, my flamer turret. Said magical shockwave tore through the payload of my flamer, making it go up in an angry, demonic fireball that blasted out from ground zero, propelled by the bray¡¯s magical force attack right into an already very flammable pile of wood. The shockwave turned said pile of wood into an aerosolized cloud of splinters and sawdust that mixed with the air and kicked off a secondary explosion, maybe a millisecond after the first, that washed over me and sent flaming wreckage hurtling in all directions including mine. A wave of burning junk blasted my front side. Something slammed into my stomach, punching the air out of my lungs. Nope. Nope. Nope. Nope. We are not catching fire today. Whether it was the adrenaline or being more accustomed to life threatening situations as my Exotic life went on, I was up on my feet before I even got my breath back. My legs carried me, stumbling, away from the flaming wreckage and in the general direction of the gates. Something clawed at my back, scrabbling through my cloak and wriggled its way up and out until we were sharing the same hood. A fuzzy brown head suddenly took up half of my field of view. ¡°Run, Ryan! Don¡¯t stop!¡± I let out a hollow moan as my diaphragm finally decided to work again and allow oxygen back into my lungs. ¡°Guh- Trix?¡± I gasped. I spared a look over my shoulder, but I wished I hadn¡¯t. My theory about a Flaming Bray Knight being much worse than the vanilla kind was, sadly, correct. The Bray Knight was a lava powered freight train. Its hooves pounded on the cobblestones, cracking them underfoot. Liquid fire dripped from the creature¡¯s armored shoulders, head, and back, leaving a wake of nightmare fuel behind, and it was gaining on us. I could feel the heat on my back. Trix, clawed my face, forcing my gaze to lock onto the battlement stairs. ¡°Don¡¯t look back! Run!¡± He shouted. He didn¡¯t take his own advice, though. He wriggled until he was halfway out of the hood and contorting to look on, horrified, at the monster giving chase. The barrel of his slung carbine jammed itself into my eye. ¡°Trix! What the- Ow!¡± I sputtered. ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Ryan. I would ride on your shoulder, but it¡¯s on fire!¡± I wasn¡¯t going to be on fire today! I pumped my legs as fast as they would go. Breaths came to me in short, desperate puffs. My heart was humming, chugging, trying to keep my body from flagging. Being blown up did something to my nerves, though. My body felt loose, like I¡¯d replaced key muscle tissues with gelatine. The base of the stairs loomed in front of us. Guards and goblin spears, upon seeing what was coming, scrambled upward as we came on, their eyes wide, pushing each other to get the hell out of the way before impact. We couldn¡¯t go that way. If the bray hit the staircase when we did, we¡¯d all turn into bloody chunks. I cornered to the right, making for the piled wreckage of the gatehouse instead, the bray right on our heels. *CLACK* *CLACK* *CLICK* Oh no. Here it was. We were about to die. I put on a burst of speed. My legs felt like they would go out any time. ¡°Hold on, Trix!¡± I puffed. I shot forward at a full sprint, up the broken wreckage of the gatehouse, praying the footholds I chose were stable enough to support our weight. Up. Away. Over. To the apex of the rubble. I gathered all the strength I had, willing it all into my burning legs and jumped. Trix and I had skipped the bottom of the stairs, choosing, instead, to fly right up to the first landing where the stairs folded back upon themselves. It was a bold move, a fair distance to cross even if we were fresh and not stupidly heavy thanks to being made partially of metal. Unfortunately, it wasn¡¯t going to work. Too soon in our arc, the lip of the landing started to fall upward, away from us. No. No. No. No! My arms flailed in mid-air, my legs too. I needed distance, height. Tension Step [4,000 MP/sec] Leveling the Running skill to 5 had given me this one. It was a choice between this and reduced energy usage while running or increased inertia while sprinting. Of course I was going to choose a double jump. Every platformer I¡¯d ever played taught me that it was awesome. For me, though, it was¡­ not awesome. Tension Step: User may treat any fluid as solid matter for the purpose of running. Limit: 1 step. MP/sec based on weight, fluid composition, and surface area used. My mana bottomed out immediately. I wasn¡¯t full to begin with, but this¡­ this was an instant descent into migraine hell. The light became too much for my eyes, everything blurred, sound buzzed, and my head felt like it was about to explode. Yeah, this was not how this ability should have been used. Hell, of all the abilities I¡¯d picked since I leveled up in the past, this one was probably my only true dud. I was just too damned heavy, and the air was just too damned squishy. The ability failed almost immediately. My leading foot caught something, not exactly solid, more like an ephemeral, feathery puddle that didn¡¯t support more than a tiny fraction of my weight. I pushed down, sinking my leg into it, getting as much force under me as possible. This wasn¡¯t a jump, per se, more of a slight delay of falling, a change in our arc to something wider, wide enough to slam us into the wall just under the lip of the stairs. My fingers scraped over the stones, trying to get a grip, but I was, again, too heavy, and the ancient stone was too weathered and smooth. Trix¡¯s hands shot out to claw at the surface of the stone as well, his back legs wrapping around my neck to help me. Good on him, trying to pull me up, but never in a million years would it actually work. I felt the two of us slip and begin to fall. I had the fleeting thought of attempting to grab Trix and throw him up onto the landing, but I didn¡¯t get a chance. Strong, iron hands caught me around the wrists, arresting my fall. *BOOM* A plume of dust shot up from underneath us, catching my cloak and making it billow up in front of my face. My mana migraine chose that moment to reassert itself, and I threw up a little in my mouth. We were alive though. The bray had hit somewhere down beneath us, but the wall still stood. The Dark Lord had made this stuff to last. Trix shuddered, letting go of my neck, slumping down next to me in the hood of my cloak as we hung there. As one, we looked down at the monster¡¯s silhouette in the dust cloud and let out sighs of relief. ¡°Sorry I lied to you,¡± I said. I had meant to say something clever, but somehow, this was what came out. ¡°And I¡­ am sorry for not¡­ seeing things from your perspective,¡± Trix replied breathlessly. ¡°It was selfish of me.¡± ¡°You really are a warrior, you know,¡± I said after swallowing to keep from throwing up again. Constance, my head hurt, and the world was too damned bright. ¡°You don¡¯t need to do that. It¡¯s-¡± I couldn¡¯t keep doing this. I needed a lie down. ¡°Shut up, Trix. You killed¡­ so many monsters. More than anyone¡­ *uck* else. Saved people. That¡¯s real.¡± ¡°That¡¯s-¡± Trix paused to think. I could feel him do one of those Volpa shudders again. ¡°That¡¯s not inaccurate.¡± ¡°No one else I¡¯d rather have watching my back.¡± There that was it. I was done talking. Trix reached up and gave the top of my head a tired little scratch. ¡°Thank you, Ryan,¡± he said, shakily. ¡°That is so beautiful! Finally!¡± Geddon sobbed from above us. I looked up, squinting, to find the giant leori¡¯s two massive shovel hands gripping my wrists. Tears streamed down his face, and his bared teeth formed the tortured shape of an overwhelmed smile, the kind your mother wore on your wedding day. ¡°Now kiss, already. Then maybe start climbing.¡± Chapter 58 - Jump in Front Chapter 58 - Jump in Front *BOOM* I watched the smokey silhouette of another building crumble and fall in the distance as I leaned on my vomit-covered crenelation. I¡¯d Consumed some of the fuel in my spatial storage to top myself off again manawise, but this migraine was a stubborn one. I would have given anything to just be able to lie down and sleep it off, but that wasn¡¯t in the cards today. At least the nausea had gone down to a manageable level. Needless to say, sucking out my entire mana pool in less than a second was not something I¡¯d be doing in the future if I could help it. The Scourge-touched Bray Knight, after a fruitless five minutes of pounding blindly at the base of the wall, had moved on to greener pastures. Right now, it was having a grand old time charging at and through every building in the vicinity, just in case we¡¯d left someone behind. At least the stubborn monster wasn¡¯t burning anymore. It was already scary enough without the dripping flames. The rest of the immediate area, however, was fully aflame. What a mess. The only upside here was that the scourge-touched couldn¡¯t swarm us just yet, having to go around the fire to get to us, and even then, they would be limited to those in their number that could climb up the perfectly fitted stone of the wall or¡­ I looked up to the sky to make sure it was clear. I hadn¡¯t seen any flying scourge yet, but I wasn¡¯t about to make assumptions anymore. Right now, we only had the climbers to worry about. Even as I watched, I could see silent figures scaling the rooftops and jumping up to mount the walls as we had. Our crossbowmen would have a lot to shoot at soon. Head counts told us we were missing people, only coming up with just over two hundred, but there wasn¡¯t much we could do about it. Ground level was a no-go, so any chance of recovering our dead was gone. The only consolation was that the fire would keep their remains from being turned against us. ¡°Well, this isn¡¯t going to be as safe and orderly as we¡¯d hoped. You okay, Ryan?¡± Sissa asked from behind me. Her voice was tinged with anxiety. I turned my back on the blazing city¡­ slowly. Moving still triggered my gag reflex. I wanted to shake my head, but that was out of the picture too. So, I settled for a short: ¡°No¡± to answer both. Sissa looked like she was going to be sick too, the way she folded her arms as she blinked the smoke out of her eyes. A line of guardsmen pushed between us and jostled the crowd to get to the edge of the gaggle we¡¯d formed. I did my best to give them space, but there was only so much to give. We had room up here on the wall, but we weren¡¯t using it. The battlements stretched on forever in either direction, a long band of stone with crenulations on either side, widening out only briefly on rounded structures that I assumed would be mounting points for trebuchets or the Ralqir equivalent of them. The problem was that people were frightened and disorganized. Folks were wounded and worn, and most had lost someone in the mad scramble up here whom they were now doing their best to track down amidst the gathered bodies. Meanwhile, Scourge-touched, though few and far between lunged at us, howlying, from either side of the battlements. They never made it within striking distance, shot down before they could get close, but they certainly reminded us that they were there and more were coming. Other, more nimble monsters climbed up from the outside of the city having to be put down only after they took a swipe at someone who¡¯d strayed too close to the edge. It all created a situation where the goblins and tall folk gradually squished together, spears having to be held high so as not to stab one another. With every howl we heard in the distance, people huddled together closer until we were one big mass. I heard someone out there crying, but I couldn¡¯t see who it was. Everyone was feeling tired, hurt, and scared, and no one was taking charge. Nervous susurration rippled through the crowd constantly. Again, I questioned how intelligent the force that directed these monsters was. It was smart enough to hold its troops in reserve for when we were vulnerable. Now, when it didn¡¯t have overwhelming numbers to send at us, it pushed a trickle of enemies our way to harass us and never let us truly rest. Was I witnessing effective psychological warfare, or was I giving the hive mind too much credit? Geddon shoved his way through the press of the crowd to get to us, as gently as he could, large as he was. ¡°We¡¯ve got our fighters generally on the outside of the formation now, civilians in the middle. Folded some enlisted in with other units too, mostly crossbows. We can¡¯t stay here much longer though,¡± he said in a low growl. The big man wore the same worried expression Sissa did. ¡°No other officers?¡± Sissa asked. Geddon shook his head. ¡°Best we have is the lieutenant.¡± ¡°Anyone else?¡± ¡°No. There¡¯s even stupid talk of splitting the group and making for different strong points. Just a good way to hasten the end, if you ask me¡± Geddon was practically whispering now, as if the words were dangerous for others to hear. Sissa looked up to the sky and closed her eyes for a second to collect herself. ¡°Ryan,¡± she said quietly. ¡°Yeah?¡± I croaked after clearing my raw throat. ¡°Geddon¡¯s right. We have to get moving and soon. The fire is going to spread quickly, and the wind isn¡¯t in our favor.¡± Her tone was pained, forced like she had to dredge these words up from the deepest, most private part of her soul and expose them to the world, and it was killing her. I nodded slightly. I knew that we had to get moving soon. This was part of the¡­ well, it was never part of the plan to do it up here, but I knew this would happen when I started the fire. We needed to get moving now before the fire spread to engulf our exfil. She looked at me pleadingly, like I was supposed to say something at this point. I, however, had no clue what she expected of me here. She stared. I stared. We stared at each other. Her mouth worked around at the edges, her face contorted with frustration until, after a handful of silent moments, she finally broke. She leaned in to put her face right next to mine. ¡°You need to take charge of this group, Ryan,¡± she whispered in my ear. ¡°I need you to take control.¡± I nearly tripped over the railing and went tumbling down to ground level. ¡°What? Why?¡± I sputtered. Seriously, why? Pretty much every single person in uniform was more qualified than I was to order people around. I wasn¡¯t a military man or a warrior or even a full adult by the standards of my¡­ Was I not still? Does time in another universe count toward your birthday? If so, maybe I was a full adult now. ¡°I know. I know,¡± Sissa rasped. ¡°I don¡¯t like it either, especially now that I know¡­ uh- your situation, but this is our best play.¡± ¡°Sissa, I¡¯m a backwater mechanic at best. I fixed farm equipment before this. What am I supposed to do?¡± I was having a hard time keeping my voice down. Panic was short circuiting my subtlety array. ¡°Hush!¡± Sissa put a hand over my mouth and fervently glanced around to make sure no one was listening. Geddon moved closer and blocked us from view of most of the crowd. ¡°Listen, Ryan. I know how you feel. Trust me, I do. And, no, I already know the question you¡¯re about to ask. It can¡¯t be me.¡± ¡°Mmmgf,¡± I said. What did she mean she couldn¡¯t do it? She¡¯d been our group¡¯s leader the entire time I¡¯ve known her. She practically lived with the entire world on her shoulders. Now she wanted to take a step back and let the crippled boy from the Outers jump in front of this parade? ¡°Because I¡¯m just one of five sergeants left alive,¡± she countered. ¡°The captain and his executive officers died to get us up here, and we have no other leadership. The sergeants are all the same rank as I am, but they argue over what we need to do now. We need someone to take charge before the group splits, and if I try to do it, they¡¯ll question everything I say and get people killed. You¡¯re an elite. They¡¯ll listen to you.¡± I reached up and tore her hand away from my mouth. ¡°Have you hit your head? ! I told you-¡± This story has been unlawfully obtained without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. The hand was back over my mouth quickly. I let it happen without resistance, but I gave her the angry stare to end all angry stares, or maybe it was more of a wild-eyed, spooked-deer panic I was giving off. Hard to know from where I was sitting. ¡°Shut up. Shut up!¡± Sissa checked behind her again to make sure no one was close enough to hear. ¡°You are an elite, Brother Ryan. Today, you are who you say you are. These people need the Rising Sun of Eclipse, and you need to give them that right the hell now, or we are going to die.¡± This was a horrible idea, and she¡­ no, I was going to get people killed if I took on this responsibility. There was so much, so many moving parts to this machine. The fire, the spears, crossbows, Kolash, Tiba and her goblins, the sightlines, the bottlenecks, and that was just the beginning. It wasn¡¯t even counting what I would need to do on top of all of that. ¡°I see it in your eyes, the pressure, the concern for everyone¡¯s lives. You feel it,,¡± she whispered, slowly allowing her hand to slide down my face, trusting me (wrongly) to have my shit together. ¡°But,¡± she continued. ¡°I think, if you¡¯re honest, you¡¯ve been secretly holding yourself responsible for everyone in the city for the entirety of your stay, haven¡¯t you? Otherwise, you wouldn¡¯t be so ready to kill yourself for even the slightest chance of saving another of them. Compared to burning yourself alive, the mantle of leadership should be a reprieve.¡± She paused, tilting her head slightly to see if I had anything to say, but I didn¡¯t. ¡°You¡¯re not going to do it alone,¡± she assured me, pinning me in place with those golden dragon eyes. ¡°Whatever orders you give right now will be better than the zero orders we currently have. Get us moving, and I will back whatever play you make.¡± I shook my head, staring daggers at the little dragon woman but unable to look away. I bit my tongue, my breaths quick and shallow, the arguments I wanted to make dying before they ever surfaced in my mind. Then my eyes slid over to the people, the tired, scared faces, the long ribbon of wall we needed to cover¡­ Something gave. It felt like an implosion, my mind giving way to all the external pressure. Then all was calm in the aftermath. ¡°I hate you right now,¡± I muttered. I couldn¡¯t conjure genuine emotion to put into the words, though. I didn¡¯t have the bandwidth for it. So many variables to consider, and every single one counted. Sissa nodded, understanding, but there was a little, knowing smile on her face that reminded me of her sister. ¡°Where¡¯s Bole?¡± I asked. Sissa¡¯s expression soured instantly at the mention of his name. I tried not to enjoy that, but I wasn¡¯t above being a little petty. Not now. ¡°Why?¡± She asked. ¡°He¡¯s going to get us to the underground. Get him in the front of the group. We¡¯re going that way, taking the next set of stairs down and to our exit,¡± I pointed to my left where the next stairwell would be. Sissa considered the idea briefly, biting her lip as she ran my words through her head. ¡°Okay,¡± she sighed, resigned. ¡°I trust you. Now tell them.¡± I looked around at all the worried faces, goblins, tall folks, military and civilian. Then I balled up my insecurities and threw them in the metaphorical furnace. If I could have Consumed them, I would have, and Engine would have burned long and hot. Maybe I¡¯d conjure my feelings back up again later and have my little crisis of identity when we were good and safe¡­ or dead. Pushing forward through the crowd, I made my way to the outer edge of the wall where I climbed up on a crenelation, the grassy glade beyond the city at my back. ¡°Listen up!¡± I shouted, projecting force into the words, lots of air, lots of diaphragm. For the second time in my life, I was taken aback at how much I sounded like my dad. Everyone froze, blinking as they turned toward me. ¡°Hello. Uh. You all know who I am, yes?¡± I asked. A shaky start, but at least I¡¯d started. Nods from the crowd, from the tall folks at least. The goblins just tilted their heads and stared, since they couldn¡¯t understand what I was saying. I cleared my throat and swallowed. My mouth was suddenly dry. ¡°Alright. Great. The plan we had earlier today is still good,¡± I said hoping saying the thing would help it manifest in the world. ¡°The only thing that has changed now is the route we¡¯re taking. This,¡± I swept my arm to my right to indicate the battlements of the wall. ¡°This is our new road. It¡¯s narrow. It¡¯s exposed. It¡¯s dangerous. The enemy is closing in on us, and we will need to face them if we want to make it to safety.¡± I paused, thinking ahead. What I¡¯d said so far was true, utilitarian. Probably too much so. They all probably knew the score and needed something else to get them going. What would Dad do? Something provocative but attainable. Solidify the group and give them a goal. ¡°The enemy is coming for us,¡± I continued. ¡°But our road, this wall, is high ground. It¡¯s defensible. Hell, it was made by the Dark Lord to be defended, right? Taking this wall is no easy feat. Just ask your crusader ancestors.¡± More nods. ¡°And you!¡± I pointed to the nearest church guard. ¡°This is your home. You¡¯ve drilled on this very wall, haven¡¯t you? You¡¯ve been taught by the best on just how to make the enemy pay dearly to even dare take a step up here.¡± I was just guessing at this point, but it made sense that guards that lived in the city would have places on the wall they were trained to man when the time came. I was rewarded for my presumption with more vigorous nods. The cold ember of my confidence got a little puff of oxygen. ¡°These monsters are strangers. Invaders. They invaded your home, but as long as you are alive this place is still yours. This is still your wall.¡± Bishop Kolash stood out amongst the crowd as one of the tallest, his black eyes hard, his mouth turned down in a displeased frown. What did it look like to him, I wondered, to have his worst nightmare made flesh taking charge of a small army? I needed to address Kolash, give him something to hold onto, include him, if only to keep him onboard. ¡°This will be a moving fight, a bit slower paced than we previously anticipated. We need fresh arms at the edges of the formation. If you¡¯re wounded, make your way to the center where his holiness can take care of you. As he¡¯s done tirelessly for so long, he will be the heart of our group.¡± The Bishop seemed loath to pull his eyes away from mine, maybe afraid I¡¯d do something terrible and world ending if he didn¡¯t keep me in sight at all times, but his love for his people conflicted with his fear of me just now. The nods and quiet thanks from the guards and civilians eventually warranted his attention, if only to return their sentiments. He, begrudgingly, gave everyone a quiet, toothless smile and bowed graciously. Good. ¡°We won¡¯t get out of this without a good bit of blood,¡± I continued. ¡°but you are on your home turf. Fight like it. Talk to your sergeants about specifics. Keep the civilians in the middle of the group, away from the fighting, especially the children unless you want your pockets picked.¡± There was a collective, nervous, chuckle from the guards and knowing looks passed between them all. They¡¯d lived together with the goblins for a while now, and there was no shortage of missing coin purses among them I was sure, not that there was anywhere to spend money around here anymore. ¡°As for the rest¡­¡± I hesitated, wondering if there was more I could say. No, probably not. Better to be brief. ¡°Well, you know how to defend your own wall better than I ever could. You do your duty, and we¡¯ll all get out of here, one way or another. No one¡¯s getting left behind.¡± Now, I was getting raised fists. Guards were slapping each other on the helmets and making little comments as asides. There were no psyched up roars or cheering. That was fine. It didn¡¯t matter if they thought I was inspiring. What mattered was that they had a direction to go now. I channeled my dad once more: ¡°Form up. We leave in five minutes.¡± That was all it took. The military units were off like bullets from a gun. The leaders took charge of their specific people. Meanwhile, Sissa, Samila, and Geddon quietly made their ways toward the front of the group. Skill unlocked: Leadership. Your current skill level is 1. On her way past, Samila shot me a¡­ I couldn¡¯t get around it anymore. The way she looked at me was borderline lecherous. The woman looked hungry, greedy even, in a way that only the complete and total ownership of the object of her desire could satisfy, and I found myself unable to move until her attention was elsewhere. Dragons. Constance, save me from dragon women. I climbed down from the crenelation only to find Tiba there with her two iron-clad honor guards. ¡°We¡¯re moving now?¡± Tiba asked, grasping the gist of my speech already. ¡°Yes, Chief Tiba,¡± I answered followed by the slow release of the tense breath I¡¯d been holding. ¡°It¡¯s going to get bloody, but we¡¯re going to live or die trying.¡± It was Tiba¡¯s turn to look hungry, though it was nothing like what Samila had going on. She grinned that wide shark grin all the goblins had, but hers was especially disturbing on something so¡­ adorable. ¡°It¡¯s Queen, actually. We all like the sound of it.¡± She turned to address her people. They were like another, separate crowd down there at leg level. ¡°Bows!¡± Tiba shouted. The goblins cheered, a screeching, animalistic sound. ¡°Spears!¡± Another cheer. ¡°Tooth and claw!¡± Whatever that meant, it was way more inspiring than whatever I¡¯d done. It lit a fire under the little army of green people. They scattered out amongst the tall folk and attached themselves to various groups, intuitively lining up on the soldiers¡¯ left sides. Tiba pulled her fingers out of a pouch on her belt and smeared a crooked line of black grease diagonally over her face. ¡°I go to the front,¡± she declared. It didn¡¯t sound like a request. I didn¡¯t take it as one. As for me. My abilities were wasted in a running battle. As a bonus, it got me out there on my own. There was no way I was going to keep up this leadership thing for an extended period of time, and it was probably best I made myself scarce before that useful illusion was dispelled. I pushed through the middle of the crowd to the inside edge of the wall and peered over the side at the rooftops of the buildings down below. ¡°Trix!¡± I called. ¡°Trix!¡± The little Volpa appeared on a passing guard¡¯s shoulder whom he used as a springboard to jump gracefully over to join me on top of my crenelation. Once he was on solid ground, he stood up straight, his deft hands playing over the trigger and bolt carrier of his carbine. ¡°You have need of me, Ryan?¡± He asked. ¡°Oh, yes,¡± I replied, bending down to let him climb up my arm. ¡°We have a different role in this fight. Ready?¡± Trix nodded as he dug his claws into my cloak and crouched low. Then we took off in a run, hopping from crenulation to crenulation to rush ahead of the group. Our contribution to the battle was going to require a little setup. Chapter 59 - Control the Field Chapter 59 - Control the Field I slapped a magazine in the final turret and secured the release lever. With a gentle whir from the aiming arms, the turret came to life, tracking back and forth in a roughly 60 degree angle that covered a block¡¯s worth of buildings and a long stretch of the city wall. In front of us was a sprawling garden of rooftops, none of them exactly the same height but uniformly rimmed with ornately carved railings braided with some kind of ivy or flowering vines. As with other parts of the city, most structures were less than a couple feet apart, but that didn¡¯t mean you could traverse the rooftops easily given how varied their heights were. Smoke blew in from the west, giving everything a hazy, dreamlike sort of softness that belied the amount of violence that was happening in spurts and the rare gush. The turrets were doing a good job of keeping the climbers from mounting the wall so far, but the scourge were still systematically testing the defenses. A cluster of monsters boiled up from the interior of a building adjacent to the wall, crouching low in one of the rare blind spots of the other emplacements, but our newly deployed turret was on the job, filling the clever creatures with holes before they could even get a good look around. Trix¡¯s rifle barked twice behind me, two short, quiet reports followed a second later by the distinct sound of flesh hitting pavers at high velocity. That sounded close. Leaning over to my left, I looked down to street level four stories below, where two gangly figures lay broken and bloody. Slowly, I turned and caught the little Volpa¡¯s eye, raising a questioning eyebrow. Trix¡¯s ears flattened in an expression I took as sheepish. ¡°More of the sneaky ones,¡± he squeaked. I shrugged. I couldn¡¯t fault him for letting them get so close. I hadn¡¯t heard them either. The Returned could be very ninja-like in how little noise they made if they were ¡®built¡¯ correctly. Lucky for us that the Dark Lord didn¡¯t bother with proportion very often when he¡¯d made them so many years ago. ¡°This was the last one. Third of the triangle,¡± I informed him, putting a hand up to shade my eyes and surveying the battlefield. As I watched, four small, black shapes slipped onto a rooftop adjacent to the wall, prompting a double volley of fire from our main emplacement a block over. The fully automatic fire tore into the monster nearest the turrets and threw the thing¡¯s body back into its friends, where they all went down in a tangled heap. My programming was, in a word, merciless. The monsters were down but not dead, so the turret hosed the area with a long, sustained stream of lead until everything was still. Knife in the Dark is now level 23. Another monster, one more clever than his dead comrades, came up on the other side of the emplacement, attempting to sneak up onto the fortified roof and maybe flip one of the turrets. However, we¡¯d put these turrets back to back, and before the undead could get a hand on a support leg, one of the barrels tracked down and gave it a full three seconds of sustained fire directly in the chest. It fell away from the building¡¯s roof in pieces. ¡°This position¡¯s also the one I¡¯m most concerned about getting overrun. Do you feel like you can defend this one and make sure it stays up?¡± I asked Trix. He stood up tall and looked around much like I was with a hand up to shade his eyes. ¡°Not from here. But put me on that roof over there, and I think I can provide support,¡± he replied, indicating a rooftop slightly deeper in the city, across the street from our current rooftop. I shook my head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t like it. Hate to have something sneak up on you while you¡¯re scratching the turrets¡¯ backs. The cool thing about machines is how expendable they are. How about that one?¡± I asked, pointing at a roof almost right next to the city wall, slightly taller than the one where we stood. Trix let out a long breath. ¡°It¡¯s very far away from here. I will not be able to aim as I¡¯d like.¡± I looked at him with more than a little incredulity. ¡°Really? You¡¯re, like, a prodigy when it comes to guns. It¡¯s- what? A block and a half maybe two blocks away? You could make that.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not that I can¡¯t hit at that range, but I am running low on ammunition. I need to kill with every shot if you want me to ¡®scratch their backs¡¯ as you say. I don¡¯t like how I will have to aim at that distance.¡± ¡°I¡¯m confused.¡± ¡°I would need to- Alright, just hold on,¡± Trix replied, bowing his head, bringing his claws up to rub at his face. He looked like he was crying or maybe rubbing dust out of his eyes or something. I was about to ask if he was okay, but he finished whatever he was doing before I could interject. Then he raised his head, looking up at me with big¡­ black¡­ foxy¡­ eyes. They shined in the muted light of the morning, the picture of innocence and purity like someone crossed a kitten and a baby seal. What the actual hell?! I nearly fell off the roof. His eyes, while sizable before, had become massive, dominating the surface area of his head to a ridiculous degree. They were huge, deep black, shiny, and just¡­ so damned cute. ¡°Not one word!¡± Trix commanded, his tiny fox eyebrows angling down to give me the most adorable frown there ever was. My fingers twitched. I longed to brush the little guy¡¯s fur, but my body tensed like an animal about to bolt. This felt so¡­ unnatural. It was uncanny. I froze, my brain becoming a metronome beat, wobbling back and forth between ¡®run away screaming¡¯ and ¡®run forward hugging.¡¯ I¡¯d seen cartoons with something like these proportions, but seeing them in real life was both better and worse in every way. My mouth engaged before the rest of me could. ¡°Trix. What is happening? Why do I want dress you in overalls and call you Mr. Cuddlebums?¡± ¡°I know,¡± Trix lamented with a sigh. He passed a clawed hand over his face and suddenly his eyes were back to normal and my cuteness reflex went back to normal too, mid-combat levels at least. Trix¡¯s pointy Volpa ears drooped down until they were shamefully laying on the top of his head. ¡°I told you my species¡¯ nature is based on deception. Part of that is distorting perception.¡± Still confused, I took a second to consider. ¡°So, you magnified your eyes. It¡¯s like you magicked up some thick glasses? Then why did I- uh- want to- You know.¡± The little Volpa could no longer meet my eyes. Instead he focused hard on the roof directly across the street from us. ¡°It is a glamor,¡± he explained. ¡°an old one that enhances my perception and beguiles others. Easier to see danger, harder for said danger to hurt us. It is the first one we learn when we are but kits.¡± I shrugged. ¡°That sounds pretty awesome, actually. Telescopic vision with an¡­ adorability shield? What¡¯s the problem then?¡± ¡°If you could have seen your face when I used it, you would understand. I don¡¯t just bend the light. I affect the mind. You were not yourself, and I had no right to influence you in such a way.¡± ¡°That¡¯s fair, I guess,¡± I admitted tentatively. Just as his glamor had overloaded the affection section of my brain, his healing magic was much the same, tricking the subject¡¯s body into healing itself using whatever reserves it had to hand. That probably wasn¡¯t healthy in the long run despite the short term benefits. I still couldn¡¯t get past seeing these things as tools as opposed to grave offenses like Trix did. Then again, I was the guy with level 5 Deception, and I¡¯d hated every time it leveled up. If I tried to convince Trix to use his magic, I¡¯d be a pretty big hypocrite. ¡°Okay,¡± I began, thinking of how to get around this. ¡°We can find a different rooftop or-¡± Trix tilted his head slightly, distracted. Then he snapped his rifle¡¯s muzzle up to blast another Returned in the face. This one had climbed up the gutter nearly right next to me. ¡°Sneaky,¡± Trix pronounced, finally looking me in the eye again. ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied, drawing the word out as I thought. *BRRRAP* *BRAP* Two more short volleys of turret fire cut through the late morning air, and I got another triple grouping of experience messages. There was a shout in the distance. The long formation of refugees was finally getting into range of our defenses. ¡°Well that¡¯s it,¡± I said. ¡°I guess the setup phase is over.¡± Trix knew as well as I did we were out of time. That¡¯s why he was already shouldering his rifle and skittering toward the edge of the roof. Before he had a chance to leap off, I crouched down and put a hand on his shoulder. ¡°Hey. You don¡¯t have to use it. Find another roof, and we¡¯ll deal.¡± ¡°No, it is fine,¡± Trix replied, shaking his head. ¡°Perhaps it is time I use all the tools at my disposal.¡± His voice was full of trepidation. There was a fragility in its tone that hurt to listen to. ¡°You know, Trix,¡± I began, hoping I was doing the right thing here. ¡°There was a famous general once, a human, probably the most famous general our planet had ever produced. He was a military genius that pretty much wrote the book on the art of war. One of his most famous quotes, probably the only one I can remember off hand, was something along the lines of ¡®All warfare is based on deception.¡¯ I know you have your reasons, but, the way I see it, if your cause is just, it¡¯s probably worth giving it everything. Maybe there¡¯s a very real, tangible use for tricks in times like this.¡± The little Volpa turned back to give me a quizzical look, one ear up, head tilted. I gave him my best, confident grin. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s worth considering, at least. With everything that¡¯s at stake, I, for one, plan to fight dirty.¡± Any man worth killing is worth killing in his sleep. Barrow¡¯s words he¡¯d intoned just before killing my only friend in the world echoed in my mind. Where had that come from? I suppressed a shudder. Yes, I would probably go down as the first person in Ralqir¡¯s history to kill monsters at an industrial scale, but I wasn¡¯t anything like Barrow. I would never be that far gone, even with the corrupting influence of the System. Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. ¡°Thank you, Ryan. I will think about what you said, maybe after this is over.¡± Trix said, leaning in conspiratorially. ¡°Can we keep my methods a secret, though? If it gets out that I can- Well, I get enough unsolicited hugs as it is. While it is more than fine coming from wayward children, the adults make me uncomfortable.¡± ¡°Not one word,¡± I promised. I held a finger of my lips for emphasis. ¡ª---------------------------------- The air was thick with the sound of gunfire. So far, the plan was working, though not without some problems. Some I¡¯d foreseen, others not so much. The plan, on paper, was simple: A triangular formation of overlapping fire. In practice, though, things were getting increasingly dicey. Trix and I had set up turrets in three separate places along the route the refugees would take. Two of them, we¡¯d placed on the tallest roof we could find as close to the wall as we could feasibly get. These were our scraper turrets. They stood back to back, angled in such a way that their fields of fire traversed along the wall¡¯s face and the rooftops the scourge would theoretically use to jump up onto the wall. A block away, deeper into the city was the overwatch turret that kept monsters that actually made it onto the wall in check as well as covering the other emplacements and keeping them from being attacked en masse. Then there was the turret that covered the stairs. That one, while initially our hottest attraction had quieted down in the last few minutes. That concerned me. Right now, the gun that was engaged the most was the far overwatch turret, taking care of scourge that the others missed and felling foes that were lucky enough to make it onto the battlements. I¡¯d not designed this model for long distance engagements, but it was doing a fair job. It might not hit the tiny monsters like the touched goblins on the first shot, but it almost always got them in three, no more than five. More easily, it would pick off curious scourge that decided to make the rooftops their road like Trix and I did. The number of climbers was steadily increasing, meaning the general saturation of scourge-touched was probably getting worrisome as well. The question was: where were they? Occasionally, a Returned would stick its head out onto the rooftops where Trix and I had made the area ours, but it wasn¡¯t nearly as often as it should have been. If the scourge weren¡¯t funneling over to the stairs, what were they doing? The overwatch turret would run out of ammo first, I was sure, but until then I was staying close to the wall with Trix. *BRRRRRRRRRRR* Suddenly the overwatch turret went full auto. I put my hand up to shield my eyes and squinted through the ever thickening smoke to see where it was aiming. Something dark and heavy slammed onto the rooftop a couple buildings away, crashing through ivied lattice work and sending sticks of splintered wood flying. Another something slapped wetly down on the edge of the wall behind me, and when I turned to see what it was I got a facefull of feathers as the body rebounded off the railing to come to a rest at my feet. At first I didn¡¯t know what I was looking at, as twisted as the thing was from its fall, but I quickly recognized it as a bird. It was a strangely built one too with a solid looking dagger-like beak, dark green, almost black feathers, a compact body attached to long, reedy legs and claw-tipped feet. The smell of it flooded my nostrils, wet fur mixed with something spicy like cinnamon. I knew it. Flying scourge. It had to happen eventually. We didn¡¯t have birds on Proxis 3, not like this at least. The closest we came was kite lizards, but those tiny nomads rarely came down from the upper atmosphere except to mate. My home sky was dominated by Proxis 2 but empty of living things. The thought of flocks of birds flapping and swooping everywhere had always held a sort of magic for me, an element of myth and legend from a home I¡¯d never set foot upon. A sort of instinctual nostalgia for a place I¡¯d never been. The creature at my feet was alien yet familiar. Beautiful too. ¡­and I¡¯d killed it instantly. Was there any wildlife on this planet I hadn¡¯t killed the moment I met it? I took a moment to check my combat log. Scourge Touched Pickur defeated. You have been awarded 16 experience points. [10 base (-8 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Pickur defeated. You have been awarded 16 experience points. [10 base (-8 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Pickur defeated. You have been awarded 16 experience points. [10 base (-8 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Morblin defeated. You have been awarded 34 experience points. [40 base (-2 level, +8 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -32 non-combat class)] Oh, thank Constance it was scourge-touched. Still, I suddenly felt the need to share. ¡°Hey, Trix! Birds!¡± I shouted over my shoulder in the general direction of where I knew the little Volpa had found his perch, somewhere up on the lattice. I would have joined him up there, but I¡¯d already broken one section of it earlier. Oh, the curse of being heavy. ¡°Yes, I see!¡± Trix replied, taking time to put two rounds into something far away only he could see. ¡°Very worrisome!¡± ¡°We don¡¯t have those back home! I always wanted to see one!¡± ¡°That is unfortunate!¡± Trix shouted back to me over the sound of the guns. ¡°These are diving pickurs! Very dangerous! Do not let them hit you!¡± ¡°I hadn¡¯t planned on it! They¡¯re infected! Just saying, this is a first for me!¡± I wanted to share the moment with someone, but, apparently, being a local took some of the magic out of birdwatching. ¡°Our planet has not sent its best ambassadors, I am afraid! Keep your eyes on the sky and watch for divers! They kill by burying their beaks into your skull!¡± Another rooftop exploded in shattering wood and loose feathers further down the wall. ¡°Noted.¡± I said, sparing a glance up into the sky. The smoke and the chaotic light from the aurora around the moon was making spotting anything moving up there challenging, however. At least the turrets weren¡¯t having a problem. Behind me, the refugees made their way forward slowly, more slowly than I¡¯d anticipated. I¡¯d hoped for a sort of jog to the stairwell and then a shuffle down the stairs to the street level, but that wasn¡¯t happening. The long line of people were shuffling forward in a strange sort of inch-worm fashion, the front of the formation surging ahead then stopping while the rest of the line hurried to catch up. Meanwhile the back of the formation lagged behind everyone, having to shuffle backwards as they kept their crossbows aimed at the monsters coming up from behind to chase. Geddon and the heavies were in front, as we¡¯d planned, Sissa and Samila with him along with Tiba and her honor guard. Bole was there too, floating between the lot of them. However, most of their time and effort were being put into finishing downed monsters and throwing perforated corpses over the sides of the walls. While the tall folk were in an orderly wedge, Tiba was going about her duties with an enthusiasm that was downright disturbing. She screamed at the top of her lungs and dove upon any living scourge in range, laying into them with Hunty¡¯s spear, stabbing them over and over until they stopped moving. Then she was onto the next one. No hesitation. No mercy. Once they were in earshot, I cupped my hands over my mouth and asked them what they needed. ¡°Less smoke if you can manage it!¡± Sissa yelled. Her sword was black with scourge blood, and her armor was stained with more of the same. ¡°Hard to spot the clever ones until they are right upon us!¡± I looked over at the former refugee camp where the fires were still raging, along with a good portion of the adjacent neighborhoods. That problem was just going to get worse, and I hadn¡¯t bothered developing a giant fan turret. Our scourge problem was, concurrently, going to get worse as well. ¡°Any way to pick up the pace?!¡± I asked. ¡°Unless you can guarantee nothing will approach us from behind, no! We can¡¯t afford for the rear guard to turn around! Too much risk!¡± Now that they were well within the overwatch turret¡¯s field of fire, that should take care of most monsters before they could approach the back rank, but it wasn¡¯t a one hundred percent success rate. We could be stuck in for the long haul unless something changed. ¡°Okay just keep coming. I¡¯ll think of something!¡± I replied. ¡ª----------------------------------- ¡°Ryan!¡± Trix noticed it before I did. I was just re-engaging the lever on one of the two wall scraper turrets when an entire house-sized piece of the city wall ceased to be a piece of the city wall. What was once grayish black stone, wobbled and distorted, peeling away from the whole. Gray, wrinkled flesh replaced the stone camouflage, and the bumpy, pimpled skin of whatever this thing was stretched itself so thin, I could almost see the real wall through the thin membrane of flesh as it reached up toward the top of the battlements. *BRRRRRAP* The turret¡¯s attacks traversed the length of the creature with withering fire now that the monster had revealed itself. There was a high-pitched keening sound as the monster shuddered, a disturbing ululation as the stone color came back to the creature¡¯s skin, but it wasn¡¯t a pain or fear response. The massive creature still drew itself fluidly upward toward the lip of the battlements. Heedless of the damage it was taking, the monster flexed, reaching up to skewer a guardsman with a sharp, protruding bone appendage that poked out of the top of its body. The guard screamed as he was plucked from between the crenulations and over the side. Displaced air wooshed past me as the monster proceeded to slam the guard¡¯s body into the wall over and over with near supernatural speed, pulping the man on the stone. Mercifully, he was probably already dead after the first blow. The creature¡¯s skin rippled again and changed color to blend better into its new position on the wall, but I had its number now and so did the turrets. Maybe it had something to do with its size or mojo, but despite knowing it was there, I almost lost it again instantaneously, like my brain couldn¡¯t handle something so large changing color and texture right in front of my eyes. The turret wasn¡¯t fooled. It raked the monster with damage, but the bullets weren¡¯t finding anything vital. What holes they were making, dripped black, giving the false wall the appearance of weeping. If gunfire was ineffectual, I¡¯d need to implement plan B. I bounded forward, jumping from my roof to the next, sailing down one floor to crash onto the wooden surface. My foot sank into the roof slats with a crunch, but luckily that was as far down as I went. My flamer turret was in my hand before I¡¯d even dislodged myself. *FWOOSH* The ¡°wall¡± wailed and separated itself from its perch. Like the Returned, this thing seemed particularly flammable, the crackling yellow crawling up the thing¡¯s skin and overloading whatever process it was using to blend its color with the wall¡¯s. The entire thing rippled with yellow and red waves as it keened, flapping its skin to attempt to shake off the homemade napalm with little success. After only a couple heartbeats, whatever it was lost its hold on the stone, the top of the monster letting go first and peeling away, a slow motion falling from¡­ Oh shiiiiiiit! I¡¯d turned the flaming monster into a giant crushing wave of cooking meat, and I was about to get a face full of it. Cursing, I dropped the flamer, ripped my leg out of the floor, and dove from the roof, barely ahead of the sound of snapping wood and crackling fire. Superheated air blew my cloak up and over my head, obscuring all but what was directly below me, mostly just hard, unforgiving cobblestone. The street rushed up to meet me, but, for better or worse, I had lots of horizontal momentum. It was worse, actually. I slammed face first into a planter someone had set on their windowsill, smashing through the soil and terracotta pottery while shards of it sank into the flesh under my chin. The impact blinded me and flipped me over until I was falling backward. I didn¡¯t see the cobblestone before I hit it. On the bright side, I didn¡¯t hit it head first. Jumping is now level 3. Groaning, I gasped for breath as my eyes struggled to focus. My back felt like I¡¯d landed on it wrong, cracking and popping as I rolled over onto my side. The sky above me was occluded by something semi-solid, draped over the rooftops of the nearest few buildings while sagging in the middle like a wet tent. Smoke billowed from the crisping creature as pieces of thin, shrinking flesh flopped onto the street like melted plastic. ¡°Ryan! Run! Now!¡± I shook my head, panted as I got my feet under me. Another series of pops from my spine. Oh, that felt better. Not all the way better but¡­ I would definitely be sore later. I cast about looking for the best direction to run, as Trix had ordered, but then the facade of one of the buildings a short way down the street exploded as an armored train plowed through its ground floor. Dust, various bits of cloth, upholstery, and shattered wood vomited out onto the cobblestones as the figure of the Bray Knight tumbled blindly over and through the ruin it had made, thumping to a stop against the corner of a building across the street. The Bray Knight had looked better. Its body was a charred and cracked mass of rage, the once straight and functional edges of its massive armored plates warped and soot covered. Its visored eyes wept black sludge, and its hooves were just ragged sticks of exposed bone and sinew. It wobbled on its feet, shaking its head and chuffing, sending loose dirt flying in all directions. Its head clicked as it rotated nearly all the way around, winding itself up for what was about to come. I couldn¡¯t be sure, but I could have sworn the thing¡¯s visored gaze was affixed directly upon me. Now I really had to run. Chapter 60 - Be the Bait Chapter 60 - Be the Bait ¡°Run!¡± Trix shouted at me, as if I needed to be told twice. The last place I wanted to be was on ground level. None of our turrets¡¯ lines of sight covered ground level with the exception of the stairs, and I was nowhere near those. Oh, and I was also about to be turned into jelly by an angry cow. I ran. ¡°Not that way!¡± A wave of pale and black bodies slammed into me from the side, out of the thin gap between two shops I¡¯d already written off as too narrow to contain any danger. The scourge broadsided me, nearly forcing me to the ground before I even knew what was happening, but my enhanced reflexes and greater mass helped me convert the hit into a staggering blow instead of an overwhelming dog pile. Hands reached for me and teeth snapped at my legs as I angled away and sprinted in the only direction I could see was clear. Most of my attackers fell away, unable to cling to a fast moving target, but I felt the claws of the shorter scourge-touched tear holes in my pants and rip the edges of my cloak. Only two of the particularly ambitious among them managed to hang onto me, one onto my leg, the other on my back. They didn¡¯t slow me down, however. I had inertia on my side. Where I was going, they came with me, all the way across the miniature intersection to blast our way through the double doorway of an inn of some kind. I used my prosthetic to take the initial impact against the well crafted wooden doors, while my weight did the rest, blowing the things off their hinges. As my new friends and I barreled through, I leaned sideways to clip the solid looking door jamb on my left, hearing a slightly different type of crunch as bone gave way and one of the monsters lost its grip. The scourge on my back gibbered and slobbered on the base of my neck, rending with its teeth, tearing through the thick cloth of my cloak to get at the tender flesh beneath. Reaching back, I grabbed onto its face, trying to trigger Devouring Grasp, but it wriggled out of the grip before I could clamp down. I knew the rest of them were right behind me along with the heavy hitter that was the bray, so I didn¡¯t stop or even break stride. Instead I kept moving, weaving between round tables in the middle of the communal dining room that seemed to have been set up for the express purpose of slowing you down if you were on your way to the stairs at the back of the building. I needed to get up, off street level. I needed to get to those stairs. Street level was absolutely a no go considering I¡¯d been down here for all of ten seconds, and I was already fighting for my life. *FOOM* Sure, I¡¯d made an entrance by smashing through the door, but I had to admit the Bray Knight¡¯s entrance was better. The doorway, the tables, the lacquered wooden floor, and half of the bar became a hurricane of aerosolized wood. I wasn¡¯t in the magical cone of destruction, but I was close enough to be blasted forward with the rest of the displaced air, stumbling to my knees before rolling into (then onto) the stairs. My passenger and I flipped end over end to crash against the far railing. The creature let out a choked sort of gurgle as I landed on it hard. With a snap, one of the thick logs that made up the inn¡¯s series of support pillars partially gave way, its tree-trunk thick wood bending while fibrous bits exploded out from its side. I didn¡¯t have time to get to my feet. Coughing, I rolled over and bear crawled up those stairs, hands and feet frantically taking whatever hold I could find, getting more distance between myself and death. The scourge on my back was stunned but still there. Its hands clutched at my cloak as if I were a life preserver. The second floor landing had a lean to it, understandable since a good chunk of the building was now gone. Sawdust clumped in my mouth and irritated my throat as I panted and looked for a way out. Where was the access to the roof? Every stupid building in Eclipse had roof access. It wasn¡¯t here though. I turned and sprinted the only way I could go, down the hallway, passing a line of doors that I assumed went to sleeping accommodations. *CRACK* The entire structure groaned as it leaned further out of whack. I cursed whoever it was that designed this building. They must have thought themselves so clever, bucking tradition and putting the stairs far away from the entrance. Scourge-touched Goblin hits your for 8 damage. (slashing) ¡°Grplgblaaagh!¡± The asshole on my back said as it ripped into me anew. ¡°I know! I know!¡± I shrieked. My panicked mind could only deal with one life ending threat at a time, and the thing on my back wasn¡¯t even in the top five on my priorities list at the moment. It paled in comparison to the Bray Knight and the collapsing building at least. If we stayed here much longer, we would both end up in pieces. Stairs. Stairs. Where are the stairs? Around a corner and down another hallway I found my answer. This place used a ladder that went up and through a hatch to get to the roof. Wonderful. Heavy, hoof beats followed me through the place, shadowing me from the floor below. The bray¡¯s hollow call held multiple, mournful tones in it now that I¡¯d burned a large part of its throat away, making it sound more like an old train whistle from underneath our feet. *BOOMF* The shutters at the end of the hall blasted open, and the world tilted on its axis as the Bray Knight reminded us we weren¡¯t safe even up here. Status gained: Concussed [3 seconds] My ears rang as I stumbled to the side, vaguely feeling my scourge passenger slide off my back to slump down to the floor finally. Weaving drunkenly, I rebounded off the far wall and I got a hand on the ladder to start pulling myself up when half of the hallway disappeared, crashing down to the lower floor and bringing a significant part of the roof down to my level. The wood underneath me splintered and buckled, a floor slat at my feet snapping under the pressure and shooting sharp shards of wood into my calf. Status Gained: Bleeding [1 HP/sec] ¡°Gaaaaah!¡± I shouted in pain, hopping onto the first rung of the ladder and using my upper body to get extra height. Up the ladder to the roof. I reached daylight. Then I saw the rooftops of the buildings across my street except everything was at an angle, tipping. No. No. No. No. No! No! Then my attention was entirely on steadying myself with my hands and feet to try to not slide off into the street. Down below the bray kicked and stomped through all of those precious supports. Meanwhile, the scourge, maybe a hundred of them, poured into the street, pooling at the base of my perch¡¯s closest wall, waiting for me to come down and join them. Wincing with the pain, I limped up the slope to the roof¡¯s railing and lept for the closest adjacent structure on my side of the street. I aimed for an open shutter about five feet above my current altitude, but unfortunately, the inn chose that moment to collapse entirely. My foothold fell away just as I was about to jump. I had a moment at the apex of my short flight where my target window was almost within reach, where I considered trying to activate Tension Step again, but the memory of just how badly it had debilitated me last time warned me away. Then the moment was gone. I landed in a heap amid the still settling rubble, back on street level but not swarmed with monsters as of yet. The inn¡¯s roof came all the way down with a woomf and sprayed the area with a cloud of dust. Adrenaline got me up on my feet again within a second, and I turned to discern some kind of direction where I might be able to run, but all I could see was the looming shadow of the wall. With no other landmarks, I coughed up something akin to mud or paste then limped in that direction, generally toward the sound of my turrets. My eyes stung with all the crap in the air. Hopefully, it was as debilitating to the scourge-touched as well. I summoned my sword and turned on Detect Iron as a precaution, reeling slightly at all the new sensory data. Running with it on was probably a bad idea on a good day, but today was turning out to be the other kind. Right now, all it was showing me was my body, my sword, and the trail of blood I was leaving as I limped on. ¡°Ryan!¡± Trix called from above me. I looked up but couldn¡¯t see where Trix¡¯s voice was coming from. ¡°What?¡± I asked, staggering to a stop but bending at the knees to be ready to strike at the next monster I saw. ¡°They are at the stairs! Keep doing what you are doing!¡± Trix shouted to me. ¡°I¡¯ve got a mad cow chasing me!¡± I replied. My voice echoed off the hard surfaces of the empty alley, and my eyes darted nervously from window to window. ¡°Yes, I know! We cannot let it go near the main group! Keep it busy and off the route until they get to the exit!¡± I did a full 360 degree turn, blinking the dust out of my eyes while I tried to get my bearings. ¡°Which direction is the exit?!¡± I asked. Royal Road is the home of this novel. Visit there to read the original and support the author. There was a pause as I assumed Trix did some checking. ¡°One street over and that way!¡± I spun in a circle, looking for where Trix was, but for the life of me I couldn¡¯t see him. ¡°Which way?¡± I asked. I had to move right now, or I was in danger of being swarmed. ¡°Toward the wall and to the left!¡± ¡°Any chance you could toss a turret down here?¡± I asked, already not optimistic for the answer. A short, muffled howl came from one of the buildings behind me. ¡°And soon?¡± ¡°Too heavy,¡± Trix lamented. ¡°And those metal claws really hold on tight. Maybe if I had a saw or an ax. You should really consider making a release for those.¡± I ground my teeth and cursed. My own short sightedness was coming back to bite me. Again. The gears in my head ground together as I searched for a plan, then found one I didn¡¯t like. I summoned a vibrating purple fuel rod and cradled it in my hand as I made ready to throw it. ¡°Trix, whatever you do, do not drop this!¡± ¡ª------------------------------------- I gasped for breath, coughing and gagging. The smoke choked me and stung my eyes as I stumbled through the burning alleyway. With every step, my left boot squished and popped as tiny bubbles of my blood were forced out through the seams. My cloak was mostly gone now, ripped away in a half a dozen close calls. Honestly, with how badly the rest of my clothes fared, I felt lucky I still had part of my mask. A few ragged holes were in the thing now, probably not covering the entirety of my face, but it must have been enough, because I hadn¡¯t been swarmed yet. I hadn¡¯t heard that world shaking howl like I had the first time I¡¯d run distraction for others. The wall loomed up in front of me through the smoke. It was thick here, black and suffocating. Many of the buildings in this part of the neighborhood had been on fire since this morning, and they were all well and truly unsalvageable by now, their insides burning, their outsides pouring obscuring smoke into the air. Some of the roofs had already collapsed and become fuel to hasten the rest of their demise. Everything in my immediate vicinity was on fire. That was bad. The upside was that it protected me from a lot of the small fries that were tracking me too. While I¡¯d made my way through the burning neighborhood at great cost to myself and a significant loss of HP, my pursuers weren¡¯t nearly so durable. They had to go the long way around or risk falling to the blaze as I nearly did. It was sad that I didn¡¯t get the XP for those kills though. HP 102/230 The trick with this little maneuver was keeping the Bray Knight¡¯s attention while staying just enough ahead of it to not be blasted to pieces. It was an art more than a science, one I hadn¡¯t really gotten the hang of. I was never good at art. The bray was plenty pissed at me from setting it on fire, even more so from avoiding its overwhelming strength for so long. Honestly, it was strange that the plan was working as well as it was. If I were the collective mind of the scourge-touched I¡¯d most definitely pull my heavy hitter off the slippery guy and go for the more vulnerable folks after the third or fourth near miss. That hadn¡¯t happened yet, though. Was there a certain degree to which it could control its monsters? Was there a limit? Was it more like a nudge than a full compulsion? Maybe compelling its troops to do things took more energy than letting them do their own thing until they are needed. That made sense. This was all speculation, though. Maybe when I became a scourge monster myself, I could put that mystery to bed. Hurray. I shook my head. Whatever the answer was, I still needed to stay one step ahead of the scourge, as long as it took to get people to safety. If my internal directions were right, I was close to where I needed to be. The wall was right here on my left, close enough to touch. The burning husks of the buildings looked vaguely familiar, and I could just barely make out a thick concentration of flames in front of me that just might be the junk berm I¡¯d set ablaze not too long ago. If this was my alley, which I was inclined to believe it was, then this was as good a position as I could get. I stumbled forward, coughing, my sword slippery in my hand from sweat and a little blood from the multitude of cuts on my arm. I¡¯d need to be in position by the time the scourge found me, then I¡¯d just need to hope Trix had done his part of the ¡®plan,¡¯ if you could call it that. I listened for the right sounds. There was still at least one turret out there that was still operating. I wasn¡¯t sure which one. Its *brap* *brap* cover fire confirmed we were still in a fight. Something big snapped behind me, a wall or a pillar that finally gave up after enough of it was consumed by the flames. The bray should have gotten here by now. Did I lose it? How long had it been? Twenty minutes? Thirty? Had to have been. They had to have made it to the smuggler¡¯s tunnels by now. Just one more thing to do. I knew my opponent was out there. It just needed a little encouragement. The bray itself couldn¡¯t actually see. I¡¯d figured that out. Probably a side effect of tanking a faceful of homemade napalm. Instead, it relied on its comrades to see for it, having the collective consciousness feed it my position continuously. So, I surmised that I needed a volunteer. I hobbled forward, drawing upon the supernatural awareness of Detect Iron. My timing would need to be right. The muscles in my shoulder and torso tensed in preparation. Then I lunged, grabbing a scourge-touched goblin by the throat. He¡¯d been waiting there on the surface of the city wall and probably hadn¡¯t seen me yet, but I¡¯d certainly seen him and his iron rich blood. Thank Constance the Black Ones had at least some real blood. The creature gurgled as I gripped its throat and held it out at arm¡¯s length, giving it a nice, clear picture of my masked face, making sure it knew I was the guy. I got what I wanted. With a roar, the bray crashed through one of the burning buildings, sending a shower of sparks into the alley and stumbling as it caught itself. Like me, it looked run down, burnt and bleeding. It was slow to get up, as damaged as its underside was, but it was hanging in there just for me. This was the place, I was sure. I just had to hope it was also the time. I reached up with my sword hand and pulled off my mask. My lips were too dry to whistle, so I settled for words. ¡°Come on, you little shits,¡± I said, directly into my captured Black One¡¯s face, making sure it got a good look. The world around me shook with the rage of the scourge-touched¡¯s howls. The city was alive again with the fury of the horde. Good luck getting to me, in time though. Now that I had the scourge¡¯s full attention, I skewered the corrupted goblin and let it fall to the ground. Then I started backing up, feeling the heat intensify on my back as I approached the remains of the junk berm. The bray fumed, its lungs letting loose a long, angry roar as it charged forward. The cobblestones under its feet split, the drunken line it ran slamming it hard into the stones of the wall, rebounding to clip the charred corner of one of the buildings and sending a storm of sparks flying. With a fortifying breath and a silent prayer, I finally triggered the rod I¡¯d given Trix. Near instantaneously, the alleyway became an epileptic¡¯s worst nightmare. Hundreds- no, thousands of flashing, pulsing, purple lasers poured out of the far end of the alley, where the laser turret I¡¯d set up upon our arrival yesterday was still functioning, the one Trix had, in fact, reloaded for me, thank Constance. The lasers split wood, panged off of stone, splatted and sizzled when they struck water. Their accuracy hadn¡¯t improved since yesterday, but they still did their jobs. They collectively ripped into the back of the Bray Knight, thousands of tiny attacks chewing up the monster¡¯s flesh, dissolving it like acid. You hit Scourge-touched Bray Knight for 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Scourge-touched Bray Knight is marked. Scourge-touched Bray Knight is cursed. Scourge-touched Bray Knight takes 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Scourge-touched Bray Knight takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched Bray Knight takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-Touched Bray Knight resists mark. Scourge-touched Bray Knight takes 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Scourge-touched Bray Knight is marked. Scourge-touched Bray Knight is cursed. Scourge-Touched Bray Knight resists mark. You hit Scourge-touched Bray Knight for 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Scourge-touched Bray Knight is marked. Scourge-touched Bray Knight is cursed Scourge-touched Bray Knight takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-touched Bray Knight takes 1 damage. (0 base, +1 Marked bonus) Scourge-Touched Bray Knight resists mark. Scourge-touched Bray Knight takes 3 damage. (0 base, +3 Knife in the Dark bonus) Not every laser hit, but they didn¡¯t need to. This was a hurricane of purple light. The particulates in the air contrasted with their brightness, widening and diluting the intensity of the beams, but every one retained its lethality. The bray charged, but the back half of the monster simply fell apart, collapsing in upon itself, the skin, muscle and tissue flaking away to expose raw bone, rainbow colored with the greasy, vaguely organic byproduct of the weird bonus damage from Knife in the Dark. With no muscles to support its weight anymore, the knight sagged in the middle and tumbled forward, mid-stride as the laser light show concluded. The juggernaut¡¯s prodigious size and weight gave it substantial inertia, however. It slid, inexorably toward me, the cobblestones and packed dirt beneath cracking and piling up in a wave of earth until the dying monster came to a stop just feet away from me. The Bray Knight¡¯s head flicked, spasmed. Its breaths were weak. *click* *clack* *CLACK* The head turned in the bray¡¯s pitted and cracked armor. I couldn¡¯t see its eyes, but the black stained visor stared into me as it prepared to strike one last time at me as its final act in this universe. *CLICK* Lunging forward, I snagged the bray¡¯s head in my Iron Grip, the metal fingers of my hand curling behind the outer edge and clamping down. The armor bent under my fingers, and tiny cracks formed in its surface. Devouring Grasp (Magivore) [5 MP/sec] The strange metallic bone that made up the bray¡¯s shell suddenly crumpled like a beer can, and black liquid shot out of the monster¡¯s visor and onto my pants. Down at my feet, a smokey, gray crystal clinked off the cobblestones. ¡°Maybe next time, asshole,¡± I said. I hoped the scourge heard me. Scourge-touched Bray Knight Defeated. You have been awarded 8,082 experience points. [14,300 base (+1,222 level, +2,000 group, +2,000 chain, -11,440 non-combat class)] Level up! You are now level 18. Loot Scourge-Touched Bray Knight? Y/N Yes. I queried the System and let the rest of the messages scroll by, two levels worth of achievements. Summary - Levels 17 and 18: 1x All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] 2x Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] 1x Near Death Experience: You fell below 10% of your HP this level. [50% bonus experience gain for next level] 2x Doing Your Part: Some of your creations have been used against agents of the Scourge. [+200% experience awarded for new designs next level] 2x Big Spender: You have spent 5,000% of your total mana pool this level. [+1% mana regeneration per second.] 1x Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] 1x Inventor: You have created at least five new designs this level. [+1 Mind] 1x Boss Killer: You have defeated a foe far above you in level. [+2 to all attributes] 1x Ambitious: You have defeated a foe above your level. [+1 to lowest level ability] 1x Reversal: You gained 100% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+3 to highest attribute] Shakily, I bent down as I hurriedly stored the gray crystal that held the Bray Knight¡¯s ¡®spell.¡¯ As for the loot from the monster, that was a mystery. It was a shiny silver glob of¡­ something that felt smooth and pliable when I touched it, so pliable that it slipped through my fingers like liquid every time I tried to pick it up. So, I made it vanish into my spatial storage where I could examine it later. Now it was time to go. The Southern Gate burned behind me as I flew down the alley to finally join the others. Chapter 61 - Learn to Breathe Chapter 61 - Learn to Breathe I sat on the floor with my legs crossed, both of my arms relaxed and resting on my lap. The white stone floor underneath me felt cold and uncomfortable after so much time, and I knew that when I got up, I¡¯d be sore from being in this position for too long. *Click* *click* *click* The delicate rhythm of the automatic magazine loader¡¯s rubber tipped plunger kept time for me, since my heart could not. The hopper that fed the machine shifted slightly as some cavity the drain had created over the course of minutes finally collapsed, and the whole machine squeaked as it wobbled in place as fifty or so pounds of ammunition found a new comfortable position. Way across the workshop, another newly shaped conical bullet slapped onto the corrugated tin with a *POCK* and rolled down the surface to join the rest of its kin in the rain barrel. Judging by the sound, the barrel was almost full, and the automated turnstile would be moving soon to put a new empty barrel in its place. That meant I¡¯d been at this for multiple hours with very little to show for it. The blue motes floated out there in the ether, tantalizingly close yet stubbornly independent in their behavior. No matter how many times I gathered them and ran them through my mana channels, the moment I took my attention away from them they seemed to grow a mind of their own and fly off into the wild blue yonder to do whatever me-mana liked to do. Herding cats is how others might have put it but not me. Cats were at least intelligent animals. Just get in here, so I can be done, you little jerks. I didn¡¯t open my eyes. If I did that, I knew I¡¯d find Jassin there doing that squinty eyed stare of his that made me feel like a bug under a microscope. There had to be something more important that he could be doing right now. Why was he still here watching me try and fail to do the thing? Don¡¯t think about Jassin. Think about how you did it before. Focus. I longingly fantasized about a scenario where a harried guard would burst into the room and yell ¡°My Lord Headmaster! The goblins have gotten into the tea, and they¡¯ve begun constructing a giant war barge made of scones!¡± and we¡¯d all have to rush off and deal with the crisis and forget we were ever going to sit down and do nothing over the course of several hours. We¡¯d been back in the Spire for a day and a half now, and I¡¯d accomplished precious little other than getting the factory humming again. Oh, and getting the magazine loader up and running. The interns had been glad for that. More than a few of them were sporting bandaged fingers and tired eyes now after being at the job for so long. We¡¯d lost surprisingly few people getting everyone from the wall to the underground. Given the circumstances, I thought we¡¯d take heavy casualties once everyone got to ground level as they bottlenecked at the entrance to the Smugglers¡¯ Tunnels. However, most of our losses came from surprise attacks like the big camouflage monster that had almost killed me after I set it on fire. Another two fell to the dive bombing pikurs after my overwatch turret ran dry on ammo, but that was near the tail end of the evacuation. The church guards took the brunt of it all, doing their duty to the last to protect the goblins and other civilians in the group. Once we¡¯d made our way through the tunnels and spilled out into the Spire, everything seemed to slow down to a crawl. Maybe it was the adrenaline finally drying up for everyone, but most of the guards and a good portion of the goblins just flopped down on the floor and fell asleep once they got a look at real walls and friendly faces. They must have been running on empty for a long time before we¡¯d even met. I wasn¡¯t one of those lucky enough to pass out. If anything, being back in the Spire was more stressful than being out there and fighting for my life. There were all these people that had come here after I¡¯d more or less spurred them on, and I couldn¡¯t help but worry for all of them. The problem was that I didn¡¯t know how to take care of them. The wounded were being tended to by the med students and the Bishop, the hungry were being fed, and the tired were being given beds. What was a guy that built autonomous death machines to do at a time like that? Jassin with the help of Angol found everyone a place to stay, mostly in the dormitories, and I kind of hung around the two of them just in case they needed me in some way. They didn¡¯t though. Angol knew where the empty rooms were, and Jassin had the pull to make things happen. The hardest people to accommodate were the goblins, because they just wouldn¡¯t stand still long enough to be assigned anything. I translated for Tiba and Jassin as best I could, but though the scholar was interested in the goblins, he was also coordinating the care for the tall folk at the same time. Other than telling them they could get together and talk later, there wasn¡¯t much for me to do other than translate pleasantries. Then the bodies of the fallen were lined up and given last rites by the Bishop. I hung around that one too, much to the displeasure of the Bishop, but he didn¡¯t say anything directly. His broken hand that barely functioned did the speaking for him. I did that. I did it for good reasons, but I still felt a little guilty about it. I couldn¡¯t pull myself away, though, not until I was chased away by the grateful. It started with one, just a guard, one of the goat legged ones with furry sideburns and flat teeth. He came up and shook my hand, nodding and saying a very quiet and earnest thank you. I did my best to tell him he did this himself, and I hadn¡¯t done more than kill a few things. He was insistent though. Then came the rest of them, the more lively ones at least. They would salute or slap me on the back or thank their light for me or something similar. I found myself in the middle of a swirling vortex of gratitude, but it felt like hail pelting me from above or maybe like I¡¯d been placed in a pressure cooker. The attention and the earnest affection was a force bearing down on my body, crushing me slowly, so slowly I couldn¡¯t really perceive it until it was almost unbearable. Finally, I said my goodbyes and retreated to my ¡®lab¡¯ after that. I¡¯d tried to sleep, but there was always something on the periphery of my mind I thought I should be doing for them, other than being with them. So, the work began. I tucked myself away and began to prepare for next time. Next time, we¡¯d lose no one. Stop it. We¡¯re manipulating mana now. What did you do before? Other than almost dying? That was the problem though. What had I done before to make the mana flow through my body like that? I remember there being this hollow sensation that I needed to fill, a byproduct of having my mana ripped to shreds by the Bishop¡¯s curse. I remembered grabbing singular motes, putting them in the hollow and telling them to flow. It had just worked. So far, any attempt I made to recreate the feeling ended in failure. My mana would do what I asked but only as long as I was focusing on it, and I couldn¡¯t focus on them all at once. Split Mind is now level 10. Upgrade Paths available: Efficiency Upgrade (Imbue) Cognitive Offloading Alert Well, if anything, it was a good way to level up Split Mind. Efficiency Upgrade (Imbue): Your ability: Imbue now uses 10% less mana and can be used 5% more quickly. Cognitive Offloading: You may now designate a part of your total MP to facilitate any number of cognitive tasks. Ease and speed of cognitive tasks are proportional to the amount of MP used in this way. Alert: Your mana is now a more conscious extension of yourself and may alert you to certain objects that come into contact with it. More toys. Very nice. Cognitive Offloading and Alert were the more sexy options, obviously. Only Cognitive Offloading cost mana, and I wasn¡¯t exactly hurting for that stuff. On the other hand, it looked like it would decrease my maximum MP, making me more vulnerable to debilitating mana migraines in the future if I didn¡¯t use it properly. What¡¯s more, I didn¡¯t exactly like the idea of the System having even more influence over my mind, even if it was supposedly to help. If the scourge was a part of the power I was being fed, would letting them into my gray matter really be the best course of action? I didn¡¯t think so. Alert was, in a word, vague. At a glance it looked like a sixth sense sort of thing that would let me know if something entered my aura and bumped into one of my blue motes. Spidey-sense. Given how my machines could already do that, and all I would have to do is build a machine that did something similar, it made the ability less appealing to me. I sighed sadly and chose the Efficiency Upgrade. I knew I was passing up on fun things to play with, but it couldn¡¯t be denied that I was building things as my primary means of¡­ well, everything. Imbue was one of those abilities that made up the synthesis of Automate, one of the more expensive components, actually. Any way I could make the process cheaper and faster, I felt the need to prioritize. Jassin cleared his throat quietly. Oh, right. I felt like I¡¯d been asked to pee in a cup, but the cup was across the room, and there was a guy with a clipboard taking notes on my technique. Very awkward. Very messy. Alright, so the hollow feeling. I couldn¡¯t seem to create it on my own, but maybe I could¡­ I summoned a metal hinge from my spatial storage, instantly spending 20 mana to saturate it. I watched the mana inside my body flow into the object easily through my channels and into the metal, how the metal resisted and ¡®ate¡¯ a portion of the mana I sent its way, my non-perfect affinity doing what it did. All the while, I focused on the feeling of the vacuum left behind by the mana I lost in the process. The empty space inside of me, I felt it. It was hollow, and it should not have been. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, I set about gathering up my motes again. More eager this time, they rushed to fill the gap. That was good, but I needed them to do more. I kept them moving past the hollow, even after they filled it. Their momentum helped me usher them through my body, even those that were already in there. A current formed within me, and soon I had a rushing stream of gray-blue circulating around in there. Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. I let myself have a quiet triumphant laugh. ¡°You have it then?¡± Jassin asked, his tone purposefully neutral. ¡°Yes,¡± I ground out between my teeth. Just thinking about conversing while having to do this almost made me lose control. ¡°Good. Now stay still.¡± Mana Manipulation is now level 2. Jassin¡¯s hand passed over my chest, working its way from the metal part to the fleshy part, and a cool, tingly sensation suffused my body. The Headmaster sighed. ¡°It is as I suspected. Garret, we will need your expertise, I believe.¡± ¡°What? What does that mean?¡± I asked, opening my eyes and finally looking at the Jassin again. He looked disappointed almost as well as a good bit frazzled. Maybe he didn¡¯t like sitting on the floor very much either. ¡°You-¡± *FOOM* Behind the explosion barrier, State Shift experiment number three went off for the¡­ fourth(?) time. I¡¯d know the exact number once I counted how many balls I had left over there. I didn¡¯t bother looking over to check on it. Instead, I focused in on how Jassin¡¯s eye twitched slightly. ¡°Uh. You okay?¡± I asked him. ¡°It is a wonder you are able to sleep in this room, much less concentrate on manipulating the primal forces of the universe.¡± I let myself shrug slightly. ¡°Oh. Sure. It¡¯s busy, but- I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s kind of comforting to me. Like, it¡¯s kind of chaotic, but it¡¯s my chaos, you know?¡± It was true. My machines were a little odd and loud, and they exploded sometimes (on purpose mostly), but I¡¯d made them. They were mine, and they were working while I couldn¡¯t. In a way, they were helping people even while I was wasting time playing with my aura. That was a comforting thought. ¡°You were saying?¡± I urged him to continue as another two bullets *POCK*ed onto the chute. Jassin cleared his throat and squeezed his eyes shut for a long moment before finally going on. ¡°As I was saying. You are not controlling your aura so much as feeding upon it.¡± I could feel my control slipping even as the man talked. That was okay. Jassin had done his scan thingy. ¡°I had thought about that,¡± I said. ¡°All of the mana I see in the air. It¡¯s mine, so I thought it was part of my mana pool, but sometimes I¡¯m not so sure. It seems to help though. Like it helped keep me alive when I was cursed.¡± ¡°I imagine it did. Your aura isn¡¯t necessarily part of the mana you can tap into to cast spells. In a way, it is a spell that you constantly cast just by being alive. However, you are feeding upon it much as a Warden does. Like Garret here. It is not dominion magic, but it makes use of what scraps of power you have on hand.¡± Garret, Jassin¡¯s master at arms, the man with the bushy white mustache and easy smile that had almost shot me the day we met, sat up on my cot and stretched his thick neck. The man must have been sleeping while Jassin and I were sitting here staring into the microcosmos. Lucky guy. ¡°So, you¡¯re a practitioner too?¡± I asked him. ¡°No, nothing so fancy or accomplished as that¡± Garret yawned, wriggling his mustache like it was another muscle to be stretched. ¡°My master is one, therefore I am afforded some basic control, but I¡¯m simply a jumped up warrior.¡± Jassin gave Garret a frustrated look. ¡°That is not necessarily true, Ryan. Despite Garret¡¯s propensity for understatement, he is an accomplished Warden, one I trust with my life.¡± I was still stuck on what Garret said, though. ¡°Wait. So, because you work for him,¡± I said, pointing at Jassin. ¡°You can use Mana Manipulation?¡± ¡°He does not just work for me, Ryan. Garret has sworn himself to my family, essentially becoming a part of it. In return for his loyalty, he gains access to the power of my dominion which he uses best he can. Wardens like Garret did not grow up with their dominion as I did, so his control over it is different from mine. While unlocking new functions of my dominion requires study and practice, the use of it is as easy as breathing for me, because since I was born I have been under its influence. Garret, on the other hand, is very deliberate in even its most basic use.¡± ¡°I simply dabble, young man,¡± Garret said, rising from the cot to stretch his legs. Jassin explained further. ¡°In theory, he could do everything I do if he went through the work of unlocking all the functions, but in practice it does not work like that.¡± ¡°Is this something everyone with a dominion can do? Just bring other people into the fold like that?¡± I asked. ¡°Many of the noble houses have developed the capability of doing so, yes. Mine was one of the first,¡± Jassin said with some pride. ¡°It is not a perfect process, but we have come a long way since the early days.¡± If that was something people like Jassin could do, would that mean I could do it too? It seemed unlikely, given that I¡¯d never heard of any Exotics doing something similar. A lot of them had retinues of people that followed them around and did things with them, but I¡¯d always thought it was some kind of celebrity thing. If inducting them into your service gave these people access to the System, it most definitely would have come out by now. Garret seemed to sense what I was thinking. ¡°I am not like my lord, Ryan. What I get from the arrangement isn¡¯t anything so grand as what he inherited. It¡¯s more that our connection gives me the ability to see what I hadn¡¯t before. I¡¯m aware of the magic around me, mostly that of my master and other types I¡¯m familiar with, and I¡¯m able to use it to an extent. It¡¯s hard, painful sometimes too, but it gets easier as the years pass.¡± ¡°Can Garret ever match you in the magic department?¡± I asked Jassin. ¡°Theoretically, yes, though he would need to create his own dominion and cultivate it if he wishes to bring his capabilities up to my own. The amount of concentration and will it would take to do what I am capable of without offloading some of the work would be taxing for both the body and mind. If Garret were a genius with perfect affinity for a certain mana type, he might be able to do it all on his own, but that type of person would still benefit from creating their own dominion.¡± I turned the idea over in my head for a few breaths. Dominions seemed to work a lot like magical computers, connected to their practitioners through some kind of metaphysical link. People like Jassin built his own computer back in the day and has been adding onto it and expanding its capabilities for a long time, generations. New generations inherit the link to the computer when they are born. Garret didn¡¯t have anything like that, but he was given some access where he can make use of the computational power when he was inducted into Jassin¡¯s family. He doesn¡¯t know how to use it as well as the family, but he can, theoretically, do it on his own by writing his own code on the fly. Or something. The comparisons weren¡¯t one to one though, especially when it came to my situation. I turned to Garret. ¡°But I¡¯m more like Jassin than you, right? Should I be able to control it like he does?¡± ¡°I have a theory about that,¡± Jassin interjected. ¡°I believe it is a by-product of your explosive growth and your relative newness in your dominion¡­ your System.¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure if the System works the same way your magic does, though. Your dominions may be derivative of the System, but there¡¯s too much that doesn¡¯t line up.¡± ¡°Yes, your System is different in many ways, but I am unsure as to why. It is far more advanced than anything we have here, but there is also something wrong with it. It is plain to see if you know how to look. It¡­ forces itself upon you, flooding you with power but also restricting you and making you reliant upon it, writing itself upon you in a way our magic does not. It is like a medicine that, once taken, your body depends upon more and more. As you use it, you are becoming, at once, more powerful yet less able to use that power freely.¡± With that, that dam finally broke. My control of my aura snapped, and the little mana motes exploded out from my body. With a frustrated sigh, I leaned my head back and let my stiff muscles finally relax. ¡°The more I level, the less freedom I have then,¡± I said with some trepidation. Jassin scoffed. ¡°Oh, I¡¯m sure you receive many new boons along the way to give you the illusion of freedom, but, in reality, you are being conditioned to accept less. It is an insidious sort of enslavement, one that you readily volunteer for after being offered a short path to some power. The Dark Lord made note of this change before the Purge. He thought he¡¯d broken his toy, but, in the end, he concluded that the nature of the human¡¯s dominion had changed. The corrosive influence was coming from without.¡± I thought back to the error messages I¡¯d been getting since the day I¡¯d awakened as an Exotic. ¡°So, it wasn¡¯t always like this then.¡± ¡°That is the theory.¡± ¡°Lucky me, inheriting a broken System. So what about my aura? Am I doing it right then? I feel like I¡¯m sort of containing it. You said Wardens do it like this too?¡± "What you are doing is... different. Garret is able to gather mana external to him and use it to fuel himself, but you are doing so with your own aura. You are creating a loop, a system that feeds into itself in a circular way. You take mana from your aura and put it to use elsewhere in your body. Like any closed system, this cannot be done in perpetuity. Stagnation and death would be inevitable. Strangely, that is not happening with you. If anything, it is repairing you." "I''ve been calling the stuff ''me-mana'' like it''s my own personal flavor of mana. I''m good with me-mana. If the System works how you say it does, maybe I¡¯ve been working with my own mana more than I have the System¡¯s. Like, I¡¯ve been putting all of my input through Engine, and it¡¯s been acting as a filter.¡± Jassin put a hand on his chin and tilted his head to stare through me that way he did. ¡°Hmmm. Perhaps. If most of if not entirely all of your pool is ¡®your¡¯ mana, then your System may be having a difficult time reshaping you to fit your new abilities. This may have mitigated some of the corrupting influence of your System but has also made you heavily reliant on your own mana type. Your meteoric rise in power was fueled primarily by your own type of power as opposed to that which is given to you. In a way, your unconventional use of your System has saved you from its machinations. It has also crippled you in some of the basic areas of control and left large gaps in your capabilities. Unbelievable." ¡°So, controlling my aura shouldn¡¯t feel like pushing boulders uphill using just my breath?¡± I asked, not sure if I wanted to hear the answer. ¡°At first,¡± Garret replied in a consoling tone. ¡°You¡¯re trying to move something too heavy and complicated for you right now, but, at the same time, it¡¯s the only thing you can do. I¡¯ve seen it before in new people with an affinity for a more complex type of mana.¡± Jassin spoke up again, this time seeming more energized. He leaned forward, looking bright and engaged. ¡°This may actually be a boon, Ryan. Though it feels difficult now, I believe you may benefit from this deviation from your norms. Your body and spirit have not yet had a chance to acclimate to the power you¡¯ve gathered, so you have not acquired the instincts to control your magic intuitively.¡± The thought of my life being significantly harder because I was powerleveling instead of taking the road more traveled didn¡¯t seem like a great boon to me. ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound great. I mean, it would be nice to be able to control myself and not blast other practitioners with my special flavor of mana.¡± ¡°Yes. That part is obnoxious to say the least. However, I think, despite the inconvenience, this may be an opportunity.¡± ¡°How so?¡± Jassin¡¯s new energy couldn¡¯t seem to be contained. He shifted forward slightly, repositioning himself closer to me as if he wanted to be able to reach out and hold me down if I didn¡¯t like what he wanted to say. ¡°Imagine something complicated like your circulatory system. It works the way it does because that is how you were designed. You are also at the whims of your body¡¯s involuntary processes. See?¡± I shrugged. ¡°What if you had the opportunity to learn how to use it from scratch, be able to control it like a muscle. What then?¡± I furrowed my brows, trying to imagine. ¡°I guess¡­ I could tell my body how fast to pump my blood.¡± I stopped to think about it some more. ¡°I could tell it to bring extra oxygen and nutrients to my muscles, to my brain. I could¡­ assuming I could get better at using it, have it flush out toxins, stop feeding blood to open wounds. If I was really good at it, I could probably get it to do lots of extra stuff.¡± ¡°Yes. Yes! Exactly. Think of yourself as a blank sheet of paper and your System, a portraitist. He is currently working on your portrait, only he is only now in the sketching phase. He is working with broad strokes and vague outlines. You have the opportunity to reach out and guide his hand.¡± Garret spoke up again. ¡°Think of it like water carving out a river over time. Your dominion¡¯s power is the water. It might have some places where it naturally flows, and those places will one day become the river. Right now, you have some say on where the water flows, while you¡¯re flat.¡± ¡°It is a theory,¡± Jassin said, finally leaning back and stretching as I had. ¡°If you want my advice, attempt to stretch your abilities in the next few days. Experiment and go beyond what you think you should, and, with your permission, I would like to examine you again once you have done so.¡± With that, Jassin, without saying another word, got up to leave. He seemed stiff but otherwise fine. Once the door to the workshop opened and closed again, Garret sat down in front of me where Jassin just vacated. ¡°Alright, young man. If you¡¯re going to cycle your magic like a Warden, let¡¯s make sure you do it right.¡± I stopped, already almost all the way upright again, one knee under me and about to be on my feet. ¡°Uh. Right,¡± I said. ¡°Wrong. That was all wrong. First, you need to learn how to breathe. Have a seat.¡± Chapter 62 - Dodge a Bullet Chapter 62 - Dodge a Bullet ¡°You shine up pretty well, Monk. Good thing too. You have no idea what I had to go through to get a hold of that outfit,¡± Samila said, reaching up to brush a string of something off my shoulder. She¡¯d done that a lot since we¡¯d left the workshop. There was always something I¡¯d done wrong or left undone. At least now she was down to little things. The doublet I wore, a black vest with sleeves, leather trim, shiny buttons, and a fake pocket on the front was a tight fit around the shoulders and chest and tended to shed from the seams. My shirt¡¯s white collar liked to collect all the black fibers too like a magnet with iron filings. The worst part, though, was that the pants ¡®fit¡¯ the same way an ostrich egg might fit inside a python. It made going down stairs or walking or standing in general more than a little uncomfortable. Samila herself had changed out of her armor while I¡¯d been busy bathing and figuring out how all the pieces of the outfit went together. Now the dragonkin warrior woman wore a yellow and white dress that had no shoulders but seemed to have transferred all of that material to the wrists and a gossamer-esque fold of white that connected the arms of the dress to the torso, giving her the appearance of having wings. Her blue, scaled skin contrasted with the bright yellows and whites like the fabric had been chosen specifically for her, really bringing out the otherworldly brightness of her eyes. The dress definitely wasn¡¯t made to fit her, though. Her muscular arms and back strained at the loops and ties that held the rest of it in place, and the fabric hugged her in the hips and thighs while being roomy everywhere else, like she¡¯d been poured into an odd shaped glass. With every stair we descended, the quellstones stung away in the tips of my boots. My toes felt like they were going to fall off with how numb they were, and I had to remind myself that I wasn¡¯t actually cold so much as suppressed. Progress on controlling my aura was slow going, if you could really call what I was doing ¡®going¡¯ at all. Once I mastered the technique, though, I was going to find a way to shoot these stupid death pebbles into the sun. I bet with the right shape and enough Volatility, I could find a way to make them break orbit at least. ¡°So, are you going to fill me in on why we¡¯re all dressed up?¡± I asked as I reached up and re-tousled my hair. The outfit, I could do, but I¡¯d just gotten this hair. I wasn¡¯t about to let someone else tell me how to wear it, and I liked it just this side of messy, probably a holdover from home. Samila held on tight to my arm, leading me down the stairs as if she were worried I¡¯d bolt, but the smile on her face told me she was enjoying my discomfort somewhat. ¡°The word¡¯s gone out that we¡¯re doing something big soon, probably the evacuation. Everyone¡¯s on edge, so, naturally, it¡¯s time for spur of the moment life stuff.¡± ¡°Naturally,¡± I parroted sarcastically. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t want to make things too routine in the middle of an apocalypse.¡± ¡°Stop it.¡± She slapped my arm, but I didn¡¯t feel it. Score one for being a cyborg. ¡°Our world has already had its apocalypse, and we¡¯re doing fine. Besides, you shouldn¡¯t be a downer on someone¡¯s wedding day.¡± I stopped, mid-stride. Samila, with her arm in mine like it was, jerked to a stop as well. ¡°Wait. We¡¯re going¡­ to a wedding?¡± I asked, almost not believing it. She grinned mischievously as she pulled on my arm to get me moving again. ¡°Calm down. It¡¯s not ours.¡± Her choice of words did not help matters at all. If I¡¯d have fed my Engine back at the workshop, it would have backfired at this very moment, belching a cloud of black smoke and despair. The woman really knew how to throw me off my game. I swallowed hard but tried to keep my discomfort from showing otherwise. ¡°Uh. Here? Now?¡± I asked. ¡°What other time do we have?¡± Was all the answer she gave. My stomach twisted up in a painful knot of confusion and worry, and my mind whirled at the thought of doing something so¡­ normal at a time like this. We were in the middle of a dead city with monsters battering our door. Plus, I didn¡¯t do normal. I hadn¡¯t done normal in years, and I wasn¡¯t good at it. ¡°Why?¡± Was all I could ask. She shrugged slightly, leaning in to give me a playful nudge with her bare shoulder. ¡°The usual reasons, I¡¯d think. Boy meets girl, boy and girl fight monsters for a week straight right next to each other. She likes his thrust, he likes how she receives a charge.¡± ¡°You¡¯re serious.¡± My mind still wasn¡¯t ready to accept it. A wedding? ¡°What¡¯s so hard to believe? Not everyone is content to sleep on a horde of shiny metal like some people. Very dragonlike by the way. I approve. These people went through something together and survived. Now they¡¯re set to do it again soon, and they don¡¯t want to do it single.¡± ¡°And we¡¯re invited?¡± I asked. She shrugged and wobbled a hand back and forth noncommittally. ¡°Sure. In a way.¡± ¡°What does that mean?¡± I asked, raising a skeptical eyebrow. Samila kept the pressure up, pulling me downward. I noted she really had to put her weight into it to keep me moving. ¡°Relax, Monk, we¡¯re invited. At least we were included when the word went out. I believe most that are not on wall duty are invited. In our cases, I think it¡¯s one of those things where you invite someone, not really because they¡¯ll show up but because it was worth a try. Like, it would be something to talk about on your anniversary twenty years from now.¡± I groaned¡­ loudly. ¡°Wow. My celebrity is really taking off if I¡¯m doing parties now. If only they knew, right?¡± ¡°Shut up. Whether you think you deserve the title or not, you¡¯re the Rising Sun of Eclipse. Whatever you think of yourself or what history thinks of-¡± She hesitated slightly and looked around to make sure we were alone. ¡°-your people, you¡¯ve more than earned a little acceptance. People want to see you and, light forbid, talk to you.¡± She hit me with another playful shoulder check, this time lingering next to me a fraction of a second longer as she pulled me back upright. I let myself be moved, but I wasn¡¯t done arguing about it. ¡°Still not convinced. Do they really-¡° Samila rolled her eyes and blew a rather unladylike raspberry through her lips.¡°Do they really want you there? The answer is yes, but you can¡¯t really accept that can you? You don¡¯t have it in you. For someone as capable as you are, you have an overdeveloped sense of¡­¡± She trailed off, trying to come up with the right word. ¡°Humility?¡± I finished for her. ¡°Shame,¡± she declared almost simultaneously with a satisfied nod, as if she had nailed the word choice. ¡°I do not!¡° I protested. What did I have to be ashamed of? Maybe I spent a fair amount of time naked among the locals, since I¡¯d not yet encountered fireproof or acid-proof clothes yet, but I was barely conscious for a lot of that. It certainly wasn¡¯t being human. I was born that way, and, as far as I knew, there was no way to change my species. ¡°You do, though. Shame just rolls off of you like stink from a bog,¡± she countered with a shrug. I found myself spluttering, shaking my head, and gesticulating as I mounted my defense. ¡°You just essentially used the ¡®yuh-huh¡¯ style of counterargument. That¡¯s not a real argument. What would I have to be ashamed of?¡± Samila shrugged again. ¡°I don¡¯t know, but you are riddled with it and I¡¯ve spent far too much time trying to puzzle out why. I figured it was a ¡®thing.¡¯¡± ¡°A what ¡®thing?¡¯¡± I asked incredulously. ¡°Whatever thing was done to you to make you like this.¡± She said it so matter of factly, like saying something like that didn¡¯t carry all sorts of implications and connotations and other -ations I didn¡¯t want to address. I leaned in close to speak to her softly. ¡°Maybe it¡¯s because I¡¯m not what I say I am, and I don¡¯t like lying to everyone about who I really am?¡± ¡°That¡¯s different and you¡¯re using your status as a world ending visitor from the stars to deflect,¡± she countered. ¡°You don¡¯t like lying, but this is something else. I can smell it.¡± We continued on in silence for another flight of stairs before I could think of anything to say. Shame. That wasn¡¯t it. Sure, I had been a pariah back home, cast out and ignored on the good days. Hadn¡¯t I moved past that, though? A kid with access to the Colonial network was never really alone, was he? While my friends and even my father tried to pretend I didn¡¯t exist, there was the vast repository of human knowledge that was the net, right there at my fingertips. While everyone else was out learning to be the perfect warrior, I made myself something else. Isolation suited me like it didn¡¯t suit others. I was practically made for it. Once I discovered my love for machines, I found a dark, comfortable hole to bury myself in, and I went about making it my own. Where others might have left the clan in shame, I¡¯d carved my own niche that let me be part of the clan without the need to be accepted. And without Mom, there was no one there to push me into the light anymore. Whose fault is that? I forcefully derailed that particular train of thought before it could go any further than it did. I was past that. I¡¯d worked hard to move past that. I became the clan mechanic, their heretic, and then their Exotic. I¡¯d call that way way past Now I was on my way to a wedding with a dragon girl. What a fantastical life this had turned out to be. ¡°I protest the use of that word, still,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Protest all you want,¡± Samila snorted. ¡°I¡¯m a dragon. I can sense these things.¡± ¡°Imagined motivations?¡± ¡°Weakness,¡± she said flatly. ¡°It¡¯s your least attractive quality but also strangely endearing.¡± ¡°Wow,¡± I muttered. ¡°Thanks.¡± My dragon captor led us away from the stairwell and through a hallway that went toward the center of the Spire. ¡°This is our door,¡± she said, flashing me another smile with a few too many canines. Once through the double doors, we came out in a neighborhood. That was the best way I could describe it. The student accommodations in the Spire that I¡¯d seen before were spartan, just a place to sleep and maybe stow your books. This place was different. Very different. Where the dormitories down below were plain and white, these rooms were set in a sort of big, circular spiral that went up and down in a corkscrew with rounded clusters of what looked like landings or ¡®porches¡¯ for elaborate suites at regular intervals on the spiral. Every front porch type area had their own angle on the view. Oh yes, there was a view. The floor, a mix of shiny gray tiling and green metallic accents, hugged the outer wall and ramped up through the spiral with all the rooms, but toward the center of the spire was a giant wall of lush green ivy with blooming white flowers bathed in filtered sunlight, presumably piped in from somewhere outside, maybe even from the same lenses that kept the monstrous human downstairs in check. Mist fell in little puffs from strategically placed spray nozzles that kept the ivy nice and damp while trickles of water cascaded down a series of inlaid steps and into little pools that drained into the ones down below them until they finally dripped into a grate on the bottom floor. I¡¯d never seen something so open and green, yet indoors. It was like I¡¯d been shrunk down to live inside of a hydroponic grow tube. Samila caught me gawking, leaning in to speak privately. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Just hard for me to think of it as anything other than an evil wizard¡¯s tower,¡± I admitted with a shake of my head. ¡°Well, he hasn¡¯t been around for a long time,¡± Samila replied in a whisper. ¡°and his death wasn¡¯t exactly the end of history.¡± I nodded slowly, trying to accept the sentiment. ¡°Can¡¯t really let a dark moment in the past define you, I guess.¡± Of course you can. I¡¯ve been doing it for years. Again, I derailed that train. That track led to nothing good. This place may have been built for some amount of privacy on a regular day, but today every door was wide open. Everywhere I looked there were people of every race, congregating outside their rooms and mingling with one another in a quiet sort of rumbling that crowds tended to do. Some wore bandages on fresh wounds, favored a particular side, or limped when they had occasion to walk, but no one let any of that hardship show on their face. Not everyone was dressed like we were, choosing to wear something more modest, but Samila and I certainly didn¡¯t stand out. Many of the well dressed attendees still had a military bearing that I¡¯d come to associate with the warriors of this culture, but there were an equal number of others here, young and old. I scanned the faces of the crowd, watched how they stood together, the warmth of their expressions. Another thing of note, despite lots of people being part of the guard, no one wore arms or armor, and I saw more than one uncomfortable hand on a hip where a sword might be. Still, the atmosphere managed to be¡­ warm. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°You¡¯re tense.¡± Samila whispered out of the side of her mouth. ¡°Would it make you feel better if there was a monster to slay?¡± I shook my head. ¡°Probably not. It¡¯s just that everyone just seems so normal, like they¡¯ve just chosen to forget where we are.¡± ¡°You and my sister are so alike, it¡¯s disgusting,¡± Samila sighed. ¡°Of course, everyone knows the situation outside. Not everyone deals with it like you, though, slowly killing yourselves with worry. Sometimes it pays to put it aside for a moment and let yourself be.¡± ¡°I-¡° I closed my mouth and thought about it. The way I handled problems, generally, was that I saw a problem, and I worked it. I worked that problem so hard until it wasn¡¯t a problem anymore. It worked with engines, it worked with games, and, theoretically, it worked with people. Did the attack-it-until-it-goes-away method work with something as big as a world-ending infestation of scourge, though? Did my method work on anything on a grander scale than what, say, a clan mechanic might face? If not, was it useful to me anymore? Was my clinging to it limiting me to only being able to handle clan mechanic scale problems? Samila wasn¡¯t thinking about the scourge like that, though. A problem for her to solve. For her, they were a force to oppose, too big to understand. They were something out of her control, a thing that would be tackled one way or another today or tomorrow. The trick, though, was that she had faith that either she or someone else would handle the problem eventually, just not today. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if I can just let myself be,¡± I said. ¡°I know, but you need to try while you¡¯re here. It¡¯ll be good for you. And I need a date.¡± I felt my eye twitch slightly at that. That was alarming. I had been on a date this entire time, and I¡­ ¡°Okay. Just tell me what to do¡± I said, bringing my eyes back from wherever I¡¯d been staring and finally looking at her, really looking at her. She stared up at me, her characteristic smirk gone, replaced by worry and a tinge of sadness. I wasn¡¯t being good company. ¡°Seriously,¡± I continued, forcing a smile onto my face in hopes she¡¯d reciprocate. ¡°I¡¯m clueless on how to proceed unless you need me to make something explode.¡± I must have said something right, because her smile came back with a vengeance. ¡°Just follow my lead,¡± she replied, reaching up to smooth my hair back, letting her hand linger on my cheek on the way back down. ¡°You can start by unclenching your¡­ All of it.¡± I looked around at all the people. More than one pair of eyes were turned my way. Most of them looked curious, others had a sort of timid respect that was usually reserved for people like my father. I put on a little smile and purposefully relaxed, one muscle after another. The bride and groom walked into the room then, a young couple, him in a fancy bright colored coat and her in the poofiest red dress I¡¯d ever seen in my life. The bottom half of it took up so much space, it might have pushed others off the side of the railing and into the waterfall if they hadn¡¯t moved out of the way to give her room. ¡°Did we raid the prom closet or something?¡± I asked Samila after they¡¯d passed. Samila quirked an eyebrow at me. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Where did we get all the clothes?¡± Understanding came over her face, and she brightened slightly. ¡°Every door is open to a wedding. Lending and borrowing are a popular activity for the day, and it¡¯s considered good luck. We don¡¯t have something for everyone, but no one is refused. The women got together last night and found what we could.¡± The happy couple took up positions in front of the wall of ivy, on a semi-circular patio that jutted out over the empty space, turned toward each other and held each other¡¯s hands. The two of them were young-ish, probably a little older than me, but they had the look of soldiers to them, well muscled, good posture, rough hands. that kind of stuff. Then, Bishop Kolash flowed in, in a set of white and daylight robes and a big smile on his midnight black face, the kind of smile that split his head in two like a waste bin. I willed Stealth to activate, but it, as usual, gave me no hint as to whether it was working or not. Kolash gave no indication that he noticed me, though. He only had eyes for the two people in front of him.. The Bishop raised his hands to quiet everyone down and began the proceedings. ¡°Friends. Comrades. Brothers. Sisters. We are here today to celebrate the beauty of life¡­¡± ¡ª¡ª¡ª¡ª------------------------------ As weddings tended to do, the party after the ceremony was a bit more lively. I wouldn¡¯t say they had a full band at their disposal but a surprising amount of people knew how to play. All tables and chairs were cleared away and every ¡®porch¡¯ turned into a dance floor. Children ran to and fro between dancing groups of adults, sometimes even stopping to join the dances and put their silly spins on the steps, but they never stayed interested for long. Additionally, now that the lively part of the ceremony was on, the goblins had appeared out of nowhere. None of them spoke the language, but they certainly were enjoying the alcohol¡­ their own¡­ others¡¯... sometimes straight from the barrel. They seemed to know nothing of moderation. The children, as children tended to do, were the first to really merge as one group, tall folks and short. All it took was one group of children playing a game the others wanted to join, and that was it. Then the children were suddenly running around in one big blob, making trouble. No words necessary. When I asked where the tall folk kids had come from, Samila told me the guard weren¡¯t the only people at the gate they rescued in our initial operation. The reason the group had been bogged down for so long wasn¡¯t because they couldn¡¯t move to a more advantageous place. After the walls had been overrun, they had also become a collection point for civilians fleeing the horde, and the guard fought hard to keep them all safe for an entire week. When Sissa, Samila, and Geddon arrived to break the mini-siege, it was the first time these people had moved out of their defensible square in a long time. The children were part of that group. The motion and the general good vibes of the crowd were intoxicating. The majority of the attendees were Miur, wearing decorative garland and ornate wraps on their horns, but our regular group weren¡¯t the only standouts. Geddon appeared sometime in the night in full armor and was popular on the main dance floor, picking up willing women and carrying them on his shoulders like children. A stubby mushroom person bobbed up and down next to a group of students as a lively song came on, and he seemed to morph and wobble in time with the music comically, making them the group to watch. Samila and I sat on the side, watching the party go on without us, but she couldn¡¯t seem to keep herself still. That only lasted for a handful of songs. Then, as if she¡¯d had enough standing around, she snatched up my arm and pulled me forward so suddenly I felt my shoulder joint pop. Then we were on the dance floor. Samila, a petite blue thing head and shoulders shorter than me, led as we danced since I didn¡¯t know the steps. She laughed at my ineptitude, quick to point out where I went wrong, but she seemed to be enjoying herself. She even went so far as to put my hand in the right place on her lower back. That was interesting. I had to bend over to get to the right place, apparently. Eventually, though, we found our rhythm, and she led us through the dancers. I slowly began to find my way and get more comfortable with the process. My higher body stat was probably doing a lot of the heavy lifting when it came to coordinating my body and making things easier on my mind. I even went so far as to start having fun¡­ less worried about my feet and more into how it felt to have her right there. Then, like a damned magician, Samila was gone, and I bumped into another blue woman, this one in a gray dress. Sissa jumped as if something had just pinched her, and she put up her hands to politely pull away¡­ before she recognized me. Her eyes widened and her mouth opened to¡­ protest? Say hello? I didn¡¯t know. Nothing came out. She also didn¡¯t punch me in the face, though, so our post-evacuation interactions were trending better, I guessed. ¡°Uh- Hi.¡± I said. ¡°Hi,¡± Sissa said back. She smoothed the front of her dress and seemed to fidget like someone caught in the act of something. Unlike my clothes, Sissa¡¯s dress seemed to be made for her, a gray, flowing thing that hugged her in the right places before flowing out like a waterfall of mist to pool on the floor. I looked around one last time for Samila, coming up with nothing. ¡°I¡¯m just guessing here,¡± I ventured. ¡°But I think we¡¯re supposed to dance.¡± ¡°Is that why you grabbed my- Ah, dammit, Samila!¡± Sissa fumed, looking around the crowd much like I¡¯d done, a look of embarrassed disapproval on her face. ¡°She takes her role as second too far.¡± I raised an eyebrow at that. ¡°Second?¡¯¡± ¡°Second in our clutch. The youngest.¡° Sissa stood up on her tiptoes. Unfortunately she was shorter than most of the tall folks here, and even if she were as tall as I was, she wouldn¡¯t be able to spot her sister. She¡¯d vanished in a cloud of smoke. ¡°Do you want to dance?¡± I asked awkwardly as she spun and searched for her sibling. The question seemed to surprise her. She spun back around so quickly, her hand swept across my face, and I had to duck or get another Sissa-special black eye. Her mouth opened again, her cheeks flushing a dark navy that seemed to change the shape of her face, accenting her cheekbones. She nodded. ¡°I guess I wouldn¡¯t mind a dance. Seems like it¡¯s what we¡¯re meant to do.¡± With a self effacing smile, I put my hands in the right places, and brought my body into line with hers. She was so small, tiny even, willow thin and soft. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that a wrong move on my part might hurt her, but I knew better. She was strong. Stronger than me probably. It took a full verse of the song before I got up the courage to speak. ¡°I don¡¯t get you and your sister,¡± I ventured. ¡°No?¡± She asked, stumbling slightly as we reset our steps. Wow. She was just as good a dancer as I was. ¡°No, I really don¡¯t,¡± I insisted. ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure your sister is- uh- interested in me.¡± ¡°No kidding? What gave you that impression?¡± Sissa asked a bit too sarcastically. ¡°Was it the long, mournful stares? The intense interest in your backside?¡± It was my turn to trip. She caught me though, before I could fall all the way to the floor. I swallowed, suddenly feeling a bit more self conscious. ¡°Uh. Yeah. The clues were there, I guess.¡± ¡°Well, you get that. What don¡¯t you get about us then?¡± ¡°If she- uh- Constance, I feel like I¡¯m in middle school. If she likes me, why did she set us like this?¡± Sissa¡¯s gaze slid down, and she gained a new appreciation for the floor as we went through the motions of dancing. When she spoke again, her voice had a sad note to it, regretful maybe. ¡°She¡¯s second born in our clutch. Dragonkin are invariably born in pairs. It has something to do with how the divine power of the dragon cannot be contained in a single mortal vessel, but I don¡¯t know exactly how it works.¡± She took a deep breath as if preparing herself to explain something she didn¡¯t really enjoy talking about. ¡°The eldest is meant to be first in everything. From how tall we are to who gets the first roll at dinner. We¡¯re meant to be the picture of excellence as a representative of our sire. The second is meant to help the first accomplish that. It¡¯s a dragon rule, a sort of natural law, one that we follow instinctually.¡± My stomach soured after hearing that. Samila was born to play second fiddle to Sissa? That sounded like something archaic out of myth and legend. Who would do that to one of their own children? Why condemn a child to second place from birth? It went against everything I was ever taught. We were all created equal, and no one deserved deference based on how they were born. You were not made to kneel to anyone. ¡°I see you are not pleased.¡± Sissa observed. I shook my head. ¡°Sorry. I just can¡¯t wrap my head around it. You have free will, don¡¯t you? How can firsts and seconds even exist?¡± It was Sissa¡¯s turn to frown. ¡°Well, I¡¯m not exactly a big proponent of the concept either, Ryan. I have tried to fight against it, even gone so far as to try and make her stop treating me as her better, but when I tried, it just came off as another order I was giving her. I hate how she¡¯s been forced into the background, but, at the same time, she considers it a privilege. We naturally slip into these roles, so naturally, you might even think we were made this way on purpose. I am the leader. I make the decisions for the both of us, and she¡¯s always there to back me up.¡± Her eyes hardened as she stared at something in the middle distance, at something in distant memory. ¡°No matter how much we want to run from it, that¡¯s how it always shakes out. Do you have any idea how infuriating it is to not know if your personality is truly yours or if it is simply a manifestation of natural law?¡± I didn¡¯t know what to say to that. Of course, I had the System slowly pushing me toward becoming a monster, and I couldn¡¯t trust if my thoughts were my own anymore. This conversation wasn¡¯t about me, though. I looked around once more to find Samila somewhere out there. Nothing. The song was starting to wrap up too. ¡°This is her asking for your permission isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked. Sissa nodded, not meeting my eyes. ¡°Not just mine, either.¡± Oh, so it was that kind of moment then. ¡°So, what¡¯s your answer?¡± I asked, fighting to keep my tone neutral. The dragonkin shuddered slightly, then raised her gaze into line with mine. I could tell she was fighting to not look away, but she mastered herself and gave me the same stare she did every other challenge she met. ¡°For her, I¡¯d give up everything,¡± Sissa declared, her determination slightly belied by how she had to wipe a tear from her cheek. The wet scales carved a dark line down her scales like an unhealed scar. She sniffed and let out a little bitter laugh. ¡°I think you and I are too much alike to work anyway.¡± Muscles I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been clenching chose that moment to relax. Was I feeling¡­ relieved? No, that wasn¡¯t quite it. It was a type of relief, though, I was sure. ¡°Too alike huh? Samila said something like that too. So, what does punching me in the face earlier this week say about your sense of self worth?¡± I teased. ¡°Too much,¡± Sissa laughed nervously, again reaching up to swipe at a tear before it could get anywhere. ¡°In some ways, you¡¯re who I want to be, actually. Taking the hard road. Sacrificing for others even if it means denying yourself. To be so empty of want is something I consider noble.¡± Empty of want? What the hell did that mean? I wanted things. There were things I had to- I stood there in contemplative silence as I took mental inventory. What did I want? I was an Exotic now. My life had changed. I wasn¡¯t the outcast clan mechanic anymore. But now that I wasn¡¯t my past self, what did I want in the future? It couldn¡¯t all be running for my life and trying to get home. I wanted people to be safe, to not pay for what I¡¯d caused. I wanted to see them all happy and alive, and- ¡°See? Empty,¡± Sissa said as the music finished. ¡°Maybe in another life, I¡¯d have claimed you, but not this one.¡± Everyone around us clapped. That stopped my little crisis of self. I felt my eyebrows climb way up my forehead. ¡°You¡¯d have claimed me?¡± ¡°I¡¯m a dragon, Ryan,¡± Sissa replied with a knowing smile. ¡°I¡¯d have claimed you.¡± We parted without another word, awkwardly. She muttered something about getting a drink, and I just stood there like an idiot. I didn¡¯t follow her. It wasn¡¯t more than a couple breaths before a familiar voice spoke from behind me. ¡°I told you. Shame.¡± And Samila was back¡­ funny how that worked. I gave her my best angry scowl and tilted my head to ask for an explanation. She didn¡¯t provide one, though. She seemed unmoved, however. ¡°Come on,¡± she sighed with exasperation. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of people that want to shake your hand.¡± ¡°Just like that?¡± I asked. ¡°Well, if you¡¯re not going to do the smart thing, you can at least do the gracious thing. People want to thank you for what you did.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said, already wishing for the comfort of whirring machinery and volatile chemicals already. ¡°Oh no.¡± ¡°Nope. No getting away now. You¡¯re committed. I told them the Rising Sun of Eclipse would sign their naughty bits.¡± ¡°No way. You better be-¡° ¡°Of course I¡¯m kidding. I have an alternative plan, if you want to hear it,¡± she purred, grabbing my collar and pulling herself up on her tiptoes to whisper in my ear. My breath caught in my throat, but I had the wherewithal to keep talking. ¡°Uh. What plan?¡± ¡°How about we get out of here and do something¡­ spontaneous.¡± ¡°Uh-¡± That was it. My brain collapsed like a dying star. No more thoughts. Just terror and¡­ stuff. Sound was muffled, and the entire world narrowed down to a singular point of blue and gold. ¡°You spook like a deer, I swear,¡± she giggled up at me. ¡°Seriously, though. I¡¯m barely holding back your admirers. I had to growl at them to keep them away for so long. If we stay too long, the party might become more about you instead of them.¡± We stay too long. We can¡¯t stay too long. We¡¯ve- With a rushing sound, my world came back into focus, so hard it was like a physical blow. I blinked. ¡°What did you say?¡± I asked. She frowned up at me, tilting her head slightly. ¡°What? I said let¡¯s get out of here. Sex is still on the table, but if you make me repeat my lines, things might change.¡± ¡°No. No,¡± I insisted, breaking away a little less gently than I wanted to. My mind was racing, whirling around a central point, around a nexus that I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°The thing about staying. Say that again.¡± Samila¡¯s frown deepened into a scowl, but she did as I asked. ¡°Hmm. If we stay too long, the party might become more about you than-¡± ¡°That¡¯s it!¡± I shouted. ¡°What is?¡± ¡°Samila, it¡¯s the tutorial. I- The other guy¡­ he¡¯s stayed too long. There¡¯s- Oh, Constance. The insertion point. They stay active. His insertion point has been active for over a thousand years, and now there¡¯s- Oh, shit!¡± ¡°Slow down, Ryan,¡± Samila pleaded. ¡°What do you mean?¡± It all fit. Everything from the moment I was chosen to now, the goblins, tutorial, the stories, the city, the Dark Lord, the Spire, the undead, the other Animator. It all fit perfectly. I¡¯d found the failure point. I clenched my metal fist as the heat of conviction washed over me, and a thousand connections sparked to life in my brain. ¡°I know how to stop this.¡± Chapter 63 - Put it Together Chapter 63 - Put it Together A chill wind whipped at my face as I leaned against the railing of the Spire¡¯s open air observatory, while the dead city of Eclipse sprawled in gray patchwork down below. I was at an altitude that seemed to turn all but the largest of the manmade structures into a flat sort of abstract shape, more discernible as a group than as individuals, and it was easy to tell how well different parts of the city fared before and after the scourge. The decaying grays and creaking, moldy skeletal structures of Riverside and Bogtown, funnily enough, seemed to have fared the best through the apocalypse. Hardly any of them were smoking ruins, maybe because of their proximity to the water. Maybe because I hadn¡¯t gone to that part of the city yet. Meanwhile the well-to-do browns and greens of the richer parts of the city still smoldered in places. I hadn¡¯t started those, or, at least, I didn¡¯t think I did. The fire I did start at the south gate was mostly out after the wind changed directions, but that part of the city was still partially obscured behind a hazy cloud of smoke. Through that haze, I could just make out the dark greens of the glade, the crooked border to the swampland beyond and, above that, the mountains, under which I¡¯d come to be in this part of Ralqir. Below, the faint popcorn of automatic turret fire came in little spurts of violence, though from this height, I couldn¡¯t pick out which little black dot the guns were trained upon. My log told me it was mostly the small stuff, undead and goblins with a few standouts that were mystery beasts. The experience notices were trickling in steadily, but I wasn¡¯t getting much base XP from any of them. The bonuses weren¡¯t great either, not with the crowd as thin as it was now. The targets were too sparse to keep the chain bonus going, and the System was counting them as small groups as opposed to a horde. The scourge-touched were in roam-and-scavenge mode now, so big pile-ups of bodies were rare. I wasn¡¯t out for experience tonight, though. Tonight was about preparation. Not mine. My little factory was doing the preparing for me right now. No, tonight, I needed to prepare everyone else for what I was about to do. Finally, someone cleared their throat from somewhere near the stairwell. I turned, finding most of the people I¡¯d invited to join me up here tonight: Samila, Sissa, Geddon, Trix, Tiba and her guards along with Jassin and Garret bringing up the rear. The church guards were all armed and armored again, Geddon¡¯s and Samila¡¯s kit still stained with black blood all the way up the sword arms. Either they hadn¡¯t had a chance to clean them yet, or they must have been called to put down a breach somewhere. Tiba carried her spear, and Trix wore his carbine across his back. Garret only wore a sword and some kind of loose, padded underclothes but somehow managed to look more ready for a fight than anyone else. Jassin simply looked like Jassin, his gaunt face pinched in a mask of calculated neutrality as he took in everything. I leaned over slightly to see if anyone else was behind them all but saw no one. I gave Samila a questioning look, but she only gave a tiny shrug in response. Well, this was as good as I was going to get then. They all filed in and found a place to sit or stand. There wasn¡¯t a whole lot of room other than along the scaffold-type railings where I¡¯d been looking out over the city, since the middle of the observatory was taken up by a giant overdesigned telescope. I say overdesigned, because it certainly didn¡¯t look like a telescope in the way I understood them. The main housing was a cylinder as I thought it should be, ten feet across, pointed straight up at the moon. The material was tarnished gold in color with violet streaks folded into the alloy, and no part of it was visible under any sort of Detect ability I tried. Where it got weird, however, was the rings that rotated in inconsistent, uneven orbits around the whole thing, wobbling up and down slowly, eerily silent while some kind of shimmering, translucent liquid stretched in sheets between them. I would have felt better if the thing squeaked or creaked or something, but the only sound it caused was the displaced air the rings made when they wobbled on their different tracks. Once everyone was in place and as comfortable as they were going to get, Garret receiving the honor of being the most comfortable laying down on a bench with his hands behind his head (the man could be at ease anywhere), I began. ¡°Well, I guess that¡¯s everyone,¡± I sighed. ¡°Thank you all for coming.¡± Jassin was the first to speak, as I knew he would be. ¡°Your message said it was urgent, so we came right away. It did take some time to ¡®give my practitioners the night off¡¯ however. I am sure they are not complaining, but I, for one, am quite curious as to why I did so.¡± It took a level of trust to do something like that, I knew. Jassin had this place running on a set schedule so that people didn¡¯t work too long and burn themselves out, while no one ate too much or slept too much or spent too much time alone. I¡¯d probably thrown that careful schedule off by just plopping my turrets down at the gates and handing the guards spare magazines, but it needed to be done this way. ¡°I appreciate what this means, Lord Jassin. I just need a few minutes of everyone¡¯s time, and then it will be up to all of us what we do after,¡± I replied. Then, the distinct *bap* *bap* of wood on stone echoed up from the stairwell, and my gut clenched slightly. I¡¯d invited our final guest, of course. He needed to be here. I couldn¡¯t leave him out given how much pull he had, but I wasn¡¯t quite comfortable with him being here either. Attempted murder, understandably, did that to a guy. Slowly, Bishop Kolash dragged himself up the stairs and into the room, leaning heavily on his staff. He paused at the very top of the stairs, winded and sweaty, but his eyes bore a fierce determination as he surveyed the room, noting every face with his wide set eyes. I noticed his broken hand was bandaged but not healed. He had to have had the chance to heal it by now with his magic. Why leave it? Everyone went still. ¡°Bishop Kolash,¡± I announced, gesturing to a seat that was in our general area. ¡°Please, sit. Thanks for coming.¡± ¡°Your message mentioned cleansing our world of the foul presence of the enemy, and it would be a neglect of my duties to not attend such a meeting.¡± The fact that he considered me one of ¡®the enemy¡¯ was not lost upon me. I wasn¡¯t going to let him rattle me, though. I gave him a nod and a smile. ¡°That¡¯s the gist of it. Please, come sit,¡± I offered. There was a long pause where he seemed to consider, his eyes not leaving mine while he lingered there, but, eventually, he stepped further into the room, choosing a seat to my right and a bit more distant than the one I offered him. I fought not to let my smile slip. This situation required confidence. I¡¯d need to channel my dad again, as unnatural as it felt. ¡°Samila says you think you have a way to end the plague,¡± Sissa said, helpfully prodding me to get on with it. ¡°Right,¡± I said, clearing my throat. ¡°I know how to end this. The infection I mean. By that, I mean that I know where the infection is coming from, and I¡¯m hoping that, in knowing where it comes from, we can fix it.¡± ¡°It comes from you, does it not?¡± Kolash asked. ¡°Your presence here brings with it the evil with which we are afflicted.¡± Trix came to my defense first, bless him. ¡°Your holiness, with all due respect, that is not helping. Ryan did not ask-¡± ¡°It does not matter what he intended, Brother Yik¡¯i¡¯Trix. If only it did,¡± Kolash interrupted, rolling over Trix. ¡°The results speak for themselves. The beginning of this plague coincides perfectly with his arrival on our metaphorical shores. Furthermore, it has historical precedent. Whether Ryan intended to or not, he has set in motion what will inevitably end in a second Purge.¡± The others jumped in, speaking over one another to argue, but I raised my hand to cut off any more rejoinders. ¡°Stop. The good Bishop is right,¡± I admitted, tamping the guilt down at giving voice to the sentiment. They all fell silent and looked over at me again. ¡°He¡¯s right but not entirely. Yes, my presence is causing this, to a point,¡± I stated with a little deferential nod in the Bishop¡¯s direction. ¡°But I don¡¯t think there will be another Purge.¡± ¡°Explain,¡± Jassin said, shooting a harsh look over at the Bishop as if to say ¡®wait till the end of the lecture, or you¡¯re getting detention.¡¯ ¡°Gladly,¡± I agreed. ¡°I believed that was the case too, that I was the cause of all of this. I¡¯d suspected, at the very least. And once you showed me the human you have captive in the basement, it helped confirm some of my preconceptions and form new hypotheses. I began to suspect we were carriers, and we were bringing the infection wherever we went.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. Jassin nodded, gesturing me to go on. ¡°Wait. There is another human here on Ralqir?¡± Sissa gaped. ¡°Now? Since when?¡± Kolash made a burping sound. ¡°You spread secrets too freely, human. We compartmentalize this information as a mercy to the world. The consequences of it spreading would mean untold strife.¡± ¡°On that, we are in agreement,¡± Jassin muttered, shooting me an annoyed look. The Bishop¡¯s sour frown deepened considerably. ¡°It would appear that I will need to have ¡®the talk¡¯ with the lot of you once this is done.¡± I felt the tendons in my neck tighten as my muscles tensed. My frustration at all the secret keeping was threatening to creep back in. I kept my tone mostly conciliatory, though. ¡°For one, if I didn¡¯t trust my friends implicitly, I would never have told them. Second, Lord Jassin, you look like you¡¯re familiar with the carrier theory.¡± ¡°Yes,¡± Jassin affirmed, slipping back into academic mode. ¡°The pathogen theory is an old one, but it fits. Ralqir has not seen one of your kind in many centuries, and as soon as you grace our shores once again, we are beset by another¡­ uprising. An outbreak, you may call it. If your story is accurate, you are the epicenter for this outbreak.¡± ¡°Hold on,¡± I said, turning to Tiba and bringing her up to speed on the conversation in goblin before asking: ¡°The Black Ones have been around for a long time, right? Before I came around?¡± Tiba nodded gravely. ¡°The stories say they come many years after the last human. A lost tribe who lose their minds and deal with demons.¡± I translated as she spoke. ¡°Perhaps they are carriers like you then, Ryan,¡± Jassin suggested. ¡°A mutation of the pathogen where it may lie dormant until the time is right to spread.¡± ¡°Except whatever is wrong with them is far from dormant,¡± I countered. ¡°I¡¯d been in your universe all of twenty minutes before one of them showed up, and it was good and infected. The Black Ones were the first things I encountered after I awoke, and they were the first things that tried to kill me, almost like they were waiting for me. The spiders I fought, the Stone Hearts, the mockvine, none of them were similarly infected, even when I spent a lot of time among them. That¡¯s a point against the pathogen theory, I think.¡± ¡°And what of the Returned? The plague spread through them like a wildfire,¡± Jassin asked. I nodded, giving him that point. ¡°True, but I don¡¯t think it¡¯s because of plague. While it might act like a plague in that case, it can¡¯t be cured like one. The Bishop can attest to that. That¡¯s because it¡¯s not a virus or bacteria. It¡¯s something my tutorial intelligence called void corruption. I didn¡¯t know what to make of the term at the time when she said it to me, but I think I know now.¡± ¡°I know plague, young human, and this one acts very much as one would expect,¡± Kolash argued. ¡°If it is corruption as you say, why do we not feel the effects as we stand here with you? Surely this corruption can get into other living things than the goblins. They are not fundamentally different than other sapient life in our world. This is why we must be vigilant, lest the sickness worm its way into other vulnerable populations.¡± ¡°Yes! Exactly!¡± I shouted, glad to finally get to this point. ¡°Why just goblins but not the Stone Hearts? Why has no one else contracted a case of void corruption? That¡¯s the big question. The Black Ones and their peculiarities were a piece of the puzzle that didn¡¯t fit. It had been bothering me for a long time. Then, Tiba informed me that the Black Ones make their home right next to my tutorial facility.¡± Samila spoke up for the first time, arms crossed but paying rapt attention. ¡°You believe that this tutorial place is the epicenter of the infection.¡± I pointed at her and gave a thumbs up. I didn¡¯t care if that wasn¡¯t a thing on Ralqir, silly place that it was. ¡°I do. Theoretically, the tutorial goes like this: When a new Animator is inducted into the System, our hypothetical new Exotic is whisked away and sent to Ralqir, gets some advice from Nali, Shapes a couple things, asks some questions, and levels up to one. Then they go back to where they came from the same way they entered this universe. They go back home with an understanding of their class, and Ralqir goes on none the wiser.¡± ¡°Obviously, this didn¡¯t happen for you,¡± Samila said with a grin. ¡°Lucky you.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°My tutorial went off the rails. I was attacked, and I had to run. It was only after I was a uh ¡®guest¡¯ of the Stone Hearts that I leveled up to one and the System updated my quest to return to my insertion point.¡± I fought not to look directly at Samila when I said the last sentence. ¡°This still does not explain these Black Ones and our supposed immunity from the plague,¡± Trix observed thoughtfully. Again, I asked Constance to bless the little guy. He kept my last statement from hanging in the air for too long. ¡°Sorry. I¡¯m getting there. Assuming my tutorial quest is bog standard: Insert, shape, level, go home. Then it stands to reason that our friend downstairs went through the same thing.¡± Realization sparked in Jassin¡¯s eyes, and he leaned forward excitedly with fingers steepled in front of his chin. ¡°Except, he did not. The Dark Lord captured him, leading to the first uprising and the Purge.¡± ¡°Correct!¡± I exclaimed, glad I was gaining traction. ¡°The Dark Lord got a hold of Ephelir and brought him home to run his experiments. Exotics pretty much can live forever as long as you feed and water us, so the Dark Lord got to torture him for years and years, learning.¡± ¡°Indeed. This was before he realized the knowledge he gleaned from his pet was tainted and nearly ended the world.¡± Kolash said, bitterly. ¡°The goblins, though. Us. If your new theory is to be believed, why are we immune? It does not make sense.¡± ¡°Ephelir¡¯s insertion point-¡± I said, cutting off before choosing a better way of putting it. ¡°The System¡¯s tunnel between universes has been open and waiting for him to return for thousands of years. It was probably a clean process before the corruption took hold, but after¡­ Everything the System touches now is tainted. Anything the System is currently spending power on is slowly being poisoned, like dumping radioactive material in a well. That particular well pretty much glows now, given how long it¡¯s been poisoned..¡± Jassin, grasping the concept quickly, continued for me. ¡°I believe I follow. Your theory would go toward explaining how the plague can affect the dead. The energy has to come from somewhere, and it is not a spell the enemy is casting. I would know. You believe it is coming from the System bleeding corruption into our world. The captive human was probably a similarly bothersome source of corruption before the Dark Lord built his unique prison, but now, his corruption is essentially contained or at least burned away by the maelstrom whose light this ¡®scourge¡¯ cannot withstand.¡± ¡°But the insertion point is not similarly contained,¡± Sissa observed with an uncomfortable scowl. ¡°The insertion point, where these Black Ones call their home. It could very well have slowly warped and mutated them for hundreds of years, generation after generation until they became as they are now. Other living things, the animals and beasts, have the sense to avoid the area or haven¡¯t been exposed for long enough to have that level of corruption.¡± ¡°But what about now?¡± Trix asked. ¡°Why are we suddenly getting a new wave of¡­ corruption or infection? It is not just goblins and Returned either. Animals, probably even plants.¡± ¡°The beasts are susceptible to it but, very likely, only after being overwhelmed by other corrupted beings,¡± Jassin said. ¡°If we assume Ryan¡¯s theory is true, then it is a corruption of the spirit. A subversion of the will that drives the mind. Beasts do not have the required sense of self or ¡®will¡¯ to withstand its effects for long, and anyone who has met a Returned can see that they are a pliable, suggestible people. The Dark Lord made them so for his purposes, and it made them particularly easy prey for what Ryan is describing.¡± I nodded. This was largely in line with my own thinking. ¡°I think my tutorial intelligence was also susceptible. She was progressively going further and further afield as I spoke to her, even though she had failsafes that reset her memories every time she detected even a hint of void corruption. Back home, we¡¯ve had laws against artificial intelligence for a long time. It¡¯s illegal to code your own, and governments like the Colony only use it sparingly then destroy it after its task is done. I think this may be why.¡± Jassin shared a meaningful look with Kolash. ¡°We too, do not dabble in autonomous constructs such as golems. It is a lost art, illegal now,¡± he intoned ominously. ¡°Because they inevitably go insane. More than once, the church has had to put down some mad practitioner¡¯s attempt at creating artificial life,¡± The Bishop finished for the Headmaster. That confirmed it. You needed a spirit, a soul, to resist the scourge. AI and things like it were beings of pure intellect but nothing more. They had no will other than to do what was set before them. People, however, were something more, something the scourge couldn¡¯t readily subvert, at least not quickly. That took time, and, in my case, probably levels. ¡°It¡¯s a fine theory, Ryan, but how do you believe we can end this?¡± Trix asked. This was the part I¡¯d been dreading. I took in a long, slow breath and prepared myself. ¡°Close the insertion points,¡± I answered. Jassin looked like he¡¯d just been struck. ¡°You are not suggesting we let that creature in the basement free? Even if we had guarantees that it would go home as you suggest, I am unsure if I am willing to let a being of its level of power loose, even in another universe.¡± ¡°No,¡± I said. ¡°We¡¯re not going to let Ephelir free.¡± ¡°If you are about to suggest we kill it, believe me, we have tried. We cannot do enough damage to kill it, and it heals quickly. What¡¯s more, if we do too much damage to its prison, it may free itself anyway. Even with your inventions, you will not be able to do more than what the top minds of our people have already tried. He nearly killed you with a look last time you saw him,¡± Jassin argued, becoming progressively more irritated. Aw. He really did care. I smiled with as much confidence as I could muster. ¡°That¡¯s the thing. That wasn¡¯t just a look. It was a challenge. A System regulated challenge. A duel with stakes. I¡¯d heard about them back home. What I plan to do is to use the System to do what we, as mortals, can¡¯t.¡± ¡°You¡¯re going to cheat. You¡¯re going to challenge a god-like being to a duel and win on a technicality, and your System is going to do the killing for you.¡± It was Samila¡¯s voice. I¡¯d been avoiding her gaze up until now, but that time was up. When I turned to address her, her expression was neutral, but her eyes were blazing furnaces. I suspected that she¡¯d put the rest of it together, and the hardest part of the night was about to take place. ¡°Essentially, yes,¡± I admitted quietly. I did not let my gaze waver or wander over to the rest of my friends, who I knew were giving me worried looks. ¡°This world needs those insertion points closed, one way or another. One is getting closed tomorrow.¡± ¡°And in the unlikely scenario that you live, you¡¯re going to go home,¡± Samila half-whispered, her voice catching slightly, wavering on the word ¡®home.¡¯ There it was. To save Ralqir, I had to leave it. I¡¯d realized it back at the wedding, kept it to myself, held it close even though it pained me. I swallowed, seeing the hurt in Samila¡¯s eyes. ¡°Yeah,¡± I croaked. ¡°I have to leave.¡± Chapter 64 - Do for Others Chapter 64 - Do for Others The heavy stone door slammed shut behind me, plunging the cylindrical prison of eternal torture into strange, high-contrast black and white, where the majority of the room was pitch black, shadow on glossy stone. Meanwhile, the pale beam of pure, terrible maelstrom light, even as thin as it was, dominated the room just by being there, so bright to my human eyes that almost nothing could be seen within except for the faint hint of Ephelir¡¯s slab. Finally, I was here. No turning back now. I did feel the urge to do so, however. Despite the door being closed and sealed, I could almost feel them all waiting for me on the other side. Jassin, Garret, and Kolash would be in the front, stoic, ready to¡­ well, they¡¯d be ready to end me if I came out of the room corrupted. Kolash had insisted upon that. My friends would be behind them, Sissa and Samila standing side by side, hands together. Sissa had ¡®duty and mercied¡¯ me, before I stepped into the prison. That was nice. I could feel its golden warmth in my limbs, keeping them fresh and limber. Samila, on the other hand, just sent me in with a promise. ¡°Live through this, and we¡¯ll talk,¡± she¡¯d whispered. Strangely, that seemed to energize me as much as Sissa¡¯s magic did. Meanwhile, Geddon would have Trix on his shoulder as he busied himself looking over the phylacteries. The big man would keep Trix¡¯s mind off the tension they all probably felt. As for me, I was a wreck on the inside, getting progressively worse as time wore on. I swallowed nervously, suddenly finding the room to be quite chilly and entirely too still. My shaky breaths echoed off the bare stone and bounced around the room, so loud in the silence, it was impossible to believe Ephelir could not hear me. If he did, however, he made no indication. As always he was still on his plinth bed, restrained and tortured for eternity. I waited, cautiously, watching and listening. Nothing. Eventually, I got up the courage to move. The soles of my boots *clopped* on the hard stone, loud enough to be mistaken for gunshots. I didn¡¯t walk toward my opponent. Instead, I slid left, skirting the outer edge of the room, a good 50 feet away from the edge of the light. One. Two. Three long steps. First position. I summoned the pieces of my first turret, a traditional slug thrower with the power dialed up for maximum penetration. No telling how thick a level ??? Exotic¡¯s skin was. My trembling hands fought me as I tried to fit all the little pieces together. The metal clacked together like alarm bells in the still air. Don¡¯t think about it. Just do it. Be in the moment, get it done, and then we can have a good meltdown later. I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about it, though. Where I was right now, what I was doing¡­ was it right? I was increasingly unsure. The stakes were so high, but not just for me¡­ that I could handle. I¡¯d gone into situations before where I was ready to trade my life for someone else¡¯s. Hell, from the outside looking in, I probably looked like I had a death wish, I did it so often nowadays. Except before, when I¡¯d nearly thrown my life away on a half-cooked plan, I at least had some fathomable goal, an immediate tangible result of my actions. I would risk myself freely so that others could live just a little longer. It was an easy trade: me for them. One I was okay with. So, what made this different? What made my duel with an unkillable creature of vast power so terrifying? Scale. I was doing this to save an entire planet. Countless people: families, merchants, kings, queens, dragons, animals, trees, and carnivorous plants were all counting on me. If I did the math, which I tried very hard not to do, it would likely come out to be in the ballpark of billions of living things that were counting on a positive outcome in the next few moments. The human mind wasn¡¯t made to grapple with those kinds of numbers. Not really. They were more abstract than real to most. Except, I was starting to understand and that terrified me. Until now, I¡¯d been doing little things that I hoped would make a big impact. Save a life here, build a little something there, hope it worked out for the best. Do enough little things, and suddenly, the big, unmanageable thing isn¡¯t so big and unmanageable anymore. But the scale of this was so much bigger. It had always been so, but I¡¯d made it a point to never think about just how big. It would have broken me. Worse, my mind in particular, could not quite put my life on the other end of that scale. I saw the equation: all of them, Ralqir¡¯s people, on one side, me on the other, and I reflexively rejected it. It didn¡¯t feel right. There was no possible way Ryan Kotes could have the power to do something so big. Not the crippled kid from the Outers. He could never be worthy of having that kind of impact on anything. Not possible. There had to have been some mistake. With my mind rejecting my place in all this, it was all too easy to start doubting myself. This was my theory and my plan. No one had handed it to me. I hadn¡¯t read it in a book. No divine being descended from the heavens and told me this was the way things were. This was just me, fumbling in the dark. If I was wrong, I¡¯d be throwing my life away for nothing, or, if Constance was feeling extremely generous today, murdering my fellow human whose only crime was being human. But here I was. Now that I was here, doing it, that doubt was starting to be a physically crippling thing. The magazine for the turret jiggled into place, and the release lever was forced down with a clack. I let my eyes unfocus and drifted into that state of mind where I saw my aura. It was thick in here, all packed into one room like it was. I wasn¡¯t sure what the walls were made of, but my aura wasn¡¯t getting anywhere outside of them. My aura also wasn¡¯t getting into the pillar of light, I observed, as my little smokey-blue motes wafted through the room toward the blazing light of the maelstrom and disintegrated as soon as they crossed from black to white. That was okay. I had accounted for this. I got on my tiptoes and set about aiming the turret manually. I looked down the barrel and aligned it just so, only to notice that all of Ephelir¡¯s numerous eyes were open and focused on me. My stomach lurched. How long had he been watching? Slowly, I backed away from the turret and took three more steps around the rim of the room where I summoned the pieces for my next emplacement, another ballistic one. Again, I started to put them all together, but I felt him watching me now. I hunched over my work, trembling fingers working over the mechanisms I¡¯d shaped and fiddled with a hundred times. Ephelir¡¯s gaze was a constant pressure weighing me down. Finally, the tension got to me. ¡°So, Ralqir, huh? What a place,¡± I remarked lamely, the volume of my voice squelched by the tightness of my throat. Ephelir did not answer. I couldn¡¯t even hear him breathing, which was funny, because I could even hear my breaths echo around the room. I imagined him laying there, pale skinned, oddly proportioned, asymmetrical musculature, and a horrifically mutated mouth. The words seemed to help me in the nerves department, though. Somehow, the breaking of the silence, finally, had made things a bit more bearable. This turret was already going together much more smoothly than the last. I cleared my throat and started again. ¡°It¡¯s got all this history, Ralqir, and I can¡¯t really wrap my brain around it. Just years and years of people doing people things. Strange stuff. You know what I mean?¡± I contemplated. I checked over my shoulder to see if there was any change. Nothing. He was still staring at me, though. ¡°Maybe not,¡± I shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t really know where you¡¯re from. Earth? Post-Exodus? The timeline seems right. Well, you¡¯ll be happy to know that Exodus worked. I come from a little ball of rock called Proxis 3. Pretty young as far as human colonies go. We don¡¯t have the kind of history I¡¯m talking about. Not like this place. Proxis isn¡¯t exactly the outermost system mankind saw fit to seed, but we¡¯re contenders for the top ten. That means we only thawed and settled in our particular corner of the galaxy about ten or fifteen generations ago. It might sound like a lot, but it¡¯s not. Our world is brand new, empty in a lot of ways. We have to sort of borrow history and culture from Earth to really feel connected to each other.¡± The next turret was a laser variant. Easier to put together at least. My hands were steadier now, not having the oppressive silence bearing down on me. ¡°Ralqir, though. It¡¯s got this unbroken chain of stories that goes all the way back to¡­ I have no idea. It¡¯s long, I¡¯m sure. The place feels old, lived in, unlike anything I¡¯ve ever known. It¡¯s weird. I feel like I should have a history, something to connect to my home, but I don¡¯t have that. I have Earth¡¯s. Yours.¡± Turret set, I retraced my steps back to the stone door then began to set up that side of the room. Ballistic, ballistic, laser. Symmetrical. Symmetry was nice. The way they were all facing would keep them from shooting each other and myself. The ballistic turrets would be set up to fire upon the center plinth, away from me where ricochets wouldn¡¯t be a problem, and the laser turrets would be on mirror angles spraying from the sides since their attacks didn¡¯t hurt non-organic material and didn¡¯t ricochet. Fire was out of the question. The last thing I wanted right now was to fight a whole fire for oxygen, especially if things got weird. ¡°Makes you wonder why the System sent us here in the first place. I mean, why here of all places? It¡¯s not like we have a connection to this place. Why not an asteroid composed of ferrous metals or something?¡± I considered, turning toward him, the only person in the world that probably knew what I was going through if his mind was still intact. He gave no indication that it was. Two more emplacements went by in silence. Finally, when the last turret was up and running, pointed in the right direction, I retraced my steps once more to approach the column of light from the side that had the stone door. I closed in slowly, step by step. The air around me thickened, and the echoes died unnaturally quickly. Then the smell hit me again, that sweet, bitter, tar rot that filled my nose and forced its way down into my mouth. Disgusting. Horrible. Familiar. It was definitely the smell I¡¯d experienced on my first day as an Exotic. The smell of corruption, my own corruption, the System¡¯s. My confidence got a boost from that. I was doing the right thing. My theory was sound, or at least better than anything else we had. Ephelir¡¯s many eyes saw through me, into me. There was no malice that I could detect, but there was intensity. So much intensity. Ephelir wanted something. He wanted, but he said nothing, did nothing. Perhaps he couldn¡¯t, not while he was in his prison. Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. The black tendrils of goo squirmed out of Ephelir¡¯s body, bursting from the translucent skin to evaporate into mist, and I found that the most disturbing of all, the back and forth of corruption and being cleansed. I coughed, fighting the urge to vomit. ¡°If we were to assume the System is benign, maybe it sent us here because of the people as sort of ambassadors,¡± I continued. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t have minded that, coming here and getting to know people. Making friends. Showing them how humanity does things.¡± Summoning a piece of mendau wood and consuming it, I made sure my mana was topped off and then some. ¡°Except that didn¡¯t happen for us, did it?¡± I asked my fellow human. ¡°We came here and¡­ changed everything. Not for the better either. We made a mess of things, didn¡¯t we? It¡¯s not necessarily our fault. I get that. But what if the System sent us here to- I don¡¯t know. What if it¡¯s not benign? I don¡¯t just mean the void corruption. That¡¯s obviously something new. I mean the System itself. Who made it? No one knows. What is its purpose? No one knows that either. Why is it so damned determined to inflict us upon other universes?¡± No answer, not that I was expecting one. He laid there, burning, healing, and burning again. ¡°If there¡¯s anything human left of you, Ephelir,¡± I whispered, having a hard time with this part. ¡°If there¡¯s anything left, and you¡¯ve just been biding your time, waiting for a sympathetic ear to talk to, say something now.¡± Nothing. I sniffed, at once mourning what was once a living thing and steeling myself to take the next step. ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. If there¡¯s any part of you that remembers you¡¯re still human, I just want you to know that I¡¯m going to fix this. You and I are not going to be the end of this world. It sucks. It¡¯s not like I want to take on this burden, but¡­¡± I sighed. ¡°There¡¯s no one else. So, I guess it has to be me.¡± Finally, a breath rattled in my fellow human¡¯s throat, and its vertically oriented lips flowered open to expose crooked fangs, too many to count. Disturbing to say the least. "So, here''s my theory,¡± I went on. ¡°You want to kill me. You¡¯re scourge now, and you want me dead like the rest of them. But if that''s the case, why the challenge? That didn¡¯t make any sense to me. Why not just do the thing? Why not just kill me with your mind or your aura or whatever you¡¯ve got.¡± I turned my back on him then, pacing back toward my semi-circle of turrets. He didn¡¯t strike. No mind blasts or serrated tentacles or anything. Turning back, I narrowed my eyes at him and came back to look him in the eyes. ¡°I think... that''s all you''ve got. When it comes down to it, you¡¯re an Animator, a non-combat class. The challenge. It''s the only way for you to strike out at me. It almost worked too, just because of the power difference between the two of us. I nearly died. You''re so far above me on the power scale, you can kill me with a simple challenge. Terrible idea to fight you.¡± I leaned in, just far enough that I could almost feel the maelstrom tickling the ends of my hair. ¡°I think you showed me too much of your hand, though. What I realized is this: The System is a machine. One thing you have to know about machines is that well designed ones don''t have useless parts. Who would put the time into designing something like that? I''m new to this Exotic thing, but challenging someone has to have a function outside of a formal fight. It can''t be useless. That got me wondering. I wonder if challenges are a way to settle differences or train outside of killing each other. You challenge someone, set the stakes, and get something out of it, a System enforced bet.¡± With a thought, a menu popped up in my vision. Issue Challenge to Ephelir (Level ???). Stakes: ? Choose: Currency Item Territory Oath Experience Death I chose Death as the only stake. That¡¯s what we were both after, right? Challenge issued to Ephelir (Level ???). Stakes: Death Declined. Then that budding pressure in the air increased tenfold, and the world around me started to blur as- Ephelir (Level ???) has amended the challenge. Stakes: Experience, Death. Do you accept? Y/N The exact same stakes as his last challenge, but this time I didn¡¯t pass out. Why? My higher level? Maybe. What did he have to gain by betting experience, though? Why was experience so important to him? My level wasn¡¯t anything special, not to something like Ephelir. It would be a drop in the bucket. What was it- Oh, you clever son of a bitch. I tried amending the challenge myself, back to just Death, but it was instantly rejected. Again. Then again. All the while, Ephelir stared at me. He wasn¡¯t budging. He also had me over a barrel. I needed this. I needed to close the insertion points to save this place, and Ephelir had literally no other aims than to try to hurt me. ¡°I know what you¡¯re doing,¡± I murmured, trying and failing to keep the anger out of my tone. Ephelir¡¯s eyes vibrated, pupils pulsing in what I assumed was excitement. I was spending too much time talking to this thing. Did it look¡­ pleased? ¡°Fine,¡± I relented, preparing myself for anything. ¡°Give me all the experience you like. I¡¯m going to use it to make sure the scourge never troubles this place again, and I¡¯m going to do it as a human being, Ephelir. If you are still in there, I¡¯m doing this for you too.¡± With that, I stepped away, retreating back to my firing line as I accepted the challenge. Challenge begins in 5 seconds. Begin. I was well away from the plinth by the time the challenge began. After a slow exhalation, I mentally triggered the activation of all the turrets at once. The room exploded into light and sound. Over the course of a minute, give or take, 3,700 rounds of supersonic lead combined with unknown hundreds or thousands of laser hits scoured the scourge-touched human on the plinth. Purple laser light blinded me while the sound boomed off of the walls and shook the air. My turrets spewed their payloads into the light, piercing the scourge¡¯s body. The lasers chewed its flesh. At this range, not many of them missed, and they ground through it like chainsaws. The plinth glowed and smoked, as Ephelir¡¯s insides were turned to outsides and his mutated flesh splashed onto the floor before charring to ash. The entire Bera maelstrom, focused and refined by years of research and development by the Dark Lord, blasted the monster¡¯s now exposed internals. Then it was over. The ballistic turret¡¯s barrels glowed red hot in the relative dark where they stood. Acrid smoke slithered up from ventilation holes in the laser turrets¡¯s flash housing. Yet, Ephelir laid there on his plinth, more or less. Pieces of him. Pieces that still twitched and writhed together. Before my very eyes, I saw it regenerating, putting itself back together much as I did when I was hurt, only this was much more thorough. Its disparate pieces practically crawled toward one another, knit itself anew, sinew by sinew, after being burst open like a roasted pig. Its tendons grew, snapped together, and its muscles bubbled and seethed up from its bones. The last to reform were its eyes, wet and energetic as they formed, opened and sought me out once more. Fucking A. I had nothing left. This thing had taken my best shot and chose not to die. Now it was his turn to attack. We traded blows. Mine was a powerful first strike, one that hurt him but didn¡¯t kill him. One I could not do again. His body was too strong. Ephelir¡¯s strike, on the other hand,was to my soul. Ephelir has yielded. Ryan Kotes is victorious. Experience gained: 0.1% of opponent¡¯s total experience. 16,889,079 experience total. Level up! You are now level 19. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Duelist: You were judged victorious in a challenge this level. Experience from all other sources increased by 20% for next level. [ERROR:SOURCE_CONFLICT:ACH_DUELIST:UNEXPECTED_NEMESIS_TAG] Resolving¡­ Resolved: Achievement awarded: Demon Slayer: You have defeated an evil beyond mortal comprehension, a true Nemesis. Randomly chosen combat ability depth increased. You have been noticed. Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] Doing Your Part: Some of your creations have been used against agents of the Scourge. [+200% experience awarded for new designs next level] Level up! You are now level 20. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Duelist: You were judged victorious in a challenge this level. Experience from all other sources increased by 20% for next level. [ERROR:SOURCE_CONFLICT:ACH_DUELIST:UNEXPECTED_NEMESIS_TAG] Resolving¡­ Resolved: Achievement awarded: Demon Slayer: You have defeated an evil beyond mortal comprehension, a true Nemesis. Randomly chosen combat ability depth increased. You have been noticed. Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] Reversal: You gained 100% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+3 to highest attribute] All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Level up! You are now level 21. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Duelist: You were judged victorious in a challenge this level. Experience from all other sources increased by 20% for next level. [ERROR:SOURCE_CONFLICT:ACH_DUELIST:UNEXPECTED_NEMESIS_TAG] Resolving¡­ Resolved: Achievement awarded: Demon Slayer: You have defeated an evil beyond mortal comprehension, a true Nemesis. Randomly chosen combat ability depth increased. You have been seen. Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] Reversal: You gained 100% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+3 to highest attribute] All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Level up! You are now level 22. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Duelist: You were judged victorious in a challenge this level. Experience from all other sources increased by 20% for next level. [ERROR:SOURCE_CONFLICT:ACH_DUELIST:UNEXPECTED_NEMESIS_TAG] Resolving¡­ Resolved: Achievement awarded: Demon Slayer: You have defeated an evil beyond mortal comprehension, a true Nemesis. Randomly chosen combat ability depth increased. You have been marked. Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Level up! You are now level 23. Max HP +10 Max MP +10 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Duelist: You were judged victorious in a challenge this level. Experience from all other sources increased by 20% for next level. [ERROR:SOURCE_CONFLICT:ACH_DUELIST:UNEXPECTED_NEMESIS_TAG] Resolving¡­ Resolved: Achievement awarded: Demon Slayer: You have defeated an evil beyond mortal comprehension, a true Nemesis. Randomly chosen combat ability depth increased. You have been branded. Rift Hunter: You gained 51% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+1 to all attributes] Reversal: You gained 100% of your experience this level from Nemesis tagged foes. [+3 to highest attribute] All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Ecstasy. Rippling waves of absolutely terrible, wonderful, dirty, choking, smothering ecstasy. I trembled as it slithered over me, through me, overwhelmed me with absolute wonder and eclipsed my entire concept of pleasure. It crawled through my insides, opened up my brain and clawed at my synapses until I collapsed to the floor and gave up on anything other than feeling it. The son of a bitch had outmaneuvered me, because he didn¡¯t think like a human. He was scourge. He didn¡¯t necessarily want to live. He just wanted me dead. Barring that, he wanted me infected. And that¡¯s exactly what he had done by conceding our duel. Depth increasing. Stand by.... Depth increasing. Stand by.... Depth increasing. Stand by.... Depth increasing. Stand by.... Depth increasing. Stand by.... In my fading vision, as the stream of notifications scrolled through my mind, I saw the only other human being on Ralqir finally lose his thousand year battle with the maelstrom. Death took him, and his body was rendered to ash. My conscious mind decided that enough was enough and hit the off switch but not before the thick, coppery taste of blood rushed to fill my mouth. Chapter 65 - Wake and Make Chapter 65 - Wake and Make I awoke in my workshop with an aching head and an empty stomach, and when I finally gathered enough of my will to actually open my eyes everything felt off, unreal almost. Or maybe too real. The weird, omnipresent white light wasn¡¯t helping anything. I felt like I was viewing the world through a wide lens camera, and the impulses from my mind were just signals sent to a swivel upon which the camera was mounted. My swollen tongue felt like a foreign entity in my mouth. The air tasted wrong too. Someone had gone and replaced my tongue with a dead fish, and everything was being filtered through that dead-fish-filter. The familiar little mana motes hung in the air around me too, thick and lazy, drifting in patterns just on the edge of logical. I drunkenly sat up on my cot, slowly shaking my head and trying to get some feeling back into everything that should have feeling. Nearby, my workbench loomed out of the pure white of the room, all right angles, squeaky joints, and old oil smells.. It looked wrong too¡­ Oh. I was on the floor. Someone had switched out my cot for a pallet of some kind, just padding and a blanket, really. Now that I thought about it, everything did seem taller. What had happened to my cot? I stretched to get some of the blood circulating again, but something made me hesitate when I tried to move my arm, a slight pressure, warm. Looking down, I saw that I wasn¡¯t alone. There was another, smaller pallet next to mine upon which Samila laid on her side, breathing soft and rapid, one hand resting just above my wrist. She looked rough, her robes wrinkled, her face muscles tensed, and her body rigid like she was ready to jump to her feet at any second. The strength at which she held onto my arm was a good indication of how tense she was. If I were someone else, there''d probably be bruises. Carefully, I shifted the angle of my arm until her grip loosened naturally and fell away. I caught her hand before it could hit the bed and let it down gently. Somehow, that seemed to relax her, and she sank down into a more natural position to sleep. As for me, I felt like I¡¯d spent enough time in this bed for two lifetimes. Also, I was surprised to still be alive. It was a welcome surprise, mind you. Very. However, I hadn¡¯t really counted on living this long back when I¡¯d hatched this plan. I had half expected to either die to Ephelir or have us die together and rid the world of both sources of corruption, but things had gone sideways during our little duel ending in a forfeit where I lived and now I had to go through with the hard part. I looked down at Samila again. She looked so peaceful like this. The mask she wore in her waking hours was gone, giving way to the woman underneath. She wasn¡¯t goading me into anything or trying to lift my spirits or get me out of my own head. She was just lying there, being herself, and aside from the blue scales and lack of hair, she looked incredibly human, just a pretty girl dreaming in her bed. I felt the urge to put my arm back where it had been to feel that touch again or maybe wake her and tell her I was okay, but I decided against it. That urge was coming from a place of¡­ I didn¡¯t know. If I were feeling introspective, I¡¯d probably say that Samila was the one that sought me out in my glass cave and dragged me kicking and screaming into the light with other people, and, on some unconscious level, I knew that was something I needed. My mom used to do it when she was alive, take my hand and lead me into wondrous places, and, again, if introspection was something I was doing (which I was not), that was probably something I missed. You do not need to wake the girl because you miss your mom, Ryan. That¡¯s weird and creepy and we¡¯ve moved on. Best let sleeping dragons lie or however that saying goes. There was a powerful, growing pressure deep in the center of my brain, swelling urgency and anticipation. I wanted to do¡­ There was all this¡­ potential like a gas pocket in a mine that was just waiting for a spark to finally expose the deep places of the world to open air. I wanted to- No. I needed to stretch, and if I didn¡¯t do it soon, I would lose something. Of that, I was increasingly certain. Compulsion. I feel compelled, but like it¡¯s coming from me at the same time. System? Is that your doing? With a thought, I brought up my logs, reviewing the messages I¡¯d received. Five levels in a matter of seconds. Five error messages. A new achievement received five times. Demon Slayer. I couldn¡¯t be sure, but that one seemed like something that shouldn¡¯t have happened five whole times. It felt momentous, like it was something that would be celebrated back at Exotic HQ. Was there an Exotic HQ? Probably not. If there was one, however, someone getting this achievement would be commemorated with drinks, dancing, and questionable decisions. The reward was- Depth increasing. Stand by.... Depth increasing. Stand by.... Depth increasing. Stand by.... Depth increasing. Stand by.... Depth increasing. Stand by.... Status Gained: Internal Bleeding [1 HP/sec] Status Gained: Brain Hemorrhage [1 HP/sec] Status Gained: Brain Hemorrhage [2 HP/sec] Status Gained: Brain Hemorrhage [6 HP/sec] ¡­ Oh. Apparently, I¡¯d had a stroke. A big one. That was distantly concerning. Distant because I had my logs right there, telling me I was at full HP again and that the Hemorrhage status was gone. Distant, also, because my thoughts weren¡¯t coalescing on the fear enough to get that jolt of dread usually associated with near death experiences. They couldn¡¯t. I blinked trying to pin down why I wasn¡¯t freaking out. Had I been nearly killed too many times to worry about that kind of thing anymore, or was it the ridiculous urge to do eclipsing all other thought right now? Was it the System¡¯s doing, or was I already a jaded veteran in my late teens? Okay. Take control. What do you think you should be thinking? I did my best to simulate what a normal, non-me entity might think about all of this. The System had popped my tiny brain by ¡®rewarding¡¯ me a little too freely. The error messages had to have something to do with that. There was no way I was supposed to receive Demon Slayer that many times for one kill. Perhaps it was because I received it when ¡®Duelist¡¯ threw an error? Then it tried to do it again and again with the same results. This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience. What kind of design was that? What did the System do in a typical case when someone killed a ¡®true Nemesis¡¯ as it had said? It had to have happened at least once or twice for the achievement to even exist, so what made me special enough to kill with the reward? I thought about it for a full minute and, over the course of that minute, started to understand. My specific situation had to have come up sometime. The universe- er, the multiverse was an impossibly big place. Someone, at sometime, in some universe had to have challenged a corrupted, godlike Exotic way above their level to a duel in the past¡­ and also had said Exotic restrained in a beam of light specifically designed to imprison him¡­ which was made by a genius Dark Lord figure utilizing the power of a unique cosmic phenomenon¡­ and¡­ then¡­ won? Well, if I put it that way, maybe this was an edge case. An extreme edge case. I was still sour about it, though. The reward nearly fried my brain. Okay. Time to take a look at the damage. Ryan Kotes - Level 23 Animator (Uncommon) Type: Artificer (Common) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 301/301 MP: 267/267 Attributes: Body: 53 Mind: 42 Spirit: 106 Free attribute points: 5 Abilities Shape 9 (Transmute) Consume 5 (Reservoir) Iron Grip 4 Devouring Grasp (Magivore) 5 Volatility 3+++++ Imbue 4 Trigger 4 Automate 4+ Tempered Channels 4 Knife in the Dark 23 (Mark, Curse of Obfuscation) Hardened Defense 1 Compartmentalize 3 Tension Step 1 Expanded Channels 1 State Change 1 Collect 1 Skills: Climbing 8 Unarmed Combat 5 Running 5 Stealth (Gray Man) 12 Conduit 5 Split Mind 9 Spear 4 Deception 5 Disguise 3 Sword 6 Pistol 4 Mana Manipulation 2 Jumping 2 Affinities: Goblinoid F Iron E Steel F Magnesium F Mendau Wood D Limestone E Cobalt E Deep Lead E Nickel E Copper E Pex Oil F That was simply a stupid amount of ¡®+¡¯ signs stacked on top of Volatility. Five levels of depth applied to a singular ability I wasn¡¯t supposed to have in the first place and one I couldn¡¯t level through use. If Jassin¡¯s interpretation of the System through his Dominion magic was correct, then the System was currently carving pathways through my body to make way for my abilities, but it was a slow, methodical process. This, however, was anything but that. I barely ¡®had¡¯ Volatility at all. If the pathways for my other abilities were gentle streams, growing wider and deeper over time, as was natural, Volatility had just gone from a tiny rivulet to a giant fissure where water went and was never seen again. Once I used it a bit and completed the depth increase, who knows what might happen? Would I have more brain bleeds to look forward to? Grimacing, I checked the new description. Volatility: &@Attract. Inject_ #$&U. Convert()(#*. Release** Right. That was supremely unhelpful and disturbing. I let out a long, calming breath and closed my eyes. There was no need to dwell on it, at least not now. I¡¯d deal with the aftereffects when they arose. Hopefully near a hospital. Plus, there were two other abilities I didn¡¯t quite know the ins and outs of just yet. State Change, I¡¯d gotten when I¡¯d reached level 15 and, as yet, had not found a whole lot of use for it. State Change: Change the state of matter using magical means. Mana cost is directly proportional to energy difference in states. Yeah. I could use State Change to turn iron into liquid or mercury into fun little cubes, but the ability¡¯s uses were limited for now because of how expensive it was and how pliable I could make metals already. Why would I need to liquify copper if I could already mold it exactly how I wanted it with a touch? What use I had for molten metal in the palm of my hand, I didn¡¯t know either, other than gaining familiarity with the beds in the burn ward. Oh, did I forget to mention that? Using mana to change a metal¡¯s state came with all the associated temperature changes too, and let me tell you, molten iron is hot. I did have to admit that turning lead balls into plasma was pretty fun at first. I couldn¡¯t deny that. Sure, those experiments were less than practical, and I had to use a few full mana tanks on the Automated casting bowl to turn the tiny BBs from a solid to a plasma. That made the expense less than practical if I wanted to mass produce exploding plasma balls, and as plasma was wont to do, it had a tendency to shed its electrons and react to pretty much whatever was floating around in the atmosphere at the time¡­ violently. Thank Constance for blast shielding. Change State was probably far from useless, I knew, but using it would probably remain a ¡®future Ryan¡¯ problem. I needed to do more experiments and make a new casting bowl for said experiments since the last one met an unfortunate end. The newest ability, the one I¡¯d gotten at 20: ¡®Collect,¡¯ looked like something present Ryan would like to play with. Collect: Align Shaped materials to gather ambient mana into associated Triggers. Rate of gathering affected by material composition, material affinities, Animator¡¯s affinities, ambient mana density, and material surface area. If I was reading the description correctly, it was now possible for my creations to reach out and grab mana on their own and stuff said mana into whatever Trigger I¡¯d built into it. The aiming arms of all the turrets could collect a portion of their own mana and use that to locomote as opposed to all of the power coming from my Automated smart cards or from myself. If anything, it would take the edge off of the mana cost of operating a turret. What¡¯s more, if I let something like, say, my sword charge itself over time, I could afford to Trigger something cool with it once or twice a day. Maybe a shape change or maybe cast its own version of Willing Edge. Wait, no. I was thinking about this all wrong. If I could get my material to collect ambient mana to fill Triggers that changed the materials¡¯ shape, then I would effectively be converting supernatural energy to something like kinetic energy. The mass would essentially be moving in space, powered by mana. There was a name for something that converted one type of energy into another type. I¡¯d worked with them my entire life. Engines in everything from vehicles to powertools to electric toothbrushes¡­ I¡¯d tinkered with those. They all converted power into motion. If I was right, I might be able to make magic powered engines. My fingers twitched. The urge to do was almost irresistible. I looked down at Samila one last time, smiling slightly at how sweet it was for her to wait with me while I¡­ how long had it been? Had this been a nap or a coma? Either way, the compulsion I was feeling wasn¡¯t going away. In fact, I could barely sit still. My body and my mind needed to do. Right now. If I¡¯d been out for longer than expected, that just meant I had less time to do this before I¡¯d be leaving. That made it the perfect time to slap all of my five points into Mind. I was going to need some brain power. Quietly, I slipped out of my bedroll and touched my bare feet to the white glass floor. It was cold but not overly so thanks to my higher Body score. My boots weren¡¯t anywhere around here to put on anyway, and they¡¯d make more noise. Samila looked like she needed the rest and, if I were being honest with myself, I liked having her here, even as a passive presence in the background. With great care, I gathered up my bedsheets and spread them over the dragonkin girl, making sure all of her was covered and cozy. Almost instantly, she seemed to unclench and fall deeper into a restful state, curling up in the warm bedding and snoring quietly. I took up one of the little sticks of chalk and leaned on the workbench. I needed to do this right. With direction. Chapter 66 - Exceed my Grasp Chapter 66 - Exceed my Grasp I was hunched over my workbench and Shaping what was going to be my tenth collector test by the time Samila finally woke up. The little blue woman seemed to stretch languidly like a cat, pushing the blankets down and away with one long outstretched leg. The bright blue of her exposed skin against her bunched and loosely fastened robes tried to draw my eye, but I studiously kept my vision fixed upon my Shaping. I was a gentleman. I was above that kind of thing because I was a gentleman. I was going to stay a gentleman and not think about just how much blue I¡¯d seen and the shape- Oh look! We¡¯re in the middle of science! Careful now! Shaking my head, I went back to work. This experiment was going to be interesting. I¡¯d found gold in my precious metals pile in the form of coins, and, for some reason, I found it endlessly amusing to turn money into something actually useful. Would people¡¯s love for gold give it some kind of boost in the supernatural department? I was about to find out. Frustratingly, the softer metals like gold weren¡¯t easier to Shape, despite all conventional wisdom saying they should be. Maybe it was because I was moving atoms around instead of using a hammer. ¡°You¡¯re quiet when you want to be, Monk,¡± Samila yawned, rolling her neck to get some of the stiffness out as she readjusted the tie on the front of her robes to preserve her modesty. ¡°You would probably make a good game hunter if you could keep from lighting yourself on fire from time to time.¡± Seeing only a moderate amount of blue out of the corner of my eye, I determined it was safe to turn around now. As I did, I flashed her a little smile but had to blink rapidly as my eyes adjusted to focusing on something farther away than my workbench. I reached up to rub some of the blur out. How long had I been at this? I looked around at the room, at the bits and bobs scattered around my work area and the line of glowing collectors way across the room as far from me as possible. ¡°Maybe I should specialize in moth hunting,¡± I replied hoarsely. ¡°Would be good at that. Do you guys have giant moths?¡± I asked, turning back toward my little piece of gold and checking the surface area. I¡¯d stretched this out thin, not quite gold leaf levels of thin but close. ¡°Yes, but they would be more interested in your clothes and sometimes your hair,¡± she said as the slap of her footsteps approached from behind. ¡°Defacing currency now are we?¡± She mused. I shrugged. ¡°Doing some research. Figured I had some time to myself, not running for my life or getting my ass kicked. If not now, not sure when I¡¯ll get to do it.¡± She went quiet for a moment, the obvious reply being:¡°You mean, after you leave.¡± We both knew. We just didn¡¯t want to acknowledge it. ¡°Is that what this is? Another experiment?¡± She asked lightly and setting her hand on a steel construct that looked like a metal kebab with bites already taken out of it. She picked it up in her hand experimentally and tested the heft like it was a weapon, which it kind of was¡­ one that would kill pre-industrial society for good if someone ever got the hang of making them. ¡°Oh, no. That¡¯s a crank shaft. It¡¯s uh- it converts vertical motion to rotational. I made that while I was thinking.¡± ¡°And these?¡± She pointed over at an odd collection of vaguely cylindrical bits of metal. ¡°Different piston designs. The first one was a failure, so I kind of had to start from zero.¡± Making my first overtures toward a magic powered engine turned out to be a daunting prospect. Most of what I knew other than the basic concept of force transfer didn¡¯t apply. Electricity based designs were pretty much a bust unless I had an abundance of time on my hands to make a whole magic powered generator first to power said electric engine. Mana didn¡¯t work like electricity, though I was kind of forcing it to sometimes. No electricity meant no magnetic field meant no rotation to work with. Another Future Ryan problem. Right now, I was leaning more toward the piston design. Triggers could be used to change the shape of a piston, having it press down on the crankshaft just through magic power alone. When a Trigger went off, it was a powerful thing, almost irresistible if the material was strong enough. With the proper application of mana it could happen at high speeds too. Then we¡¯d be off to the races. I was also kicking around an air pressure design where a compression bulb Trigger like the ones on my flamethrower turret could use super compressed air to force the pistons down. Again, more drawbacks, more frustration. Theoretically, zero heat issues though. ¡°I slept through all of this?¡± Samila asked with disbelief. ¡°You looked like you needed some rest,¡± I replied honestly. It was¡­ surprisingly nice to have her there while I was working. Nobody other than Vince ever hung around while I fixed things, and even he hit his ¡®watch a guy hit things with a wrench while cursing¡¯ limit eventually. I didn¡¯t want to think about how this was probably the first and last time this was going to happen. I didn¡¯t mention that I got a level in Stealth out of the deal either, bringing my point value up to 14. I silently wondered if I had Gray Man to thank for that. I¡¯d certainly made mistakes over the course of the night, banging bits of metal around when I hadn¡¯t meant to or dropping tools. Samila slept like a baby, though. Was that the mind altering aspect of my Stealth keeping Samila from noticing or caring what I was doing? If someone that went a different direction with their Stealth skill did what I did, would they have roused their hypothetical dragonkin lady? Gray Man was weird. Scary too. Maybe I¡¯d mention that part of my powers later. Or maybe never. Never was probably better. ¡°Me?¡± She scoffed. ¡°You¡¯re the one we found face down in a puddle of his own blood.¡± I shrugged again, grabbing a brass button from the bits cup and beginning to Shape it into a cube. ¡°It was pretty restful, actually. Surprised more people don¡¯t do it.¡± ¡°They do,¡± Samila replied acidly. ¡°They just end up sleeping forever. Not all of them have a Bishop on hand to repair their brain.¡± I spun around, mouth open, feeling my eyebrows climb up and up my forehead of their own volition, maybe all the way to my hairline and beyond. ¡°Kolash healed me?¡± I gaped. She still had my crank shaft in her hand, twirling it absently as she thought back. ¡° We all rushed into the room after the last of the noise had died down, and we saw you there. His Holiness hesitated maybe a heartbeat, but then he was there healing you. It surprised all of us, the Headmaster especially.¡± ¡°Uh. Yeah,¡± I said as I grappled with the full implications. ¡±He could have- I mean, how many problems would be solved just by letting me bleed out or tossing me off the top of the Spire? Sure, you¡¯d still have the scourge out there, but they wouldn¡¯t have power from the System to feed off of. They¡¯d become a finite sort of threat, one that could be handled by conventional means.¡± Love this story? Find the genuine version on the author''s preferred platform and support their work! She rolled her eyes and slapped me on the back of the head with her free hand. ¡°Are you seriously advocating for your own murder? What¡¯s the human word for suicidally selfless?¡± I raised my hands placatingly. ¡°Hey! Hey! I¡¯m not complaining. I just- I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°Now you have to live through your plan, and you don¡¯t know how?¡± Holy hell, she¡¯d nailed it. I mean, that wasn¡¯t all of it, but that was a big part that could be extrapolated to encompass the rest. I hadn¡¯t counted on living through the challenge, and now I had to really go the distance if the plan was going to work. Samila seemed to sense that she¡¯d struck a nerve, and she pivoted quickly so as not to dwell on it. ¡°Anyway. After we found you, we brought you up here to recuperate. I dozed off sometime during my shift I guess. You made a good effort to become a martyr, Monk, but it looks like you¡¯re just not cut out for it.¡± ¡°No, I¡¯m really not,¡± I said, turning back toward the table and peering at the gold petal I¡¯d just made. ¡°But living is turning out to be a lot more work.¡± ¡°Truth. I, for one, am glad you¡¯re still with us,¡± Samila replied as she sidled up close to me, close enough that I could feel the warmth of her on my skin. I swallowed hard, not sure how to proceed. The subject was right there. All it would take was one or two words. ¡°Did you want to talk ab-¡± ¡°No,¡± she cut me off, solid conviction in her tone. ¡°No?¡± I asked. ¡°No,¡± she repeated. ¡°Don¡¯t get me wrong, Ryan. I want you to stay. But I¡¯m not stupid. As of right now, this is the only plan we have, and I would be a fool to pick a fight with you now over some stupid- ah- whatever.¡± The two of us stood there in silence, Samila angrily biting her lip and tightening the ties on her robe, me trying and failing to get another Shape going on the gold ¡®petal¡¯ I¡¯d just made. I heard her sigh then lean on my shoulder to get a closer look at the stuff on the workbench. ¡°So what aspect of warfare are you changing today?¡± She asked. I glanced at her out of the corner of my eye and smiled just enough so she could see it. ¡°Making batteries,¡± I answered. Samila tilted her head. ¡°Like those?¡± She asked, pointing toward the back of the room where nine other petal formations sat in various states of operational. They all had a sort of flower-shaped design, four petals arranged in a cross pattern with a singular purple cube of Volatile metal stuck in the center. Every flower was made of different metals, labeled in chalk underneath to indicate what order I¡¯d set them and what elemental composition they were. ¡°Yeah. Like those,¡± I agreed. ¡°They¡¯re meant to solve my longevity problem.¡± I heard her suppress a snicker behind me ¡°Oh, I hadn¡¯t realized,¡± she said, biting her lip again. I chose to be the bigger man and ignore her. ¡°Now that I have to live through the next few weeks, I figured I needed to plan for the long haul,¡± I went on. ¡°The way I figured it, I have several problems that need addressing before I go. Longevity is one of them. My turrets just can¡¯t operate forever. They run out of power, they run out of ammo, and they run hot. Our batteries here are meant to alleviate the power problem, and once I solve that, I¡¯ll have solved the ammo one too.¡± ¡°Out of curiosity, what are the rest of the items on your list?¡± ¡°Flexibility-¡± I began. Samila snorted but said nothing. I cleared my throat and went on, already dreading the direction this was going. ¡°Mobility.¡± She cleared her throat, looking away and obviously holding in a laugh. ¡°And scale,¡± I grumbled under my breath. A guffaw tore its way out of her loud enough to make my ear start ringing before she got herself back under control. I glared at her over my shoulder as she tried and failed to school her features. She alternated between looking away to collect herself then looking back to me and losing her shit again. It took a full minute. ¡°I¡¯m sorry,¡± she giggled. ¡°Scale. Are- haha- are there more?¡± I shook my head and scowled. ¡°Okay. Ah. Sorry. Hehe. Scale problems. So about the battery things. Some of them look, ah- angry,¡± she observed. She was right too. All of them had started out as mundane metal with a Volatility charged cube in the middle, but not all of them stayed that way. Now, some had a distinct purple sheen, intense near the center of the flower and fading to the edges. At least two of them glowed a very angry shade of purple. ¡°True. I probably should have built in some kind of cut-off for the power collection, but I didn¡¯t really know that was going to happen. Thought they¡¯d just get full then stop.¡± ¡°But you can already make things explode on cue.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s not just explosions that I¡¯m after,¡± I explained. ¡°The basic concept is, I use my new Collect ability to suck up all the mana in the surrounding area and store it for use later. The only problem was that this room has almost zero ambient mana. Had to fix that. I¡¯ve long theorized that when I make something all ¡°volatile¡± it has a certain shelf life before it loses its charge. It uses this wild mana that comes from the System. Super efficient and energetic, right? Anyway, when I use Volatility and let it fade, that mana has to go somewhere, so I figured: ¡®why not try and catch those little mana motes before they get away.¡¯¡± ¡°I¡¯m with you so far.¡± I shrugged sheepishly. ¡°It worked pretty well, actually. I put a trigger on a prototype and had it curl in on itself once its Trigger was full. It happened pretty quickly, like in about ten minutes. So, naturally, I wanted to see how far it could go.¡± ¡°Naturally,¡± she echoed. ¡°Once I was working on it, I started to think: ¡®I have all this mana sitting there in the Trigger. What if I used it for something else? So, I Automated it to transfer that mana back to the center of the flower and recast the Volatility spell through another Automated Trigger. The battery would get its power from my initial kick start, then it would keep itself powered. I- uh- miscalculated.¡± Actually, I hadn¡¯t calculated at all. Hadn¡¯t bothered. I accidentally created a feedback loop that would charge my new batteries pretty much forever, and that was going to become a problem in a matter of hours. Whatever juice Volatility used to do its thing was way more potent that the stuff I could produce, maybe because it was a combat ability. Plus, it was pulled or summoned from somewhere else, not the surrounding environment. I swallowed uncomfortably and looked around the room for fragile bits I¡¯d need to clean up before we took care of it. Samila caught on right away. ¡°The glowing petals are very pretty in a deadly sort of way. I imagine when they explode, we won¡¯t want to be here.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I said, drawing the word out significantly. ¡°Volatility¡¯s energy is¡­ sticky¡­ now. Hard to describe it otherwise.¡± ¡°Should we leave?¡± Samila asked. ¡°Nah,¡± I said, shrugging my shoulders as I looked on at the ever brightening leaves of the deep lead battery. ¡°Probably not yet. They might not blow at all unless we touch them.¡± She raised a brow.¡°And you want to use these?¡± ¡°Well, not exactly these,¡± I insisted, spreading my arms to encompass the entire row of ten. ¡°Better ones. I¡¯m starting to see more use for Triggers other than changing shapes and locomotion. The problem with them before was that I just saw them in terms of mana cost. With Collect, it seems they¡¯re not so mana hungry. The thing is, once there¡¯s mana in the Trigger, it¡¯s just sitting there waiting to be used until told to do so. The retention¡­ like how efficient the walls are in the tank¡­ is perfect. Actually perfect. That¡¯s unheard of in energy storage back home. There¡¯s always bleed, slow maybe, but always. Not here though. Magic is crazy stuff, and I¡¯m still learning. The mana that¡¯s stored in the Trigger also isn¡¯t the same kind of mana that went into the Trigger. The Collector bits take it in, and what¡¯s kept slowly becomes a different flavor. I¡¯m wondering if keeping certain types of mana next to others converts it, or if it¡¯s the material. Or maybe both. See that?¡± I asked, pointing to my most ¡®successful¡¯ battery. ¡°The glowing purple death flower?¡± ¡°Yeah. Well, it started as a deep lead flower with a glowing cube stuck in the middle. Now the whole thing is a glowing Volatility bomb with nowhere to spend all that energy.¡± ¡°It looks like you¡¯re gardening but with explosives.¡± I looked down at the crank shaft in Samila¡¯s hand, imagining it powering the new type of turrets I was in the middle of designing. If the Collect/Volatility loop could be harnessed, the power budget of a constantly moving machine would suddenly be less of an issue. Spinning fan blades, piston powered spear turrets, drones, robots. Assuming the physics I knew worked similarly on Ralqir, I could probably generate electricity this way too. Screw using Storm mana¡­ I¡¯d harness raw electrons and stick with what I knew. I blinked, coming back to the now. ¡°Now I have the budget for¡­ lots of stuff. Smart ammo. Self-charging casting bowls. All automated and mass produced. If I get a hold of this. It¡¯s gonna change everything. Might have a shot at going the distance.¡± ¡°When we leave,¡± she finished for me. ¡°Yeah,¡± I replied gloomily, the weight of it all settling down on my shoulders once more. There was so much to do before then. There was a pause, the brakes being put on my train of thought before I could go back to battery making. ¡°Wait. What do you mean ¡®we?¡¯¡± Chapter 67 - Bring my Friends Chapter 67 - Bring my Friends ¡°You¡¯re sure you have it all? Shall I call Mr. Angol over to do one last sweep over the facilities?¡± Jassin asked for what must have been the dozenth time. The answer didn¡¯t matter. We were down to the wire, and even if the interns discovered another big source of metal somewhere in the Spire, I wouldn¡¯t have time to suck it all up. We were on the makeshift parade grounds yet again, the hangar sized, glorified storage room the military repurposed as a staging area. It looked a little bit more clean and orderly now that there weren''t a hundred armed soldiers running around grabbing things and shouting orders. With just us, the place was downright cavernous, and our voices echoed off the hard surfaces just enough to be noticeable. ¡°I think I got everything,¡± I told Jassin again. ¡°Everything but the decoys.¡± Garret nodded to me, his mustache curling upward as his mouth did the smiling somewhere underneath. ¡°We¡¯ll start doing our impersonation act tonight. Sure you can¡¯t spare a little ammunition to really make the experience a bit more authentic?¡± The glimmer of hope in Garret¡¯s expression was the same one you found on kids throughout the multiverse when they asked for a new toy. This man wanted a crate of rifles for his squad, and he wasn¡¯t above outright asking. ¡°We¡¯ve been over this,¡± Jassin admonished his master at arms. ¡°Ryan is meant to have the best chance to get home alive, and to that end, I insist he takes everything. Additionally, I would rather Ralqir not be plunged into a new era of warfare right after we manage to save it.¡± I coughed uncomfortably into my fist. ¡°Uh. Yeah. I mean you guys have all seen what¡¯s possible with a little kinetic force and a tube. I¡¯m sure somebody will figure it out sooner or later.¡± ¡°Yes, of course,¡± Jassin sighed. ¡°Especially with so many witnesses to the efficacy of your methods. I predict it will be the goblins first, gods of old help me. Their propensity for theft does not stop at material goods, and if they are not upstairs crafting their own firearms of questionable quality and safety right now, I would be very surprised. They are devilishly clever in their way. We can only hope to be well ahead of the technological curve before the practice becomes widespread among the various tribes.¡± As Jassin talked himself into an ulcer, I caught Garret¡¯s eye. I kept my expression neutral, but I let my eyes flick up to the ceiling for half a second twice. He seemed to get the picture and gave me a wink. Upstairs, if he looked hard enough, he¡¯d find a singular casting bowl and a solid steel auto-pistol I¡¯d left for him, though he¡¯d have to figure out how to recharge the gun and the bowl himself. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Headmaster. I sense that goblinkind is undergoing a cultural upheaval right now, based on my time among them. They may still surprise us,¡± Kolash croaked. ¡°Tragedies such as this are often the fires in which new ages are forged.¡± Jassin¡¯s frown did not leave his face as he, no doubt, thought upon all conflict and strife new ages brought about, but he had the presence of mind to give the Bishop a slight nod of acknowledgement. ¡°Of course, not if our friend from beyond the stars is careless with the life of the first and only goblin queen,¡± Kolash warned, turning toward me and tilting his head much like a tired teacher silently warning his worst student. I didn¡¯t bother looking over my shoulder where my ¡®entourage¡¯ was busily pretending to strap on gear and not listen to our conversation. All except Tiba and her guards of course. They wouldn¡¯t understand what we were saying anyway, so they¡¯d be standing there with their spears watching the tall folks jabber amongst one another. Geddon would be pointlessly brushing his hair, only to have it ruined when he donned his helmet. Sissa and Samila would be checking each other¡¯s straps, making sure they were good and tight. Trix would be meticulously oiling his rifle with a cloth he kept in his pocket. Lots of moisture where we were going, and I¡¯d warned him about rust. Yes, they were all coming. Yes, I had mixed feelings about that. But we¡¯d had that argument already. After Samila broached the subject with me back in my workshop, I was, in a word, irate. There was hyperventilation, babbled accusations, a tiny bit of begging, and a sudden desire to test the limits of the magic practice room¡¯s explosive resistance. After that, they¡¯d all piled into my workshop and hit me with the plan of the century: ¡®We¡¯re all coming with you.¡¯ When I¡¯d protested that this was not a plan so much as a declaration of intent to die, they filled me in on the rest. Apparently, none of them had been idle while I slept. They knew I was going to live thanks to the Bishop¡¯s magic and Trix¡¯s examination, so they went about putting something together. Apparently, the ¡®let Ryan do what he needed to do¡¯ plan was unacceptable. The original plan, as I¡¯d set before Jassin and Kolash, was this: Once Ephelir was no longer a threat, I would need to close my insertion point. The only way I knew of doing that was either by dying or going back through, and I¡¯d rather not die after going through so much to live. So, I would set out on my own and go back to where it all started, staying hidden as long as possible. Meanwhile, Jassin would go through with the evacuation of the city, an exodus of the living, taking whatever food and supplies they could with them. They would take the best boats they¡¯d found and head upriver to the nearest garrison where Jassin would rouse as much of an army as he was able using his connections. Kolash would get the church moving as well once he could get a hold of a proper messenger. In ten days, if I could make it to the tutorial facility, I would need to show myself to the scourge in an attempt to draw them all to me. If I was right about the hive mind thing and their burning desire for my death, they would all come running just as they had in Eclipse. All of them¡­ worldwide. From there I would hold out as long as I could before retreating through the insertion point and depriving them of the power it provided as well as access to me. If I could hold out long enough before having to pull the ripcord, the scourge would all be bottled up in the Black Ones¡¯ territory, and the military could march in and wipe them all out at the same time. Well, that plan didn¡¯t work for my friends. For one, the risk to me was, admittedly, high. There were a lot of parts that could go very off the rails very quickly with even one mistake, and I was not above making those. ¡°One turn of an ankle or blow to your head, and you are done, Ryan. What then? We have to face another tainted fulcrum wearing your face?¡± Trix had argued. ¡°There is a reason we don¡¯t fight alone, not for anything of import,¡± Sissa added matter of factly. ¡°That¡¯s why you¡¯re not going to be alone.¡± I was seething at the time. They¡¯d all surrounded me, not in a hostile way but in my room, each sitting on a different piece of the decor while I spun from one stern face to the next. ¡°But I¡¯m definitely leaving alone, Sissa,¡± I fumed. ¡°I am literally leaving this universe, meaning I¡¯m the only one with a way out of the valley when the time comes, and when I leave, the turrets will be firing blind if they even keep firing at all.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve accounted for that.¡± Samila dismissed my concern, smiling that little smile that dared me to ask the obvious question.. If the blue scales didn¡¯t tell you the dragonkin sisters were sisters, their matching smug expressions would have confirmed it. When I asked the obvious question: ¡°What do you mean, you accounted for that?¡± She set about explaining. Sissa had recently spent an entire day while I was asleep in a sort of trance, giving her father a call. Did I mention she could do that? No. No I didn¡¯t, because I had no idea she could do that. When she tried to explain how, there were a lot of proper nouns and spiritualistic terms I wasn¡¯t ready to assimilate, and I wasn¡¯t sure if any of them had any 1 to 1 english translations either. I got the impression that this was a sort of half astral projection, half prayer to a god¡­ a god that happened to be your dad. Essentially, Sissa had brought her mind into line with her father¡¯s dream as he slept away the eons, and she¡¯d told him everything. Once he learned what was at stake, he was willing to help. He wasn¡¯t in position to come himself, but he was sending one of his minor allies who was close enough to give everyone a lift out of hell when I finally had to make a swift exit. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Can we trust this dragon?¡± I¡¯d asked, still not believing what I was hearing. ¡°Hells no,¡± Sissa snorted. ¡°Father even said as much. Otherwise, I¡¯d have asked them to fly us all the way there. I imagine the only reason they will even agree to rouse themselves is to capture you and use you to bring back the age of the dragons just as the Dark Lord used one of you to end it.¡± A thought popped into my head. ¡°I guess it would be too much to ask for this dragon ally to fight with us to save the world,¡± I hazarded. Samila nodded. ¡°The world¡¯s magic is different now, Ryan. It cannot sustain one of the old ones like it used to. The maelstrom is too much. That doesn¡¯t mean they wouldn¡¯t be able to snuff us all out with a thought if they so desired, but it would cost them dearly.¡± ¡°With that in mind, we plan to have our rescuer arrive just as the human slips back into his own universe. They will still be honor bound to rescue us, since that is the agreement they struck with Father,¡± Sissa declared, looking very pleased with herself. I came back to the present with a jolt as Garret slapped two hands on my shoulders, pinning me with a knowing glare. ¡°Easy to get bogged down in other men¡¯s parts to play, young man,¡± he said prophetically. ¡°Just stick to what you have to do and trust us to do ours.¡± He didn¡¯t outright tell me to trust my friends too, but the message came across well enough. ¡°You remember your breathing too, right? You doing it at night before sleep?¡± Garret asked with a finger in my face. I never knew my grandfather, but I imagined that this was what it would be like to have one, a grizzled veteran one. A kind word one moment, deadly serious advice the next. ¡°Uh- Yeah. When I got a chance,¡± I lied. I hadn¡¯t actually slept much after the coma thing. Too busy working. That meant no pushing metaphorical boulders uphill practicing Mana Manipulation. Garret seemed to detect the dishonesty, frowning slightly, but he let it slide. ¡°You keep doing that. Get your body used to doing it lying down, and work your way up to practicing with your sword. You¡¯ve had a bit of training. I can tell, though you¡¯ve let it rust. Let the breathing shake that rust off for you. Learn them together, and let them sharpen each other.¡± ¡°I- uh-¡± I stammered. I still had reservations committing to the sword, given my complicated history with it. It always felt like I was borrowing the knowledge from my dad instead of using my own. Of course, the sword was a tool. Such a good one that I¡¯d be stupid to let the skill just rot on my status screen. ¡°I¡¯ll practice as much as I can, Garret,¡± I said, meaning it but not able to see when my life would slow down enough to do so. ¡°Thank you for what you¡¯ve done. I¡¯ll never forget you.¡± Garret grinned. ¡°Nah. Don¡¯t let ol¡¯ Garret take up space in your mind. I have it on good authority that you¡¯ll live forever, and you don¡¯t want this old war hound coming ¡®round your dreams. Just remember what I taught you.¡± Kolash was next, towering head and shoulders above me. He put a hand on my shoulder, the intact one he wasn¡¯t using to hold his staff. My eyes only flicked momentarily to where he touched me. No curse materialized inside of me though. He smiled that big, toothless smile of his. ¡°After everything, you believe I would still kill you if I could.¡± I looked up at him, in his alien face, trying to peer into his eyes for some sign of malice. I found none, but I couldn¡¯t rule it out. So, I simply shrugged. His hand stuck there, heavy enough to be uncomfortable. The big frog nodded, bobbing his head straight up and down. ¡°Very well. Some wounds take time to heal.¡± He shook his staff slightly, wincing as his crooked fingers adjusted. ¡°Why don¡¯t you heal that?¡± I murmured so that only he could hear me. ¡°You obviously can. You did it with the other one.¡± ¡°Our scars remind us of our past failings, human,¡± the Bishop rumbled. ¡°It will be healed only after you are gone from this place and the taint you brought with you purged from our world.¡± I raised an eyebrow. ¡°You failed to kill me, and that¡¯s your reminder?¡± ¡°A question asked from a limited perspective. It took many failures to bring us to where we are, Ryan. I failed to see the plague for what it was,¡± Kolash gurgled regretfully. ¡°Failed to send for help in time. Failed to see you for what you were. Failed to give you peace through death. The legacy of my failure is all around us.¡± ¡°You had a chance, down below¡± I reminded him working up to the real question. ¡°Why did you heal me?¡± ¡°The time to kill you had passed. You had just rid us of a great evil, Ryan, and just because it would be easier to kill you, does not mean it would be the best possible path. If this plan works, we will have staved off another Purge. If it does not, we have our contingency, and your death is assured. You have done your best for us, and, for that, I am willing to have a little faith.¡± I felt my dinner churn in my stomach at the mention of the contingency. Jassin came between the two of us before I could formulate a response. ¡°Daybreak is upon us. Your guides await you down below. Are you ready?¡± Jassin asked, dragging my gaze back down to his. Kolash and Jassin hadn¡¯t been idle during my nap either. This next part was what they¡¯d come up with as a compromise between letting me go off on my own and ending my life now and rolling the dice with the scourge. I blew out a long breath, steeling myself for what was to come. ¡°You know, I¡¯ve never actually seen what you can do,¡± I said to Jassin, trying to sound brave. ¡°And you¡¯re unlikely to. Only rarely do subjects of this spell recall the casting,¡± Jassin said. His sad smile told me he wanted to say more, but there was no time. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± I declared before spreading my stance and holding out my arms to show I was ready. ¡°Hit me before I change my mind.¡± ¡°I am glad I met you, Ryan Kotes,¡± Jassin proclaimed as his hands began to glow at their fingertips, white hot and blinding like arc welders. ¡°Goodbye.¡± Jassin¡¯s mouth moved as he whispered something in no language the System could translate as deep, resonant humming buzzed in my ears. His hands flashed, and, quick as a snake, latched onto my flesh, one on my forehead and one on my stomach. I could feel the power burning between those two connection points, searing hot wires that flailed and slashed like living whips until they found one another and connected at their tips, becoming one, a circuit. Status gained: Cursed Curse of Inevitable Doom ¡ª----------------------------------------- I came to mid-step in the familiar confines of the smugglers¡¯ tunnels, their plain, uniformly gray brick seeming to entomb me. I gasped desperately through an already raw throat, my eyes darting all over the room as I tripped and went down on one knee. It felt like waking in the middle of a terrible nightmare, stuck between the world of the dream and the here and now. Nothing felt real or would ever feel real again compared to the terrible darkness of before. My blood felt cold in my veins, though it rushed through like I¡¯d been running a marathon, and my labored breathing bordered on hyperventilation. ¡°He¡¯s back,¡± Samila¡¯s worried voice shouted from next to me. She slipped out from under my arm and got down on her knee to look me in the eyes, her golden irises shining in the faint light. My arm shook, and I felt the pressure of her hand there, warm and strong. ¡°Are you back with us, Ryan?¡± She asked in confirmation. All I could do was breathe, panicked, an animal in a cage. Sweat poured down my skin to drip from my nose, and, as my senses came back online, I found my clothes were already soaked through with moisture and cold. ¡°Trix!¡± Samila called out after I hadn¡¯t answered immediately. The little Volpa was there in a flash, reaching up to put a claw up on my face. ¡°It is the same as before. This is a spiritual malady, not one of the body. There will be an adjustment period.¡± The world spun around me as my brain called out for oxygen it wasn¡¯t getting, but I got enough of a breath to wave them off with a shooing motion from my prosthetic. ¡°It¡¯s okay,¡± I gasped. ¡°I¡¯m fine.¡± Trix shot a worried glance at Samila. ¡°The Headmaster said it would be like this. All we can do is give him time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± I breathed. ¡°I don¡¯t like this,¡± Samila growled at Trix, though he¡¯d done nothing to earn any sort of blame. ¡°I do not either, but-¡± ¡°No,¡± I said, cutting him off. ¡°Needed to be done.¡± ¡°You tend to nearly die a lot. You¡¯re not afraid it will go off prematurely?¡± Trix asked. ¡°Chance we had to take,¡± I replied, feeling better by the second. ¡°Just in case the scourge can use my access to the System. It was a good idea. Just hurts¡­ in here.¡± I slapped my metal hand to my chest, hoping it got the point across. The curse seemed to respond to my thoughts, thrumming with restrained power as it settled further into my spirit. Tiba brushed past Trix, putting a hand on his back and slipping to the side until she was right in front of me. ¡°Heavy magic on you, Ryan. Here. This will help,¡± she said, opening a pouch and sprinkling something powdery into her palm. ¡°It¡¯s okay. I¡¯m do- PLEPHCH!¡± Tiba had blown the powder in my face so suddenly that I inhaled it, and I immediately went into a coughing fit. Status gained: Soothed I did not feel soothed. I felt¡­ minty. No. Tingly. Overstimulated. However, the world did stop spinning quite so fast, and, after I was done coughing, my breath slowed as my conscious mind took further control of my endocrine system. So, I now had a magical dead man¡¯s switch in me. I could feel it there like a boulder tossed in the little puddle that was my life force. It weighed on me, settled down into the soft center of my soul, but, unlike a boulder, this was a complex working of power that felt almost alive, connected to me. According to Jassin, this spell was loosely based off of another one that agents of the Queen endured when they entered her service. When one of the Queen¡¯s agents was captured, they could activate it with a thought and be instantly incinerated, or if they were murdered, the assassin would burn with them. The Queen could also activate the curse at will, literally putting the lives of the Queen¡¯s agents in her hands, a sign of trust and fealty. My particular curse was Jassin¡¯s spin on the classic. If I were to die, I¡¯d be my own funeral pyre, and the thing that killed me would get a nasty blowback courtesy of all the power I had stored up in my spirit. It was the only way to guarantee I didn¡¯t rise again to plague Ralqir if the worst was to happen, Jassin and Kolash¡¯s compromise. I could deal with this, though. I could deal with it by not dying. ¡°Thanks, Tiba. Thanks for looking out for me,¡± I said appreciatively. ¡°My job,¡± Tiba blushed. ¡°As your queen." Chapter 68 - Don鈥檛 Get Caught Chapter 68 - Don¡¯t Get Caught We only had to walk for another hour or so before we came out of our exit. However, the smugglers¡¯ tunnels in this area were dirtier, overgrown with moss and algae. Dark, mud stained streaks marked well trod paths on the floor, and the bricks were discolored from moisture and years of use. Faded drag marks and boot prints told of a long and continuing history of keeping the smugglers¡¯ tunnels¡¯ name relevant. Eventually, we came to a curtain of green and gray, a barrier of plant life draped over the entrance to our tunnel, and our guides had us all get low and quiet before they slipped into the green and out of sight. Corporal Bole and his subordinate, Private Beedy, seemed to ghost between the leaves and vanish. I¡¯d almost forgotten that the two of them were slated to get us out of the city, they¡¯d been so unobtrusive so far. Beedy was quiet by nature. I¡¯d never heard him utter more than one or two words at a time ever since we met in the Undercity. However, Bole was uncharacteristically quiet, at least for the portions of the journey for which I was conscious. Not even when I¡¯d had my magic induced panic attack did he try to trade barbs with anyone. We all sat there for a while, listening to the insects, feeling the cold, wet breeze on our faces as it blew into the tunnels from the outside. While we waited, I summoned my new compass and took a look. It was a simple thing, round, metal, sealed through magic and Automated much like my turrets were. The power requirement for what it did was minimal, just a rotating joint programmed to point in the direction of the nearest ¡®living¡¯ scourge touched while a separate Automated mechanism raised and lowered a little mallet to tap the back of the compass lightly to indicate how close the contact was. Faster meant closer. Slower meant farther. Right now, the compass was pointing back down the tunnel and tapping a slow click, click, click in my palm like a tiny heartbeat. That meant there was scourge somewhere within the range of my aura, but that wasn¡¯t saying much. My aura was massive at 106 Spirit. Bole and Beedy came back inside more brazenly than they¡¯d left, brushing aside the hanging vines and moss clumps to hang them on rudimentary hooks installed in the sides of the entrance. Blood covered the tip of Bole¡¯s sword, and Beedy was sporting a new shallow scratch on his face. ¡°Everyone¡¯s gone,¡± Bole said as he cleaned the blade of his shortsword on the moss and vines. ¡°Gone long enough for a couple raptils to move in. Killed ¡®em in case they were infected. Should be fine to come out now.¡± Our exit seemed to be far, far outside the city. In fact, we¡¯d passed out of the city and beyond the glade. Now we were back under the familiar, smothering blanket of the mendau trees. It was midday maybe, but you wouldn¡¯t know it based on the heavy leaf cover overhead. The swamp was just as I remembered it, a long time ago before I¡¯d entered Eclipse and couldn¡¯t get back out. The ground was spongy and dark green with a smattering of black puddles of unpredictable depth that could turn your ankle or swallow you whole. The mendau trees here were twisted, gray things with hanging moss growing in furry patches up and down their bark, while the leafy canopy overhead felt thick and oppressive, too close to the ground to be proper trees, but not quite short enough to be brush. Geddon had to duck under maybe half of them. To our left, it was a foggy shadow land of thin, twisting tree trunks and thick patches of mist, a visible reminder of the humidity that I didn¡¯t need. I could feel the chill of the moisture on my skin acutely, though it only reached skin deep. A sheen of moisture was already accumulating on my prosthetic, dripping from the fingertips. To our right there was some kind of waterway that ran past a rotting, wooden shack sporting a suspiciously well repaired dock. ¡°Bet the real guards would pay good money to know where this place is,¡± Geddon opined. ¡°I¡¯ll ignore that slight upon my character, but I¡¯ll still thank you to not go spreading this location around at the tavern,¡± Bole replied as he looked appraisingly at the little boat house connected to the dock. ¡°Looks like they all fucked off with the boats, so we¡¯ll be going on foot.¡± ¡°What this about ¡®we?¡¯¡± Sissa, having taken the lead after we¡¯d exited the tunnels, turned around like she¡¯d been struck. ¡°Thank you for getting us this far, but we¡¯re taking it from here.¡± Bole casually sheathed his sword and slapped Beedy¡¯s chest with the back of his hand. ¡°See that, Beedy? Told you we wouldn¡¯t be welcome.¡± Beedy simply frowned and gave everyone an apologetic look. ¡°That¡¯s because you¡¯re not,¡± Geddon said, cracking his knuckles one at a time. They sounded like gunshots even through the metal gauntlets. ¡°That wasn¡¯t the plan, Bole,¡± Sissa hissed like a nearly boiling kettle. ¡°We¡¯re fine from here on out. Go back and inflict yourself on someone else.¡± ¡°No, I think I¡¯m exactly where I need to be.¡± Bole countered with folded arms. ¡°Besides, We¡¯re wasted playing nursemaid with the civilians.¡± Sissa¡¯s sword was out in a flash, her eyes wide and full of barely contained wrath. ¡°Where you need to be?¡± She quoted dangerously. ¡°Need to be? Careful. You¡¯re dangerously close to reminding me of the last time we ¡®collaborated.¡¯ I have tolerated your presence ever since we were thrown into this situation, but that does not mean everything is forgiven between us. I ask you again to go back.¡± Bole didn¡¯t react to the drawn steel. In fact, he made it a point to lean on Beedy like he was a man relaxing under a shade tree. ¡°I don¡¯t need you to forgive me, Princess. I just need you to see the benefits to another two sword arms. You could use men like us in your little band.¡± ¡°Oh we could use the help, but you¡¯ve shown time and again we can¡¯t trust you,¡± Sissa replied flatly. ¡°You can trust me, actually,¡± Bole countered. ¡°But you have your reasons not to. You¡¯re letting our history get in the way of your mission.¡± ¡°You don¡¯t even know what the mission is,¡± Sissa shot back. Bole turned to me, looking me up and down with a contemptuous expression. ¡°It¡¯s about the monk. It¡¯s been all about him since he showed up. It¡¯s plain to see if you know how to look.¡± Sissa¡¯s mouth formed a tight line, but I could see her jaw clenched tightly. She didn¡¯t want to give away more than she had to, but Bole had scored a hit too close to the truth. ¡°You¡¯re the tactician. What would two more capable fighters do for you?¡± Bole asked before Sissa could come up with a good response. The dragonkin¡¯s grip tightened on her sword hilt, and her expression went from angry to volcanic, the quiet kind before entire civilizations vanished in the pyroclastic flow. ¡°You¡¯re not getting it, Brother. We can¡¯t trust you. We can¡¯t trust you not to cut and run when you feel slighted or dispirited or just plain bored. You will simply leave. You left your family when they passed you over for university, you left the church when you had a crisis of faith, you left civilized society when the law diverged with your personal desires, and you left me when I wouldn¡¯t join you. I would love more help, Fidus¡± Sissa growled. ¡°But definitely not from you.¡± As Sissa spoke, even though he was trying to play it cool, Bole tensed with every word Sissa said, his muscles coiling and his breathing growing more shallow and rapid. By the time Sissa was done, I was almost entirely sure Bole would draw his sword as well and we would have to kill him. Lanky, quiet Beedy broke the standoff by putting a comforting hand on Bole¡¯s shoulder. The leather creaked under strong fingers, and whatever Bole was about to do, he seemed to have second thoughts. He reached up and ran a gloved hand down his face, closing his eyes and sighing. ¡°That is¡­ fair from your perspective. I¡¯ve wronged you, and that¡¯s forever. I understand that. But you know me, Siss. If there¡¯s anything you can trust, it¡¯s that I don¡¯t let a blow go unanswered. This-¡± he said, waving a hand in the air. ¡°This feels like the start of something. Something big. The things back there struck the first blow, and I want to be there to answer just as my ancestors did.¡± ¡°I could hang him in a tree by his undergarments if you like,¡± Geddon rumbled from behind Bole and Beedy. Tiba stood flintily next to the big guy with her spear poised for a fight, and her guards followed suit, adopting a similar pose. They had no idea what was going on, but they were certainly picking up on the vibes. Meanwhile, Samila sidled up to her sister and took up position on her right, almost brushing up against her sword arm. Was Samila planning to step between the two or join in? My money was on restraint. ¡°And I¡¯ll scream the whole time, big fucker,¡± Bole said. ¡°I¡¯ll make it more trouble than I¡¯m worth and make a whole lot of trouble for you. It would just be easier if you let me come along, and I¡¯ll be much more useful. Beedy here wants to come too, don¡¯t ya Beedy?¡± Beedy looked pale, like he¡¯d been caught doing something he shouldn¡¯t, but as he looked back from Bole to Sissa, he slowly got the courage up to nod in assent. ¡°We have no need for a sneak thief in the wilds,¡± Sissa insisted. She¡¯d lowered her sword, though. ¡°You¡¯d be surprised what needs stealing even in the most rustic of settings¡± Bole grinned, his mask of roguish confidence back in place. For a moment, Sissa was torn between her desire to be rid of the man and the desire to make it through the next couple weeks with her people alive and intact. Bole was not above just following us as we went about our mission, and, despite all her misgivings, I didn¡¯t think Sissa was willing to murder the man for trying to do so. ¡°You sleep on the opposite side of the fire from me,¡± Sissa hissed finally, sheathing her sword and stomping toward the abandoned shack. Bole held up both of his hands in surrender, tossing a victorious grin at his partner in crime. ¡°Whatever you say, Princess. We¡¯re under your command, aren¡¯t we, Beedy?¡± ¡ª-------------------------------- I sat on the edge of the smugglers¡¯ dock fifty or so feet from the shore. My compass was tapping me only occasionally as the arrow jiggled generally east and southeast. It had been doing that for the past hour without fail, so consistent that I was almost willing to put it down for a while and obsess over something else for a bit. The creaking dock bobbed below me as I stared down into the glassy black surface of the river. Bayou was probably the proper term for it. It was a hidden branch of the main river, dug with great time and effort by those on the wrong side of the law. As Bole told it, this place served as a sort of stop over, where the shallow draft boats the smugglers tended to use could put in and offload their real cargo before they floated into Eclipse and went through customs with slightly lighter holds. Midday sun only partially filtered through the grayish canopy of leaves that stretched over the dock, bright enough to see by but not enough to penetrate the muddy water. Anything deeper than a couple inches probably hadn¡¯t seen true light for centuries. There was plenty of life out there, though. Once in a while, a little cloud of muddy debris, kicked up by motion below, floated to the surface and swirled lazily there until the current took it back down. Detect Iron showed me flashes of wriggling schools of tiny fingerlings as they flitted underneath the pontoons that held the dock afloat. None of them were scourge if my compass was to be believed, just the Ralqir equivalent of fish. Fishing has never been my thing, mostly because there weren¡¯t a lot of fish to be had back home, and those that you could get tended to be mostly bone or eyeless nightmares from the deep. People did still fish, though. It was a sport humanity had brought with us from our homeworld and had somehow survived even on a planet whose oceans were mostly underground. Even though I didn¡¯t really go for that sort of thing, I felt I¡¯d be pretty good at it with Detect, but the ability would probably also ruin a lot of the mystique. There were probably no scourge in the immediate area, but my mask was on anyway, just in case. The tracking methods my creations used weren¡¯t foolproof, as I¡¯d seen with a couple different stealth type monsters that my turrets didn¡¯t recognize until they revealed themselves. Apparently, if you could fool me, you could fool my aura. If you could fool my aura, you could fool my compass, since the aura was doing the heavy lifting. That meant the mask stayed on¡­ for now. The time would come soon to show my face, and then I would be in the fight of my life. I looked up for what must have been the hundredth time checking to see if the light was finally beginning to fade. Of course, just like last time, I couldn¡¯t tell thanks to the mendau. Trix insisted on traveling at night to not gather the wrong kind of attention, and everyone else seemed to just agree despite my insistence that I could not see in the damned dark. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. A whole planet of people that never really saw the sun. Of course, they saw better in the dark than I did. That didn¡¯t stop it from being annoying. When I¡¯d voiced my concern that I¡¯d be stumbling around blind out there, I just got apologetic shrugs and a snigger of Bole. Well, just waiting passively wasn¡¯t my thing. Finally setting my compass down, I summoned a handful of the new prototype smart rounds, a full rifle magazine, and the hopper piece to my magazine loader construct, pretty much an oblong tin tub with a narrow hole at the bottom just large enough for one bullet to fit through at once. The piston loader arm and the magazine holder weren¡¯t needed for this, so I left them in my spatial storage. I took a smart round between two of my fingers and examined it for flaws. It was brand new, so it shouldn¡¯t have any, but I wanted to make sure. They were slightly larger than my original smart rounds, the ones that would crawl back to me once I¡¯d fired them. They were slightly longer than my pinky nail, cylindrical at the back, conical in the front as most bullets tended to be, but the surface had ringed grooves that went all the way around meant to protect the ¡®legs¡¯ the bullets would deploy after being fired. While my other rounds grew appendages when they were activated, I¡¯d discovered it was cheaper to have them already formed and tucked away than to re-form them every time they were meant to do their thing. Carefully, I set the hopper down on the dock, positioning the base of its edge up against one of the spaces between the dock boards. This was meant to be a test of the pathing. Obstacles and problem solving were good. Taking a moment to aim, I flicked my smart round out sending the bullet careening down the dock and toward the shore, bouncing it over the wood before it finally came to rest somewhere in the mud and grass. Then I did the same with three more rounds. Two, I kept in my pocket and the last I let fall into the water. The full magazine I let lie on the dock. ¡°Okay. Let¡¯s see if you guys have gotten any better at this,¡± I whispered as I sent a little jolt of power into the hopper¡¯s Trigger. The Automated smart card inside of it activated, just a simple thing where it fed power into the machine¡¯s internals, generally to the loading arm, the stirring mechanism, and the clamps that held loading magazines in place. It also told my other machines that the loader was in business and was ready to do what it did. I felt more than heard the signal go out from the hopper, a little tremble in my aura, a declaration of intent. I kept a wary eye on the magazine near my feet, but nothing catastrophic was happening with it as of yet. The new pacifying instructions I¡¯d put into the rounds¡¯ programming was working there at least. Essentially, the rounds sensed they were in a valid magazine and didn¡¯t activate until they were fired and were ¡®free¡¯ to go about their programming. It meant I had to Automate a narrow strip of iron in the back of every magazine that touched each round to keep it pacified, but if I could avoid the stupid bullets growing legs inside of an already cramped magazine then attempting to claw their way out, I¡¯d take the added mana expense. I¡¯d ruined three whole magazines before I figured out what was happening in the workshop. The bullets in my pocket were another matter. They crawled out of my shirt like cockroaches on amphetamines, the hooked insectile legs they produced easily able to grab onto the fabric and skitter out to obey the automatic loader¡¯s call to be filled. They clawed their way down my pant leg as a pair and to the dock where they met their first obstacle, a gap between the boards. Without hesitation, the lead round lept the gap. Well, it wasn¡¯t so much a leap as a sort of forward fall with its forelegs outstretched to catch the other side, leaving it dangling there momentarily between boards. The smart round¡¯s partner, suddenly seeing a valid path across the gap, used the lead bullet as a bridge, crawling over and getting across. The poor guy in the crack almost lost its grip and went into the water down below, but it valiantly held on if only just. They had to cross three separate gaps with varying success before they could load themselves into the hopper by crawling up the grooves on the side and into the tub. Neither of them went into the drink, though. Once they were safely where they were supposed to be, they retracted their legs and went dormant, rolling noisily around in the bottom of the tub, waiting for the hopper to load them into a magazine. Soon, the four rounds I¡¯d thrown to the shore came trundling up and, one-by-one, threw themselves into the hopper as well. Again, I eyed the magazine, watching for shaking or jiggling. I really didn¡¯t want to make another one of them. I especially didn¡¯t want to re-tool my Automated programming again. It was already complicated enough, and holding that entire concept in my head long enough to get it to stick was painful. I would send a prayer of fervent thanks to Constance once I had it down and was able to foist the mental labor off on a casting bowl for mass production. Thankfully, the magazine sat there next to me inert, joyously unbroken. That was one problem fixed at least. The two rounds that got in each other¡¯s ways when trying to get into the hopper concerned me slightly. Unlike living things, they had no concern for one another or their respective objectives. Once they saw a way to complete their programming, they took it, even if it meant climbing over the broken forms of their brethren. I could see some breakage happening if I recalled a whole magazine of these things or several magazines at once. Not to mention, it was more than a little creepy to watch. A large enough number of smart rounds would resemble a swarm of robotic bullet ants without the warm and fuzzy dispositions of ants. The round that went into the water never came back. Soon, I received some notifications in my combat log that shed some light on that mystery, though. River Pairfish takes 1 damage. (slashing) River Pairfish takes 1 damage. (slashing) River Pairfish takes 1 damage. (slashing) River Pairfish is bleeding. River Pairfish takes 2 damage. (slashing) River Pairfish takes 1 damage. (slashing) River Pairfish takes 2 damage. (slashing) River Pairfish is bleeding. It went on and on, little drops of damage that compounded on one another until¡­ River Pairfish defeated. You have been awarded 0 experience points. (1 base, -1 level) Well, that¡¯s what I got for making ammunition that crawled like bugs. Now the thing was stuck inside a fish down at the bottom of the river trying to claw its way out. I did feel a little guilty for killing the fish, though, thinking back to the ancient wretchwyrm I¡¯d slain in a similar fashion. That was a rough way to go, and the least I could do was eat what I killed. Note to self, add a cleaning function to the next iteration of magazine loader station. There¡¯s gonna be blood. ¡ª------------------------ When nighttime finally came, I was well and truly done with experimenting with crawling ammo, and I had the scars to show for it¡­ metaphorically. The actual cuts healed quickly after I finally let the offending bullet go. Apparently, I had not programmed them to recognize their daddy, and trying to hold them back from their objective with a closed fist was not advised. Never doing that again. Those little legs are sharp. I flexed my palm and worked my fingers, remembering the itchy, burning sensation of a tiny robot trying to slice into my tender flesh. The next iteration was definitely going to have a friend or foe ID system. With so many conditions I was putting into these things, the power and time investment was getting more and more ridiculous. My batteries would need to charge overtime if I wanted to mass produce these little suckers. As a consequence, if I created a bigger battery with faster collectors I¡¯d need to watch said battery like a hawk to shut it down before it could overcharge and have an explosive meltdown. If I, say, let a casting bowl work overnight producing my new smart ammo with a new, beefed up, battery array and didn¡¯t feed it enough metal to keep it working until morning, I could come back to a bomb¡­ a bomb sitting right next to a lot of hard, metal projectiles that were practically built to be shrapnel. Breaking the Volatility/Collect cycle turned out to be harder than I would have liked. I had to connect the Volatile cube to the whole thing with Shape to get it to work, and I couldn¡¯t Shape it out of the thing once it was saturated with enough Volatility. My spatial storage tended to treat the Volatile center of the battery and the collector arms as one singular object after they all had the same energy flowing through them too. What I needed was a way to detect how charged a battery was. Once I could do that, I could just Automate a cutoff on the Volatility refresher plate. I could probably do the same thing with a counting system, giving a maximum number of times to refresh the spell, but what if I was in an extended battle? The battery would last longer this way but not indefinitely. A hand slapped my chest, halting me before I could take another step. I froze mid stride reflexively. Judging by the silhouette of the person attached to the hand, it was Samila, petite but intimidating in her armor and helm. She gestured down at the open mouth of the water into which I was about to plunge. My boots were already soaked from having already done this a few times in the night, but one never knew how deep these little holes were. I gave Samila a little nod of appreciation and stepped around. Though extremely dark, nighttime in the swamp wasn¡¯t quite as bad as I thought it would be. While I had the worst night vision out of anyone in our little group, there were ways of seeing where the water was. The cold kept most insects dormant at night, but tiny swarms of glowing gnats swept over the surfaces of a lot of the open water, bright enough to cast a reflection upon the glassy charcoal mirror surface. In my experience, they only seemed to come together over water, clustering up and shining bright as they danced around one another. So, if you could remember where the little fairy lights had been dancing, it was easy enough to avoid the deeper water. I had a breathing tank in my spatial storage filled to bursting just in case, however. I was a heavy guy, and if I stumbled into a deep hole, no one was pulling me out but me, more than likely. Trix, Tiba, and her guards were the most adept at navigating the squishy and maze-like terrain. Their eyes were better than everyone else¡¯s, and they weighed less than the rest of us, making them able to use floating deadwood and some of the more robust lily pads as springboards to get across otherwise inaccessible swamp. Since I couldn¡¯t see anything, Trix, as he led the group, carried my compass affixed to his wrist with a little leather watch band Geddon had rustled up for him from somewhere. It let him consult the compass while still being able to use his rifle. It was also something I probably should have thought of before. I came from a planet with watches! Why did it take a giant lion man to think of the concept for me? The construct had already paid dividends warning us of clusters of scourge before we could bumble into them in the dark. More than once, we¡¯d had to go the long way around something Trix had detected out there. I made sure to tell him the thing wasn¡¯t infallible, however. Lucky that I did too. I¡¯d just sank my foot into a particularly rank bank of mud when a hiss from in front of me drew my attention. As we all did when a halt was called, I sank down low, lying on my belly, listening and doing my best to keep from breathing. When nothing immediately registered as dangerous, I felt safe to slither up the embankment, past Samila and Geddon, to follow the dry-ish strips of the land to where Trix had sent the signal. He, Tiba, Bole, Beedy, and Sissa were all there, crouched low amongst several bushy clusters of dead moss that had fallen from a nearby tree. ¡°What¡¯s up?¡± I whispered, knowing the little Volpa¡¯s sharp ears would hear me even when I could barely hear myself. Slowly, deliberately, Trix sank down on all fours and crept until he was looking me in the face. His eyes were especially dark and fox-like in this dim light. He put his nose right up against my ear. ¡°It¡¯s the road,¡± Trix whispered. ¡°Your compass says the nearest infected are a good distance away to the east, but I don¡¯t like it.¡± ¡°You think the road is being watched?¡± ¡°It is the most solid ground you will find out here, and though only sapients use the road itself, many things use the raised ground for travel. Very open, long sight lines. There is a good chance we will be spotted if there is something waiting for us.¡± There was a shuffling sound from up ahead, and then Tiba was there, not that I would have seen her unless she was right on top of me. Sometime during the night, she¡¯d slathered herself in mud, streaks of it running down in slanted lines across her green skin, even her face and hair. The only dry things on her were her spear and her medicine pouch which she wore across her shoulder. The goblin queen grabbed Trix¡¯s hand and brought him down to the ground where she drew in the mud with the tip of her finger. It was too dark for me to see, but I thought I spotted a long, curved line that was the road and a few round shapes that could have been trees. Trix seemed to understand though, drawing bits of his own, interplaying his drawings with hers while Tiba added to and crossed out others. By the time the two had exchanged their pictographic messages, Tiba gave the little Volpa a wink and was gone like a shadow in the night. Trix¡¯s gaze lingered on her as she left, an odd look on his face as he absently ran his fingers over his rifle¡¯s bolt carrier. He stopped when he saw me watching him. ¡°What?¡± Trix asked innocently. ¡°Nothing,¡± I lied. ¡°What?¡± He asked again. I smiled mischievously. ¡°You two have gotten cozy.¡± Trix shook his head and did the Volpa full body shudder thing. ¡°Not ¡®cozy.¡¯ Her Highness has been very helpful, especially with the maps,¡± he whispered, increasingly defensive with every word. ¡°Once you get a sense of goblin pictograms, you can get a surprising amount of information. Queen Tiba has proved to be intelligent, brave, and fierce in a way I have never-.¡± ¡°Woah there, tiger,¡± Sissa murmured. ¡°Maybe tell us what she said, and we¡¯ll talk about how dreamy Queen Tiba is later.¡± Trix blinked, flustered, his mouth working open and shut several times. ¡°Dreamy- I- She¡¯s- Mmmf-¡± he sputtered loudly until Sissa reached out and closed his muzzle for him. Trix did not reach up to free himself, instead choosing to give the dragonkin a very hard stare. If looks could kill, Sissa would be dead twice. ¡°Sorry. Go on, please,¡± Sissa whispered, letting go of Trix¡¯s muzzle. ¡°Please don¡¯t do that. It is hard to breathe,¡± Trix pleaded, the request bordering on command. ¡°You were right to do so, however. I forgot myself and our need for stealth. As I was saying, the queen has spotted several clusters of birds not native to these lands in the trees lining the road. I had seen them but had written them off as normal before she said something.¡± ¡°Scourge?¡± I asked. ¡°The compass says no, but you said it is not reliable for all,¡± he replied. I nodded, uselessly squinting into the darkness to try and see what Tiba had seen. ¡°You can see the best, Trix. What¡¯s the play?¡± ¡°If we are where Queen Tiba says we are, our pass is perhaps two miles south of here.¡± ¡°Two miles of swamp is a long way,¡± Sissa interjected. Trix nodded in agreement, nervously playing his claws across his rifle again. ¡°It would be best if we did not give ourselves away at this time.¡± So they had creatures on the road as lookouts. More of that strategic thinking I was beginning to fear. It was getting far too prevalent in my dealings with the scourge. Was it getting smarter over time, or was it always that smart while I didn¡¯t have a clear enough picture of what it was doing? ¡°You want to wait for them to move, or do we do something more drastic?¡± Sissa asked. ¡°I do not believe they will move,¡± Trix said. ¡°They aren¡¯t even breathing.¡± A thought surfaced in my mind. ¡°Not breathing means not alive. They¡¯re like drones. Without a biological imperative, they could sit in those trees for days. So, you¡¯re saying, and correct me if I¡¯m wrong¡­ You¡¯re saying we need a distraction,¡± I postulated. ¡°Something¡­ eye catching.¡± Trix¡¯s ears drooped down until they practically disappeared in his fur. ¡°Oh no.¡± ¡°Devious. Dramatic,¡± I continued. ¡°No, please.¡± Trix replied, violently shaking his head. ¡°And explosive.¡± Trix blinked rapidly like I¡¯d just struck him. ¡°I¡¯m sorry. What? I thought you were asking me to glamor these creatures.¡± I steepled my fingers and waggled my eyebrows at him, trusting that he could see me do it. ¡°I¡¯m thinking more of a collaboration.¡± Chapter 69 - Don鈥檛 be Fooled Chapter 69 - Don¡¯t be Fooled My non-existent heart froze as the clip clop of hooves echoed out from the dark to the east, back toward Eclipse, so close, so clear and loud that I was surprised I hadn¡¯t noticed them before. Beside me Trix was tense, his little foreclaws scratching at his fur and little voice mumbling something, his face drawn with intense focus. The hoof beats drew closer, and I could now hear the labored breathing of the animal as it staggered down the road presumably to escape the horrors of the city behind it. It was a wonder it had lived that long, survived without becoming infected even after weeks of exposure. The animal appeared to be one of the white, wiry haired creatures with broad shoulders and disproportionately tiny hooves I¡¯d seen Garret and his people riding along this very road. I¡¯d never gotten the name of those, since the whole scourge invasion thing had probably destroyed what chance I had of ever riding one. While the beast was on its feet and doing its level best to save itself from the nightmare of Eclipse, its rider was slumped over in the saddle, kept upright only by virtue of being caught in the stirrups.. This couldn¡¯t have come at a worse time. We were about to cross this road, and here came someone that needed help. They were probably someone that came on the scene late, by chance, and now they were trying to escape with their lives. If we hurried we could get them off the road and keep them from- Stealth is now level 15. Upgrade paths available: Gray Man Upgrade: Fractured Recollection Misdirect Gray Man Upgrade: Mistaken Identity Stealth Upgrade: Alert The sudden burst of text in my log penetrated my thoughts just long enough to realize what I was doing. Holy hell. To say the least, I was sufficiently impressed. Even with proper warning that the glamor was coming, my mind had been instantly fooled, instantly drawn to the illusion and fixed upon it while ignoring Trix or just accepting that his casting of magic was perfectly normal and right for the situation. The spell, according to Trix, obscured the caster and highlighted the illusion in the mind as well as through more mundane means. I¡¯d been told it was coming. Hell, I¡¯d helped hatch the plan. And I¡¯d still been taken in. Now that I¡¯d caught myself, I could see how strange the situation was, wrong. The rider and his animal were like scraps of a dream, smoke and impressions, general shapes of a man and his mount, but when I let my mind wander or drift further into the dream, they made more sense and became more real. In a sense, they were almost too real if I could divorce myself from the idea of them for long enough to think rationally. I could smell them. I could even feel them there. I knew what the hairy mount felt like, despite never having touched one in my life. My mind was processing all of these things and substituting that flow of sensory data for the real thing, tricking me into thinking I was experiencing it. Holy hell. Trix¡¯s magic was dangerous. No wonder he had moral objections to using it. I closed my eyes briefly and concentrated on not participating in the illusion. I was outside of it, an observer. This was not my dream, and I just needed to watch. I was separate from the scene with my own part to play that did not involve the mount and rider. That seemed to help. Trix kept the rider¡¯s pace sedate, like the animal was wounded and tired, and the rider was unconscious. The two weaved over the road from side to side drunkenly. The faint scent of blood wafted into my nose- No. Into my mind. Remember that. Focus on you, not them. I frowned, diverting my mind to the choice the System had put in front of me. My choice of upgrade when I¡¯d hit level 5 in stealth, Gray Man, might not have been on Trix¡¯s level of mind mojo, but they were distantly related, I was fairly sure. Whatever discomfort I was feeling while watching Trix do his thing was made markedly worse knowing I was doing something like this passively when I was trying to hide. I was reaching into people¡¯s minds and subverting their thoughts, and that was a scary prospect for a guy that was on a one way road to evil if I kept leveling the way I was. That gave me pause as I read over the Gray Man upgrade paths. Fractured Recollection: Upgrade the capabilities of Gray Man to affect those who notice you for far longer. Short term memories of you will be harder for affected entities to recall with clarity. This effect is drastically reduced when being observed through technological means. Mistaken Identity: Upgrade the capabilities of Gray Man to alter targets¡¯ perception of you. Affected entities will be more likely to recognize you as someone familiar to them, personally, both in the moment and when remembering your encounter with them later. Not sure if I want to go further down that path. Messing with people¡¯s memories can¡¯t be good for them, even if they are someone I want to hide from. Not sure if I could live with that. The other two upgrades were more what I was looking for: Misdirect: While actively hiding and partially obscured, you may choose to project an illusory copy of yourself up to thirty feet away. This copy mimics your actions and presence but produces no sensory data other than visual and magical. Stealth Upgrade: Alert: While actively hiding you will now receive notifications in the event that you are detected. Entities that detect you may still be affected by Gray Man. Both looked very useful, one situationally, the other universally. I wouldn¡¯t mind being able to project an illusory clone. It would help me get away from things that hunted me, or it would help me get the jump on things I needed dead, not to mention being able to get my Knife in the Dark bonus more easily if my targets had to pay attention to two of me. At the same time, Alert would just be plain useful all the damned time. How many times had I gotten a Stealth level and had no idea what was looking for me or if it had seen me eventually? The upgrade had its limitations, of course. If I got a notification that I had been detected by a monster out there and Gray Man kicked in, telling said monster that I was nothing to worry about, I wouldn¡¯t know. If I were hiding from multiple monsters, I¡¯d have to choose between fleeing, fighting, or staying hidden, and the extra information might push me into a bad decision. No. That was a useless line of thought. Of course more information was good. How I acted based on that information was on me, not Stealth. Alert would be a game changer, and I would have to rely on my better judgment to do the right thing with the information it gave. Decision made, I looked over at Trix, and saw his tortured expression when our eyes met. ¡°The look on your face reminds me of why I do not do this,¡± Trix murmured, pausing his incantation only to say this. It didn¡¯t seem to affect the illusion, however. I really didn¡¯t know what kind of look I had on my face. Half of my attention was on not slipping back into the dream, the other was busy trying not to draw parallels between what I did every day without thinking with what Trix deemed morally repugnant. I put on a reassuring smile. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about us, Trix. You¡¯re using what you have to save the damned world, so you¡¯re still a saint in my book,¡± I said, giving him a small thumbs up. ¡°Stop doing that. No one knows what it means,¡± Sissa chided me. Stupid Ralqir. On the other side of Trix, Tiba saw the gesture and copied it, turning to her guards and giving them a thumbs up too. They seemed to dig it, taking to it like the rest of their tribe had to the middle finger. If nobody else understood me, the goblins understood me. ¡°Your magic is a weapon, Trix,¡± Sissa continued, softening her tone for the Volpa. ¡°I¡¯d no sooner judge you for using it than judge Geddon for using his sword.¡± Concentrating, Trix squeezed his eyes shut, and his lips peeled back slightly to expose his canines, but, after a moment, he acknowledged the point we were making with a slight nod. The rider had passed us by now and was drifting slowly to the side until he practically collided with a tree full of the scourge-touched birds. The birds didn¡¯t make a move, but I did hear some rustling from up in the tree. I had a feeling, a sudden odd displacement of air that bent the hairs on my face and neck and instinctively put up my forearm to block an incoming blow. The blow never came, however, and Bole was conspicuously there shoulder to shoulder with me, breathing hard and smelling of swamp water and sweat. ¡°I put the thing in the thing,¡± he whispered, wiping his hands on his chest armor and flexing his fingers. I tilted my head and watched him. ¡°Something wrong?¡± I asked. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. ¡°Yeah. You¡¯re talking too much,¡± Bole spat. ¡°Want to see this.¡± Finally having tempted the birds enough, Trix nudged his illusion further down the road away from us. The wire-haired animal clip-clopped shakily onward, its head drooping downward as it fought exhaustion.. ¡°Anytime, Trix,¡± I said. Trix nodded but kept up his chanting. The illusion stopped, the beast digging at the quellstone road nervously as it sniffed at the air. The entire swamp took a breath¡­ well, not the birds. We already established that they weren¡¯t breathing. Suddenly and inexplicably in a panic, the animal rose up on its hind legs, kicking out, and let out a high, warbling cry like an improperly fitted fan belt. The rider chose that moment to jolt back to consciousness, sucking in a greedy lungful of breath like it was his first in years. Then he screamed, a terrible, haunting thing that almost drew me into the dream again. I was nearly up on my feet when Bole¡¯s steely fingers clamped onto my wrist to arrest my forward momentum. It wasn¡¯t enough to stop me, but it was enough to get me to think. I shot a glance in his direction and settled back down, nodding to indicate I was okay. He never met my eyes, though. His gaze was fixed on the scene before him as he grinned from ear to ear. Now wide awake and in a full blown panic, the rider spurred his mount on, and the two of them flew down the road like they were being chased by demons which wasn¡¯t entirely wrong at this point. Whatever the scourge had been waiting for as they watched the illusion make its way down the road, the sudden jolt of speed and the fear from their prey triggered some kind of predatory instinct in the birds, and they took to the air in a rushing hurricane of flapping wings. Our world became a tapestry of motion, the entire road a sea of dark feathers, whirling and brushing over one another, a murder of flying scourge. They matched speed with the illusion easily, but I imagine that was because Trix wanted them to. He wanted them to chase it, to think they were on the verge of drawing more blood. It wove in between the birds with ease, flowing through gaps in the swarm in a way that defied logic but only if you were not subject to the illusion. ¡°Almost there,¡± I announced for Trix. The illusion was nearing the log where Bole was supposed to drop the Automated ball of iron. Trix had the rider slip to the right, drawing near the log where it would finally- ¡°What? No, not that one. Further down the road, on the left,¡± Bole argued. ¡°You¡¯re serious? Where?¡± I hissed at Bole. ¡°We agreed on that one!¡± ¡°You pointed at that exact log, Monk!¡± ¡°I pointed at the only hollow log I can see, because I can¡¯t see in the fucking dark, Bole!¡± I whisper-shouted in the man¡¯s face, punctuating my sentence by waving a hand in front of my face. ¡°Boys, please,¡± Samila hushed us. ¡°Can you get there, Trix? Can you see it?¡± ¡°Im- Yes. I think. Now!¡± Trix exclaimed. With a thought, I Triggered the Automated construct I¡¯d asked Bole to set up down the road and watched the chaos unfold. I¡¯d not used my usual purple boom boom magic for this one. It was quickly becoming my calling card, and this needed to be more ambiguous. The fewer hints I gave the scourge that I was headed this direction the better, not until I was more prepared. Instead, I was using a new trick. On the surface, the construct was just a ball of iron, about the size of a billiards ball. What it really was, however, was a billiards ball so packed with State Change mana in its Trigger, it had taken me the better part of an hour to fill, just enough to convert the entire thing from a solid to a plasma in a single instant. The results were spectacular. Plasma is a funny thing. By all accounts, observing with the naked eye in a vacuum it¡¯s just a gas but hotter. The molecules have gained so much energy that they''re bouncing around and running into walls like a kid that got into the chocolate espresso beans. The difference between plasma and a gas however, is, at some point when a molecule gets particularly riled up it sheds its electrons and suddenly becomes very friendly with all sorts of other molecules it normally would never want to associate with. Oxygen was a favorite, especially if introduced in atmosphere. There was no explosion like one would associate with a giant conflagration, no boom. In this case there was a sound, something like *FUFF* followed by an absolute ton of muted firework crackles and pops as the superheated iron went from a packed and orderly solid to a free floating and quickly expanding cloud of overactive gas. The air around the little construct ignited, the oxygen clinging to now superheated elements around it. A bright shower of sparks shot out from ground zero behind the log and enveloped fifty, maybe a hundred birds that were closest to Trix¡¯s fleeing illusion. The birds closest to the reaction simply died, going up in individual fireballs with a loose downward trajectory. Other, ¡®luckier¡¯ monsters, simply caught fire and veered off, only to run into their fellows and set them ablaze. Those, not wanting to be on fire, took evasive action into other birds, and so on and so on. Scourge-touched Flenser takes 23 damage. (20 base, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Fire) Scourge-touched Flenser is Cursed. Scourge-touched Flenser is Marked. Scourge-touched Flenser takes 14 damage. (11 base, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Fire) Scourge-touched Flenser is Cursed. Scourge-touched Flenser is Marked. Scourge-touched Flenser takes 33 damage. (30 base, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Fire) Scourge-touched Flenser is Cursed. Scourge-touched Flenser is Marked. Scourge-touched Flenser takes 23 damage. (20 base, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Fire) Scourge-touched Flenser is Cursed. Scourge-touched Flenser is Marked. Scourge-touched Flenser takes 20 damage. (18 base, +3 Knife in the Dark, +1 Marked)(Fire) Scourge-touched Flenser takes 11 damage. (8 base, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Electric) Scourge-touched Flenser takes 29 damage. (26 base, +3 Knife in the Dark, +1 Marked)(Fire) Trix nearly collapsed in my arms as he let the illusion drop. I could hear him breathing laboriously, and his little arms and legs hung limply from his frame as if he¡¯d just run a long distance and he had nothing left in the tank. ¡°Did I-¡± Trix panted. ¡°Did I do it?¡± ¡°You did it, buddy,¡± I assured him, looking back to Sissa for confirmation, but she was covering her eyes to preserve her night vision. I probably should have done that. Everyone was probably nightblind now, but it was the cost of doing business. Bole, at least, was having a great time, giggling up a storm watching the murder of birds go up in flames. ¡°Tiba?¡± I asked. ¡°Are we clear to cross?¡± The little goblin queen got up on her tip-toes, poking her head out of cover and squinting into the dark to examine the road and the trees. Then she turned to me and gave a thumbs up. Hell yeah. Thumbs up are going to be a thing. ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± I called, and we all got to our feet and rushed across the Dark Lord¡¯s road. I ran in the middle of the group, not bothering to look anywhere but forward. None of the birds that had been Marked by my attack lived long enough to be a threat, and the ones that had escaped the blast zone might as well have been invisible to me anyway. Plus, my eyes were shit, and my arms were full of vulpa. Even if we got into a skirmish I wouldn¡¯t be able to fight. Samila pulled me by the elbow, leading me across and into the brush on the other side, hastily slipping around shallow puddles and deadwood that might make noise. We had to be away before the scourge decided the rider and his mount were no longer worth their collective attention. Stealth is now level 16. We were maybe one hundred feet away from the scene when we heard something heavy dragging itself over the cobbled road behind us, loud enough for the sound to carry all the way to us through the trees. The swamp was alive now too, many creatures hastily beating a retreat from the unnatural fire. At least one or two of them were probably infected and headed toward the fire, but we didn¡¯t encounter them. I wondered what the compass was saying now. Tiba, naturally, took over for navigation, while Trix rested on my shoulders and recovered from his ordeal. He still had the compass, though, and would call out if we needed to change course. He also kept me out of the water much better than Samila had. Trix and I were old darkness buddies, so he knew what I was capable of and what I wasn¡¯t. That helped with our pace. Gradually, over the course of a mile, the land rose, and the swamp receded. I saw fewer pitfalls and standing water, fewer bugs and decaying logs that could trip me. Then, without realizing it, I found myself climbing over jagged rocks, slippery with morning dew. The trees kept us from looking up to see how close the mountain range was, but I imagined we were getting close. Sometime later, the last of the glowing bugs stopped materializing over the water, and the nighttime insects quieted down. Light slowly bled into the gloom, a gradual thing that I didn¡¯t notice until I caught myself actually watching Tiba do her thing at the head of our column. She would bound ahead, catlike, using her small stature and flexibility to slip between the leaves of fallen branches, over deadwood, and vault over rocks. Then, she would stop to tilt her head to listen to something I couldn¡¯t hear and orient herself onto a slightly different course, presumably toward a place she knew. I didn¡¯t know how she was navigating, but she seemed confident, as only queens could be. ¡°She is leading us to the mouth of a pass,¡± Trix told me from my shoulder. ¡°I have several depictions of it on the maps she drew for me. It is not one recorded in the Spire¡¯s records, though I did not have much time to find the truly old ones in the library.¡± ¡°A pass over the mountain?¡± Sissa interjected. ¡°Is there even enough cover to get us over?¡± That Trix did not know, and it was down to me to ask Tiba. Now that it was light enough, I didn¡¯t have a hard time jogging to the fore of the group and asking a few questions. ¡°The Black Ones are inside the mountain now, so we don¡¯t take that way. We go through the pass. It is low enough to be below the frost,¡± Tiba declared, posing on a rock to get head height with me. ¡°But is there enough cover? Are mountain trees a thing?¡± I asked. ¡°Mostly,¡± Tiba hedged, wobbling her head side to side. ¡°Not always. Very thin up that high, but there is usually cover enough this time of year. In the winter, we have to find another way.¡± I translated for the others. ¡°We¡¯re getting pretty close to winter,¡± Geddon observed as he looked dubiously at the thick canopy overhead. ¡°Do we wait for nightfall then?¡± Samila suggested, also subconsciously glancing up at the trees. All the goblins shook their heads this time. ¡°A storm coming,¡± Tiba warned us, anxiety plain on her face. ¡°They do that a lot, clouds ramming into the peaks like mountain goats. If we wait too long, the pass is flooded for days, and we have to go under the mountain. I do not want to go under the mountain again.¡± Tiba¡¯s gaze fell to the ground then, her shame at even tangentially admitting her fear of going back down there obvious. She¡¯d lost many of her people down there, the love of her life included. ¡°Hope you wore your swimmies, Beedy,¡± Bole cackled. He was having a grand old time out here somehow, despite him looking like a drowned rat after having to sneak our bomb into place earlier. Beedy looked down at his leggings and grimaced. Samila sidled up to me on my right side and elbowed me gently in the ribs. ¡°Tell me you packed some rope in those magic pockets of yours.¡± I shot her a self-satisfied grin down at her. As a matter of fact, I had packed rope along with food, water, and an entire evil tower worth of metal bits. I was already probing my spatial storage for everything we might possibly need to cross. ¡°Alright, Brothers and Sisters, get to it. Climbing time. Essentials only,¡± Sissa ordered. I tilted my head slightly, wondering as to what she meant. Then a pauldron hit me in the chest. Turning, I was greeted by Samila in the middle of stripping off her armor, her back to me. She already had the straps of her breastplate loose and was sliding the whole thing over her head peeling the wet padding and shirt underneath off in one motion. Her undergarments, just a crisscrossing handful of discolored cloth strips, clung to her muscular back in a disarrayed jumble like they¡¯d been painted on by a toddler. ¡°You do have room in your magic pockets for my wet things, don¡¯t you, darling?¡± Samila crooned, shooting me a wink over her now bare shoulder. ¡°Uh-¡± I replied smoothly. Why the System had not seen fit to give me more socially oriented Skills was a true mystery. ¡°Mine too! I am already naked back here,¡± Geddon¡¯s voice announced from behind a nearby boulder, the top of which already held his full set of armor and shield. Chapter 70 - Climb any Mountain Chapter 70 - Climb any Mountain All the people in metal armor thought turning me into a pack mule was a lovely idea, actually, and it became a race to give me their armor first and get out of swampy clothes. Even the goblins got in on the fun, Tiba¡¯s honor guards seemed to relish finally being able to take the heavy iron suits off, and a surprising amount of swamp water was dumped from boots. Tiba didn¡¯t feel the need to offload anything, however. She wore the bare minimum already, and she would never in a million years give up Hunty¡¯s spear or her herb pouches. The dragon sisters seemed quite comfortable changing in front of everyone, even peeling off their wet underclothes and donning dry ones. I, being a gentleman, turned to give them some privacy after realizing what they were doing, which amused Samila to no end. So, after a cheeky whisper about how I was taking my monk cover story far too seriously, she set about giving me a play by play of the entire process, not just what she was doing but for Sissa as well, while I silently prayed to Constance to grant me strength or to maybe just remove my blush reflex for a day. The quick flash of blue I got from the corner of my eye left me with even more questions than I would have had not seeing anything at all. Weren¡¯t they supposed to be reptilian? Why did- Nope. We are not going down that road. I shot a pained look over at Trix, who was pulling on a dry robe further up the trail, but he made the smart move and kept out of it, pretending to fold his swampified clothes into just the right shapes while muttering quietly to himself. The swamp had done a number on everyone. Geddon even had a leech on his upper back that he couldn¡¯t reach thanks to his exaggerated musculature, and since everyone else was busy, I was given the honor of peeling it off which I used as an excuse to get away from Samila. After ripping the thing off, I went to throw the leech far away, but Tiba stopped me, scandalized at my willingness to waste ¡®good ingredients.¡¯ ¡°Good ingredients make good medicine,¡± was all she would say to clarify, getting on her tiptoes to get a better look at the little bug I had pinched between my fingers. She didn¡¯t go so far as to jump and snatch at it, but I could see that she was close. I didn¡¯t ask for details on what she planned to do with the thing. I simply handed Tiba the fat leech and watched her stick it in with her herbs while I wiped my slightly slimy hand on my pants. Then I had to spend about ten minutes making all the pieces of gear disappear one by one into my spatial storage while the rest of the party got their weapons back in place. Bole and Beedy busied themselves scouting, choosing to retain their leathers, but everyone else was down to shirts and pants at the most. Once everyone was traveling light with the exception of me, we started up the trail. I tried not to feel bitter that I had no way to lighten my own load. I was already very heavy and dense, in contrast with my size. With 53 body, I¡¯d put on quite a bit of supernatural muscle. I wasn¡¯t bulky by any means, but I wasn¡¯t small anymore either. If I had to use a word for it, I¡¯d call my new frame ¡®functional.¡¯ I was wider in the shoulders, deeper in the chest, and my limbs were hard and defined without going into the more rounded shape of a bodybuilder. Back home, I¡¯d probably pass for a particularly well fed Outers scrapper or maybe an amateur boxer. The infuriating thing was that no matter how much Body I gained I never felt lighter. Did increasing Body also increase my weight? That theory had some holes in it. I started out with what? 10 body? 11? Wouldn¡¯t I have to be four times heavier now to account for the strength increase? That couldn¡¯t be right. I broke my cot earlier in the week, yes, but quadrupling my strength with appropriate weight would reduce every piece of furniture I used to splinters instantly, wouldn¡¯t it? Always more questions. No. Don¡¯t think it. ¡°Magic¡± is not an excuse to stop asking questions. That¡¯s the lazy answer, and we¡¯re not doing that. The pass started out, essentially, as a trail, a trail we were already on, but it quickly turned into more of a constantly forking draw that ran gently uphill, so gently that it could have been mistaken for a creek bed. With the tree cover overhead and no view of the actual mountain range we wanted to traverse, I had a good bit of trouble thinking of the trail as a pass anyway. At least not yet. If I had a clear view of the mountains, the ability to look up and see what I was crossing, I¡¯d probably be able to hold the concept in my mind better. However, this was Ralqir. A peak up through the trees toward the sun or the stars anywhere outside of Skyglade was a ticket to blindness and death, especially for things like me with my special condition. As we trekked on the trail gradually morphed into a creek, which then turned into a roughly carved ¡®V¡¯ about one Geddon wide with gravel and ground organic bits on the floor while the cracked and jagged walls shot up the sides, just steep enough to be considered a climb instead of a walk. If I spread my arms I could run my hands along both walls, which made steadying myself while climbing over the odd pile of fallen rocks easier. Overhead, the swamp species of mendau tree gave way to a sort of black-leafed brush with bristly but thick leaves that, along with being the most effective shade tree I¡¯d ever encountered, also seemed to be able to put down roots almost anywhere. In fact, they seemed to seek out the absolute worst places to thrive. The path we walked had soil and leaf litter in the bottom along with squishy sand and gravel, a fine place to put down roots, but the brush had chosen to live life on hard mode. They grew literally from the side of the mountain, clinging to the rock, roots spreading wide over the stone and forming intricate nets that intertwined with their neighbors and covered the stone surface of the land for as far as the eye could see. Those that had found cracks and crevasses to grow next to, clung to them with thick, hooked protrusions that probably did the lion¡¯s share of anchoring themselves and their neighbors so the whole thing couldn¡¯t come sliding down. It wasn¡¯t just a few of these shrubs either. They were everywhere, and they grew over the face of the mountain like white whiskers. The pale bark paired with the black leaves made it seem like someone had come along and switched the world¡¯s visual settings to monochrome then lowered the brightness by half. The Ralqir natives seemed to take the midday gloominess as a good sign, however. Supposedly, these trees were deciduous, and their leaves tended to thin this time of year, but we were lucky enough to have a warm fall. Less light meant more cover, and that was always what you wanted. By midday, the pass turned into a slow, steady trod. The ground became saturated with moisture, slippery, the sand and gravel no longer allowing our feet to grip properly as we climbed. My legs burned, even with my supernatural durability, and others, by the look of them, were feeling the same. Geddon had it the hardest. Sometime during the day, the walls narrowed or our path lowered until the big guy had to turn to the side to fit his shoulders within the confines, and our easy view of the slope was no more. The big leori growled and grumbled the whole time, having to shimmy up the mountain turned sideways to fit in the confined space, alternating between which was his lead foot. We were no longer at the bottom of a V but in a trench ten feet deep with sheer sides, and the floor was split, at times, revealing deep cracks going down into nothing. The debris we accidentally kicked into the gaps made noise for long seconds as the pebbles rolled and clacked off of the flowing surfaces until it got too quiet to hear anymore. Annoyingly, the cracks weren¡¯t quite wide enough to fit a leg, but they certainly were wide enough to turn your ankle if you weren¡¯t paying attention. Our breaths steamed in the cold now that we¡¯d gotten to a sufficient altitude, and those that had abandoned their wet clothes were doubly grateful to have made themselves dry before the climb, not that they stayed dry for long. The first peel of thunder cracked overhead, close. Everyone, without exception, froze and looked up. ¡°We must hurry!¡± Tiba shouted from the lead of the group. No one else understood her, but they didn¡¯t have to. Everyone knew a storm was bad news. The first drop of rain *panged* off of my prosthetic hand shortly thereafter, and it only got worse from there. As far as I could tell, this was a light to middling shower up here in the mountains. Just clouds from the north running headfirst into the mountain range and dropping their load as they flowed over, as Tiba had said. Unfortunately for us, we were in a natural pass that drained the majority of the water from two separate mountain sides. While the gentle patter of raindrops on the black canopy could be heard overhead, what we were quickly subjected to was a deluge. Gallons of runoff sluiced down from the slopes overhead to fall onto our heads in steady, cold streams. The rest of the mountain may have been getting a light smattering of water, but we got everything, a torrent of freezing cold dumped on our heads courtesy of physics, soaking us to the bone and chilling us to our cores. It battered us, pushed us down, and made our bodies heavy, our footing so slippery that our pace slowed to a tenuous crawl, made worse by having to now carry the shorter folk on our shoulders thanks to the floor our trail disappearing to be replaced by a rushing river of muddy, glacial runoff. This is where being heavy and dense actually worked in my favor. As the water levels rose, I did not, nor was my buoyancy ever a factor in my footing. My boots were firmly on the ground, more so than my friends¡¯, slippery as it was, and eventually, I was at the head of the group, a rope tied around my waist and Tiba straddling my shoulders like a kid at a parade as I climbed, gritting my teeth with every grinding step upwards. ¡°We must get to the top soon, Ryan, or it goes badly for us!¡± Tiba shouted above the rushing noise. ¡°So I gathered!¡± I replied, a sudden gush of water slapping against my sternum, peppering my skin with the hundreds of little pebbles it had brought with it from further up the mountain. ¡°How far?!¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯m not sure! It looks different like this!¡± Climbing is now level 9. ¡°Do we need to go back?¡± I asked as I took another heavy, laborious step. The little goblin queen¡¯s legs tensed on my shoulders, gripping tightly as if I were a mount that might bolt at a bad time. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. ¡°We can¡¯t!¡± She replied. ¡°It is probably worse further down the mountain!¡± That just meant I had to buckle down. The pressure on the rope steadily grew, and the knot dug painfully into my waist. Someone back there was struggling badly, and I desperately hoped it wasn¡¯t Geddon. Having to pull the big guy up the mountain would be- Climbing is now level 10. Upgrade paths available: Anchor Create Handhold Reinforced Musculature Well, there was a bright side to it all, I guessed. If one of these could help me, I¡¯d gladly pick it now if it meant we could get to the top before someone drowned or turned the pass into the multiverse¡¯s most ill-advised waterslide. Anchor: Any force exerted upon you while climbing is reduced by 20%. Create Handhold: Affix an object you possess to any surface. The adhering of this object requires an investment of mana while maintaining the bond requires significantly less (variable). Reinforced Musculature: Your body score is amplified by 10% while climbing. This bonus is lost after 1 minute of rest or a 1 minute period of using only your feet to move through geographical space. Anchor. One hundred percent Anchor. Create Handhold was another one of those things I could have fun with, magically gluing things to other things, but I could probably mimic the function well enough with prep time, training, and equipment. Reinforced musculature was a straight 10% Body gain while I climbed, which would be huge if I kept getting more Body points from my achievements. Plus, it seemed like I could exploit the loose wording a bit to keep the buff if I was in a situation where I was using my hands and feet to traverse terrain. However, Anchor had the benefit of being impossible. Any force exerted upon me was reduced? Attacks? Physical? Magical? Metaphorical? It didn¡¯t say. Yes please. Take a seat, Fundamental Laws of the Universe. I¡¯m climbing here. I chose it before I could second guess myself. Instantly, I felt lighter, the force of the rushing water less oppressive, and the rope around my waist stopped digging into my abdomen so deeply. The effect was so sudden and pronounced that- ¡°Are you okay, Ryan?¡± Tiba asked, sweeping my hair out of my face to put her hand on my forehead, checking for fever. ¡°No. I-¡± My stomach spasmed, and I doubled over, losing what little lunch I¡¯d had earlier in the day along with a good amount of water. ¡°Ryan?!¡± I had the presence of mind to keep my grip on the rock, but I let go with my weaker hand to give the goblin queen a thumbs up in between mouthfuls of vomit. Apparently, gravity was also a force being exerted upon my body as I climbed, and suddenly changing that constant came with consequences. Once the nausea passed, I shook my head and was back to climbing. One foot in front of the other, arms outstretched, prosthetic fingers over rock, I climbed. What must have been hours later, my angle of ascent suddenly changed, and, without warning, my foot touched ground that had leveled out significantly, not entirely, but enough that it felt like flat ground. I nearly tripped, reaching out for handholds that were no longer there. The sheer walls of the wash were suddenly gone as if I¡¯d entered a room through a doorway, and I was in a miniature forest of pale trunks and black leaves, the lowest of which were maybe a head or two above my own. The water was about shin-high here, a standing, black puddle as opposed to the river I¡¯d just left. The look of the place was otherworldly, the clouds making the light diffuse before it even hit the trees, casting the world in a strange, eclipse-like gloom. I let Tiba down gently into the water and started hauling the others up. I felt gravity reassert itself fully now that I wasn¡¯t climbing anymore, forcing my stomach to adjust again, but it wasn¡¯t nearly so rough going back to normal as it was the other way around. The pull was harder, but that was okay. I was upright and anchored enough. Everyone, without exception, was exhausted when they took my hand to be helped to the top, Beedy especially. When I hauled him up, grabbing his forearm to get him to his feet, he sagged right back down into the standing water. Grabbing him by the collar, I heaved him up until I could look at his face. Not good. His skin was like ice, pale and bloodless, and his lips were blue. Not good at all. ¡°Tiba!¡± I shouted ¡°I know! We take shelter near here! Come!¡± The dragon sisters seemed to be doing the best out of everyone with the exception of myself and (surprisingly) Bole, but I was supernaturally durable. So, the pair of dragon women got under either of Beedy¡¯s arms to help him along as we followed Tiba further into the pass. Tiba led us through the twilight forest of scrub, to our left, through the trees, and up another slope but only enough to get us out of the standing water, then to a boulder behind which was a rocky overhang that jutted out of the mountainside to form a curved roof of sorts, shallow but long like the gutter on a colossal house, big enough for us to stop and get out of the rain and comfortably so. Evidence of fire, soot stains, charcoal scratches on the walls, and black discoloration on the rock overhead indicated that this place had been used as a waystation many times before. We all piled through the gap behind the boulder and into the shelter. Everyone was eager to get out of the elements. Beedy was nearly asleep on his feet, and everyone but me was shivering to the point that I could hear their teeth chattering from ten feet away. It was down to me to make the fire. Thankfully, my spatial storage was much drier than I was. I chose the spot in the shelter that was already black from previous fires, sandwiched between the back wall and the surface of the boulder that hid the place from view. Thankfully, I didn¡¯t have to start the fire from scratch. No flint and steel required. I simply got one of my oil soaked logs out of my storage and piled more of my stock on top. Then I dropped a tiny nail I automated to State Change to liquid once it left my hand. The results were instantaneous. The log with the oil sparked to life with a *FWOOSH* and the rest of the wood was ablaze in seconds to the relief of everyone nearby. Sissa and Samila practically shoved Beedy into the flames, getting him so close I was afraid his hair was going to catch. Then they set about stripping off his leather armor and every bit of clothing he could spare. Then huddled close on either side of him to transfer body heat. He didn¡¯t have the strength to argue, not that he would, since he was Beedy. Everyone else followed suit, shivering and gathering around the fire. The concave shape of the overhang combined with the flat part of the boulder seemed to trap the heat pretty well, and, soon, everyone was looking better. With everyone else sorted, I, the only one of us that didn¡¯t seem to be affected by the cold, took care of security in the only way I knew how. Tiba seemed sad to give up the compass but she was too busy getting warm to really put up a fight. The indicator wobbled in its housing, pointing west and southwest, tapping my wrist every couple seconds or so. The scourge were out there, maybe not on the mountainside with us, but perhaps down below. Since we were putting down roots for the night, I figured I would as well. Two gun turrets on either side of the flat boulder would keep watch for us while we slept. They were set up for line of sight, so tracking and killing things through the trees was going to be a challenge, but they¡¯d at least make noise if they saw something hostile. As I got the second turret anchored and loaded, a violent shudder passed through me. Then I heard something, loud, deep, and hollow, the kind of sound you could feel on your insides as much as you heard it with your ears. I¡¯d felt an explosion once, when I was a kid. A Colony hauler had veered off course upon reentry and crashed on a mountain in the Outers, the ship¡¯s holds full of promegel that had been processed in orbit. The crash site was way over the horizon from me, but when the holds detonated, the entire world for miles and miles felt it and felt it in their chests. It was a force that penetrated skin and bone and rattled everything in you that was soft and vulnerable. This sound felt like that, a terrible projection of force with disruptive tones too deep to be fully appreciated by a mere human. Only this was¡­ long and drawn out. Emotional. Alive. Little rocks tumbled down the mountain and landed with a splash in the standing water at my feet. My lizard brain, the part of me that remembered a time when humanity was not the apex predator of their planet, told me I needed to run, needed to hide, and needed to be quiet. It told me that this was no explosion or volcanic eruption that merely required caution. My lizard brain insisted that this impossible sound came from a living thing, and it was pissed. I froze, my head swiveling to pinpoint the direction from which the sound came, and I listened. *CRACK* It was like a branch snapping under a boot, except far larger, followed seconds later by a thunderous *CRASH* that reverberated inside of me and brought to mind old myths of titans that flattened the Earth where they chose to set their feet. Electric tingling crawled up from my toes to the tip of my scalp. I felt something notice me then. I couldn¡¯t tell what, where it was, how far away, or what its intentions were, but it noticed me. My new Stealth upgrade screamed from wherever my Skills lived. Alert: Your presence has been detected. Alert: Your presence has been detected. Alert: Your presence has been detected. Alert: Your presence has been detected. The alerts scrolled through my feed, one after the other in a long series of heart stopping realizations that I was seen. My feet felt anchored to the ground, and my muscles refused to do more than sit very, very still. ¡°He still does the big magic for us,¡± Tiba whispered timidly. Breathing in sharply as the spell over me dissipated, I spun on my feet and looked down to find the goblin queen right next to me leaning on her spear tiredly, her head slightly bowed and her arms folded protectively over her stomach. I turned back to where I¡¯d heard the noise, but¡­ Whatever it was wasn¡¯t there anymore. It had gone without a sound or was no longer paying attention to me. Somehow, I knew it. ¡°Tiba?¡± I asked, not fully understanding. ¡°What the hell was that?¡± ¡°Kuul,¡± she answered. Her teeth chattered in the cold, and her hands went pale as she gripped her spear with all her might. ¡°You can¡¯t mean- Wait,¡± I choked on the words, remembering. ¡°That was Kuul?¡± Kuul, the old Stone Heart chief that had me enslaved and forced me to make things for him when I¡¯d first arrived on this planet, was someone I¡¯d assumed was dead. At least, I¡¯d hoped he was dead. Last time I¡¯d seen him he¡¯d been running away from the Black Ones after murdering Hunty. My friend. Tiba¡¯s lover. When I¡¯d found the Stone Hearts on the way to Eclipse afterward, and he wasn¡¯t with them, I¡¯d just¡­ ¡°Yes.¡± Tiba¡¯s voice was quiet now, so quiet I could barely hear her over the rain. ¡°That can¡¯t be right,¡± I argued. ¡°How do you know? That was- ¡± Huge. ¡°He does the big magic for us,¡± Tiba repeated. ¡°I can feel it¡­ down there.¡± She nodded in the direction we were traveling, presumably down the mountain and in the valley where I had entered this universe. That¡¯s the tutorial area. What¡¯s he doing in the tutorial area? ¡°That was Kuul?! Short, green, old, frail, hates me? That Kuul?¡± I snapped, feeling my volume rise without my consent.. ¡°How was that Kuul?!¡± ¡°He does big magic to kill many of the Black Ones, as we are chased, before I am Chief. He goes deep into the mountain where the stories are made and does big magic.¡± ¡°What are you saying? When the Black Ones invaded the caves, Kuul¡­ what? Cast some kind of spell that summoned that?¡± Tiba shook her head sadly. ¡°No. That is Kuul, what he is now. I can still feel the Chief in him¡­ the uh¡­ position. He burns it. He is burning.¡± A shiver passed through me, my body choosing that moment to finally experience the cold. ¡°Last time Kuul and I met, he wanted me dead,¡± I remembered. And he was just a goblin back then. What is he now that he sounds like that? Tiba bowed her head even lower, sliding her hands over her bare skin nervously. ¡°He burns. I feel it now like a hot iron on my face,¡± she said. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°He burns,¡± she repeated, her eyes unfocusing, staring through the trees and into the valley. ¡°Tiba,¡± I gulped. ¡°When we get down there, will Kuul- I don¡¯t know. Will he help us or-¡± Tiba looked at me with uncertainty and a little fear, but she didn¡¯t answer. ¡°Wonderful.¡± Chapter 71 - Pick my Battles Chapter 71 - Pick my Battles The rain didn¡¯t stop until sometime in the middle of the night according to Trix. That didn¡¯t mean the pass was *passable* yet. That water took a good while to run its way down the mountainside, slowed by the thick root system of the black shrubs. That was okay, though. We had to break camp, and that took time. Also, by ¡®we had to break camp¡¯ I meant ¡®I had to break camp.¡¯ Me. Everyone had been slow on the uptake up until now on just how useful a magical pocket dimension of questionable volume was. While true that they hadn¡¯t had full knowledge of what I could do for more than a few weeks, they¡¯d still not realized the sheer utility of the thing. They¡¯d chosen to bring their own packs with their own provisions at the start of our journey, probably out of habit for the military folks. You get told how to pack your things on deployment enough times, and suddenly it becomes the only way you can pack. That programming was quickly over-written, however, after I was able to produce dry bedding for everyone last evening by just making them appear in my hand. Samila looked ready to kiss me, the goblins snatched at the blanket and constructed a little fort to sleep in, and Geddon actually went so far as give me a sloppy one-armed hug just before he keeled over for the night with the sheets haphazardly draped over him. The journey up had been hardest on him with the exception of Beedy, who had more color now after some fire and a meal. So, that¡¯s how they all grew an appreciation for my breaking the laws of time and space. Now, they were all too ready to give me their packs to haul down the mountain even though I insisted they¡¯d get them back just as soggy and gross as at this very moment. ¡°Wait. So, the items tucked away inside of you are frozen in time?¡± Geddon asked, looking down at me quizzically like he was trying to suss out where my magical pockets resided. ¡°Please don¡¯t say it- uh- like that,¡± I pleaded before adding: ¡°But yes. I¡¯m pretty sure that¡¯s how it works.¡± Samila was curious as well. ¡°How sure? Can you feel it rolling around in there?¡± I sent a little mental probe into the place that I associated with the ability, nudging a few things. Somehow, I just seemed to know they were all frozen in there, in stasis. I shrugged. ¡°I mean, I can¡¯t be one hundred percent sure, but I¡¯ve got a sword in here that¡¯s been in the process of, sort of, uh- exploding for weeks now. Not even a tickle.¡± ¡°What made you want to put an exploding sword inside of you, Monk?¡± Bole sneered from above his open pack. He was the only one to not trust my ability to do the lifting for him. ¡°Oh, for the love of- It¡¯s not inside of me,¡± I insisted. ¡°I didn¡¯t eat the damned thing.¡± ¡°Not what I was implying.¡± I shot him what I hoped was a whithering glare, but he was characteristically unphased. ¡°Ryan has an exploding sword?¡± Trix asked. ¡°First I¡¯m hearing of it too,¡± Samila lamented sarcastically. ¡°Surprising. Most other men are more than happy to brag about their exploding swords.¡± ¡°Well, let''s see it,¡± Sissa cajoled, raising an eyebrow. This conversation was going in three different directions with just as many undertones, only one of which I was going to address. I raised my hands placatingly. ¡°Did you not hear that it¡¯s literally in the process of exploding? I like having hair,¡± I said with my hands purposefully relaxed at my sides and not running my fingers through my new brown curls. It had grown back fairly evenly too. Messy but evenly so, which was a miracle in itself. ¡°Perhaps the right question to ask, then, is ¡®why is it exploding, Ryan?¡¯¡± Trix asked, saving me from further innuendo as he rolled up his little Vulpa sized blanket. I looked around at the group, wondering what was appropriate to share in front of Bole and Beedy. I chose to be specific on materials but vague on the cause of said explosions, just in case, and hope the rest caught on well enough. ¡°It¡¯s a brightsteel blade. Broken. I found it in a cave where the Underriver feeds into the swamp, and, so far, all it¡¯s done is explode. Multiple times,¡± I said carefully. Bole whistled. ¡°And he¡¯s a relic bearer on top of everything else. Be careful, though. Tell a high enough priest about your little sword, and you¡¯ll be made a martyr or worse. Would be a terrible thing to witness, how they¡¯d take it from you.¡± ¡°That is not how that works. Relic bearers are honored by all the faithful,¡± Trix corrected, but Bole ignored him. ¡°Seriously. Were the universe so kind to me, Monk,¡± he said, locking eyes with me, something approaching pity tugging at the edge of his features. ¡°I¡¯d wonder if kindness was really its goal.¡± ¡°And most would consider it an honor to wield such an artifact, Corporal Bole, and I find your opinion of our brothers and sisters uncharitable to say the-¡± Trix began before Sissa cut him off with a violent shake of her head, and an almost inaudible hiss that the little Vulpa heard much more acutely than anyone else. Sissa¡¯s stone hard expression held a warning, a grave one, unspoken but very real. Bole just laughed, though, a barking, bitter thing that conveyed no warmth or joy. He kept laughing until all other conversation was good and dead. ¡ª----------------------------------- The descent started late morning after Tiba thought the pass would probably be drained enough to not be a dangerous prospect, and she turned out to be correct. Aside from a few slippery vertical drops turned temporary waterfalls, the pass was largely fine if damp and cold to traverse. Eventually, the black shrubbery thinned until it only appeared in circular clumps, and we started getting peeks of the all too familiar (to me, at least) titanic trees with multicolored bark overhead, and the ground went from jagged rock to spongy tree litter and soil, still wet with last night¡¯s shower. Once we were fully off the mountain, the smell of rotting vegetation and petricor wafted through a pervasive, light fog that presented the legion mammoth tree trunks that stretched off into the distance as shadowy obelisks. It took me a good half mile or so to really bring my mind around to dealing with just where I was. The location and its significance hit me, suddenly, and I stopped midstep, my throat tightening as I remembered my first days on Ralqir none too fondly. Mostly it was a lot of running¡­ also spiders. A feeling of terrible uncertainty took hold of me. This is all really happening. Home is just through these trees. It¡¯s literally a universe away, but it¡¯s right over there too. I swallowed, thinking of how close my old life was. Just a hike in a particular direction and a flick of my will, and I¡¯d be back where I started with my dad and my people, and- And Ralqir will just be a memory. I surreptitiously glanced around the group, at all of my friends, imagining doing so again for the last time. The only other time I¡¯d hopped universes, I¡¯d paid for it with a friends¡¯ life. I remembered the feeling of helplessness watching Vince die, the despair at having done nothing, the loss. I was ignorant of the toll I was paying the first time, and as long as I could help it, I¡¯d never pay it again. Never again. That didn¡¯t mean I wasn¡¯t losing them, though. Ralqir would be functionally unreachable once I¡¯d left. I wasn¡¯t even sure if it was possible to get to Ralqir outside of the System¡¯s tutorial insertion point. Well, it was probably possible. The multiverse was a big place. Exotics, from what I¡¯d heard, sort of popped between universes in places where two of them rubbed up against one another in the void. Who was to say that somewhere in our cosmos we weren¡¯t connected in some way with this one? Of course, I wasn¡¯t stupid. I couldn¡¯t do the math just now without a napkin, a pen and several degrees I didn¡¯t have, but, roughly estimating, the odds of me ever finding Ralqir again were vanishingly small. Finding this place again before my friends were dead and gone from old age: as close to zero you could get. Once I left, that would be it. This decision to leave was a precipice, a bottomless pit with the unknown lying in wait somewhere in the depths. Having it so close unnerved me, filled me with fear and regret for a thing I hadn¡¯t done yet. The fact that I still had a job to do saved me from full blown dread and kept my feet moving, however. Silver lining: I could still die before having to choose, and, oddly, that was a comforting thought. I still had to do right by this place, these people, my friends. My arrival had caused a lot of grief for them, and I had a duty to make sure that, in my departure, I left Ralqir in a better state than I¡¯d found it. That meant a life without the scourge. I owed them that. Tiba led us quietly east and a bit south, deeper into the forest where I continued my slow descent into deja vu. I could almost feel the wreck I was back in those days, mind fractured, running for my life, dreaming of home, fighting to live just a day longer. Well, I wasn¡¯t that guy anymore. I was the guy that was going to slap the scourge in the face so hard, it had no choice but to gather itself all in one place. Then I¡¯d give it the finger as I escaped, ideally as Jassin and his army crested the hill with catapults and a thunderous cavalry charge. I¡¯d leave just as the killing blow landed, and the scourge would know I was never running. I was hunting. We all stayed quiet now that we were in what we assumed was enemy territory, but in reality, there seemed to be nothing to hear us. This place was alive last time I was here. Now it was eerily empty, not in the physical sense but in other ways. There were no birdsongs anymore, no skittering reptiles on the trees, or random animal calls in the distance. Nothing moved unless we moved it. The only noise came from the wind in the leaves and the crunch of leaves under our feet. Every move we made seemed to split the hushed stasis the forest seemed to be under. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. The compass, however, was going insane. It had begun to act up since it entered the valley, riding on Trix¡¯s wrist. The Vulpa was at the front of the group hiking alongside Tiba when I noticed him look at the little watchface, tap it repeatedly, and put it up to his ear. Thinking something had gone wrong, I jogged up to him to ask what was the matter, but I guessed as soon as I got within ten feet of him. There was a tinny, buzzing sound coming from the compass, the little mallet inside tapping on the back of the housing so fast it resembled a musical note. When I looked into the compass¡¯ face, the needle spasmed, spinning this way and that, never long enough to really tell us anything. I shared a long look with Trix then shrugged, holding out a hand to put the compass away in my storage space. The compass wasn¡¯t going to be of any use here in the belly of the beast unless I reprogrammed it to be more specific in what we wanted. It was supposed to point out ¡®living¡¯ scourge touched, but perhaps this close to where the infection resided, most things were technically scourge touched, especially after the scourge expanded their influence so broadly. I¡¯d need to add ¡®rejigger the targeting logic¡¯ to my to-do list unless I wanted the turrets to just shoot at scourge-touched trees all day. Sometime in the afternoon as the dense green of the canopy overhead was starting to go gray in the waning light, Tiba stopped and waved at us to join her. ¡°There,¡± she said, indicating a direction with the tip of her finger. I peered into the gloom, getting low and tilting my head to see where she was pointing. At first I didn¡¯t see what she meant. For miles, the tree trunks stretched on in every direction almost uniform in their non-uniformity, drawing the eye in odd directions, but other than that- Then I saw it, a dark shape among dark shapes, only this one stood out much shorter than the rest of them. It was a clump of little rocky outcroppings, maybe twenty or so feet tall, that jabbed out of the ground like a miniature mountain ridge, wide at the bottom, thinner at the top but flat like someone had come and cut off the peaks. The base, meanwhile, was asymmetrical and smooth, and the roots of the structure splayed outward almost organically. Like a tree. Yes. Now I saw it. This was the stump of a tree. More accurately, several petrified stumps of monstrously large trees, having grown together somehow when they were alive, now fused into a solid pillar of rock by time. Their equally hardened roots that now made up the wide base had, at some point in the eons, been exposed by weather and shifting soil underneath. The four petrified stumps had long shed their rougher bits forming smooth walls that curved and flowed into one another seamlessly, or as seamlessly as they could, having been separate organisms in life. Their gigantic stone roots formed a webwork of waist high walls, pitfalls, and weaving trails that trapped standing water and muck between. Tiba and her honor guard, no longer needed as guides, looked around with their mouths open like tourists, the guards pointing at things with their spears and giving each other congratulatory slaps on their backs as if they¡¯d just reached the summit of a mountain, and it was time for a drink. They led us around to the other side of the stump, which took longer than one would have expected. The closer we came, the bigger the place revealed itself to be. While the hunched redoubt was short compared to its living counterparts that shaded us from the sun, the structure still loomed over us the closer we got until we had to crane our necks to appreciate it up close. Once on the other side, we discovered the way in, an uneven set of stone ¡®stairs¡¯ that must have been part of the whole before they came loose and topped onto the ground like a discarded tower of children¡¯s blocks. Tiba smiled and gestured at the hollow with a sweep of her hand. ¡°Welcome to the Shade Market, great fortress of goblinkind,¡± she pronounced, puffing out her chest with pride and posing in front of the yawning entrance. She said the name reverently, more so than the way it came out when I translated it for the others. She spoke of it like a legend come to life instead of an old hollowed out tree. ¡°This place predates the Purge,¡± Trix observed, crouching down to run his claws over the contours of the stone where he was perched. ¡°How is this possible?¡± ¡°What?¡± I asked, confused. ¡°Lots of things predate the purge, right? Hell, we were sleeping in a place that predated the purge a few days ago.¡± ¡°No,¡± Trix insisted as he held out a chunk of petrified tree to me as if that told me anything. ¡°This, if I am not mistaken, is mendau, but that is impossible. The Dark Lord made the mendau- Ah. He designed them to reclaim the world and shade it from the maelstrom. As long ago as that was, it is much too recent to petrify like this.¡± So, the timelines didn¡¯t add up. I turned a flat bit of petrified wood over in my hand, wanting to guess, but I chose to ask the expert instead. Tiba seemed excited to share, taking the stone from me and holding it out to Trix as she spoke. ¡°The stories say that this is a safe place for goblins back in the before. They are planted by the ancients for us to bring us together. When the Black Ones take it, the tribes start to break apart and wander with no place to gather anymore, no trust in one another. Now, though,¡± she growled excitedly in a way that needed no translation. ¡°We take it back.¡± Her guards grunted from behind her, knocking the heads of their spears together in the goblins warrior version of a high five. Trix¡¯s eyes widened, seeming to catch a bit of that Tiba enthusiasm even after translation. ¡°Ancient even before the Purge. That would make these proto-mendau trees then, your Highness. Progenitors to those that protect us all now.¡± ¡°It looks similar to the ones that surround us, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I observed. ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be able to tell the difference if I were asked.¡± ¡°What does the queen say?¡± Trix asked. I turned to her and interpreted as best I could. ¡°The trees of the big valley are always the same, casting it all in shade forever. Goblins always like the trees. Good shade for our eyes. Good shelter for our children. Good ingredients. Good hunting. My ancestors plant trees before the Purge. Many, many more after, spreading them until the whole world is ready for us to walk upon.¡± ¡°Is she saying that her people planted all the mendau after the Purge? Impossible,¡± Trix gaped. Tiba snorted, laughing a little at the question. ¡°No. We just help. The trees do all the hard work.¡± ¡°Maybe the Dark Lord acquired more than his pet human in this valley,¡± I speculated. Trix tilted his head curiously, his ears all the way up. ¡°You have a theory?¡± ¡°The Dark Lord¡¯s family holdings were just across the mountains from here, right? Close enough that he stumbled upon a human that wandered too far from his tutorial¡± I said. ¡°That might mean he was on good terms with his goblin neighbors. Good enough to let him wander around out here in their territory.¡± ¡°That is a sensible assumption,¡± Trix replied. I went on. ¡°So, maybe once the Dark Lord realized what his new pet was doing to the world, and he was about to pop the whole planet into the Bera Maelstrom to do something about it, he looked to what he knew for the solution.¡± ¡°A valley of trees hungry for sunlight and able to live communally,¡± Trix continued for me. ¡±He used them as a foundation.¡± I nodded. ¡°A template. And he just so happened to be neighbors with a sizeable goblin population that knew the trees and knew how to take care of them,¡± I finished, looking over at Tiba, knowing she probably didn¡¯t understand what we¡¯d just said, but the pride she felt as we spoke about her people was easy to see. ¡°You¡¯re going to have to write a book when this is all over, Trix,¡± Samila joined in, sheathing her sword as she climbed down the steps to join the rest of us. ¡°The inside looks empty like the rest of this forest. You should come see, though.¡± We entered through the ¡®door¡¯ to find that the place was shaped like a hollowed out molar or a weird, clover-shaped arena. The whole thing was maybe the size of several larger Eclipse-style homes put together, one central courtyard with four roundish protrusions at roughly equidistant corners. The inside was spacious, carved out, probably from the little spring that burbled in the middle of the courtyard floor and trickled down the steps to disappear under the soil. The erosion process had help, however. Faint tool marks and browned, faded paint decorated the walls while animal sign like bones and clumps of dried feces dotted the floor. There were also rudimentary shelves built into the walls, big enough for things to be set in or maybe for a goblin to sleep. Kicking the leaves up to check beneath, I discovered a solid stone floor instead of the squishy tree-stuff dirt that littered the rest of the forest. I eyed the little spring, wondering if it was good to drink. ¡°It¡¯s not bad as far as fortresses go. Thick walls, a singular gate, fresh water source,¡± Sissa mused as she inspected the place with a discerning eye, turning in slow circles. ¡°But it¡¯s no Dark Lord¡¯s Spire. Some, if not a majority of the creatures we¡¯ve fought can scale the walls. No cover from the elements or from attack from the air. No escape if we are surrounded, which we most certainly will be. We don¡¯t have enough people to man the walls either, though I guess your turrets will take care of some of that.Still-¡± ¡°You think we should find another place?¡± I asked. Sissa sighed and shook her head. ¡°No. No. I don¡¯t mean to sound like I don¡¯t appreciate a good strongpoint. I¡¯m just pointing out the weak points in our armor. We shouldn¡¯t move. Trix believes that your insertion point is only a few miles southwest, and if we went and found a cave somewhere that we could defend better than this, your objective would be much farther away and just as inaccessible when the enemy clusters in the mouth of said cave. More so, even.¡± ¡°A cave would be a terrible place to hole up. My guns are loud. We¡¯d all go deaf in a day,¡± I predicted. ¡°Just an example. Now that I think back,¡± Sissa began, wincing. ¡°It was bad enough when Geddon had them going full blast on his back. Even so, I don¡¯t like this. The fort is good, but the terrain is in our enemy¡¯s favor. They don¡¯t tire like we do, and your turrets may not be able to make up the difference in numbers. We¡¯re going to be surrounded and swarmed, sure as sure.¡± I looked up at the walls, picturing hundreds of snarling faces cresting the lip and filling the inside with enough flesh to drown us all. It was going to be Eclipse all over again. ¡°Bring down the trees,¡± Geddon¡¯s voice muttered from behind us, quiet and contemplative. As one, Sissa and I turned to see Geddon there, arms full of fallen branches and debris while his gaze was turned upward, not to the walls but higher. He had a thoughtful look on his face, somewhere between doing advanced calculus and having a particularly difficult time in the privy. He said nothing else. ¡°What¡¯s that, Geddon?¡± Sissa asked as she took a quiet, careful step in his direction. I felt it too, the fragility of the moment, as if a wrong move on either of our parts would shatter Geddon¡¯s concentration, and his thoughts would forever be unformed. ¡°Bring down the trees,¡± Geddon said after a long ten-count in my head, more confidently this time, nodding to himself, his eyes brightening as the idea took form. ¡°Normally, I would relish the chance to be surrounded by enemies and making my last stand, gloriously so, but perhaps in this case, we can slow their numbers to a manageable amount and meet our ends later rather than sooner.¡± ¡°You want to bring down¡­ those trees?¡± Sissa asked, pointing to the enormous trunks of the mendau that rivaled some buildings I¡¯d seen back home. Even the smallest of them was thick enough for someone to hollow out and live semi-comfortably within. ¡°Well, not all of them,¡± Geddon scoffed. ¡°Leave the ones that provide shade for us, but take down a circle of them further out. These vile, disgusting creatures are quite vulnerable to the maelstrom, yes? No offense Ryan.¡± ¡°None taken,¡± I said as I thought ahead. ¡°So, we cut down a big circle of trees, not quite a complete circle though, so we can try to fight our way out when it¡¯s time to leave. Then we let the light do the work for us. The scourge wouldn¡¯t be able to come at us during the day, not in numbers. And charging through the starlight will still be an unpleasant thing for them, I imagine.¡± ¡°That still leaves dozens of dead trees out there that the enemy can use as cover,¡± Trix objected. ¡°It will allow them to get closer to us before they swarm. There will be no proper line of sight to thin them.¡± ¡°Not to mention that when the first tree goes down, it will be like ringing the dinner bell,¡± Bole complained from beside me. I felt my shoulders tense but I, otherwise, did not let my discomfort show. I wished he would stop doing that, just appearing out of nowhere. Maybe I could make a Bole compass¡­ ¡°Everyone within miles will see it¡­ probably feel it too,¡± Bole continued. ¡°No time to do it proper-like for a full circle. Plus, you¡¯d need ten strong lads with axes just to bring down one of them a day.¡± That was a big problem, potentially a fatal one. Just setting the big trees on fire was an option, if they actually lit well, but trees of that size would take days to burn down. All the while the smoke would hurt the defenders more than it would the attackers. The defenders would be surrounded by wet wood and blinding smoke for maybe days at a time, stinging their eyes and clogging their throats. Then there was the problem of how we would bring the trees down in the first place. It would take days just to hack through them even if we all dropped what we were doing and worked nonstop. Then, I had an idea. An awful, dangerous, perfect idea that I was sure I would live to regret. ¡°Oh, ho ho ho ho. Look. There it is. That look,¡± Geddon said, grinning ear to ear, pronounced canines giving him a predatory aire. ¡°We¡¯re doing my plan.¡± I nodded, already half a dozen steps ahead in the planning process. ¡°I¡¯ll be in my workshop,¡± I heard myself say as my feet carried me to the corner of the fort that looked the most inviting. Samila called down from the wall where she¡¯d been kicking debris from the surface and checking for hazards. ¡°Someone put on some tea. He doesn¡¯t sleep when he gets like this.¡± I was already reaching into my spatial storage. Geddon, buddy, you¡¯re going to love this. Chapter 72 - Make the Call Chapter 72 - Make the Call Geddon did, indeed, love it. He loved his new toy so much, he hadn¡¯t stopped using it for the past twenty-four hours, and there was no sign he would ever tire. The sound of ravenous metal on poor, defenseless forest flora was now the discordant choir to which I worked. The sound itself wasn¡¯t loud, per se, just a sort of an irregular, buzzing hum that could easily fall into the background of your mind if you were not cursed with the knowledge of what the thing was capable of. The old phrase ¡®double edged sword¡¯ was woefully inadequate in describing what I¡¯d created. The chainsaw sword¡­ more like a greatsword, actually, was, by far, the most dangerous thing I¡¯d ever made. On its face, the idea was ridiculous, a blade in constant motion, so sharp it could cut most anything. So tempermental you couldn¡¯t let it anywhere near your own body, your clothes, your armor, allies, enemies, or the ground, lest it shoot off in a random direction and cut something you really didn¡¯t want cut. Six foot long from pommel to tip, thick as my palm in width, entirely steel, and fit with a battery that could blow a person sized crater in whatever ground was unfortunate enough to be under it, the two-handed greatsword was a cumbersome monster, but the big leori absolutely adored it. Even now he was hacking away at our perimeter, making the undercuts in the trunks that would have the giant trees fall in the proper direction when the time came to bring them down. Last time I¡¯d seen Geddon, his mane was full of sawdust, and his eyes were red and puffy from contact with the stuff over a long period of time. You have created Air Propelled Mortar Tube 2,480 experience gained. (620 base, 620 New Design, 1,240 Doing Your Part bonus) I breathed out as the molecules of the final metal seam of my current project intertwined with one another, and the many disparate pieces finally became one. My tired eyes drifted in and out of focus, turning the knobby cylinder of metal into an indistinct blob, one I¡¯d been staring at for¡­ how long was it now? I¡¯d gone through something like half of our firewood while I worked as well as countless cups of Samila¡¯s tea, but there always seemed to be more to do. We weren¡¯t ready. I¡¯d stop when we were ready. I stood up from my little stool, the muscles in my neck, shoulders, and back protesting at moving after so long hunched over and tensed. Reaching down, I grabbed my pail of spring water and took a couple sips before dumping the rest of it over my head. The chill wasn¡¯t uncomfortable to my Exotic body, but I certainly felt it. The ghost of a shiver passed through my me, and I felt my mind clear somewhat. At some point, little rituals like this helped me stay alert better than the tea did with the added bonus requiring fewer bathroom breaks. Efficiency. That was the word I¡¯d been forced to tattoo into my brain. Blinking the water out of my eyes, I stretched and let my eyes drift. It was midday, thereabouts, judging by the thinness of the fog and how green the canopy was overhead. *tick* *tick* *tick* *tick* *tick* A spherical bodied worker drone clicked over the now wet floor of my ¡®workshop,¡¯ the coin-sized construct¡¯s six articulated limbs scraping at the petrified wood with Imbued fluidity, using its bristly, gripping hairs to sweep little particulates into a neat pile next to my workbench. Soon, once it had a sufficiently large pile, it would start shuffling the whole thing toward the entrance of the fortress and out of sight. Our floor, now mostly visible at least in the general vicinity of my work area, was an interesting blend of yellows, browns, reds, and grays that swirled into one another where one ancient tree ended and the others began, previously invisible under milenia of dirt and debris. I could hear another worker doing its thing up above me as well, on the once bark ramparts that overlooked the rest of the forest. The construct¡¯s limbs scraped over the stone in a quiet but distinctive way that itched at one¡¯s ears. There would be quite a few more of the little drones out there somewhere, doing their thing and waiting to be brought back to their dock to be reprogrammed for logging duty. I really should have built in some kind of ¡®return to base¡¯ sort of command, but other than tracking them down and doing it myself, I had no way of getting the entire population on their next task. *PAK* A round of the new smart ammo dropped from a casting bowl on the shelf to my left to roll down the tin chute and into the magazine loading hopper. The loader itself hummed as it stirred the little bits inside until they fit into the feeder at the bottom, while the loading piston snapped another round into one of the old fan magazines. Getting up on my tiptoes to check the levels in the bowl, I found it nearly empty of scrap metal, and I made a mental note to summon more of my stash later this evening, maybe during mealtime. I was down to the copper alloys now, my iron and steel stores nearly depleted aside from a few big pieces I was saving for turret components. Making things like brass into rounds wasn¡¯t ideal. They¡¯d deform more easily upon impact, meaning I¡¯d get one, maybe two launches out of them before they were useless. That didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t needed, though. Every bullet was going to be precious when the time came, irreplaceable. I¡¯d foreseen it when I¡¯d first sat down at my workbench. That¡¯s where the idea for the worker drones came in, their casting bowl being the first new thing I¡¯d laid out in our new ¡®manufacturing area.¡¯ *PAK* *PAK* Another two rounds from two other bowls dropped into the chute. I had five of them going at once, producing bullets, but I still wasn''t¡¯ satisfied with the throughput. Once the lead started flying, attrition was going to be inevitable, and damaged bullets were going to need to go back into the casting bowls for re-Shaping. When that time came, I¡¯d rather have more bowls than I needed and hands to fill them. I also needed to work out some kind of filtering system that sorted the damaged rounds from the healthy ones. That was where the worker drones were going to really show their worth. Though the little dudes weren¡¯t much use now, I was banking on my prioritization of their creation being vindicated soon. At least their development had pushed me over the crest of a particular hill. Split Mind is now level 11. Imbue is now level 5. Upgrade paths available: Efficiency Upgrade Solid State Intuitive Automate is now level 5+. Upgrade paths available: Efficiency Upgrade Specialized Automation Aura Extension These upgrades had been a long time coming. I¡¯d already taken one efficiency upgrade to Imbue when Split Mind had hit 10, and I wasn¡¯t opposed to taking another. I¡¯d already noticed a huge difference when using Automate in how much cheaper it was, not enough to actually use the word ¡°cheap¡± but certainly less like turning my body inside out and squeezing the mana from my internal organs. ¡®Intuitive¡¯ was vague in its description, but the gist of the upgrade was that I would be able to make little adjustments to the Imbued metal¡¯s instructions on the fly, though nothing too big. It would be good for fine tuning my designs without having to start over and re-do the whole thing every time. A time saver, for sure, but not one I necessarily needed. I was almost sure I could use my existing abilities to do something similar. Solid State was what I ended up choosing in the end. Solid State: Imbued mana is now crystalized, slightly increasing mana cost, moderately increasing strength, and greatly increasing resistance to degradation, dispersal and tampering. While the skill seemed okay on its face, the information the System gave me through context was even more valuable. Apparently, my mana could be tampered with. Good to know. I¡¯d just add that the paranoia pile to be sorted later. The next choice was easier. Specialized Automation: Increase speed, strength, and efficiency of your Automated creations given simple programming. This bonus decreases and eventually becomes a penalty as programmed instructions for a single construct grow more complex. The funny thing was that I was already kind of doing what Specialized Automation wanted me to do. None of my creations were ¡°complex¡± in the way the System considered them. Maybe it came from my background of having been a mechanic as opposed to an engineer or a hacker or something, but I was always attracted to the idea that any given part of a machine should do its job well and reliably before it tried to do anything else. Simplicity bred efficiency (there was that word again), and if you got enough simple, efficient things together, they could do some damned complex stuff anyway. My turrets had a wafer ¡®brain¡¯ that functioned as their power source and decision maker, but in the end, they just boiled down to sending signals on when to do certain things, like firing when the barrel was pointed at a valid target. The rest of the machine, from the aiming arms to the trigger to the magazines were already Automated individually to do one thing really well. Specialized Automation encouraged this kind of thing, required it almost, and it was already the way I worked, making it a straight upgrade for most projects. The worker drones took a hit on their mana cost, but it was a small one. Their programming boiled down to ¡°walk, find thing, move thing,¡± and that seemed to be just on the other side of the line the System had drawn between complex and simple. My choice meant I wouldn¡¯t be creating sentient robots anytime soon, but I wasn¡¯t sure that was a good idea anyway. ¡°He¡¯s talking about naming it Organ Grinder, Ryan,¡± Samila groaned from behind me. She stood there in the natural doorway to the fortress, a coil of rope looped around a pair of sturdy timbers, sharpened at the ends that would serve as our makeshift gate in the near future. A quick motion with her hand and a long pull on the knot, and she turned away, satisfied. Her clothes were filthy, and her blue skin was mottled with brown streaks of mud with tiny, navy blue scratches down one cheek. ¡°Organ Grinder. Like he¡¯s making sausage,¡± she continued, disgust plain on her face. ¡°I love him, but he might just be the most socially maladjusted person I¡¯ve ever met outside of you.¡± I tried not to let the blow to my ego show on my face. ¡°Give him some credit,¡± I allowed jokingly. ¡°It¡¯s a pun. Musical instrument and messy food processor in one. It¡¯s fitting, kind of.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not a pun,¡± Sissa said, furrowing her eyebrows as she crouched down next to the little spring in the middle of the floor and wetted a cloth to run it over her head and neck. ¡°Is this another translation magic thing? How did those words end up sounding the same in your language?¡± ¡°English is- uh- borrowed from lots of different places,¡± I replied. Damn. I¡¯d never be able to trust puns again. Another thing the System had taken from me. ¡°I assume you mean ¡®borrowed¡¯ the same way Bole does.¡± ¡°How dare you,¡± I said defensively before the words fully sank in. Then I was forced to wobble my head side to side and amend my statement.¡°Yeah. Now that you mention it, I probably mean it a lot like Bole would.¡± One of the worker drones, skittered down from the ceiling above my head, plopping down to the workbench before righting itself. It was carrying another of its kind, dragging it more like with its back legs. The other drone was inert, simply a sphere with little folded nubs that turned into the legs when it had power. This one must have worked itself until it had zero charge. The powered drone dragged its friend over to the side of my work area until the two teetered on the edge, and then it let go, dropping the dead drone into the drone production hopper. Three other dead drones sat there inside the thing among all the scrap, in the process of being re-Shaped and re-Automated. Then the live drone skittered off to do its own thing, probably wood cutting. Samila spared a glance over at the hopper, pursing her lips. ¡°It¡¯s disturbing every time I see it,¡± she said. ¡°Why not just give them a power source like you do your bowls?¡± I shrugged. ¡°I haven¡¯t worked out how to stop the collectors just yet. With normal batteries, I¡¯d just hook up a detection and protection circuit to it, but with these- I have no way to cut off the charging process. Let¡¯s say a worker loses a couple legs out there, and it can¡¯t come home. Given enough time, it just turns into a landmine. Plus, having them brought back like this has the added benefit of letting me reprogram them through the casting bowl, so I only have to do the costly spell-work once. Saves me time to work on other stuff.¡± ¡°Is that why we still have a couple roaming around the castle uselessly sweeping floors?¡± she asked. ¡°They¡¯ll make it back to the casting bowl eventually,¡± I assured her defensively. ¡°The round of cleaning was a test. I couldn¡¯t have them all out there chewing through trees unless I knew they were working right and there were enough of them. I had to get it to the point where the system could perpetuate itself.¡± ¡°Shoemaking,¡± Samila said with a frown and little knowing nod. ¡°Uh. Bootstrapping, actually.¡± ¡°That¡¯s exactly what I said.¡± A whistle sounded out from above us, mimicking a bird call perfectly. There were no birds in the forest right now, however. I took a handful of steps away from my work area to get out from under the roof and into the open air of the courtyard. My gaze drifted up to the battlements where Trix sat with his rifle shouldered and looking down the sights. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°What is it?¡± Samila asked, drawing up beside me, a hand resting on the pommel of her sword. ¡°Hard to tell,¡± Trix called. He didn¡¯t turn to address us, never turning away from his rifle or letting his aim waver. ¡°The scouts are returning with great haste. Movement behind them. Lots of movement.¡± My stomach did a little backflip. ¡°Scourge?¡± I asked. ¡°I can¡¯t tell. Not goblins or Returned. I can say that much.¡± I looked over at Samila, already summoning the mask from spatial storage. Better safe than sorry. Samila shook her head. ¡°We¡¯re not ready,¡± she told the both of us. ¡°I am holding my fire,¡± Trix replied. ¡°But if we do not intervene now, they will most likely be overtaken.¡± I called up the Volatility triggers on the turrets perched on that side of the fort, but Samila, probably sensing my intention or maybe knowing me too well, grabbed me by the shoulders. ¡°Hey. Hey!,¡± Samila practically shouted, holding my gaze for a long second to make sure I stood still and listened. ¡°No firearms. We¡¯re not ready.¡± My mind conjured an image of Bole and Beedy running for their lives from a horde of monsters, the fort in sight, so close but so far away. Then the two of them are brought down and ripped apart while we all watch. I imagined watching that, thinking about how I could have done something to stop it. My jaw clenched, and I could feel my teeth grinding against one another. ¡°Hey!¡± Samila called again, this time more gently, inching closer to my face until her eyes took up most of my field of vision. ¡°Look at me. Don¡¯t do it. Not yet. Remember why we¡¯re here and what we need to do. Trust us to handle this one. Trust me at least.¡± Seconds ticked by. Important seconds she didn¡¯t need to waste reining me in. ¡°Time¡¯s wasting,¡± I said. It was as close to a concession as I was capable just now. She frowned, not quite satisfied with my answer, but she didn¡¯t waste any more time. She took off for the gate, scooping up her shield from the floor in the process. Before she was even out of sight, I was already climbing up the rudimentary stone stairs, slipping my mask over my face as I crested the lip of our ¡®battlements¡¯ that were in reality just a semi-level ring of carved stone about four feet from edge to edge, formerly the bark part of the petrified trees. It wasn¡¯t fun to walk on, but a high(ish) Body score helped with that. At the top of the stairs, a pair of inactive kinetic turrets sat low on the floor, their legs folded in on themselves and their housings resting directly on the stone to give them a low profile. I called their activation Triggers up specifically and kept them at the forefront of my mind just in case. The area around the fort had changed quite a bit since I¡¯d entered my work fugue. All the brush and scrub within fifty yards of our walls had been cleared away and left as little clusters of tripping stumps. Mangled vines and branches littered the ground and formed a carpet of new over all the old and rotting stuff that made up the soil. The beginnings of a trench, only a quarter circle long just now, snaked its way around the fort while sharpened stakes protruded from the bank of it, pointed outward. The smell of freshly cut wood drifted in the air, clashing with the wet and dank of the forest floor. Geddon, Samila, and Sissa were already forming up down below and jogging together, none of them in their armor but all with their swords drawn. They ran toward two vague humanoid figures in the distance. The two were running with reckless abandon, leaping over fallen branches and vanishing briefly below dips in the terrain. It was a frantic, desperate way they moved. I saw one of them fall, and the other was forced to stop and go back to help. Meanwhile, something seethed behind them, something too distant for me to make out as more than a general impression of movement. ¡°Trix?¡± I asked, looking to my left to find the Vulpa there, his eye glamor spell he was using to enhance his vision even now tempting me to give his fur a little stroke. It would be so soft, I was sure. ¡°Not sure yet,¡± he answered. ¡°Whatever it is that is following them is numerous but not a full horde as we saw in the city. I can see a beginning and end to it. They don¡¯t move like- Wait. Yes. As I thought. These are beasts. Running on six- no, eight legs.¡± Spiders. Spiders were ambush predators. That was nearly universal. They were all explosive speed and power with venom to subdue and webs to entangle and¡­ ¡°We have to assume they¡¯re touched, Trix,¡± I said. ¡°This isn¡¯t natural.¡± ¡°Agreed. All the more reason for you to stay here and not reveal yourself,¡± Trix replied, sparing a cautious glance over to me. Damn. Did no one trust me to do the smart thing for once? One of the running figures¡­ Bole maybe, got an arm under the taller of the two and helped him hobble along. Beedy seemed to limp forward, favoring his left side. I couldn¡¯t see his face well enough to be sure, but I imagined a pained look on his face judging by how his body reacted to movement. The spiders drew closer. Any moment now, they¡¯d be within pouncing distance. I should know, I¡¯d been pounced by Ralqir¡¯s giant spiders before. I suppressed a shudder at the memory. The wedge of church guards now ran full speed out to meet them. At some point they were joined by the three goblins who struggled to keep up with the talk folks¡¯ pace, but they gave it their all, loosely following the formation with spears held high. The spiders were closer. ¡°They¡¯re not going to make it,¡± I decided out loud, looking over at the inactive turrets. At this distance, they wouldn¡¯t be very accurate, but with the enemy massed like that, they didn¡¯t have to be. I could buy them time at least. We¡¯d be drowning in scourge within a day, but the two scouts would be alive. But we weren¡¯t ready. Could I get us ready in that time? Could we afford to kick off early? There was no way to know. My fingers twitched, and the muscles in my neck tightened as I made the calculations and hated what I came up with. We had to do something, though. ¡°Trix, we made your rifle relatively quiet-¡± I began. I didn¡¯t get to give the full order. My designated shootyfox was already on it, had probably already been squeezing the trigger even as I dithered. He¡¯d never hang one of our own out to dry, bless him. Trix¡¯s rifle barked three times, splitting the relative silence. The report was quiet by my standards but unpleasantly sharp and sudden compared to anything else, amplified by the stone floors and walls of the courtyard. It echoed infinite times from every single massive tree trunk in the area. At least it wasn¡¯t as distinctive as the turrets. Trix shifted his shoulders and got down low, resting the barrel of the rifle on an odd lump in the petrified bark, settling himself for more sustained fire. Then he opened up with rapid, single, precise shots, once every second like the beat of a metronome. Tiny, needle rounds zipped through the air, too small and fast to actually see with the naked eye but with plenty of ballistic power. I saw two spiders roll and flail as Trix¡¯s needles hit them, their legs curling in on themselves and thrashing at the dirt as the projectiles pierced their exoskeletons and did untold damage to their insides. The others climbed over their still twitching corpses, heedless of the casualties they were taking. *Crack* *Crack* *Crack* Another spider, about to spring at the men¡¯s backs, stopped suddenly and shrank back, its forelegs coming up to shield its face and the slits that were its eyes. Yes, now that they drew closer, I recognized these things. Armor spiders. *Crack* *Crack* Trix¡¯s efforts slowed the chasers or perhaps disincentivized them to pull ahead of the pack, but it wasn¡¯t enough. Two hundred yards out from our position, Bole and Beedy were forced to stop and draw steel. Bole seemed to be in a much better state than his partner, drawing both of his swords and stepping in front of Beedy protectively, shouting something I couldn¡¯t understand from this distance. Meanwhile, Beedy had his sword out and in a lazy guard, but he was heavily favoring his left side. Even from here, I could see his shoulders rising and falling with his ragged breaths. The monsters pounced seconds before our reinforcements could get there. Three spiders took to the air, springing forward, legs out wide, coming down in a hollow arc flanking the two beleaguered men. Bole sprang back and let the spider closest to him land before dashing back in to slash at an exposed leg joint and followed up with a stab into the side of the monster¡¯s head, dropping it instantly. At the same time, Beedy feinted with a seemingly timid thrust but then severed another spider¡¯s leg with the return slash. Unfortunately, the monster didn¡¯t respond to the pain with anything other than a forward charge. Beedy¡¯s spider slammed into both of the men, using its mass to great effect to knock them both from their feet. Beedy ended up under the creature with his sword in the thing¡¯s mouth, while Bole rolled to his feet and whipped his blade at the previously unengaged spider¡¯s eyes before it could capitalize on their weakness. The rest of the swarm, twenty strong, closed in around the fight, forming a familiar kill circle that shrunk as the prey¡¯s attention was drawn elsewhere. Trix¡¯s rifle spat, and the spider on top of Beedy clawed at its back as a rapidfire quartet of bullets stippled a line down its carapace. Beedy used the opening to get a kick at the spider¡¯s abdomen with his good leg, gaining some precious space. Then Geddon, Samila, Sissa, and the goblins slammed into the circle of many legs with their countercharge. None of them had a chance to put on their armor, and only the dragonkin had their shields. That didn¡¯t make them hesitate in the slightest, running full speed into the backs of the monsters. Geddon was at the head of the charge making use of his new sword. The man loved his new sword, had loved it since the morning I¡¯d handed it to him. ¡ª--------------------- ¡°You made me a mighty blade, my friend. Look at the size! You remembered!¡± Geddon had gasped with awe as I lifted the thing from my workbench, careful to not let the teeth brush against my skin. ¡°Not just a big sword,¡± I said, smiling nervously as I reached down and thumbed the safety release on the battery. Then I turned the pommel 180 degrees until I felt the mechanism inside click into place, the connection between the power supply and the rest of the machine snapping together and power rushing into the internals. There was a barely perceptible sort of tingle I could feel in my hands, probably not one anyone else could feel, since it was my mana bouncing around in there. Activation complete, I brought my upper hand down to the crossguard and carefully squeezed the throttle trigger. The action was instantaneous. The 300 fingernail-sized, triangular teeth on the edge of the blade became a blurry line of buzzing death, whizzing, whistling as they sliced at the air. It was surprisingly quiet, actually, for a machine with so many moving parts. Without the need for a combustion motor, measurements precise at the molecular level and a healthy dose of Willing Edge in strategic places to prevent parts grinding together, the chains inside the gutter of the blade simply zipped around, practically frictionless, at ridiculous speed. The weapon hummed menacingly in my hands, vibrating with deadly potential that I knew was just a touch from becoming realized. When I let go, the chains halted instantly with a *snap* as the piston Triggers stopped pumping the crankshaft, and I hurriedly turned the pommel again to kill the power. No need to keep it running longer than was strictly necessary and risk losing my only remaining arm. If my math was correct, every tooth, in the full second I engaged the throttle, made 16 full trips around the track on the edge of the blade. Geddon was a kid in a candy store, halfway between doing a little dance and standing at attention. He didn¡¯t reach out or ask to take the sword, but his eyes were wide with anticipation, and his hands were held tightly down at his sides as if a wrong move on his part would jeopardize his chance at getting to hold his new weapon. ¡°Listen, big guy,¡± I began, looking up into the grinning face of my big leori friend. ¡°You¡¯re a professional. You know your swords and all that. But I feel a certain duty to inform you of just how dangerous this thing is.¡± Some of this was going to fly over his head, but I felt the need to impress upon him how it worked anyway. ¡°There¡¯s a reciprocating Trigger here in the handle. It¡¯s attached to a crankshaft that keeps the chains moving. Mana flows from here,¡± I said, pointing at the half circle shaped, nickel-cobalt construct that was the pommel, one of my Volatility batteries. ¡°It supplies power to the engine that moves the chain and fuels the maintenance spells. If it ever starts to glow purple, just run the sword on full throttle for as long as it takes. Gently. Very gently. There is a- uh- slight risk of explosive disassembly if you¡¯re not very gentle.¡± I swallowed uncomfortably, holding the weapon by the crossguard and pointing to the blade track. ¡°The teeth are sharp enough to split hairs and then split those split hairs. Some swords are good at cutting, but this thing¡­ It¡¯s evil. If I were back home, they¡¯d take me to jail just for conceiving of the thing. It¡¯ll chew through anything softer than itself. Well, actually, there¡¯s a spell being refreshed on each tooth to keep their edges every time they enter the crossguard, so the list of things this sword won¡¯t cut is very short.¡± ¡°A legendary blade, my friend,¡± Geddon breathed as I finally handed the sword to him. He wrapped a giant fist around the handle, flexing his fingers and allowing it to settle. It looked fitted for his hand, though it would most likely be uncomfortable and dangerous for anyone smaller than him to hold. I¡¯d had to fit the moving parts somewhere. ¡°Have you named it?¡± Geddon asked, unable to take his eyes from his new toy. ¡°What? No. Listen. There¡¯s a reason no one makes these things, especially for combat. When you hit something hard with the throttle open, this thing is going to buck like a Bray Knight, and if you don¡¯t respect it, you¡¯re going to be known as Geddon the Stumpy.¡± ¡°I will limit my dismemberment to others, Ryan. I promise,¡± Geddon tried to assure me, even going so far as to take his eyes away from the sword to smile at me. ¡°And you don¡¯t need to tell me to respect a blade.¡± ¡ª-------------- Charging directly into the backs of the spiders, Geddon, with his six foot slab of gray death held out to his side with one hand, shoulder charged the nearest monster, lifting it up on its side and exposing its belly. The throttle on the chain sword buzzed, and Geddon, using the weight of the monster, rebounded off its body and brought the blurring blade around in an almost casual flick of the wrist. The carapace of the armor spider parted cleanly, but that was all I could see before a cloud of aerosolized goo and ichor exploded from the creature and obscured everything else. The spider, suddenly losing all interest in everything other than holding its organs inside its own body, got down low to the ground and twitched as its legs curled in to hold its abdomen together. However, Geddon was already on to the next fight. The following blow from the chain sword came down on the back of another monster engaged with Bole. The blade met the armor of the spider with a *ching* halting the blow for a mere fraction of a second before the teeth bit into the hard metal of the carapace, pulling itself forward along the monster¡¯s back. Instead of fighting the sword¡¯s pull, Geddon, in the most disturbing display of swordsmanship I¡¯d seen to date, used the chainsword¡¯s irresistible pull and allowed himself to be moved, surging forward along with the blade fluidly, even bringing his left hand down to apply additional pressure as his body was drawn forward. The result was a sort of ¡°unzipping¡± of the spider¡¯s back, from its abdomen all the way to its head, and Geddon followed along behind his sword, his body sliding through the mess until he was on the other side, tucking his shoulder and rolling over his blade and to his feet with the grace of a dancer. It was as if he¡¯d used a movement ability, it had happened so fast. The creature was close to bisected by the time Geddon¡¯s thrust was done, and the sword was back under control. Or maybe the sword was under control the whole time, and Geddon was a damned genius with cutting instruments. The hole in the spiders¡¯ perimeter Geddon had made, the dragonkin exploited, hacking at legs, using their shields to block visor slits before crippling their opponents with quick slashes and thrusts. The women worked together like they¡¯d been born to do so, and no spider could come between them. Meanwhile, while the spiders were concerned with the tall folk, the goblins went wild stabbing with their spears anywhere the monsters didn¡¯t have armor. Tiba, spry as she was, lept up onto the back of a particularly slow monster and seemed to plant herself, using the creature¡¯s back as a platform to thrust at its friends as the lumbering arachnid turned ponderously and attempted to shake the goblin queen off. Careful, precise rifle shots caught spiders in the joints where their legs and torsos joined, bullets sometimes slipping into the gap between the thorax and ¡°head¡± or whatever spiders had in their place. Still, it was a harrowing thing, watching the others fight in my stead. One wrong move meant disaster, and all I could do was watch. My breaths were rapid, and my hands trembled. I worried for them all. I wanted to be out there. I could help end this right now before the worst could happen, but if I went loud, I¡¯d give away the game too early and risk us all. The spiders quickly learned to give Geddon his space, retreating from wherever the big man and his screeching death blade chose to go. However, there wasn¡¯t much they could do to stop him from catching them one by one. The explosive power the leori had in his legs gave him the ability to leap from one fight to the next to land among the enemy and down one before the rest could react. Geddon was breathing hard, his chest pumping like bellows, but even from here, I could see the huge grin on his face despite the coating of ichor that covered the rest of him. Finally, the remaining dozen spiders got the picture and changed tactics. They charged, hoping to use their numbers to bring someone down before they could be separated and slain. Unfortunately for them, they charged the group after they¡¯d formed back up, Geddon at the front, shield guards on the sides, and the goblins and rogues in the middle. The resulting bloodbath and Geddon¡¯s joyous laughter was something I¡¯d hear in my nightmares, but I nurtured the small hope that the scourge had similar dreams from here on out. When the last spider fell, a hush fell over the forest once more. I knew it wouldn¡¯t last. I¡¯d had Trix use his rifle to buy our people time. The weapon wasn¡¯t as loud or distinctive as one of my turrets, but it was probably enough to pique the enemy¡¯s curiosity. They¡¯d send scouts, and we didn¡¯t have the capability of killing them all before my identity was discovered. The clock was now ticking. ¡°Trix!¡± Samila shouted. She was on her knees, hunched over something, doing something with her hands. Bole was down there next to her, frantically grasping at something. As I watched, Samila ripped a long piece of dirty fabric from her shirt and brought it around to- Trix shouldered his weapon and took off like a shot, scrabbling down the outside wall and using his claws to slide down the petrified roots on all fours. Then he was sprinting away, toward the site of the battle. Seven people. I counted seven. Someone was down. Beedy was down. He was the only one I couldn¡¯t see. He was down and he wasn¡¯t moving. No. Fucking no. No. No. Not again. I¡¯d made the wrong call. Chapter 73 - Strike Back Hard Chapter 73 - Strike Back Hard I ignored the queasiness in my stomach as I slid down the outside of the wall, but Anchor¡¯s gravity nullifying effect was only a secondary contributor to the sick feeling. Someone out there was wounded, and I wasn¡¯t there. It couldn¡¯t happen again. The muddy mix of soil and spider insides stuck to my boots as I approached the center of the battlefield. Trix was already there next to Beedy, his claws dug into the man¡¯s skin and, presumably, his magic doing its work. Samila, meanwhile, was in the process of stripping off Beedy¡¯s upper armor, systematically checking for blood or punctures with her hands while Tiba did the same at the legs. Beedy himself looked like pale death, his bloodless face contorted into a mask of pain and his breathing labored and erratic. His eyes were open but unfocused. It was when Samila got to Beedy¡¯s chestplate that we realized how bad it was. The shirt beneath the armor was gone, eaten away by the corrosive venom of the spider that had bit him. Beedy¡¯s skin, muscle tissue, and other things I didn¡¯t know the name for, similarly, were in the process of being¡­ dissolved. Little tendrils of smoke slithered up from the intensely envenomed areas and gave off an acrid scent. As soon as Tiba saw the wound, she shrieked, dropped what she was doing and lunged up to get Samila¡¯s hands away from the bite. Then she was digging in her pouch. ¡°Grorg! Get a handful of sap and shavings! Go now!¡± She ordered one of her guards who was off before she even finished speaking. Tiba already had a clay jar of something in her hand, using her fingers to dig something out of it and smear it on her skin like lotion. Samila reached over to pull more of Beedy¡¯s shirt away, but Tiba, again, batted at her hands aggressively. ¡°Tell her not to touch,¡± she hissed without turning away from her patient. ¡°These spider bites are hungry. You need special medicine to touch, or you end up like him.¡± ¡°Tell her highness that I cannot keep this up for long for Beedy¡¯s sake,¡± Trix grunted with closed eyes as he used his magic to fool Beedy¡¯s body into healing itself even as the venom ate at it. ¡°Uh. Tiba. What do you need from us? Tell us what to do.¡± I pressed Tiba after doing the necessary translation. Tiba, in a move I really hadn¡¯t expected or wanted to witness, jammed her hand into Beedy¡¯s wound, reaching into the crevices where the smoke was thickest and digging globs of what I presumed was venom out to fling it away onto the ground ¡°This bite does not happen just now, I think. Quiet Man is made of iron if he runs through the woods like this,¡± Tiba replied absently. Her mind was occupied with what she was doing, and I got the distinct impression that more questions would not be welcome. She did eventually acknowledge my question, though. ¡°I send Grorg for what I need. Nothing else to do for now.¡± ¡°They came at us from under the ground,¡± Bole said in a low voice. I turned to see the thief, swords unsheathed but hanging loosely in his hands as if he¡¯d forgotten they were there, his eyes unblinkingly staring up into the trees and pointedly not at his friend on the ground. ¡°It¡¯s bad luck. Just bad. The only fucking living things for miles and miles. What¡¯ve they been eating?¡± I opened my mouth to try and answer, but I never got the chance. Something shifted in Bole just then. He blinked, shuddered, and seemed to remember the rest of us were there with him. He turned to me, boiling anger in his eyes. ¡°You said this place was empty,¡± he accused. ¡°I don¡¯t even know what this place is,¡± I countered. ¡°Last time I was here, the place seemed more alive. Now it seems empty. We¡¯ve all seen it.¡± ¡°Last time you were here,¡± Bole repeated as he looked down at his hands and seemed to realize they were full. He gripped the hilts of his short swords tightly now to the point I could hear his leather gloves creaking. ¡°When, exactly, did you have occasion to come here, monk? There¡¯s no one here for you to kill.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not really important,¡± Sissa interjected.¡°We¡¯re here now, and-¡± Bole cut her off. ¡°Speaking of killing, where were you, monk? Fights are what you¡¯re s¡¯posed to be good at right?¡± Sissa stepped between us. ¡°You know where he was, Bole,¡± she argued. ¡°Just where he should have been, keeping out of sight. Sticking to the plan.¡± ¡°Oh I know the plan,¡± Bole countered. ¡±I know the plan was to keep our precious Brother a secret. That¡¯s what¡¯s bothering me. Why? Why we need to hide a Rising fucking Sun from a mindless mob. What¡¯s his place in all of this?¡± Bole kept his eyes locked on mine, squaring his body as if he were just an inch from taking a swing at me even from a distance. ¡°You don¡¯t even need to be in the battle to end it, do you, monk? What with your special training and machines. Where were you? You could have ended this before-¡± Bole couldn¡¯t finish his accusation, and a hard battle not to look over at his dying friend played out across his face. I did, however, look at Beedy. I had to. He was here because of me. They all were. Tiba and Trix were still frantically doing what they could, but I could tell Beedy was teetering on the edge. ¡°Brother Ryan put the mission first, and that¡¯s it. It¡¯s something we all signed up to do, and you did too when you insisted on coming along,¡± Sissa said. ¡°Don¡¯t give me that shit. The mission is done. We¡¯re made. There was no reason for him to stay out of that fight other than cowardice. Hells, even the vulpa had the balls to jump in.¡± Bole was quick. Though Sissa was between the two of us, he slipped around her and was in my face before I could blink. Sissa tried to grab him but only got a hand around his arm. ¡°You could have ended it with a little flick of your brain or a few swings of your sword, but you didn¡¯t, did you? Now what? We¡¯ve got a man down, and-¡± He finally seemed to finally gather the courage to look down at Beedy but the sight stole the rest of his words. He swallowed then snarled in impotent rage. When he finally gathered himself enough to speak again, his voice was a growl. ¡°We¡¯re about to be drowning in infected and for what? Because, you, you spineless, whimpering child- You chose to hide instead of fight.¡± ¡°You¡¯re out of line, Bole,¡± Geddon declared from over my shoulder. ¡°Brother Ryan didn¡¯t do this, and we will soon have more than enough places to direct our anger.¡± That¡¯s where Geddon was wrong. I did do this. I was doing all of this, but I was too small to see what I was doing before it was already done. I was constantly playing catch up with the consequences of my decisions, even ones I¡¯d made months ago. Bole glanced down at Sissa¡¯s hand on his arm then lowered his sword. ¡°I¡¯ve been out of line for years now, meat. Someone needs to be.¡± Then he took one last, long look at Beedy before he stormed off in a seemingly random direction. He made time to kick a dead spider on his way out. Once Bole had gone a good distance, Sissa spoke up again, hesitant. ¡°He¡¯s not entirely wrong about the mission. We¡¯re exposed, or we will be shortly.¡± She looked over at me meaningfully, not putting salt on the wound but letting me know that she wasn''t stupid. She knew that I¡¯d made a mistake not going all in on stealth or violence. I¡¯d tried to split the middle by ordering Trix into the fight but not my turrets, and it had been the worst of both worlds. There was a groan from Trix, and he slumped over next to Beedy. Samila put out a hand to cradle him and guide his fall. ¡°He¡¯s,¡± Trix gasped tiredly. ¡°He¡¯s stable. Maybe. I think I used too much.¡± ¡°You did what you could, fuzzball,¡± Samila assured him gently. She cast a worried look up at me, one that told me she was concerned for my well being, but she said nothing more. Tiba must have grasped what they were saying through context, because she didn¡¯t need a translator. ¡°He lives for now, but he needs more medicine. Medicine I do not have here,¡± Tiba gave as her diagnosis as she slipped her medicine pouch back on her waist, a dour look drawing the corners of her mouth down and her eyes growing a shade harder. ¡°I know where some is, though.¡± I didn¡¯t like the way she put that. ¡°We just established that we¡¯re not alone in this forest, and we¡¯re about to have a lot more company,¡± I cautioned. ¡°I can get it,¡± Tiba repeated, standing up straight and squaring her shoulders. The goblin queen¡¯s hard stare was implacable, despite her size. I nodded to her in acknowledgement but not necessarily agreement. She seemed confident she could do something, but I wasn¡¯t ready to send more people out there. Maybe we could all go together to get the cure Beedy needed, be away from this place before the scourge could arrive. Could I set the drones to do more of the prep work in the meantime to free us up to do this? It would be slower but¡­ I turned back to Trix. ¡°Will Beedy live without a church healer?¡± Trix braced himself on Samila¡¯s hand and stood on wobbly legs, then gave a slight shrug. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. No good options. I did some calculations on how much time it would take to get everyone out of the valley and to safety, but Samila cut me off before I could really come to a conclusion. ¡°I know what you¡¯re thinking. You¡¯re not getting rid of us. We¡¯re here to save the world, remember? Besides, there¡¯ll be no getting out of this valley now, not while carrying him. The trip itself might kill him.¡± ¡°When our ride arrives, they may be persuaded to do something for Beedy,¡± Sissa offered. ¡°If anything, a ride out of the valley on a dragon would be less traumatic than a cross country ride on Geddon¡¯s back.¡± ¡°I am no substitute for a dragon, true. I¡¯m afraid the moment for your ultimate sacrifice must wait a while longer, Ryan,¡± Geddon said with a ghost of a chagrined smile before he added: ¡°Oh, yes. On that subject, I have more bad news.¡± ¡ª---------------------- Geddon tapped on an exposed vein of some kind of metal inside the tree, about as thick as my thumb. It clinked when the fingertips of his gauntlet struck it. ¡°I was on my way to tell you when the excitement happened. They¡¯re all like this. Metal bits on the inside. Some are thin like this, some much more substantial.¡± I took a look. Sure enough, there was a big vein of the stuff traveling up through the tree, exposed by the sharpened legs of the worker drones on one side of the trunk and Geddon¡¯s broad saw cuts on the other. Even now, three workers clicked and sawed with their forelegs, ripping off little chunks of yellow wood, but they never tried to pry at the metal. The vein was a yellowish, silver color, mirrored in some way on the bark of the tree that laid around the cut. I reached out and put a full mana bar toward trying to Shape it, only just managing to get the whole thing saturated before I was tapped out. The vein of metal was bigger than it looked, a branching lightning bolt that ran through a good ten feet of the trunk and down into the roots. I Shaped off a sample of the closest part and Consumed it. ¡°Nickel and osmium,¡± I announced. ¡°Tough stuff if I¡¯m remembering that part of science class right.¡± ¡°It is,¡¯ Geddon confirmed. ¡°And there is a great quantity of it. At first I thought its presence was a fluke of nature, and I sought to cut through with my characteristically heroic effort. Then I ran into more and more.¡± I took up a piece of bark that was lying on the ground, running a finger over the dual tones of brown and yellow-gray. It pulled my mind back back to my first day on Ralqir. ¡°Nali did say this was the best place to train new animators. I always found that odd. Never got to ask why.¡± Geddon put a hand up to his scruffy chin, the picture of deep contemplation. ¡°Metal trees?¡± ¡°They¡¯re mining drills,¡± I realized aloud ¡°I¡¯ve seen these things¡¯ roots stab through solid rock. I never thought to question the implications of that. The trade off in energy has to be huge. Then again, this place has magic. Who knows what¡¯s possible? They¡¯re capable of tapping into ore veins, I bet. They probably bring ore up from deposits down below, slowly, over centuries.¡± The big leori frowned and ran a hand over the titanic mendau. ¡°Does your new understanding include a way to cut through it? Organ Grinder may be a blade of future legend, but our enemies will be within striking distance soon. If our plan is still to use the light, this will make things hard,¡± Geddon said. ¡°If you try to cut through this stuff with¡­ uh¡­ Organ Grinder, it¡¯ll drain the battery fast with how much it¡¯ll have to refresh the Willing Edge spells. It¡¯s too slow,¡± I replied, largely agreeing with his assessment. This was bad. The trees needed to come down, or we wouldn¡¯t be able to hold out long enough. They had to come down and soon. ¡°Do what you can,¡± I ordered. ¡°Give the trees the proper cuts so they fall the right way and then expose as much of the metal as possible. I¡¯ll figure out a way to get through the rest.¡± ¡°Can your bugs chew through metal?¡± I shook my head, but, internally, I was already spitballing ways to remedy that issue. ¡°Ryan!¡± Samila shouted as she jogged up to the two of us. The look of worry and frustration she wore told me there was even more bad news. ¡°The goblins are gone,¡± ¡ª--------------------------------- I was in my work area fussing over the new drone prototypes when we got our first legitimate scourge attack. The alarm came as a sort of collective tensing and reorientation of the turret barrels on the northern side of the fortress all at once. It was a distinctive sound, metal sliding over metal followed by a harsh snap as they clicked into place in unison, oriented on their target. Sighing with frustration, I put down my new and improved(?) drone and made my way up onto the battlements, putting one foot up on an uneven, petrified bark ¡®crenelation¡¯ as I strained my eyes to see what the scourge had decided to send us. Unlike my turrets, I had to use actual, mundane, sight to pick out my targets. Nothing yet. I knew it would be soon, though. The goblins were still out there somewhere. The last thing Tiba had said to me before she¡¯d left was that she knew where medicine was that could help Beedy. If she and her guards were out doing that, I hoped they were close to done. Things were about to get interesting. Ideally, I would have liked to avoid committing to the fight until they could get back. Of course, there were a lot of things I would have liked to have done before this moment. I still hadn¡¯t quite solved the metal core problem. As I¡¯d predicted, once Geddon had gone around and made the cuts he¡¯d need for the felling of the trees, he¡¯d tried to cut through the center core of one of them with his sword. He only got about half way into it before the teeth started to spark against the hard metal inside the tree. Then the sword needed to charge or we¡¯d lose one of the only tools we had to get through the rest of the cutting. The undercuts, at least, were as good as Geddon could make them, or that¡¯s what he said. The veins of ore inside the trunks were strangely distributed, spread out like blood vessels, and our resident leori logging expert had to work around them much of the time. Now that I had leveled my affinity for the alloy and, consequently, upgraded Detect Nickel, I could confirm that the inside of the trees were a labyrinth of metal veins, impossible to saw all the way through without five more chainswords and a week of time we didn¡¯t have. I¡¯d set all of my older model worker drones on the problem, having them strip as much of the wood away from the metal parts of the trees as possible, but I still hadn¡¯t been able to get the drones to eat away at the metal veins themselves. The workers just didn¡¯t have the strength to dig into metal harder than themselves or the power required to do more than scratch the stuff, even after I gave a few of them experimental pincers to work with. The most progress we¡¯d made so far was using one of the laser turrets to spew a bunch of purple light at the trunk of one of the trees from close range on the theory the metal would count as ¡®organic.¡¯ Sure enough, it ate through a lot of the organic matter, bark and wood included, leaving only rainbow smudge goop behind, but the metal remained. The inaccuracy of the setup came back to bite us too, in that it started to eat away at the wrong parts of the tree. According to Geddon, if we took away matter at a low enough point on the trunk, we might end up with a Mendau in our laps instead of falling away from the fort like we needed them to. No one wanted that, to be crushed to death. Beedy was doing poorly. His breathing was labored, and he hadn¡¯t awakened for more than a few minutes since he was wounded. Bole had come back a couple times in the past while to check on him, too angry to speak with me but not able to stay away either. He used the pretense of scouting to keep away and not watch his friend fight for his life. He was out scouting right now, but I didn¡¯t fear for his safety like I did the goblins. The man was too mean and too risk averse to die. Once the turrets all turned to the east, not firing yet but certainly tracking something, it only took Trix a moment to pick up on the threat as well. He sounded the alarm just before opening up with his rifle. I looked over at the three turrets that were tracking the threat, where their barrels were pointed, then put on my mask just in case. As soon as the creatures were close enough, it would probably be superfluous- *BRRAP* BRRRAAP* *BRAAAAAAP* All of my turrets on the east side of the fort, two triangular clumps of three, let loose at once, as soon as their targets got into their effective range of 200 yards. Every barrel was oriented vertically. Up. There they were, black against the bright green of the forest canopy. These particular scourge had leathery wings, but the monsters themselves weren¡¯t exactly flying. Their bodies were powerfully built with muscular legs that ended in gripping claws that they used to swing from branch to branch, only deploying their expansive wings when they needed to glide from one tree to another. The things seemed to be built to glide as much as climb in the thick branches of the mendau, scrabbling around the trunks and through the thick foliage as much as flapping their wings. Even from where I was I could tell they were sizeable creatures, maybe a little larger than the size of the average human from wingtip to wingtip, but their actual bodies were closer in size to goblins than mine, childlike except for the amount of muscle they had. Interesting creatures. Flying-squirrel-monkey-goblins. Too bad they were scourge. Scourge Touched Predator Bat defeated. You have been awarded 72 experience points. (80 base, +18 nemesis, +8 chain, -10 level, +40 group, -64 non-combat class) Scourge Touched Predator Bat defeated. You have been awarded 80 experience points. (80 base, +18 nemesis, +16 chain, -10 level, +40 group, -64 non-combat class) Scourge Touched Predator Bat defeated. You have been awarded 88 experience points. (80 base, +18 nemesis, +24 chain, -10 level, +40 group, -64 non-combat class) Scourge Touched Predator Bat defeated. You have been awarded 96 experience points. (80 base, +18 nemesis, +32 chain, -10 level, +40 group, -64 non-combat class) Whereas Trix¡¯s gun seemed loud before, it was nothing compared to the collective bursts of explosive power from the turrets. Gone were the days of using just enough power to get by. I¡¯d refitted these models for punch and rapidity, their massive recoil uncaring for hypothetical users¡¯ delicate muscle tissues or bones or humanoid capabilities to compensate for the kick. They were all raw, explosive, ballistic efficiency, and their terrible reports could be felt in everyone¡¯s chests. The forest collectively winced as the area became sonic chaos for a brief, ten second span. Then the guns stopped as suddenly as they started, and in the deafening silence, the sound of soft bodies *thup*ing into the forest floor was all we could hear. One or two bats, perhaps the fastest of their kind or last to die, smacked wetly up against the fortress walls and rolled down the roots, leaving greasy smears of mystery fluid behind before they disappeared into one of the standing puddles. I ran a discerning eye over the carnage, nodding in satisfaction. None of them had even come close. ¡°First round goes to us, I guess,¡± Sissa called from her post on the battlements. She looked down at the crumpled form of the Predator Bat that had hit the wall. ¡°No way the goblins didn¡¯t hear that. I hope whatever they¡¯re doing, they do it fast.¡± Suddenly, something roared in the distance, something wild and unmistakably huge. Additionally, disturbingly, on the wind from the north, there was an unmistakable change in the ambient sound, a white noise that drifted through the air and tickled at the ear, just quiet enough to believe it wasn¡¯t what I knew it was. ¡°What the hell is that?¡± Geddon asked, spinning to look in every direction at once and holding Organ Grinder in a high guard. ¡°Many, many things,¡± Trix shuddered. ¡°Distant but many. As we feared, we are discovered prematurely.¡± I pulled off my mask and let it drop down to the forest floor. There would be no need for it anymore. Ever. ¡°On the bright side,¡± I ventured. ¡°We just pressed pause on the apocalypse. Let¡¯s give Ralqir a moment to catch her breath.¡± Samila let out a celebratory ¡®woop¡¯ and shot me a predatory grin from her spot on the wall. I did my best to match her with a grin of my own. We¡¯ll give them hell. The rest is up to you, Jassin. As I turned to head back to my workshop, I spared one last glance over my shoulder as the last body of the scourge scouts thudded down to the ground. Chapter 74 - Buy Some Time Chapter 74 - Buy Some Time It didn¡¯t take long for the first of the scourge ground forces to arrive the next morning. They materialized from the fog, a motley bunch of small, quick, largely herbivorous animals ranging from the size of rabbits to large dogs. Trix gave us the warning long before they got into range, and I was able to get up to the top of the wall before they entered our defensive perimeter. The squeaks and screeches of blind rage they put out weren¡¯t nearly as intimidating as the proper scourge-touched I¡¯d faced in Eclipse, but these things certainly didn¡¯t lack for courage, going into a frenzy as soon as they saw us and charging headlong into the guns. They lasted about as long as the predator bats did and gave almost zero experience. The next waves were less direct. They circled us like wolves, far, far out, dancing in and out of turret range so that the guns only got off a second or two of fire before the scourge scattered and backed off. Then they would do it again and again, a different part of the perimeter every time. The sound of the short bursts of gunfire were pretty normal now, even in the late hours of night. It was hardly even something to get up for anymore, which was good because I was having a hell of a time with our giant tree problem. ¡°They¡¯re testing our defenses, Ryan,¡± Sissa ruminated quietly from next to the fire, its dull illumination exaggerating the edges of her scales. Around us, the rest of the team with the exception of Trix were all in their bedrolls, asleep from a long day of fortification work. I gripped the casting bowl in my hand tightly as more of my mana flowed inside along with the instructions I had in mind for this iteration. Automate a worker drone in this shape with six Imbued legs that form when the leg Triggers are activated. Activate the leg triggers immediately when done being Automated and outside the Casting Bowl. Use 400 mana divided equally among six different tapering layers to form the frontal cone. Place a trigger in the frontal cone that¡­ And so on. The instructions were becoming lengthy and complex, and holding the entire concept in my mind the entire time I was Automating the thing was extremely difficult, not to mention expensive. Luckily, I only had to do this once, and then it would be mostly self-sufficient. ¡°I said they are testing our defenses. I don¡¯t like it. There¡¯s almost a logic to it,¡± Sissa stated more loudly this time. I dropped the finished bowl on the workbench and slumped over, letting my sweat-soaked hair droop down over my eyes. Sleep called to me, but it was from far away. Too much still needed doing. ¡°Yeah. I figure they¡¯re waiting for enough bodies to make their move this time,¡± I replied. Sissa cast a worried glance up at Trix¡¯s basket perch above where he¡¯d be using his excellent eyes to watch for just such a thing. ¡°They¡¯re getting smarter,¡± she said. I shrugged tiredly. ¡°Something like that. Learning maybe.¡± ¡°They¡¯re getting smarter, and we¡¯re no closer to ready.¡± I sighed and turned around, grabbing the new Casting Bowl and setting it on the shelf above the growing mound of metal slag on the floor, the ¡®ant pile¡¯ as I¡¯d named it. It was essentially a mound of scrap metal that was leftover from my new drone production line, little bits that were carved off of the new models and allowed to collect on the floor to be put to use later. Right now the mound was about as tall as my ankle and twice as wide, composed entirely of silvery yellow and brown popcorn kernels of unshaped metal. Meanwhile, the casting bowl directly above was overful with dead drones awaiting a re-Shape and recharge. ¡°We¡¯re closer to ready than we were,¡± I said, waving at the setup and then to the new Casting Bowl. ¡°I had to increase the bandwidth of our production to prevent any more traffic jams, but that¡¯s done now. The workers should charge at double speed and work faster.¡± ¡°Was wondering if you were still working on those things,¡± Sissa chided. ¡°I thought we were moving onto the backup plan, since this one was taking too much time.¡± ¡°I¡¯m about to do the backup. Really,¡± I insisted. ¡°If I get this working properly, we might have a shot at not running out of metal. Ever.¡± ¡°Except we aren¡¯t aiming for ¡®ever¡¯ are we?¡± She asked. ¡°Furthermore, we might not make it to ¡®ever¡¯ if we get overrun immediately. Why have me along if you¡¯re not going to respect my tactical advice, Ryan?¡± ¡°You invited yourself along,¡± I said, trying to make my tone light but not able to entirely conceal my insecurity. This was going to work. It had to. That didn¡¯t keep me from doubting myself. Beedy¡¯s labored breathing from his bedroll was a constant reminder of how fallible I was. ¡°Beside the point,¡± Sissa said, waving a dismissive hand in front of her face. ¡°I¡¯m here. We¡¯re all here, and we all have an interest in living through this. I thought we discussed that you were going to use one of your explosives to bring down the trees.¡± I nodded in affirmation, but I didn¡¯t try to conceal my doubts. The size of these things and the metal cores they had made shaped charges a risky gamble. Using them may or may not work, since there was a lot of mass they had to cut through to bring them down. Not just that, but if we went around limiting the approaches to the base right now, how would Tiba get back? Every tree felled meant lower odds of ever seeing our goblins again. What if they were out there now and looking for an opportunity to rush forward? A hand squeezed my wrist, interrupting my train of thought. Sissa was in front of me, on her feet, her expression softened somewhat. ¡°It¡¯s the right decision, Ryan. Don¡¯t let what happened keep you from seeing clearly.¡± She leaned forward to make sure my eyes met hers. ¡°Queen Tiba will understand the necessity of it. Of hard decisions. You need to trust her.¡± I did trust her. I trusted Tiba implicitly. What I didn¡¯t trust was that bringing down the trees immediately would help us in the short term. The goblins needed a way back for as long as I could give them. They deserved a way back. Beedy deserved it too. That was what I truly believed. I resisted the urge to glance over at Beedy for the hundredth time and torture myself even more, instead, choosing to meet the dragonkin¡¯s stare honestly. ¡°I¡¯ll get to work on the charges now, but I still think the drones are the right play. Throw a little trust my way too,¡± I ventured. Already, the little constructs were gradually making progress on the metal inside the trees. That¡¯s where our little ant pile had come from. My constructs weren¡¯t quite hard or strong enough to mine the metal with their appendages, so I¡¯d come up with a solution that didn¡¯t require physical force instead. State Change was the answer. An expensive answer but maybe the only one. The model I¡¯d finally settled upon ¡®mined¡¯ the nickel-osmium alloy by essentially pressing their sharpened heads into the metal of the trees then flash boiling tiny portions of themselves to quickly bring the foreign alloy to its melting point. The melted metal would then flow from the tree onto the head and backs of the drones where it would cool enough to stick. The drones that came back from mining duty came back heavy, but once they were back in the casting bowl, the excess would be Shaped off and allowed to fall into the ant mound as the drones went through their recharge. Sissa glanced over at the, honestly, pitiful amount of metal my method had collected thus far then back to me with a little smile. ¡°I hope you¡¯re right. I¡¯ll also try to trust that you¡¯re right. How about that?¡± ¡°Movement to the north!¡± Trix shouted. ¡°A large mass! I think this is it!¡± Everyone was up on their feet within seconds, hands on weapons and armor already secured. I got up to the wall via the stairs and heard the nearest trio of turrets snap into line, acquiring targets as I passed. The night was pitch black and foggy. meaning I couldn¡¯t see a thing out there, but I trusted Trix¡¯s night vision and my turrets. This was it. The scourge were coming and in numbers this time. I heard Samila and Sissa shuffle into place on this side of the fort, armor clinking as straps were tightened, and I assumed Bole was getting into position too, though I never heard the guy when he moved. We were all stacked on the north quarter of the wall, spread out to cover a wide semi-circle where the charge would probably hit. The turrets would have to cover the other parts of the walls that we couldn¡¯t. Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. There was no slow start to the action tonight. Suddenly, the turrets opened up on full auto and didn¡¯t stop. Thunderous booms of propellant accompanied hollow snaps as dozens of bullets broke the sound barrier all at once, the muzzle flashes from the guns lighting up the surrounding forest and my comrades in an odd strobing slideshow of purple. The light also dimly illuminated the distant vanguard of the monsters as they approached, never enough for me to pick out the individual things, but enough to discern there was a massive amount of them. I made my new machine pistol materialize in my hand. It was a compact but heavy model with a reinforced bolt carrier and action, a wide, stubby barrel, and a bottom-fed magazine. I flipped the pistol over into my prosthetic hand, then, in a flash, I held my sword too. The snarling faces of Black Ones, beasts, and other, unfamiliar humanoids withered and collapsed as the turrets poured on the damage, closest targets first. Supersonic streams of lead shredded entire swaths of monsters, mowing them down like grass, cracking through bone and perforating secondary targets behind. The scourge tried to compensate as they¡¯d done with their scouts, redirecting the mass to try and dodge with individual monsters, but this close to the guns, the maneuver lost more than it gained. The sea of bodies parted under the onslaught, the entire blob moving as one to avoid further damage, but the turrets¡¯ tracking was flawless. Wherever the scourge stuck out its neck, that neck would be obliterated. Despite its efforts, the scourge was losing lots of bodies, and it eventually opted for a full on charge with no wasted effort to spare itself further losses. The horde poured over the inner circle where our barrier of sunlight was slated to be, and I suddenly wished I¡¯d brought down the trees like Sissa had asked. For my turrets, it was like trying to hold back the tide with a broom. Where the scourge couldn¡¯t use the tree trunks as cover, the overlapping, overwhelming fire of the turrets would create a shallow cavity in the enemy¡¯s mass, pulping the softer targets and crippling the others, but as soon as the guns moved onto closer threats, the horde would reassert itself. Damage and experience messages whizzed through my feed, which I only gave a cursory glance to see what species we were dealing with here. The sheer variety was staggering. The tide of monsters flowed into the trench, barely stopping as they were forced into the sharpened stakes Geddon and the dragonkin had carved and buried. More of the monsters died, but without remorse, the scourge simply used their dead as springboards to get at the fortress walls. Once there, they slipped into the deep shadows, invisible to me and to the turrets. The base of the wall was at too steep an angle for the light or bullets to reach. When the mass hit the trench, Sissa hit us with her Duty and Mercy spell, and I could feel heat flow into my stiff limbs, my muscles loosen. If I¡¯d had a real heart, it would have pounded in my ears. My companions were already slashing and stabbing before I could even see what we were fighting. Nightmare pairings of armored humanoids squaring off against leaping horrors tried to draw my eyes away from my own portion of the wall, but I couldn¡¯t allow myself to look. Only a handful of seconds later, I had my own problems to deal with. The first snarling face I was able to pick out came up right in front of me, and the glance I got was only thanks to the harsh, fleeting flashes from the muzzles of the guns. Large. Gangly. Too many limbs. Too many eyes. It moved oddly, spasmodically flailing as it gained purchase on the lip of the wall. Willing Edge [2 MP/sec] I slashed at the thing before it could get fully upright, and my sword connected with something solid before the blade went through and out. There was a gurgle, and then a clawed hand raked across my knees, drawing a pained snarl from me but only a handful of HP in real damage. The next spurt of muzzle flash showed me more, the same creature there, on the battlements, missing two arms but now dead with holes in its cranium, too small for my turrets but just right for Trix¡¯s rifle. I didn¡¯t get a chance to yell out a thanks before there more of the creatures bubbled into view. Carefully, with as much form as I could, I advanced, slashing with Willing Edge at what arms and faces I could reach to give myself space, then, when I was nearly looking over the edge of the wall, brandished my machine pistol. I squeezed the trigger, dumping the entire thirty round mag down the vertical face of the wall and into the trench. *PRRRT**PRRRRRRRRRRRTTT** You hit scourge-touched bekal for 24 damage. You hit scourge-touched bekal for 21 damage. Scourge-touched bekal is bleeding. You hit scourge-touched mountain cat for 24 damage. Scourge-touched mountain cat is bleeding. You hit scourge-touched goblin for 22 damage. Scourge-touched goblin is bleeding. You hit scourge-touched vine stag for 19 damage. Scourge-touched vine stag is stunned. You hit scourge-touched goblin for 26 damage. ¡­ Pistols is now level 5. Upgrade paths available. The pistol bucked in my hand, so hard I could barely keep my grip without using an ability. I was using the big ammo my turrets used and an oversaturated propulsion charge, and the power was such that even the strength of my prosthetic was tested by the recoil. The rest of my body, however, felt the power of those shots more acutely as the kinetic energy was transferred from my metal arm to the rest of me. My insides rattled, and I had to brace my feet and lean forward to keep myself from staggering. Two seconds of automatic fire, and the gun was dry. I backed up, flicking the mag release and letting it fall to the ground. Another clicked into place as soon as it was out of my spatial storage. The dragonkin sisters had not been idle. Several creatures layed dead at their feet, and I had to assume many more were down and injured below, not having been able to get up onto the wall before the women¡¯s swords took them. To my left, Bole, similarly, was engaged in the fight, though his portion of the wall was mostly clear. He lept from spot to spot, shouted and cursed as he sliced at the monsters¡¯ necks, cut tendons, and impaled them through their eyes before they could ever haul themselves fully into view. He never hit a target more than twice, and none of the monsters came even close to touching him. *FWOOSH* Yellow-orange firelight illuminated the left side of my vision as one of the flamer turrets engaged threats at the gate. I turned toward it reflexively, but the fire itself was beyond the walls and out of my sight. It cast the wall and our heavy wooden gate as black silhouettes. At the gate, a shadow that must have been Geddon stabbed down at a mass of creatures as they clawed at the thick wood. An agonized scream sounded out from behind me, and I turned just in time to see Samila go down clutching the back of her leg as a Black One gurgled and died under her boot. No. Not this time. With a shout, I charged, feet carrying me over dead and dying monsters, my sword cutting down some kind of emaciated ape-wolf, my machine pistol spitting bursts that raked across the expanding line of monsters that were now cresting the wall. When the pistol ran dry on ammo, I bashed anything lucky enough to be within reach with the heavy barrel. When I got to Samila, she was already trying to stand on her own, but I could tell she was hurting. I slipped under her shield arm and propped the both of us up together. My sword arm was next to useless wrapped around her waist, so I made it disappear and brought out my last pistol mag instead. Samila and I met the next few minutes together. Her sword was quick and powerful, but with a whole other person attached to her at the hip, every swing was clumsy, less precise than her usual perfection. Her body attempted to flow into forms her leg could no longer support as she fought the horde, and she was having a hard time compensating. I could feel her torso heave as the effort and the pain left her more breathless with every move. All I could do was hold on tight and keep her from falling. I aimed and fired at individual creatures as they approached, bashed others if they got too close, while Samila finished them off with her blade. At some point, the buzzing of Geddon¡¯s chainsword ripped through the backdrop of chaos, followed shortly by a deep roar that drowned all other sound. Then, as if a switch had been flipped, all was still, silent except for everyone¡¯s heavy breathing, the crackle of unchecked fire, and the hiss-pop of slowly cooling gun barrels. Gently, I set Samila down and summoned a rock to hit with Volatility for illumination. Dead scourge lined the forest floor and filled the trench. Severed, broken parts lay everywhere, and black blood dripped from still twitching, monstrous bodies. All of us bled from multiple wounds, though I didn¡¯t remember where most of mine had come from. ¡°Too few- Too few bodies,¡± Sissa panted. She hadn¡¯t sheathed her sword yet, instead turning from side to side, the tip of her sword tracking along with her eyes. I looked again. She was right. With the amount of lead we just threw out there, there should have been way more carnage than what we saw. The concentration of the dead seemed to be highest near the walls but then tapered off gradually into the distance, where it, in reality, should have been the scourge¡¯s heaviest casualties. Optimal range for the turrets. ¡°They must have taken them. They¡¯re recycling their dead,¡± I said. ¡°They were doing it back in Eclipse too. It¡¯s why the goblins liked to burn their fallen.¡± ¡°True. That means we¡¯ll have to burn these too,¡± Sissa said. ¡°For various reasons. Disease being one of them.¡± ¡°Not just that. Look,¡± Samila grunted as she wrenched a pressure bandage into place on her leg. I turned my attention to our little courtyard. Geddon was there in the center of the circle, next to the fire. The door, such as it was, was in splinters, and a number of charred monsters were dead next to it while several more were in pieces around Geddon. One of them, a mottled orange and black thing that was once vaguely humanoid, dwarfed the rest. It was taller and broader than even Geddon (or it would have been if it hadn¡¯t been bisected) with thick, powerful arms and legs, wicked spikes on its knuckles, and overdeveloped fangs in its open mouth. Geddon, for his part, heaved for breath, slumped down next to the body, but he looked as happy as I¡¯d seen him as he rested the point of his chainsword inside the creature¡¯s chest cavity. A little further back, behind the leori, Beedy slept in his bedroll, untouched. Thank Constance for that. ¡°They¡¯re still testing us,¡± Sissa speculated. ¡°Testing themselves too. I wouldn¡¯t call it strategic thinking, but they are at least as clever as some of the smarter beasts.¡± ¡°More than that, Princess,¡± Bole growled. He was busily cleaning his sword with the ragged clothing from one of the Returned he¡¯d downed on the wall. Once the blade was passably clean, he sheathed it and gestured down to the dead, giant cat-person. ¡°The little ones were a feint to hide the gresh there. I¡¯ve played dice with less clever folk.¡± I looked out into the night, pumping more mana into my pebble light to spread the illumination. Nothing but fog and shadow. How many of them were left out there? How much of itself did the scourge commit? ¡°Trix? Do I want to know?¡± I called up to the vulpa¡¯s sniper perch. ¡°No. You do not want to know,¡± came his terse reply. He sounded as ragged as the rest of us, even though he hadn¡¯t mixed it up in melee like we had. ¡°Those trees really need to come down,¡± Sissa said. She didn¡¯t say ¡®I told you so,¡¯ but I heard it in her tone. ¡°Yeah.¡± I affirmed. ¡°Yeah, they do.¡± Tiba, I hope you know what you¡¯re doing. Chapter 75 - Do the Unexpected Chapter 75 - Do the Unexpected The new and improved gate we were forced to cobble together was neither new nor improved. Well, that was unfair. The gate was ¡°new¡± in that it was a new configuration of old materials, in this case, repurposed logs and cross beams cannibalized from our stake wall. As for the ¡°improved¡± part, it was very easy to open. Right now it was just being held up by friction and prayer. An outsider might argue that this was actually a weakness, but what the hell did they know? The hard edge of Samila¡¯s pauldron dug uncomfortably into the middle of my ribcage as the five of us pressed as close to the new gate as possible. In front of me, Sissa and Geddon both had their hands on the diagonal support braces that held the gate closed and kept it from falling backward into the fort, and the two were readying themselves to pull. At the very back of the formation, Bole *tinged* the naked steel of one of his hidden knives off of the hilt of another that way he did just before any sort of up close fighting. At our feet, a steady trickle of tiny bullet ants marched under the gate and made their way to the reloading station. If one knew how to listen, they would be able to hear the gentle whir of the stirring systems and the *click**click**click**click* of the tiny pistons inside the machine shoving bullets back into magazines. Worker drones, fat and misshapen with newly mined metal, dragged themselves over the ragged stone tops of the walls to plop heavily onto the stone floor. From there they would only have about fifty feet further until they met their final rest in one of the reshaping bowls. The guns were still firing, of course, in little fits and starts. I could feel damage and experience notifications trickle by in my combat log. I¡¯d long since minimized it. The flow of information had ceased to be useful a while back, about when the guns were pretty much ¡®on¡¯ 24/7. Not all of the turrets were active at once, of course. The scourge were still teasing at the edges of our defenses, keeping us on our toes by probing the perimeter where they could get away with it, but at least two or three of the guns were engaged with something out there all the time, generally in one or two second bursts. By now, the scourge had figured out that my guns weren¡¯t going to shoot through tree trunks, so they liked to hide in those dead zones and peek until one of the guns would send them back into hiding. Today, it seemed they were probing mainly from the east. A whistle, some bird call I didn¡¯t recognize, came from Trix¡¯s hanging sniper nest. That was the signal. Together, Sissa and Geddon yanked on the pull ropes attached to the support braces, and the gate groaned as it pitched back and slammed into the floor. ¡°Go!¡± Sissa shouted, hefting her equipment onto one shoulder, and the five of us surged forward. It was only a second before the collective howl from the surrounding scourge shook the forest, louder even than the guns. Then it was on. We¡¯d made it maybe a dozen steps before the entirety of our ballistic arsenal was back to spewing lead in every direction, suddenly inundated with valid targets. The scourge were coming for us. As we¡¯d planned, Geddon, Bole, and I all took positions on the outside of the formation to shield the dragonkin and their precious cargo. My eyes darted everywhere, waiting for the first monster I would have to fight, and despite my Body score and relative level of fitness, my breathing quickly drowned out most other sounds on the battlefield. The women set the pace. Sissa and Samila, despite their full armor and awkward burdens, stepped surprisingly lightly, hopping over exposed roots and fallen branches. The dark, metal constructs in their hands jangled together dangerously as they ran, and every clink and clank conjured a new nightmare I had to consciously dispel from my mind. I¡¯d opted to over-juice the clamp Triggers rather than potentially using too little, so severed fingers weren¡¯t entirely pessimistic fantasy. The sooner the sisters were rid of their payloads, the better I would feel, even if we were going to be hip deep in scourge afterward. The scourge weren¡¯t ready for our surprise sortie. Precious few of them were out here in numbers and in range to respond. Scattered clumps of corrupted animals flanked by nimble, snarling Black Ones were the first enemies we saw alive. They sprang out from behind trees and up from depressions in the ground, never in large enough numbers to be a problem for the guns but still alarming in how close they¡¯d come to the walls. Bullets whizzed past us, snapping like tiny firecrackers as air pockets collapsed in their wakes. Anything unlucky enough to be in our way and brave enough to come out of hiding fell to the ground full of holes or missing vital parts or their anatomy, and we never even had to raise our weapons. If the scourge had been hoping to ambush us with these groups, they¡¯d either not gotten sufficient numbers in place to do so, or it had underestimated how mechanically efficient the tracking on my turrets had become. That meant the scourge would have to stick with swarm tactics if it wanted to catch us out. Good. That would take time to materialize. Breathing heavily despite the short distance traveled, we reached the inner perimeter well before the scourge could, and our formation skidded to a stop. Those that weren¡¯t carrying chain constructs fanned out and formed a protective barrier for our demolitionists. The tree that would be our first victim of the day looked like a huge bite had been taken out of it on the side that faced home, courtesy of the worker drones. Samila carefully uncoiled the multi-hinged device in her hand, allowing it to droop down until it nearly touched the ground, then began to whirl it around herself. She swung it like an olympian with a throwing hammer, around and around, letting her body counterbalance the weight, lengthening the chain link by link. *WHOOSH* *WHOOSH* In the distance, I saw that the scourge was gathering itself, singular bodies streaming in from the side while a main column of monsters flowed like black water, approaching the outer perimeter en masse, a rushing river of flesh and bone. Wild-eyed, open mouthed monsters rushed forward to throw themselves into the jaws of my machines. The flowing mass of bodies splashed over one another, uncaring if those next to them were blown to bits, their only desire to get one step closer to killing me. Monsters on the outside of the mass died quickly, but their bodies fulfilled their purpose well enough, forming semi-solid ¡°banks¡± through which the rest could flow forward. I cast a sideways glance at the spinning dragonkin. It had only been a few seconds, and it was already taking too long. Judging by the tenor of the turrets, the scourge were going for broke. Their quarry had come out of its hole, and this was their chance to end it. They had to be taking huge losses, but what did they care? If they had the numbers to bog us down and drown us, that would be it. The turrets would stop firing, they¡¯d have their human, and they¡¯d go back to assimilating the planet. Come on. Come on. Finally, Samila finally let fly. The hinged rope of shaped charges whirled through the air and smacked up against the bare flesh of the mendau tree. The chain, as it was programmed to do as soon as it was in contact with organic matter, deployed hooked blades from its edges that sunk into the wood and contracted with a series of *clunks.* I dropped out of line to run a hand over the links and confirm they were working. Good. They were already beginning to glow. I gave everyone a thumbs up. ¡°Done!¡± Samila shouted just before a body thumped down in the middle of our formation. Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere. ¡°Eyes up! They¡¯re above!¡± Geddon boomed, cranking the engine of his sword as he expertly bisected another airborne creature. Above, dozens of spindly black figures were busily shimmying down toward us from the top of our tree. Another of them bent its legs and pounced, rocketing down toward us. This one seemed to lose its enthusiasm half-way down and flop bonelessly just short of my feet. Squinting, I saw tiny needle holes dotting the Black One¡¯s torso. Hot damn, Trix. you¡¯re scary. I exchanged a look with Sissa who held her own device that needed to be deployed. She gave the chain an experimental lift then glanced toward the oncoming horde. The scourge were getting closer, maybe a hundred yards away. Meanwhile, more bodies dropped out of the trees as Trix kept the skies clear. The sergeant was clearly weighing the odds, not liking what she was coming up with. I was no tactical genius, but I didn¡¯t like it either. We had mabe a 60/40 shot at doing another tree without getting bogged down in a fight. Then again, we needed this. We couldn¡¯t last forever without changing the landscape. ¡°We can do one more!¡± I yelled to everyone. Sissa hesitated for half a heartbeat but then gave me the nod. ¡°One more,¡± she agreed. ¡°Go!¡± To the next tree we went. This time, we didn¡¯t get there before the scourge. There was a pack of monsters huddled behind the great trunk, out of sight of the guns, wounded, bleeding, but more than willing to attack us. Meanwhile, even more streamed in from our surroundings, dashing from other points of cover to get to this one. The guns cut down what they could, but the sheer number of targets was starting to overwhelm them. Geddon, as Geddon loved to do, charged, chainsword revved, never even breaking stride as he barreled into the enemy. Samila covered his left with her shield, while I took his right. As I raised my pistol up to take aim, I felt the brush of something unfamiliar behind my eyes, a strange potential, a sort of gentle readiness that told me I had the option to do something more here. Death Eye: While aiming with a pistol class weapon, you are passively made aware of the most vulnerable points in your target¡¯s body. Focusing on these points will highlight them in your vision in a manner of your choosing. Targets of significant power may require longer periods of aiming with Death Eye to reveal their vulnerabilities. Level 5 pistols had been good to me. I allowed my new ability to ¡°refocus¡± my eyes briefly. What was once a writhing mass of disparate humanoid and animal bodies now had a new layer on top of it. Blotches of red, pulsing light began to pop in over the monsters as I swept my muzzle over the lot. It was the places you¡¯d expect such as the eyes, the hearts, intersections of bones that could cripple, spinal columns, nerve clusters that would paralyze. What¡¯s more, I could almost feel the slightest sort of tug on my aim just as a new glowing vulnerability popped into existence, as if each one had a weak gravitational pull. Death Eye would be a downright godly skill for someone with a steady hand like Trix. With Death Eye and a precision instrument like a Colonial anti-material rifle, maybe a las-model or something, he could kill whole buildings. With me, though¡­ I was a ¡®quantity over quality¡¯ guy, I guessed. My machine pistol barked. Most targets that caught my eye died with multiple holes in their chests. Others, tightly packed in as they were, were victims of the massive recoil and the weapons¡¯ propensity to shift my aim up and to the left. I didn¡¯t fight it. Instead, I went with it, allowing the bucking steel bull to draw my fire sideways, drifting from the general vicinity of one glowing red point to the next in a scything motion that ended a new life every other round. For those that got close, I paused to stab with my sword, and those I couldn¡¯t get a clean line on, Bole was there to take them from the flank. They never saw him coming. It was almost too easy for a man such as Bole, fast as he was, especially with monsters that paid him almost no mind now that their real prey (me) was in sight. Sissa swung her shaped charge from the ¡°safe¡± side of the tree behind us, the side with all the guns and none of the scourge. I wasn¡¯t worried about her getting swarmed anymore. Now that I was within biting distance, the scourge only had eyes for me, and I gave them my undivided attention, hacking and shooting a new threat every second. *CLUNK* ¡°Done! Back off!¡± Sissa ordered. Geddon took one more mighty swing with Organ Grinder, and the ripping teeth cleaved through four monsters at once. ¡°Back!¡± He growled at all parties involved. Strangely, even the scourge seemed to listen, pausing momentarily in the ruined mess of their compatriots to give the big lion man and his chainsaw some space. ¡°Back!¡± Geddon ordered again, but the spell was broken. The monsters charged once more, leaping to try and get past him. Well, if they weren¡¯t going to listen to reason¡­ I emptied the rest of my mag in their faces. Seven kills in under a second thanks to Death Eye. That got us some more space. ¡°Break off now!¡± Samila shouted. As one, we made a break for it, away from the half-cover of the tree and out into the open where the turrets could cover us. Sissa was there waiting for us, sword out, shield in place, but once we were all together again, we ran. ¡°Home! Don¡¯t stop!¡± She called. No one had to be told twice. The scourge tried to follow, tried to nip at our heels, but the majority of them met a quick, messy end. Those that did manage to get into our shadow to avoid the guns, Bole and I made sure to give a proper welcome. Knives flashed. Bullets flew. We punished them until our pursuers were too wounded or dead to keep up with us. Pistols is now level 6. Bole let out a victorious whoop as our pursuers scattered to find cover and wait for more numbers. Grinning, I slapped another magazine into my pistol before resummoning my sword. We might just get away with- ¡°Turn! Turn right!¡± Sissa screamed from further ahead. Something had made it to the approach before we did. A massive, toad-like creature the size of a cargo hauler. It seemed to slide forward on its belly, using its legs to ¡®swim¡¯ toward us and at surprising speed. The craggy, gray skin that covered most of the monster¡¯s exposed body looked more like rock than flesh, and it didn¡¯t seem like it was just for show. Dozens of bullets panged into the creature over and over, while little shards of rock shot into the air with every impact. Despite the pummeling it was getting, it seemed unbothered, either too far gone with the scourge plague to experience pain or too tough for a bullet. Other scourge crawled alongside the toad thing too, using its shadow as a safe zone. We juked hard to the right, but the bulky monster made the corner with us, keeping itself precisely between us and home. It was shockingly nimble for its size, only slightly slower than our top speed. ¡°Is that a damned ignarog?!¡± Bole shrieked. ¡°Where¡¯d they get an ignarog?!¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know!¡± Sissa replied. Giant toad to our flank¡­ In front: a countless mass of scourge poured toward us, and we were on course to meet them in a headlong charge if we didn''t change direction. ¡°We¡¯re being herded!¡± I observed, loud enough to be heard by all. ¡°Ryan! They aren¡¯t dying fast enough!¡± Sissa made an observation of her own. ¡°They should be dying faster!¡± A quick check over my shoulder and ahead of us confirmed Sissa¡¯s suspicions for me. ¡°Some of the turrets are stuck trying to bring down the big frog!¡± I yelled back. ¡°Tell them to get the smaller ones, monk!¡± Bole shrieked. ¡°Ignarog are deeplings! Unless you brought a pickax, you¡¯re not bringing it down!¡± ¡°That¡¯s not how it works! They aren¡¯t programmed to move on until their target is dead!¡± At that moment, the ignarog lunged sideways in a surprise attack, rearing up then crashing down next to us. Dirt and tree litter splashed over us, and the ground shook with the thing¡¯s weight. Bole¡¯s voice went up a few octaves ¡°That¡¯s really shit magic, monk!¡± ¡°Shut up, Bole! Or get your own magic!¡± Sissa castigated him. The main body of scourge were getting close, so close I could see the spittle flying from their mouths as they slashed at each other in their frenzy. ¡°We turn and fight then!¡± Samila said. ¡°Right now! Turn and slay the big one!¡± ¡°Secon- Seconded!¡± Geddon puffed. As usual, the running part of combat was not Geddon¡¯s strong suit. ¡°I hate that you¡¯re right,¡± Sissa agreed, but that was all the hesitation she allowed herself. ¡°Turn now! Sam, Bole, go for the belly, the joints. Bleed it! Geddon, screaming and chopping!¡± That was all the big guy needed to hear. Geddon summoned a lungful of air and roared a challenge at the massive creature as he charged, chainsword held out like a lance. Sissa¡¯s instruction for me was a bit more open ended. ¡°Ryan, crowd control!¡± Crowd control? I¡¯m doing that right now, and it¡¯s not working. That¡¯s the problem. I guessed I could run around to give everyone else time to fight, but that just meant I would die tired if they couldn¡¯t bring down the toad in time. That just left one option. Let¡¯s just hope this goes better than last time. Chapter 76 - Run some Tests Chapter 76 - Run some Tests The ¡®ignarog¡¯ barked as it and Geddon charged one another. Meanwhile the army of smaller scourge flooded in from everywhere else with howls and angry snarls. With several of the guns preoccupied trying to bring down a target that wouldn¡¯t die, the little ones were back to being a huge problem. Crowd control. Right. Unfortunately, the turrets were my crowd control. That was my whole damned thing, and, suddenly, that wasn¡¯t good enough. What was I supposed to do? Well, there was at least one part of that horde I could delay with a thought. Better to do it now before the scourge got curious as to why we were out here in the first place. I triggered Volatility, setting off the explosive cores inside the constructs we¡¯d just deployed. The charges went off flawlessly, almost entirely in sync, each link of the multi-hinged ¡°chain¡± sending explosively formed, penetrating projectiles through the gnawed flesh of the mendau trees and severing what was left of their metal cores or at least enough of them to matter. With an earth shaking groan the two slain titans fell, crashing through the branches of the neighbors before finally sending a towering storm of dust and debris high into the sky. Through the cloud of dust, glorious, brilliant rays of white-hot sunlight lanced down, cutting through gloom that hadn¡¯t been disturbed in centuries. The scourge that were lucky enough not to be crushed under the building-sized falling trees were practically vaporized. Their flesh bubbled and steamed before peeling away while their blood dissolved into smoke. Others went up in flames, eyes first. Collectively, the tenor of the howling voices shifted, adopted a pitch with undertones of fear. As for me, I fought not to retch. Oh, I¡¯m seeing that in my nightmares, for sure. Suddenly, that part of the forest was very unpopular. The scourge redirected its minions to go far, far around the new no-go zone. That job done, I spared one last glance back at my friends as they surrounded the big toad. They seemed to have things well in hand on their end, or at least no one had died yet. Now, what was I going to do on my end? I¡¯d thought about this problem before in my spare time, being caught out in the open like this. Of course it was always a remote, unlikely thing, something that would happen if many, many things had gone wrong all at once, a ¡®wow, I¡¯d be really screwed if this happened¡¯ sort of thing that I spent most of my time and preparations avoiding instead of being in the middle of. My working philosophy was, generally, if I was having to think on the fly, I had failed in some way. I frontloaded my thinking, choosing to do it when I was calm and rational. Until recently, that had been working pretty well. No reason to mess with success. Plus, I had all sorts of other stuff to occupy my time and brain space. Well, now the moment was here, and I was thinking on the fly, meaning I¡¯d failed spectacularly, and all I had to hand were the beginnings of projects, untested ideas, an exploding sword, and a pile of stones that I meant to use for Volatility. That left the science projects. The untested science projects. I let out a long breath, hoping my misgivings and sense of self preservation left me with it. The mortar tube appeared in my hand. Okay, so ¡®mortar tube¡¯ was probably a misnomer. This thing sucked at being a mortar tube. Despite the System still classifying it as such, the device in my hand didn¡¯t launch things high up in the air to rain down on my enemies like I¡¯d envisioned. Whether that was because my munitions were too heavy, or my propulsion method was too weak, it just didn¡¯t work like that. It was one of my first forays into air powered munitions, essentially a long, wide tube with piping and several Trigger bulbs with ultra compressed air attached to a shuttle plate that pushed munitions out of the tube at high velocity. I wanted it to be able to launch explody things over long distances, so that we could tackle big masses of scourge before they could form a good charge. The problem with my air powered designs was that they just didn¡¯t have the oomph of my explosive Volatility cubes. The test rounds, spherical hunks of metal about the size of Trix¡¯s fist, only flew about fifty yards at the maximum. Rocks only got us another ten or so yards further afield. At that range, we¡¯d be better off letting the turrets do the job. However, the way I figured, I could still make the time I¡¯d sunk into the design worth it¡­ By attaching it to me. I flipped the tube until it was pointing out then slipped the forearm of my prosthetic into the new attachment rings I¡¯d Shaped onto the side. The Triggers activated automatically, tightening the clamps around the black metal of my arm until the whole thing was solidly in place. I didn¡¯t feel much of anything, my metal arm being what it was, but with the forces involved, I was pretty sure I¡¯d become an amputee again if I¡¯d tried this little maneuver with my fleshy arm. One flash of magic later, and I slid a little ball of Automated metal into the end of the tube and listened to the retention iris click closed. Okay. Please don¡¯t explode in my face. *FOOP* My invention might not have been a very effective mortar, but it certainly kicked like one. I felt the recoil in my entire body, like my prosthetic just got fist bumped by a giant. My Body score being what it was helped me stay upright, but if my feet hadn¡¯t been braced, I¡¯d have been on my ass now. The shot, angled slightly up to give it some arc, was slow enough to be tracked with the naked eye, but only just. That was okay, though. I was just relieved it was far away from me before- *FUFFFFF* As it was programmed to do, once the metal ball got within ten or so feet of a valid target, the Automated matter flash ionized in mid-air directly above said target, in this case: the concentrated mass of monsters. What was once roughly a pound and a half of brass became a rapidly expanding, highly energetic gas, igniting everything it touched as it suddenly became somewhere in the ballpark of five thousand degrees fahrenheit. The affected area went up like a bonfire, not just from the gassed brass but from the scourge themselves suddenly reaching their ignition point too along with the leaves on ground, the bark of the trees, the air¡­ The blowback reached me in under a second, oven hot, even though the affected area was thirty yards away. The burst of experience messages practically punched me in the brain stem. Mental note: The airburst programming works. Not to be used in close quarters. One reload later, I brought the tiny bead on the end of the mortar into line with the next closest mass. This one needed to make contact. *FOOP* I didn''t hit the scourge I was aiming for. I¡¯d accidentally aimed too high. Luckily there were just so many of them. The little ball smacked into the shoulder of some kind of hoofed creature and instantly exploded in a cloud of wild purple mana as the charged core detonated. The creatures around the impact site were thrown into the air, into their fellows, crumpled like empty cans under the shock of the explosion. A microsecond later, the bodies immediately in the blast area were reduced to bloody chunks by shrapnel as the Volatility explosion ripped the steel skin off the outside of the little ball and sent it in all directions. The effective radius was far smaller than I would have liked. Five, maybe eight feet out, the ballistic steel had already lost a lot of its speed, maiming and crippling mostly. Any scourge further out than that was largely spared any damage. A shame, really. That one round was much cheaper, mana wise than the airburst one, and all the material was theoretically recyclable by the drones. Need to work on that one. Maybe check the logs later to see what happened. I only had one other type of round, a delayed one, but with the horde bearing down on us, it wasn¡¯t going to be much use. Think, Ryan. What else do we have? The big toad thing bellowed from behind me, a short, angry belching call. I turned to see it open its mouth wide and just miss swallowing Samila whole. She dodged out of the way just in time, tucking her shield under her and rolling to get more distance between her and the thing¡¯s mouth. Or at least that was the plan. Too slow. She got up too slow, growling as her injured leg refused to straighten with any speed. Geddon shouted and slashed at the thing¡¯s eyes with Organ Grinder, and the teeth sparked and sputtered as they ground through the ignarog¡¯s rock hard skin. The monster didn¡¯t pay him any mind, though. Whatever intelligence it had, it had focused on Samila. The ignarog kicked out with a tree trunk sized leg, faster than a creature its size had any business doing, and Samila had no time to do anything other than hunker down and brace. Her shield splintered, and her body went airborne, her arms and legs windmilling as she flew away from the battle. She came down silently, rolling to a stop under a pile of leaves. My heart stopped. My thoughts ground to a halt. The world shrunk until all that existed was Sam¡¯s unmoving body and the hollow sound of my rapid breathing. She laid there, utterly still. No. Get up. Please get up. Then there was a twitch, a tiny flex of the dragonkin¡¯s fingers followed by a slight shake of her head. A cough. Something got in the way. Big, gray. It blocked me from seeing her. Was she getting up? Was she still moving? The ignarog. In that moment, I would have torn the creature in half if only to catch another glimpse of Samila. Sissa must have felt the same way. She shrieked and lunged forward, stabbing at the relatively vulnerable inside of the ignarog¡¯s extended leg. The blade tore a bloody line down the muscle all the way to the knee. The leg retracted on reflex, yanking Sissa¡¯s sword along with it while thick black scourge blood gushed from the wound. There was another shriek, inhuman, insane, this time from my left. HP [290/301] The world widened out again, became real enough to gain my attention, and I did not like it one bit. I needed to know if she was okay. I roared, rearing up and slamming my metal fist down on the Black One that had bitten me. I held nothing back. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. Its head splattered like a rotten melon. Its stinking, black blood shot into my mouth and nose. The monsters were getting too close. Right. Crowd control. That¡¯s your job. Do your job. Samila would want you to do your job. I summoned a handful of pebbles and went back to the basics. Familiar churning blender blades scraped at the inside of my skull as I used the ability on multiple objects at once. Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Split Mind is now level 11. Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] My side-armed throw released the pebbles in a fan pattern, and I detonated the volley just as they passed over the swarm¡¯s heads. As it had been in Eclipse, the small, relatively fragile monsters were pulped, and the rest fell to the forest floor, stunned. It wasn¡¯t enough, though. Other monsters climbed over the fallen, treating them as no more than obstacles. I had to go bigger. Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility [1 MP/sec] Volatility depth increasing [1 of 3] You gain status: Brain Hemorrhage. [1 HP/sec] You take 1 bleeding damage. You take 1 bleeding damage. You gain status: Brain Hemorrhage. [2 HP/sec] You take- My head felt like it was splitting down the middle. Stabbing pinpricks of white phosphorus burned behind my eyes, floating, pulsing, and I found it increasingly hard to do more than breathe through my mouth. My throw was off, but my enemies were many. *BOOM**BOOM*BOOM**BOOM* You take 2 bleeding damage. You take 2 bleeding da- The pain was excruciating. Everything glowed, blurred. Too bright. Too loud. Everything was too real. I tasted blood. The breeze scraped at my exposed nerves. I panted, choked on the air. My limbs trembled, and my knees threatened to buckle. Something was wrong. Very wrong. I couldn¡¯t- I can¡¯t- I can¡¯t¡­ ah¡­. What am I doing? Am I-? Finishing a thought seemed impossible. Nothing made sense. I felt the ground rise, so I put out a hand to steady it. No, I was on the ground. ¡°Duty and mercy!¡± Someone shouted from afar,and something warm and soothing passed through me like a golden breeze. I blinked until the majority of the burning white spots left me. I was shivering violently now, but I could think. Right. I was keeping them back. I¡¯m not- I¡¯m not going to last. Sam. We have to go right now. You take 3 bleeding damage. You take 3 bleeding damage. In a flash, the last prototype round for my glorified potato canon appeared in my spasming hand. I was barely able to slip it into the tube as I fell into some stumbling semblance of a run, a run toward my friends and the ignarog. The way home was through the ignarog. I ran into Geddon first. The big toad was going after Sissa now that she was swordless. Meanwhile, Geddon caught his breath between furious bouts of chopping. He only turned my way when I was right next to him. ¡°Ryan! This thing is- gods of old, your face!¡± Geddon gasped. ¡°R-R-¡± I started, but my mouth wouldn¡¯t do what I told it to. It was full of blood, and my tongue wasn¡¯t working right. It was like I was working someone else¡¯s mouth with a remote control. ¡°Rumn!¡± I finally got out. ¡°Go home!¡± I pointed at the fortress entrance. Geddon didn¡¯t question me. He did, however, relay my ¡®message¡¯ to everyone else. ¡°Retreat to the stronghold! Ryan has a plan!¡± Bless the big man for believing in me, but I really didn¡¯t have a plan. ¡°Not without Ryan!¡± Sissa shouted back. ¡°It won¡¯t let him by!¡± I gave Geddon a look that I hoped conveyed confidence, but, instead, the big guy looked unsettled. I reached up and wiped at the trickle(?) of blood coming out of my¡­ what was it coming out of? Oh wow. That was a lot of blood. ¡°I- uh-¡± Geddon stammered. ¡°I think he has that covered!¡± I lurched forward and slapped the big leori on the shoulder. Apparently, I wasn¡¯t controlling my strength very well, because the gesture also made him stagger back a step. It did get him moving, though, circling the monster opposite Sissa. Meanwhile. Sissa was slowly inching away as well. When I finally caught her eye, she too, looked taken aback at what she saw. Beyond the ignarog, I spied Bole in the distance too, slowly helping Samila limp in the general direction of safety. They were weaving side to side, taking some kind of serpentine route. She looked okay, all things considered, favoring her left side but largely operating under her own power. She even did a little jump and a wave, which I found odd. She wasn¡¯t waving to us but toward the gate. If I was able to control my breathing just now, I would have sighed in relief. Samila did the little jump wave again. I could tell it pained her, but she did it again even before she could recover. What was she- Oh you clever girl. She was waving at the guns, putting her hand between the barrels of the guns and the ignarog. They were programmed to not shoot through us. She knew that. When the guns would try to fire, and there was something in the way, they would move on to other targets. I gave a sloppy salute to Sissa then held up my potato gun. ¡°S¡¯okay! Halp wave!¡± I shouted. Damnit. That didn¡¯t come out right. Hold on, had I bitten my tongue? Was that what was making it so hard to speak? Sissa¡¯s eyebrow ridges scrunched together as if I¡¯d just told her I had cheese curds for blood. However, it was enough to get the big toad to ponderously spin in my direction. As it did that, I lost sight of the dragonkin girl. Boss fight time. Let¡¯s make it a short one. With my eyes firmly affixed to the ignarog, I let my awareness of my Mark ability flash briefly in my mind. Yes, the turrets were marking targets behind me, keeping the little scourge from getting a shot at my back. They were largely effective, but the line was inching closer moment by moment. As an experiment. I feinted to the side, trying to circle around the giant toad to get more in line with the gate. However, when it seemed to realize that was my plan, it flailed, kicked out sharply in a bid to cut off my line of retreat. Yep. It wasn¡¯t necessarily here to kill me. It was here to keep me from getting home. There was that advanced thinking again. The scourge was getting smarter all the time. That path closed to me, I switched to another. I advanced, inching closer to the ignarog until I could almost reach out and touch it. It must have thought it had lucked into the easiest kill of its life. Its prey was practically walking into its belly. The ignarog croaked in triumph as the big mouth opened wide. It drew itself up, loomed like it had done before with Samila, when it attempted to swallow her whole. Air rushed inside with enough force to nearly sweep me from my feet. In this very small window, I made my move. I snapped my air cannon up and fired my last round down the creature¡¯s throat as I lurched to the side, doing a long distance belly flop into the leaves. There was a snap and a great shuffling sound I assumed was the mouth coming down on nothing but leaves and dirt. Part one of my plan in place, I then tried to scramble to my feet and get moving toward the gate as the others had. Yep. That was my entire plan. Shoot the thing. Do a dive roll. Run for it. In my defense, I had a lot going on. So far, so good, though. Unfortunately, I was even slower to rise than Samila was, and I got the same result. The giant toad¡¯s leg kicked out yet again, perfectly in line with my body, and, just as Samila had done (except more clumsily), I wobbled to my feet and angled myself to take the blow on my metal side. I even remembered to activate Hardened Defense on the tender flesh just below my ribcage to further soften the blow. I¡¯m not sure if it worked, actually. I came to, mid-air, just before impact with the ground. I didn¡¯t bounce or roll when I hit. My body simply cratered, flopping heavily into the damp soil and staying there. When I finally got my respiratory system working again, I coughed up a glob of something chunky and wet and spit it into the dirt. You take 56 bludgeoning damage. You gain status: Stunned. You take 3 bleeding damage. You gain status: Brain Hemorrhage. [4 HP/sec] You take 4 bleeding damage. Someone yanked me to my feet. ¡°I don¡¯t like to run *huff* either, but surely there are *huff* easier ways to travel,¡± Geddon panted. I blinked, trying and failing to get my bearings. It turned out I didn¡¯t need to, however. The sometimes gentle giant was already hauling me toward the gap that was the gate. Oh. Yes. I was nearer the gate now. Great. ¡°Go!¡± I ordered my rescuer, as if he wasn¡¯t already doing that. Geddon was practically carrying me by my good arm to get me to safety. ¡°Whatever you did, it didn¡¯t work. We will have to fight the ignarog from the walls now.¡± ¡°Waif,¡± was all I could get out. ¡°Wait? Wait for what?¡± ¡°Lanmine.¡± My right leg gave out just then, causing me to stumble, but Geddon took me under his arm with a pained growl. ¡°Gods, you are heavier than you look. What was that now?¡± He asked ¡°Lanmine!¡± I gasped, distracted and in pain. One of my eyes blurred and went black just then, and the guns crescendoed until they were all I could hear. The white globs were back and floating in front of me wherever I looked. Sissa¡¯s magic must have been wearing off. ¡°Light blast it. Help! Trix! ¡± Geddon shouted, and I suddenly noticed I was lying on my back. I was also back inside the fortress. When did we get inside? ¡°Holy hell, Geddon. He¡¯s dying.¡± That was Samila¡¯s voice. She sounded like she was in pain. I wanted to see her, but the desire left me before I performed the requisite movements. The ground was so comfy. A light pressure on my chest. ¡°Stand back! Oh, light and gods of old. What happened?¡± ¡°That¡¯s what I said! I don¡¯t know. He was like this when I found him,¡± a basso voice explained. ¡°Did the ignarog do this?¡± ¡°No. Thi-¡± The toad! Suddenly, I found myself brimming with energy, comparatively at least. I gagged and sat up¡­ or tried to. Something forced me back down before I could get all the way upright. ¡°H- HOW MUCH?!¡± I roared. My volume control wasn¡¯t working properly. I wasn¡¯t choosing the right words either. ¡°Hold him down!¡± I gagged again, but the blood continued to stream down my throat, choking me. I coughed it up, but there was always more. *WHAM* Something slammed hard into one of the walls, hard enough for me to feel it through the floor. The guns were going full auto on something too. I summoned my focus, spat a mouthful of blood. I needed to say something. HP [68/301] You take 4 bleeding damage. Focus. ¡°How¡­.. long?¡± ¡°Ryan?¡± Samila again. She sounded terrible. Worry? Injury? How was she? ¡°How¡­. long?¡± ¡°Uh. Since you.. Since you came back? A minute. Two. Maybe more,¡± Samila answered. ¡°Trix, you have to heal him right now.¡± ¡°I have done what I dared! I can make blood clot, but if I do that in his head¡­ they have a name for that! It¡¯s not a good name!¡± ¡°He¡¯s going to die anyway, Trix!¡± I reached for the Volatility trigger in my head. The new one. The most recent. Where was it? So slippery. The feeling was there, fleeting, squirming. Like my speech, using the ability felt wrong. ¡°They¡¯re coming! Sam, we have to get up to the wall!¡± Sissa ordered. ¡°We can¡¯t leave him!¡± There! I felt the Volatility trigger there. It was jumpy, waving. ¡°Lamine. Down!¡± I tried to say. ¡°What?¡± Trix¡¯s claws dug into my skin. You have gained status: Underfed(moderate). You have gained status: Underfed(severe). ¡°Land mine!¡± I screamed. It had to have charged by now. The sequence had to have been building for¡­ well¡­ it needed to be enough. ¡°I don¡¯t understand, Ryan!¡± ¡°Down!¡± *BOOM* You gain status: Stunned. You have defeated scourge-touched female ignarog. You have been awarded 8,230 experience points. [15,400 base (-1,010 level, +3,080 group, +3,080 chain, -12,320 non-combat class)] ¡°Augh!¡± Someone yelled as they dove on top of me and painfully forced the air from my lungs. Then something hot, wet, and rancid splattered down upon us followed by suspiciously warm rain. I felt something in my head click into place followed by a pressure build up behind my eyes. Status Lost: Brain Hemorrhage. You have gained status: Starvation Everything went fuzzy at the edges, ceased to matter like they used to. I didn¡¯t try to yell anymore. I was content to lay here and just rest for as long as it took to- ¡°Get some food in him,¡± I heard Trix say. ¡°Right now. Force feed him if you have to. Do not let him sleep.¡± The joke was on him. I was already asleep. Chapter 77 - Find Common Ground Chapter 77 - Find Common Ground I woke up choking on something sweet, rotten. It was dark where I was. Quiet too. Gasping, I tried to turn over and spit what I could onto the floor, but my limbs wouldn¡¯t do what I wanted them to. Something constricted around me, squeezing until I couldn¡¯t breathe. The way my arms were crossed and stuck against my body, the dampness, the disorientation at just having woken up, all of it built into a surge of panic, and I began to thrash against my bindings. The world started to tilt. The air smelled of stagnant water. Someone gurgled as their mouth slipped beneath the surface- Then, I heard a voice from the dark. ¡°Lucky to be alive there, monk,¡± came a quiet, half-whispered, baritone. ¡°Don¡¯t ruin a good thing by getting rowdy.¡± I knew that voice. Didn¡¯t sound anything like Mom. Didn¡¯t trust it, though. Oddly, that was almost comforting. In the course of a few breaths, I came back to the present, and my mind finally started to place things where they were supposed to be. I wasn¡¯t bound but wrapped in a bedroll, and I was as far from that place as one could get. I was on Ralqir, years after the accident. The tightness in my chest slowly dissipated, the phantom belts loosening before fading entirely. I lifted my head slightly, as much as I could, at least. My body felt so heavy. Still, I was able to pick out the dim embers of a dying fire and a dark shape sat next to it, the firelight gleaming off of one of Bole¡¯s tiny knives as he thumbed the edge. I swallowed and cleared my throat of the leftover food I¡¯d been¡­ convinced to eat. ¡°Uh. Morning, Bole,¡± I croaked. The shadow that was Bole didn¡¯t answer. The only sound out there tonight seemed to be the snores of the others and the rustle of the wind in the leaves. The guns weren¡¯t firing for the first time in days. ¡°Quiet tonight, isn¡¯t it?¡± I asked curiously. ¡°Small mercy, the quiet,¡± Bole grumbled. I saw the hood of his cloak turn slightly to look my way. ¡°Or at least it was.¡± I frowned. Message received. ¡°Right,¡± I replied carefully. A polite person might have elaborated further, told me how the battle went, told me how long I was out, if everyone was alright. Bole didn¡¯t do that though. He just stared into the fire. HP [242/242] MP [111/267] Status: Underfed [Severe] So I hadn¡¯t been out long enough to refill my mana all the way. I didn¡¯t know how much I was missing near the end, but I had to assume it was a significant amount. We¡¯d set out in the morning too. Now it was night. My max HP was lower than it was supposed to be, but I was getting a penalty to my Body score based on my Underfed status. I¡¯d need to fix that ASAP. I turned my attention back to Bole. ¡°Guess you drew the short straw for watch duty,¡± I ventured. No reply. ¡°Though, I would imagine watch duty would have you on the wall, not poking at the fire.¡± ¡°I was never much of a guard,¡± Bole finally said sourly. ¡°Didn¡¯t have much patience for fools or foolish convention.¡± Again, his shadowy hood turned toward me pointedly. Someone coughed weakly from directly to my left. ¡°Stop it, Fidus,¡± the person whispered. Bole was suddenly up, scrambling on all fours until he was next to the bedroll neighboring mine. ¡°Beedy. You okay, big man? Is there something you need? Water? Food?¡± Beedy? I let my head loll over that way. Beedy laid next to me, pale still, covered in sweat, and shivering with fever. He looked thin, skeletal almost, courtesy of Trix¡¯s magic, but his eyes were wide open if glazed and unfocused. ¡°Need you to stop,¡± Beedy whispered through cracked lips. ¡°Alright, alright. The monk didn¡¯t mean to wake you. Just go back to sleep and get your strength up, eh?¡± Bole replied. ¡°No. N-Need you to stop it. Stop being-.¡± The man¡¯s voice trailed off until it vanished entirely, and he sighed. His gaze drifted upward lazily, and his eyelids drooped until they shuddered to a halt half-way down. Bole got down and put his head on his friends¡¯ chest. Genuine fear was evident on his face while he held his breath to listen for a long handful of seconds. Then, after an interminable amount of time, Beedy¡¯s chest began to rise and fall again. ¡°Stop the act,¡± Beedy continued as if he hadn¡¯t just passed out in the middle of a sentence. Bole sat up again, clearly relieved but unable keep the fear and worry out of his voice. His words came out in a nervous sort of chuckle. ¡°Why, I¡¯m an open book, old boy.¡± He reached over to smooth Beedy¡¯s hair. ¡°Just rest, man. Help is on the way.¡± If I didn¡¯t know any better, I¡¯d say Bole was close to tears. He kept talking. ¡°Church healers. Flesh melders maybe. The best. We¡¯ve been rubbing elbows with the Headmaster, you know. He¡¯s gonna have the best. Get you fixed right up. Maybe fix that nose of yours too. Save me from your snoring.¡± Beedy didn¡¯t respond, however, already back to struggling to breathe in his sleep. Bole looked on for a solid minute, watching his friend cling to life, then seemed to notice me again, turning away and pulling the hood of his cloak closer around him. He didn¡¯t leave Beedy¡¯s side, though. ¡°First time I¡¯ve ever heard his voice,¡± I said, careful not to be too loud for Beedy¡¯s sake. ¡°Shut the fuck up, monk,¡± the rogue said, the hood moving as he shook his head. ¡°If you want to keep your tongue, just shut the fuck up.¡± Finally able to slip a shoulder out of my bedroll, I gave him a weak half-shrug. I trusted he could see the gesture, giving how everyone on this damned planet had better night vision than me. ¡°Sorry. Just saying he strikes me as the quietly good type. Solid.¡± The other man did not lunge for my throat, despite his warnings. My many brushes with death recently and the tiredness I was feeling left my already lacking social skills with little brain power to work with anyway, so I went on. ¡°If it¡¯ll make you feel better, you can cut out my tongue, but I think it just grows back now,¡± I joked. Bole leaned forward intently as if he was thinking about doing just that. The firelight gleamed off one of his blades, but he made no move to use it. His scowl was surely sharp enough to cut, but he eventually lost his motivation, sighing before getting up to head back to the fire. ¡°Bah,¡± he scoffed, waving a dismissive hand my way. ¡°Pretty sure your Vulpa is still awake anyway. Don¡¯t want to tangle with him if I can help it.¡± ¡°Tangle with him again, you mean,¡± I added, remembering the first time we¡¯d met, how Trix attached himself to Bole¡¯s face. Bole¡¯s scars from that little dustup were still pink The corner of Bole¡¯s mouth inched slightly upward at that. ¡°Right. He was a scrapper before all this. But now he¡¯s a killer. Don¡¯t want my insides aired out, yeah?¡± Bole scooped something up off the ground. Then he reached over to plop a bowl on my chest, which I barely caught before it could roll off to the side. From the smell of it, it was more porridge. Clumsily, I disentangled my other hand from my bedroll and lifted the bowl to my lips. I¡¯d long lost my taste for the stuff, given the circumstances I kept getting fed like this. Ugh. This is way too much like the time in the Undercity. Least it¡¯s not cold. I said as much between torturous sips. ¡°I never liked it either,¡± Bole replied. ¡°Don¡¯t know anyone that really does other than those that grow up on it.¡± ¡°It¡¯s like someone stored the oats with their dirty laundry.¡± Bole snorted. ¡°Oats? Monk, that¡¯s Undercity meal. There ain¡¯t no oats in that.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± I said, looking down into the bowl. ¡°Do I want to-¡± ¡°Know what¡¯s in it? Not if you want to keep your appetite.¡± More awkward silence. This time, because I was busy trying to guess as to what they might put in ¡°Undercity meal.¡± Eventually, I had to give up, though. My imagination was too good. A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation. ¡°Tell me about him,¡± I probed with a half full mouth, purposefully not thinking about the taste. ¡°About Beedy, I mean.¡± ¡°A good man. That¡¯s all,¡± Bole said after a long pause. ¡°Deserves better than this, being out here with slagged insides.¡± I nodded around my porridge. It was always the innocent people that got the worst when things went to shit. That just might have been the one multiversal truth. ¡°The world¡¯s not kind to the good,¡± I said, my mind going back to Vince, Hunty. Don¡¯t forget Mom. ¡°Most true thing you¡¯ve said since I¡¯ve met you, monk.¡± Another bout of silence. The unsaid hanging around us like unseen watchers. Bole sighed and shifted his body until he was facing me entirely. Gone was the man¡¯s default disdainful sneer, replaced by a far away look that I recognized right away. ¡°That bite was meant for me.¡± The words pried their way out of him, hard, quiet.. I swallowed the last of my food and sat up. ¡°Meant for you?¡± ¡°I- I wasn¡¯t paying attention. We were out looking for trouble, me and Beedy, but we hadn¡¯t found a thing in days. Was starting to think we were alone out here. Would have been nice after that business in the city, you know? There was a hollow under a tree. Should have checked it, but I didn¡¯t. I wasn¡¯t on,¡± he said, using both hands to point at his head to emphasize his last sentence. He sniffed. ¡°Beedy was thinking, though,¡± Bole continued. ¡°When that spider came for me, he- Beedy¡­ he was right there.¡± He looked over at his friend and shook his head mournfully. ¡°We¡¯re cousins, actually. By blood. My mum¡¯s side. But he¡¯s worth six of me by my count.¡± Family, huh? I didn¡¯t see the resemblance, but I¡¯d never been good at that sort of thing. ¡°It does something to you, doesn¡¯t it?¡± I found myself asking. ¡°Being saved, I mean. You spend the rest of your life wondering if they¡¯d made the right call.¡± Bole gave the slightest of nods. He had one of his knives clutched tightly in his hand again, running his thumb over the blade, a little trickle of blood dribbling down the side. ¡°I could have slipped it, monk. I¡¯m quick on my feet. Strong. That spider didn¡¯t have a prayer of biting me.¡± ¡°Because you¡¯re a practitioner,¡± I finished for him. Surprise played briefly across his face. It wasn¡¯t much, just a widening of the eyes and a loosening of his jaw, but it was there. The far away look left him, and he was back with me for the briefest of moments. However, his poker face was back quickly enough that one might even doubt they saw the mask slip at all. ¡°Pft. Don¡¯t know what you¡¯re talking about,¡± he said. ¡°I started to suspect when you decked me in the Undercity,¡± I told him. I slid my bowl to the side so it wouldn¡¯t spill as I wriggled my legs out from my bedroll. I was still wearing the pants I had on earlier today at least. My shirt was MIA, however. Trix¡¯s magic had stripped my body of pretty much all fat and some of the muscle mass, but even as I sat here, my System enhanced healing could almost be observed with the naked eye, rounding out my chest and arms, giving my stomach definition I¡¯d never had in my old life. ¡°You¡¯re fast and quiet. Weirdly so. Then there was that moment where my aura slipped out of my control after I¡¯d woken up in that old basement. Seemed to rattle you. Combine that with the other stuff like your association with Jassin, and it¡¯s not a big leap in logic. You¡¯re a practitioner, but you don¡¯t want anyone to know,¡± I said. Bole made a rude sound and poked at the fire. ¡°I ain¡¯t nothing but me, Monk.¡± ¡°He would have been a practitioner,¡± Samila said from my left as she crawled stiffly up to the fire to warm her hands. She was wearing her smallclothes, just covering what needed to be covered, making the enormous navy blue bruises on her scales all the more apparent. Her movements looked weak and sore, the way one might move the day after an accident or after a marathon. ¡°That is if his life had turned out differently. Our first relatively quiet night, and the men decide to share their feelings. Typical,¡± She grumbled, though the words had no real venom behind them. ¡°I¡¯m on watch,¡± Bole corrected her before turning back to me with a frown. ¡°I¡¯m not a practitioner. Wouldn¡¯t have been anyway. It¡¯s just something I picked up as a kid.¡± ¡°Inherited?¡± I asked. Bole didn¡¯t say, but Samila nodded, causing the hooded rogue to scowl at her. I looked over at Beedy. ¡°What about him then?¡± Bole sighed and shook his head. ¡°If only. He¡¯d be a damned good one. Claim is too weak, though.¡± ¡°Doesn¡¯t seem to stop him,¡± Samila said. ¡°That¡¯s right,¡± Bole agreed with pride. ¡°Strong. Smart. Solid, like the monk said. All without having to sell himself to anyone. Funny that.¡± ¡°You would see it as a transaction wouldn¡¯t you?¡± Samila argued. It sounded like an old argument, one they¡¯d had before. ¡°The oaths we take are a gesture of humility and faith in something bigger than ourselves. We lose nothing and gain everything by taking them.¡± ¡°Empty words,¡± Bole scoffed. ¡°A bad deal. Empty words exchanged for a lifetime of servitude.¡± My neighbor stirred again. ¡°Stop it, Fidus,¡± Beedy wheezed before going into a coughing fit. ¡°Can¡¯t just be me.¡± Bole lowered his tone. ¡°You¡¯re not going anywhere, mate. Stop talking like that.¡± Beedy wasn¡¯t satisfied, though. ¡°Can¡¯t just be- *cough* me.¡± The hooded man looked up to the sky as if asking an unseen deity for strength, clenching his fists on his lap. ¡°Fine. Everyone else knows this, Monk, but-¡± Bole sighed. ¡°Monk, I used to be nobility, one of those families given a title for services rendered during the crusades. Used to manage a little hamlet way out on the edge of the empire. Nice place. Good people. Beedy¡¯s from there too.¡± Bole glanced over at Samila as if looking for some kind of objection, but he received none. ¡°Unfortunately for us,¡± he went on. ¡°We were also one of the families that kept their ancestor¡¯s relic blades from back in the day.¡± ¡°Unfortunately?¡± I asked the obvious question. What was wrong with having a relic? Supposedly, I had one of them. It liked to explode. ¡°The secret to brightsteel was lost a while back when the church went through a schism. The crusaders were a secretive bunch, and their techniques weren¡¯t written so much as passed down from master to apprentice,¡± Samila explained. ¡°The metal is a miracle of sorts. The maelstrom¡¯s purest light made manifest through means unknown. Scholars have been trying to recreate it ever since, and the supply of it dwindles more every year.¡± Bole looked at her oddly. She¡¯d just explained something that was common knowledge for my benefit, I guessed. ¡°Right. Well-¡± Bole continued. ¡°The church fancied my father¡¯s blade, given to him by his father and his father¡¯s father, back and back and back to the bloody crusades. Da was a proud man, though. He wasn¡¯t about to give up family history and our claim to our legacy,¡± Bole lamented. He took that moment to unsheath one of his knives again and twirl it over his knuckles. ¡°He did, however, pledge his second son to serve the church and strengthen his ties to the faith.¡± Bole had been in the church at one time. I¡¯d gathered as much from context clues so far, but I had no idea he¡¯d been practically forced into it. His animosity, while seeming irrational at times, made a bit more sense now. That couldn¡¯t have been the whole story, though. Nobody as angry as Bole got that way for a singular reason. He let out a long, tired breath, staring into the fire as the knife tumbled around on his fingers. ¡°I tried to make a real go of it. I really did.¡± ¡°In your own way,¡± Samila giggled. ¡°Brothel visits and tavern crawls among the faithful went up by half, at least.¡± ¡°No stricture against fun that I can recall, though my recollection from those times is fuzzy,¡± Bole chuckled darkly. ¡°Anyway, that¡¯s how I met this lot. Then, the church dissolved my family¡¯s title. They took our land and our home. Just like that. Legally too.¡± ¡°That¡¯s not everything,¡± Samila interjected. ¡°As I recall, they petitioned Lord Bole for access to the sword, but he denied them again and again. I recall your father also declaring all members of the clergy unwelcome on his land. A harsh thing, especially for the faithful that lived under him.¡± Bole shrugged. ¡°I did say he was proud. Anyway, they took everything my father owned and folded it into our liege lord¡¯s holdings. Da died a year later. After that, I just couldn¡¯t keep the faith anymore. I quit.¡± ¡°You did more than quit,¡± Samila chided. ¡°You stole some sensitive books and scrolls and set a paired flare paper under the head cleric¡¯s mattress. Probably sold the scrolls to one of the Prefect¡¯s stand-ins, too, or you wouldn¡¯t have been allowed to join the guard. The church couldn¡¯t prove that, though.¡± ¡°And they never will. That¡¯s when Siss and I parted ways. To a dragon, oaths are forever. Remember that, monk.¡± ¡°We just have a highly developed sense of honor and integrity,¡± Samila preened with a raised chin. ¡°More people could do with a little of that.¡± ¡°The church broke faith long before I did, and, in my reckoning, made me a free agent. Siss disagreed.¡± Bole cleared his throat and spared a glance for Beedy who seemed to be content enough with the story to sleep through it. ¡°You were doing things, Bole,¡± Samila argued. ¡°Bad things. Things she couldn¡¯t be a part of.¡± ¡°I was playing the hand I was dealt,¡± Bole growled. ¡°Living by my own rules.¡± He snatched his knife out of the air and got his feet under him like he was going to stand, but then he stopped, slumped back down as he ran his free hand down his face. Samila seemed like she wanted to reach out and place a hand on Bole¡¯s arm, but she only got halfway there before she seemed to decide against it. ¡°You turned spiteful and angry, Fidus.¡± Samila said, her tone gentler now, less accusatory. ¡°I was in the middle of destroying my life. Siss didn¡¯t need to be there for that,¡± Bole declared with sad finality. ¡°Then Beedy showed up,¡± I guessed, turning the subject to something Bole was more comfortable with. ¡°Then Beedy showed up,¡± Bole affirmed with a grateful smile. ¡°Had news of my mum, my brother. Sobered me up just so he could give it to me. Then he just kind of¡­ stayed. That¡¯s it. He just stayed.¡± He grinned, seeming to remember something he was keeping to himself. I thought of Vince, how he stuck with me after my accident, after Mom died. How wretched I felt. The guilt and rage at having been the cause of her death. I¡¯d done my best to push everyone away too. I stopped speaking. Going out. Stopped cutting my hair. I wasn¡¯t eating. I actively despised others I considered friends beforehand. As much as I didn¡¯t like to think about it, I didn¡¯t become a pariah overnight. The Constance clan had their hangups about the weak, but I did my part too, didn¡¯t I? Vince stuck around, though, always with me despite how much I changed since that day. I became a completely different person than the one he knew, but he didn¡¯t care. ¡°Maybe he¡¯s waiting for you to come back to yourself,¡± Samila offered. ¡°Maybe,¡± Bole replied, getting up and stretching before loping over to the stairs that led to the top of the wall. He started climbing. ¡°Maybe I¡¯m already myself. Have been for a while.¡± Maybe, sometimes, our friends see something in us we can¡¯t see in ourselves. ¡°Wait. Is sharing time over? You guys aren¡¯t going to hug or anything?¡± Samila teased, stretching as she made to rise. ¡°Hell, no!¡± Bole barked from the top of the wall. ¡°He fed me to dead people,¡± I said with a shake of my head. Bole chuckled out there in the dark. ¡°Hehe. Yeah. That was pretty good.¡± Rolling her eyes, Samila made to get up but stopped suddenly, as if something had just occurred to her. She turned to me then and ran her gaze up and down my body, lingering a long time on my exposed chest and shoulders. I bravely stood my ground, since I was too weak to actually run away. ¡°Sweet dreams,¡± she crooned, before slinking back to her bedroll for the rest of the night. ¡°Yeah. Uh. You too,¡± I replied, keeping careful track of her movements until she left the circle of firelight. Then I was left alone with my thoughts. That wouldn¡¯t do. There¡¯ll be time for introspection after I save the world. Or when I¡¯m dead. Preferably in that order. I looked over to the shadowy area that housed my workbench. On it would be scraps of failed chain charges, the ones that almost got us all killed having to deploy them outside the walls. It was time to go back to the drawing board on that one¡­ or was it? Oh, that just might work. Chapter 78 - Flip the Table Chapter 78 - Flip the Table I grunted quietly as I heaved the second of two brass balls into the launcher I¡¯d constructed on the ramparts overlooking the northern approach. Together, they shouldn¡¯t have weighed more than ten, maybe twenty pounds, but I was struggling this morning. I was still in the recovery phase of having Trix use his magic on me, meaning I was still lacking lots of energy and muscle mass, not to mention the hefty debuff I got from being just above starvation. Underfed (severe)[ -40 Body] And what a penalty it was. I was essentially back to having 13 Body, which was about what I had to begin with. I was much weaker than that though. My body was fighting for survival, shutting down non-essential processes and scrabbling for calories I just didn¡¯t have as of yet. That made working with constructs of pure metal just plain suck. As the payload slipped inside, I sputtered, letting fly some of the little gritty things that passed for oats on this world. My mouth hadn¡¯t had a chance to be empty at all this morning, despite my need for both hands while I worked. The half empty bowl of porridge was even now at my feet, waiting for me to pick it up again. More of the slop was scattered around my little work area too. The thought of it almost made me sick. A guy can really get burned out of porridge. One thing no one mentions when your body loses so much is the cold. Without all that meat and fat insulating my insides and without all that Body score to give me supernatural protections, working in the foggy morning of the ancient forest of Ralqir was downright freezing. My entire body shook like a leaf in the wind, and my breaths came in shallow wheezes. Shot loaded, I then summoned all my might and lifted the mouth of the construct up and over the lip of the rampart until it was propped up at about a 45 degree angle. That took several tries, my reduced strength not allowing for much more than an inch or so of movement before I had to put the whole thing down again to hyperventilate. However, it wasn¡¯t long before I had my little cannon angled and ready for a test fire. The brace, a series of claws that dug into the petrified wood to keep the cannon still, were the easiest to attach with just a little Shaping juju, and the break gave me a chance to get my spirits back up. I could even eat as I did it. Whistling a pirate tune I remembered from a movie I¡¯d seen when I was a kid, I put my finger on the tiny wire protruding from the back of the tube and started to pour on the juice. Volatility. [1 MP/sec] I didn¡¯t strictly have to do this, funnily enough. I could have just automated a cube that spent all of its charge at once and stuck it in the back of the cannon, but this morning I was feeling the need for historical¡­ Well, the word wasn¡¯t ¡®accuracy.¡¯ Authenticity? Whatever it was, I was feeling it. ¡°What are you doing?¡± My bowl clattered to the ground, spilling the tiny amount of porridge I had left onto the toe of my boot. ¡°Crap,¡± I whispered, but I really wasn¡¯t too sad to take a break from eating. Samila, still in her loose, tan shirt and underwear that she slept in, limped the rest of the way up the rampart stairs, clutching the leather sheath to her sword in one hand. The soreness in her leg and¡­ probably the rest of her showed on her face. The climb looked like it took a great effort. Getting kicked by a giant toad did that to a person, not that I would know first hand. I got a shot of Vulpa mind mojo right after I¡¯d had my experience, so my problems were entirely different. ¡°Didn¡¯t mean to frighten you,¡± the dragonkin ground out quietly as she took the last few stairs. Then she paused and let out a weary breath before giving me a hollow version of her signature little smile. ¡°Unless you¡¯re into that.¡± My eyes were drawn down to her blue skin, the shape of her shoulders, the V at the neck of her shirt before I remembered I was currently channeling mana into a bomb. I was ripped back to the moment forcefully at that moment. Oh, it was already glowing a dangerous shade of purple. ¡°Yeah. Uh. No. Actually, you- uh- startled me is all. If I woke you, I¡¯m sorry. I thought I was being pretty quiet up here.¡± She waved a dismissive hand in the air. ¡°No, I wasn¡¯t sleeping. I tried, but I couldn¡¯t. I relieved Bole and told him to go get some sleep. Need our best fighters healthy and rested for today.¡± The last sentence came out through clenched teeth. ¡°Good thing you¡¯re all rested then, huh?¡± I said lamely. Her only reply was to make a very unladylike sound with her mouth. ¡°Okay, sorry. Won¡¯t do that again,¡± I said, looking up from my Volatility wick to try and catch her eye. The faint light of the early morning was just bright enough to show me the worry in her eyes, a slight swelling and darkness to the scales. ¡°Hey. Hey,¡± I called, tilting my head and leaning over to make sure she was looking at me. ¡°You and I are not out of this fight. A little time, and we¡¯ll be back out there. I¡¯ll be out there with my sword, flailing around and you¡¯ll get back to being a terrifying, Amazonian demi-goddess.¡± ¡°Terrifying huh?¡± She sniffed. ¡°Absolutely,¡± I assured her. ¡°What is an ¡®Am-a-zon-ee-an¡¯? Is this a word from your home?¡± I had said that, hadn¡¯t I? I tried to think of a good way to explain this without embarrassing myself. My knowledge was more mythical than historical. More a product of archived pop culture than real knowledge. ¡°They were a legendary tribe of from back home. All women. Beautiful, fierce, strong. There were epics and poems written about them for thousands and thousands of years,¡± I said, stopping briefly to think about all the books, comics and movies I¡¯d seen. ¡°Their legend was so strong, the Amazonian name become synonymous with female strength.¡± A moment passed between us, silent, tense. Suddenly, a ghost of the woman¡¯s patented sly smile was back on her face, a genuine one this time. ¡°So, you think I¡¯m beautiful.¡± And there it was. I knew I¡¯d walked right into it, and I kind of did it on purpose. Still didn¡¯t make the next part any easier. My mouth expressed what my brain was experiencing. ¡°Uh.¡± She shook her head and leaned back to rest on one of the petrified bark crenelations. Her posture slowly gained back some of its casual confidence. ¡°Don¡¯t run away from it. It was a nice thing to say.¡± ¡°Uh. Okay,¡± I replied, not quite knowing how to proceed. This was as far as the ¡°cheer Samila up¡± plan had gotten. I was no good at flirting with girls, even when they did most of the work. Which stat do I have to raise to be less like me? I suddenly gained a new appreciation for the work I¡¯d been doing before the dragonkin came up those stairs. I bent down to get a good read on where I was pointing the cannon. Suddenly, a blue hand was resting on the shaft just next to the wick. ¡°So, tell me. How beautiful would you say I am in comparison to my sister?¡± I froze. Yes, my life flashed before my eyes. No, it didn¡¯t take very long. I had only one escape. *BOOM* The cannon shot ripped through the morning. Purple fire belched from the barrel as excess Volatility charge was expended all at once, sending the payload soaring up and away into the forest. Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original. ¡°Light and gods of old, what is all that racket?! Geddon roared from down in the courtyard. I exchanged a look with Samila, who was now both grinning ear to ear but also gingerly rubbing her hand that was just resting on the cannon. ¡°Uh. It¡¯s okay! I¡¯m doing pirate stuff now,¡± I shouted over my own ringing ears. ¡°Couldn¡¯t it have waited? I was having a dream.¡± Geddon replied. Trix¡¯s basket rocked as the Vulpa shifted his weight. A little nose peaked over the edge. ¡°Mmf. I am sure Ryan has a good reason to¡­ do whatever he is doing. A very good reason¡± he added, not bothering to keep the cordial tone. ¡°He¡¯d fucking better!¡± Bole growled. He was already half in his armor, his black hair still mussed from his short time abed. I swallowed, standing up to my full height to sheepishly check where my shot had landed. A quick sweep of the forest floor came up with nothing. Then I had to turn my search up, way up, actually. Farther up than I¡¯d planned. About 50 or 60 feet up one of the trunks of the mendau, outside the outer perimeter, I spied a faint purple glow. The chain between my two cannon balls was already starting its charging process. Thank Constance for building sized trees. ¡°Ryan?¡± Sissa¡¯s voice cut smoothly through the angry grumbling of the others. ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡± ¡°It¡¯s uh¡­¡± I tried hard not to glance back over at Samila, who was doing her best to hide how pleased she was at having been the cause of my premature detonation. ¡°I had a dream about pirates and- Well, I was going to wait until you were awake, but I¡¯m ready to bring down the rest of the trees.¡± On that note, I turned around and peered into the forest gloom. There was movement out there now. None of the scourge came close enough to the fort to trigger the turrets, but they were moving around out there. The sudden activity had roused them. ¡°Ryan, the infected are making their way toward your glowing chain,¡± Trix said. His rifle barrel was up and out of the basket and aimed at targets I could only dream of seeing that far out. I nodded, feeling a thrill pass through my core. ¡°¡°I¡¯m seeing lots of Returned and¡­ Miur¡­ Vulpa¡­ Urlan¡­ I think the infected from Eclipse and the surrounding villages have finally arrived. Should I shoot them before they can investigate?¡± He asked. Smiling, I brought all the Volatility triggers to the front of my mind and focused on the newest one. Perfect. ¡°No. Let them be,¡± I replied. If my estimations were correct, the longer we spent in this standoff, the better. More time meant more time to charge. ¡°That isn¡¯t one of the trees we¡¯ve marked for death. In fact, it is far out of range for the turrets,¡± Sissa observed clinically. I nodded, smiling slightly to myself ¡°No, it¡¯s not one we need to bring down.¡± I could see the monsters scurrying over the terrain around the wounded tree, sniffing and casting hateful glances my way then back up to where my construct lay. Some were even clawing their way up the trunk. The oddly proportioned but strong figures of Black Ones were the first up, carefully picking their way toward my little chain shot. Sissa raised a curious eyebrow ridge. ¡°Want to bring me in on this plan?¡± ¡°Sure. I was sleeping last night between bowls of mush, and I had a dream about pirates. From back home, I mean,¡± I added when I saw the confusion on her face. ¡°There were lots of stories about them, their exploits. Most of them were terrible terrible people. Some were devilishly clever. For a while, they used cannons sort of like this one.¡± I put a booted foot up on the expended cannon for emphasis. The monsters were up the tree now and sniffing around my glowing purple chain. It wouldn¡¯t be long now. ¡°And you chose to test your ¡®cannon¡¯ today as a method of delivering your shaped charges?¡± Sissa was a smart girl. She saw at least the first part of my thought process immediately. One of the Black Ones began to tug on the now spikey cannonball to try to dislodge it from the bark of the mendau tree. They¡¯d been programmed to take their second form as soon as they¡¯d left the barrel of the cannon, and the spikes were meant to help them grab. I wondered how many cuts the little dude was getting on his palms trying to pry it out of the wood. I wobbled my head side to side, noncommittal. ¡°At first, that¡¯s what I was going to do, but the more I thought about it, the worse an idea I realized it was. They¡¯re essentially chains. The scourge saw us use something similar to bring down two trees yesterday. If they¡¯re getting as smart as I think they are, I don¡¯t think they¡¯ll let us do anything like that again. Not without pushback at least.¡± ¡°So, this is a test to see how they react then?¡± ¡°Nah,¡± I scoffed just as the Black Ones managed to dislodge one of the spiked anchors, followed shortly by the other. The construct then began its descent to the forest floor. ¡°The thing that made the pirates of old dangerous wasn¡¯t necessarily the cannons. It was subterfuge. Lying through action,¡± I pointed a finger at the accelerating purple jumble of chain and made a little shooting motion with my finger gun. ¡°Observe,¡± I said. *BOOM* The scourge around the base of the tree exploded as the chain¡¯s charge detonated. From all around us, there was a collective howl as the scourge entered a frenzy. They¡¯d realized the danger they were in immediately, faster than I¡¯d even thought they would. The scourge was thinking strategically now, learning concepts it had taken people forever to put together in a matter of seconds. It realized the game had just changed significantly, and if it wanted the best chance at overwhelming us, it needed to act now. The cannon meant we would, potentially, be able to bring down whatever tree we wanted. ¡°Okay, people!¡± I called to the rest of them. ¡°May want to get up on the walls now! Think we¡¯re about to see a little action!¡± Samila sauntered/limped over to my side and leaned on my metal arm. Sissa came up on the other side, pulling her shield into place on her forearm. The two of them looked rough, off balance maybe. Sissa was missing her sword, Samila her shield. I¡¯d need to make replacements before I did anything else. Of course, I would have time for that soon. ¡°They¡¯re going to charge en masse,¡± Sissa guessed. ¡°Get ready for a fight on all fronts! This is going to be a bad one!¡± ¡°Yes!¡± Trix shouted. ¡°They are massing out there, all around! Thousands of them that were out of sight! We most certainly have the entire population of Eclipse here now. Perhaps more.¡± ¡°Ryan, I need to know your plan right now. We¡¯re facing overwhelming force, we¡¯re severely depleted, and you don¡¯t look surprised,¡± Sissa demanded angrily. Nodding, I brought up the rest of the Volatility tiggers, ready to detonate them. ¡°Just hold steady! It won¡¯t be as bad as it looks!¡± I ordered. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw a great mass of bodies surge forward, a writhing, black sea of once living beings that represented an entire city of people claimed by the scourge. Then, turning to Sissa, I kept my voice low. ¡°Like I said, the cannons aren¡¯t what made pirates dangerous. I realized that last night when I was disassembling the shaped charges into smaller bits.¡± The scourge flooded into the outer perimeter, and the turrets went to work. Full auto. Over-penetrating rounds. Every corner of the fortress was awash in purple light and thunderous sound. Scourge died by the triple digits, but the mass kept coming. They kept coming closer and closer to the inner perimeter where we¡¯d once wanted to bring down our trees. Of course, the scourge went well around the sunlight that now streamed into a large clearing left by our previous work. Sissa didn¡¯t like the theatrics though. ¡°Ryan! I need to know now! What is going on?¡± The inner perimeter was breached. The black tide spilled over the imaginary circle, breaking over the ancient mendau. I put my mouth almost directly on her ear, so close my lips brushed the scales. Weird. They felt more soft than I¡¯d expected, like down feathers. My voice was quiet lest I give away the game too soon, and our enemy call off its charge. ¡°The charges have been set for hours now. I reprogrammed the drones to do it quietly last night.¡± She pulled away, narrowing her eyes and turning from me to the battle and back again, realization pulling her jaw down until she looked like a blue fish. Her sister didn¡¯t ask any questions, choosing, instead, to lean on me and pick at her nails. Samila must have been fast on the uptake, or maybe she trusted me in a way Sissa didn¡¯t. Time to rub the salt in. Stepping forward, I put a foot on the nearest crenelation and leaned out over the wall to stare the nearest scourge creature right in the eyes, what I hoped was a sufficiently cocky grin on my face. I gave the creature a wink, and, with a snap of my fingers, I triggered the charges. An almost synchronized series of metallic *pop*s sounded above the din of the guns and the wailing of the scourge. The entire forest seemed to distort, fold in on itself as the entire world beyond a certain point began to slowly lean. What were once straight lines, solid and true, bent, broke. Then the trees leaned degree by degree, falling slowly as all old and ancient things did. The entire middle ground of my vision stopped making sense to my mortal brain. Humans aren¡¯t meant to witness things so massive meet their end. We were meant to live below them, to view them as eternal, nature¡¯s reminder of how small we really are. The trees fell exactly the way Geddon had predicted, and they fell hard. Away. They fell directly on the teeming mass of monsters and ground them into paste. Worse for our enemy, they let in the light. Blinding, burning sunlight¡­ maelstrom light stabbed down from above forming visible rays in the mist and through the cloud of debris in the air. The rays of light burned through the scourge like a celestial laser, a circular fence of bright death. Every single one of the creatures even remotely close to our new inner perimeter burst into flames. Oily, black smoke seemed to billow up from those affected, out of their skin, their mouths and eyes, only to disappear as the light dissolved it too. As one, the tide of scourge broke upon our new fortification as if it were a solid thing. Those scourge that were lucky enough to have charged past the inner perimeter before I¡¯d triggered the charges found themselves quite alone, and the turrets were quick and efficient in dispatching them. The last one tumbled to the ground well before getting within spitting range. From there, the scourge scattered as quickly as it had gathered, howling as it ran away to lick its wounds, racing with itself to get out of range of the turrets before it could take any more losses. Before long, the guns and my companions fell silent once more. My friends didn¡¯t seem to have anything to say. Bole started a slow clap that no one else took up, but that was probably more of a result of it being Bole, not the general mood of the crowd. I stared out at the carnage I¡¯d wrought and took a deep inhale through the nose, tasting absolute victory for the first time since I¡¯d arrived here. A minute and thirty seconds, and the horde had lost thousands, maybe tens of thousands. What¡¯s more, we now had a choke point. I knew how to defend a choke point. It probably wouldn¡¯t last, but at this moment, I felt like things weren¡¯t entirely hopeless. For the first time in a long time, I felt like we could win. No more running. No more deaths. Complete and absolute victory over evil. Your move then, asshole. Chapter 79 - Confront my Doubts Chapter 79 - Confront my Doubts The scourge¡¯s next move, it turned out, was to get super pissy about things. Sure, it had probed at the outer edges of the light perimeter for a while, sending ones and twos as close to the ¡®glow¡¯ zone¡¯ as possible without catching fire, but after it had mapped out what was safe and what wasn¡¯t it chose to scurry away and hide. At least the ones that lived did that, those the turrets didn¡¯t cut down before they could run. That didn¡¯t mean the scourge were sitting idly, though. The amount of howling and screeching I received when I got up on the walls to work on one of the turrets or launch the odd State Change fire starter into a pile of corpses was, quite frankly, disconcerting. It wasn¡¯t so much the amount of hate I was getting from the mob of evil dead things. I was used to that and at shorter distances. What bothered me was more the tenor. From all my previous interactions with them, the horde was capable of pretty much one emotion when it came to me: rage. At least they were up until now. With the change to our circumstances and a good barrier between us, I was seeing a new side to them. Individual monsters scraped the bark off of trees, clawed at the rocks and sometimes each other. They seemed directionless, almost, violently so, like their anger at having their prey right there with no direct path to him was eating them up inside. It warmed my metal heart to see. I¡¯d reeled in the range on the turrets after the sun wall went up. No use in spending the ammo or generating the heat if the scourge weren¡¯t going to get through the barrier anyway. Instead, I busied myself preparing for the worst while enjoying the relative peace over a bracing cup of awful red Ralqir tea. There was significant degradation on the barrels, actions, and spring of the most active turrets as well as less than ideal power issues in the propulsion cubes. The power thing was the easiest to fix with just a little time juicing up the Automated parts, although a long term solution would probably require an entire overhaul of the design. I was wasting too much power and generating too much heat with every shot. It wasn¡¯t a lot, mind you, but in the course of a thousand shots, certain parts of the machines got too hot to safely touch. In ten thousand, they were in danger of meltdown. The next model needed to be more efficient if I really wanted to fire and forget these bad boys. While I had the guns disassembled, I thought about giving them self-charging batteries, of course, but I wasn¡¯t particularly comfortable with building weapons that needed to be fired or risk being turned into a bomb, given that I was sleeping next to them. The self destruct feature might be useful in keeping my weapons out of enemy hands sometime in the future, though. That was worth something. The metal degradation was annoying but expected. These parts of the turret were under stress from heat and pressure constantly when the thing was in use, not to mention moisture from all the fog and morning dew. Plus they¡¯d been in use for¡­ eight days straight now? I was lucky my machines were performing as well as they did. Despite them looking and acting like sophisticated implements of war, they were essentially a primitive and pale imitation of the real kinetic firearm back home. I was sure there were a lot of things I could have built into the design to keep it from eventually failing like this, but I¡¯d never bothered to learn more than surface level stuff about guns. I was an engine guy, a computer guy, and that was enough to keep a boy busy in the Outers. Well¡­ More like I¡¯d been ¡®convinced¡¯ to ¡®leave the warrior stuff to the warriors,¡¯ like I was supposed to, and it was coming back to bite me. I did know about moisture, heat and pressure, though, what it did to engines specifically. There were ways to mitigate those things, especially if a large part of the machine was exposed to moving air like my turrets were. ¡°Your new design looks¡­ interesting,¡± Trix mumbled from beside me around a mouthful of some kind of cheese. This was one of the rare but increasingly frequent times he took to stretch his legs outside of his sniper¡¯s nest nowadays. With our drop in aggressive scourge raids, he had been taking more and more breaks, choosing to help with cooking or changing bandages instead of constantly looking through the lens of his glamor spell. It had done wonders for his mood, being able to cook again. He truly enjoyed making others happy with the things he made. Just now, though, he was picking at a ring of fingernail sized fan blades meant to fit into a housing that would go at the ¡°front¡± of my new gun cooling idea. A couple different iterations sat on my workbench as well, rounded with a hollow part at the front and back like an atmo thruster or one of the old Earth jet engines. He was right about the look. The new design was weird. Where my guns were all clean lines and robotic arms before, now there was an alien, egg shaped growth attached to the barrel immediately next to the action. I used a finger to Shape weld another tiny prong of copper onto the heat sink sleeve I was making. ¡°Yeah, well I¡¯m just slapping a solution on a problem I already have,¡± I replied. ¡°If I had the time, I¡¯d redesign the whole thing to be one piece, but right now we¡¯re stuck with aftermarket mods for the current guns. Right now, I¡¯ll be perfectly happy if the fan spins up and blows air. If that works, then maybe we¡¯ll talk about aesthetics.¡± I punctuated my sentence with a Devouring Grasp that consumed a log the size of my forearm and reduced it to a cloud of orange vapor, re-applying the Engine status to my character sheet. My mana ticked out of the double digits again, and the mana migraine I¡¯d been courting faded into the background once more. I¡¯d gotten a C grade affinity with mendau wood earlier in the day, and I liked the extra mana I was getting from it. It also came with a jump in the percentage of Hunger mana that the mendau supposedly had, which I was less of a fan of. Controlling that mana was hard, almost as hard as it had been my first day on Ralqir (thanks Tempered Channels). It was annoying but useful in some ways too. It was hard to use the foreign mana I was getting from the wood, but their widely different temperaments made it easier to distinguish between types of mana inside of me. The stuff that bent to my will up to and including back flips and advanced calculus when I asked was ¡®my¡¯ mana, while the rabid squirrels I had to ply with treats and keep at arms length with a stool was the ¡®Hunger¡¯ variety. Before gaining higher affinity, I¡¯d just assumed the two were mixed like soup, and I was stuck with the mixture until I¡¯d used it all. Now, with more Hunger to work with, I was becoming able to tease out the good from the bad, which felt good. The practice helped me get another level in mana manipulation, bringing that value up to four. ¡°So, what are the monsters up to, Trix? Still sulking?¡± I asked as I hunched over the bristling heatsink. Trix sniffed disdainfully. ¡°After the attempted incursion last night, they appear to have learned about the disadvantageous nature of narrow valleys. Now, they seem to be content with continuous psychological warfare. The sounds they make are truly disturbing, not to mention how they¡¯ve taken up clawing the trees and rocks. Also, to clarify, I wasn¡¯t trying to disparage your uh- Well, maybe I was. A little. This new shape is strange and off putting, but that is not what I wanted to talk about,¡± Trix said, shuffling his feet as his ears flattened uncomfortably. He leaned in, getting up on his tiptoes to get nearer to my ear. Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°This appears to be a long term solution to a short term problem,¡± he whispered. I looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. ¡°What do you mean?¡± ¡°I mean, according to our schedule, we should be finding a way to get you home within three days, and that is at the maximum. Our dragon¡­¡± Trix paused to shake his head in disbelief. ¡°Funny how I can say that so casually now¡­ our dragon is set to arrive in four, and you are to be in your own universe by then for your own safety and ours. Is that not the plan?¡± Looking down at my half-welded outer casing, I swallowed, wishing in that moment I had more awful tea. ¡°Yeah. That¡¯s the plan.¡± ¡°Would it not be more prudent to work on how to get you to the ruins in one piece then?¡± He asked. That was a completely rational question, one that I didn¡¯t have a great answer to. ¡°I¡¯m working on that. I have several plans,¡± I hedged. Trix tilted his head skeptically. The whiskers on his nose did a curious dance that reminded me of Garret and his mustache. ¡°Some ideas,¡± I added, defensively. ¡°A few.¡± His little fox eyes got bigger and bigger until they were all I saw, big pools of brown and black like warm chocolate before bed. His fur looked so soft. So adorable- ¡°Okay! Okay! I don¡¯t know yet. I see what you¡¯re doing,¡± I admitted, swatting him away as I fought to tear my eyes from his. I may have also taken the opportunity to give his fur a little pat. It really was soft. Trix dropped the glamor and brushed the fur I¡¯d mussed back into place, but he didn¡¯t seem ready to drop the subject. He looked down at the floor contemplatively, taping a finger on his chin, and after several tense moments of staring he figured out what to say. ¡°Ryan, you know none of us blame you for the happenings as of late. This isn¡¯t your fault.¡± That came out of nowhere. Also, it was super wrong. I was obviously to blame. Hell, who else was there to blame? Wasn¡¯t a guy allowed to blame himself for causing the apocalypse? Constance, Trix was right. The heatsinks looked like tumors. ¡°Of course I¡¯m not to blame.¡± I lied, sounding too defensive by half. I dove back into the heatsink, pouring myself into it to separate the prongs a bit more. Probably not something I needed to do, but it was better than letting my mind go down the ¡®self flagellation¡¯ rabbit hole again. Trix held up his hands in surrender. ¡°Of course. Of course. As I said, you are not to blame. I am just saying, you may be an outsider by birth, but-¡± he sighed, and hunched his shoulders as if he was afraid someone was going to hit him. ¡°You¡¯re an outsider, but that doesn¡¯t mean you aren¡¯t welcome.¡± My mouth felt dry. I grasped with my non-Shaping hand for the empty cup next to me and tried to drain the last few drops of tea out of the bottom. Nothing. Instead, I just stared into the empty cup uncomfortably. ¡°Yeah. I understand,¡± I replied. ¡°You guys have been wonderful to me. Best friends I¡¯ve made in¡­ I don¡¯t know.¡± Trix cleared his throat. ¡°That¡¯s- That¡¯s not- I just want you to know that if you¡¯re having second thoughts about leaving, you are not the only one.¡± Something fluttered in the pit of my stomach sending a tiny thrill through my body. However, the rational part of my mind smashed the thought I was having with a very big hammer. That was impossible, dangerous thinking. It pained me to say it, but it had to be said. ¡°Trix, I can¡¯t stay. I¡¯m¡­ poisoning you. Just my being here is destroying your home.¡± The little fox shook his head. ¡°Changing our home, Ryan. Changing it,¡± Trix corrected. ¡°Not all change is bad. It may seem bad at the time, horrible even, like a forest fire, but afterward, life goes on. Sometimes, the fire is even needed to keep the forest healthy. We of Ralqir have had much practice weathering such things.¡± I rubbed tiredly at my eyes with the heels of my hands. ¡°But does it always involve this many dead people, Trix?¡± I asked. Trix gave the vulpa version of a frown but bowed slightly in acknowledgement. ¡°I don¡¯t diminish the cost we have paid. I lament the loss of all these people, and I hope we limit this cataclysm with our actions here. However, this crisis is only the latest in a chain of many and not even the worst.¡± He put a clawed hand on my newly restored forearm. ¡°It is also the craft of many hands, none your own. Do not ascribe guilt to yourself when you had no part in making things as they are. I can see the conflict in your words and actions. Do not let these feelings of guilt guide you down a path you do not want to walk.¡± ¡°For the hundredth time, it¡¯s not guilt,¡± I argued. ¡°Besides, my feelings don¡¯t matter, Trix. What matters is you. All of you. It¡¯s easy to see I¡¯m not supposed to be here.¡± ¡°Of course your feelings matter, Ryan.¡± He gave my arm a firm squeeze, a strange gesture for someone so small. ¡°With or without you, Ralqir will find a way forward. We- Well, most of us¡­ would just rather do it with you.¡± Such a naked admission. Of course it came from Trix the Honest. He and, by extension, the others accepted me, even though I was dangerous. They wanted me to stay. They were practically inviting me to stay, though none of us knew what that would do in the long term. Despite that, they were willing to take that risk. An image of a pet rock popped into my head. Rounded edges. A child¡¯s black and white paint giving it goofy, offset eyes. Only I, the pet rock in this metaphor, was pure plutonium. Did they not think it through? Did they not see what I meant to this place? Maybe they did. Maybe they did, and they still wanted me. They were willing to live with the poison I was bringing with me. That was too much. I short circuited, dropping my saturation I was trying to achieve with the metal and staring into the middle distance vaguely in the direction of my workbench. After I didn¡¯t talk for some time, Trix let go of my arm and wandered off after gingerly returning the fan blade to the little pile on the corner of my bench. I didn¡¯t exactly see him go, but I felt it. It was tempting, actually, to think of myself as a complete outsider. Blameless. I wasn¡¯t here by choice, and things happened that were beyond my control. It was tempting to look at Ralqir as just the victim of a natural disaster. All this¡­ evil¡­ just happened, like a storm or an earthquake. If not because of me, it would have been because of someone else, or maybe it would have taken the form of another thing, years later when the scourge reached critical mass a bit further down the road. I knew better than that, though. Didn¡¯t I? Humans weren¡¯t meant to be here. It wasn¡¯t just my insertion point that was poisoning this place. It was me. A breach of natural law. The wretchwyrm had said that, just before trying to- I didn¡¯t know what. Kill me? Use me? That felt right. It was going to use me like the Dark Lord had used Ephelir. To what end, I didn¡¯t know. Regardless, I¡¯d been here for under a year, and I¡¯d already set off an apocalypse and then, to fix that, changed warfare forever. What else would I do to these people if I stayed? If I made a life here, what else would I change? Who else would try to use me? You have done and you will continue to do to us as long as you live. Closing my eyes, I reached inward and pulled myself close, all of me. I withdrew my presence from Ralqir and brought it inside of myself, cycling it the way Jassin had taught me, through my body and spirit. It felt like I was stretching, though I was doing the opposite, working a muscle that was woefully undeveloped, and it hurt. The hurt felt right. Did the world seem better this way, without me? More pure? Less chaotic? The monsters were still there. I could hear them. Then there were the burning questions underneath the problem of the monsters. Even without me, what was the scourge? What would it do once I¡¯d gone? Would it leave these people in peace? What was it, really, when it wasn¡¯t wearing dead things like sweaters? On my stool, staring at my workbench as the afternoon sun passed by, the world went on without me for a time, while I waited for some kind of sign. Chapter 80 - See Old Friends Chapter 80 - See Old Friends We didn¡¯t get attacked in earnest until later that night. Trix had spotted them massing on the north side of the fortress before the action really kicked off, and he¡¯d set off the alarm to give us time to get ready. In preparation of what was to come, Geddon, Bole, and I moved a few of the turrets from gate duty over to the north wall to help with what was going to be an action packed night. ¡°Gah! It moved! My damned back is going to be killing me after this.¡± Bole whined as he dropped his turret for the fourth or fifth time. ¡°The weight doesn¡¯t bother me!¡± Geddon shouted from ahead of us. He was holding two at a time up there, one in each hand. Bole put his turret down to readjust his grip as the barrel jerked trying to track a target somewhere outside of its range. ¡°Hey! It¡¯s not the weight so much as the moving! It shifts all the mass! And it pinches!¡± I wasn¡¯t having as hard of a time as Bole thanks to my restored Body stat, but I could see how the weight of the barrel, the magazine, and the heat sink jerking around in one¡¯s hands might play hell on a guy¡¯s muscles. I thought, briefly, of pretending to have a harder time, maybe putting my burden down for a moment to give Bole¡¯s masculinity a little soothing, but¡­ Nah. It¡¯s Bole. ¡°Make sure to keep your barrel pointed away from the fight until you¡¯re ready to set up!¡± I ordered them both, remembering having to wrestle one of these things back into firing position while the horde closed in for the kill. ¡°You think the arms pinch, wait till the action starts cycling near your face!¡± ¡°I will say again you¡¯ve got shit magic, monk,¡± Bole grumbled. ¡°Well, you¡¯re welcome to use yours to hold off an entire city full of monsters, Bole,¡± I invited, finally setting my turret down next to the others and engaging the anchor clamps. Once I got my gun all set up and anchored to the floor, I went back for Bole¡¯s. I didn¡¯t just take it from him, but I did take some of the weight. He seemed both thankful and grumpy at the same time, seeing how easily I was handling it. I ignored his sour look and made as little eye contact as possible. Just as we engaged the anchor hooks and activated the heat sink fans again, the scourge finally got up the courage to charge. Trix warned us a half second before the guns opened up and bathed the world in purple and thunder. Not that I could see the scourge. I couldn¡¯t see anything out there, beyond a few feet past the ditch, especially now that we had starlight streaming in all around us except for the shadows where the entire fight would be taking place. I could fix that, though. A quick summon of my arm cannon (new and improved), and I made sure I wouldn¡¯t be fighting blind this time. *FOOMP* The thirty or so meter wide corridor where the scourge were pouring in lit up in plasma fire. The bottleneck was the only spot of shade that connected our little home away from home to the rest of the forest, making it function much as a causeway might in a medieval castle. It wasn¡¯t perfect, though. If I¡¯d designed it or had more time to work on it, I¡¯d definitely clear the area so the turrets could have better line of sight. Only one or two were able to fire directly into the bottleneck, and I¡¯d reprogrammed those for maximum penetration. However, the trees we¡¯d brought down on either side of the shadowed strip formed impromptu walls that provided cover from the more extreme angles into the fatal funnel, so most of our firepower was pretty much forced to shoot the monsters as they emerged into the inner perimeter. The result was a clogging mess of bodies directly in the ¡®mouth¡¯ of the bottleneck on our side that only the particularly nimble scourge were able to traverse quickly, though they died as soon as they crested the top. Meanwhile, the over penetrating ¡®head on¡¯ turrets were having a field day shooting through the mass of several monsters at a time. It was those monsters at the mouth of the corridor that I was using as lights tonight. After the initial plasma blast, a good chunk of them were now burning on their own. ¡°Holy hell, they¡¯re packed like sardines in there,¡± I observed to whoever was nearby. Bole was the only one that heard me. ¡°Don¡¯t blame ¡®em for staying in the shade. Had a friend that got lightburn once. His skin crisped up like paper, and he went mostly blind. That¡¯s even after a trip to the church.¡± I whistled at that, giving a sympathetic frown and remembering the time I¡¯d been lightburned. Unpleasant stuff, even if you could heal from almost anything. It had taken me days, longer than any other wound I¡¯d ever taken. Experience messages flew by my consciousness. Scourge Touched Undead defeated. You have been awarded 30 experience points. [20 base (-18 level, +4 nemesis, +20 group,+20 chain, -16 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Pell defeated. You have been awarded 5 experience points. [5 base (--4 level, +1 nemesis, +5 group, +5 chain, -4 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Goblin defeated. You have been awarded 15 experience points. [10 base (-9 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Goblin defeated. You have been awarded 15 experience points. [10 base (-9 level, +2 nemesis, +10 group,+10 chain, -8 non-combat class)] Scourge Touched Pell defeated. You have been awarded 5 experience points. [5 base (-4 level, +1 nemesis, +5 group, +5 chain, -4 non-combat class)] Drops in the bucket really, but with the sheer number of them, packed so close that one bullet might kill two or three at a time, those drops were turning into a shower. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Even while dying at an industrial scale, however, they were pushing through. Soon, my candles (read: burning corpses) were snuffed out, and I was forced to launch another costly orb into the chaos. *FWOOSH* The advancing mass took another plasma round to the collective face, and a big burst of experience messages spurted through my feed. The advance halted for a moment as the horde dealt with a wall of burning flesh and fat too hot for the healthy members to step through without joining them in death. Geddon nodded to me and took this as his cue. With a grunt, he vaulted over the side of the wall and took off running. The man was fast without his armor, his powerful legs eating up distance no slower than some vehicles back home. As long as you didn¡¯t ask him to do it over long distances, the guy performed like an olympian¡­ better even. They¡¯d put him on posters back home as an athletic renaissance man, outside of the Exotic classes, of course. ¡°I don¡¯t like it,¡± Bole grumbled. I turned and gave him a look. ¡°Don¡¯t like easy fights?¡± Bole spat over the side of the wall and looked around uneasily. ¡°You said they¡¯re getting smarter. Well, this isn¡¯t smart. Not like the gresh or the ignarog. Those were real plays. This¡­ There¡¯s no misdirection or manipulation. They¡¯re just throwing themselves into the sausage maker.¡± ¡°Hmm.¡± I turned, looking at the rest of the forest bathed in starlight so bright compared to the perpetual gloom that it was blinding. Beyond, there was nothing. Just darkness. ¡°I hate to say it,¡± Sissa half shouted next to my ear to be heard over the guns. ¡°But I agree with Bole. This is too straight forward. The infected can afford the losses and still keep us encircled, but I¡¯m afraid we¡¯re missing something here.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Bole said. ¡°If you¡¯re not seeing the scam, you¡¯re getting scammed.¡± As soon as Geddon got into range, he took the stubby construct he¡¯d been wearing off of his back and began to set up the tripod. ¡°Trix?¡± I called up to the sniper perch. ¡°I am keeping him covered. So far there have been several infected that have slipped past the firewall, but I have brought them down without issue,¡± Trix reported. ¡°I concur with Corporal Bole and Sergeant Sissa. The nature of our fights up until this point may have biased me to expect the worst, but this seems too straight forward. It doesn¡¯t represent an escalation of strategic thinking as we¡¯ve observed.¡± Geddon slipped the blocky ammo housing onto the tripod and engaged the fastening clip. Then, with great care, he reached into a pocket on the front of his shirt (stuffed with lots of extra padding at my insistence) and drew out a glowing purple core which he inserted into the turret. Once he got a few paces away and gave us the signal, I remotely activated the firing sequence. The laser turret immediately began to bathe the battlefield in purple death, a firehose of disco light that made it hard to look at directly. I¡¯d made the core a bit more robust this time, opting for a greater quantity of discharges over a shorter time period. The result was a solid waggling beam that doused the entire forest. As its designer, I knew that the light show wasn¡¯t a continuous stream of light as it appeared to the naked eye but a high frequency strobing effect, a rapidfire barrage of singular, low damage ¡®attacks¡¯ that came too fast to perceive. They caused no real harm on their own, but my bonus damage from Knife in the Dark certainly added up over the course of a few hundred hits, which targets accrued in less than a second The attacks spewed out of the turret¡¯s barrel, melted through the front ranks of the scourge like acid, and then penetrated beyond. The first ranks disintegrated almost immediately, melting into rainbow goo as ¡®bonus¡¯ damage tended to do. Those behind them fared little better, only taking a couple more seconds for their molecules to also lose cohesion. Then the rank behind them followed. It was like seeing a timelapse of a candle melting at 1000x speed. Ten seconds of tongue swallowing laser show, and the horde was reduced to its component parts along with a good portion of the fallen trees, the leaves on the ground, and anything else organic and unlucky enough to be there. Then the bottleneck was just mud, bordered by the half exposed metal skeletons of the trees, dripping oily ichor as their organic shells sloughed away. The other turrets went silent once there was nothing left to shoot. ¡°They are retreating to the edge of the outer perimeter,¡± Trix sighed. ¡°They¡¯re still making that gods awful noise wherever they go. All of them. I¡¯d choose gunfire over that at this point.¡± He appeared over the lip of his basket to flip over and slide down his climbing rope. When he got to the floor he paused to stretch his body to get the stiffness out of his shoulders. Geddon was already on his way back to the fort, carrying the smoking laser turret over one shoulder. He was grinning ear to ear, that way he did when violence was the word of the day. Movement. I blinked. There was movement behind Geddon. Close behind. No light. What was it? I turned to the turrets and back to the figures. The figures were well in range, yet the turrets weren¡¯t firing. ¡°Trix get back up there!¡± I shouted. ¡°Something¡¯s happening! Geddon!¡± I summoned another plasma ball from my spatial storage and loaded it into my arm cannon. Geddon tilted his head, confused for a moment. Then he checked over his shoulder. Whatever he saw there, it made him drop the turret right there in the dirt. Then my attention was arrested by something else, beyond the starlight circle, up high. Something impossibly big. It wasn¡¯t a tree. I knew that immediately. I followed the shadow of whatever it was up with my eyes up and up until I was staring into a great, burning pair of orange eyes above a fanged, hell mouth. It opened. A colossal, terrible sound smashed into my senses, too deep to be properly appreciated by the ears, forcing me to my knees. It was a sound felt in your guts as it pulverized you from within. The face in the trees twisted in rage and disgust as it vomited flames in a geyser down toward the ground. No. Toward the scourge. A swathe of tiny black silhouettes disappeared in the blaze, instantly reduced to ash. The ground cracked under the inferno to expose burning mendau roots that twisted and writhed unnaturally, sizzling as their sap ignited. The roots themselves sought out individual scourge, impaling them, wrapping their bodies tight, and squeezing them until they popped. The fire illuminated only the legs of the giant, bark covered, gray, gnarled wood in the vague shape of a humanoid. Sweet Constance, what is that? Voices called my name. ¡°Ryan! Ryan!¡± The deep, contrasting shadows concealed the majority of the monster, limited my perceptions to only impressions. Long legs, a tree trunk torso, whipcord arms that hung down nearly to its feet. Something massive wooshed through the air, struck something solid. ¡°Fuck!¡± Bole screamed. Hands grabbed me and pulled me to the side as a truck-sized splinter of mendau tree slammed into the wall near where I¡¯d just been. The wall itself took the blow badly, crumbling inward to spill shards of petrified wood into the courtyard. ¡°Ryan!¡± I knew that voice. I scrambled to get Bole¡¯s hands off of me, to look over the side of the wall¡­ what wall that remained. The tiny figures, the ones the turrets hadn¡¯t fired upon. They were close. They were running with Geddon. ¡°Holy shit. Tiba?¡± I gasped. She was waving her arms, the feathers on the head of Hunty¡¯s spear orange in the firelight. She was- ¡°Ryan!¡± she screamed. ¡°Hide!¡± My mouth opened and closed. Thank Constance, she¡¯s alive. I didn¡¯t lose her too. The hellmouth started to turn ponderously toward us. ¡°Hide now!¡± Tiba begged from down below. I blinked again, the realization hitting me like a blow to the head. I let my legs drop out from under me to get me below the lip of the wall. Then I rolled off the battlements to fall the fifteen feet or so onto our bedrolls with a *whup.* My guts shook with the seismic force of the god¡¯s footsteps, and my bowels turned to water, imagining it coming closer after it had seen me. That face the thing had made¡­ The shape. The character. I knew that face. Kuul had stepped onto the battlefield. Chapter 81 - Go off Path Chapter 81 - Go off Path Tiba and her guards clambered over the pile of settling rubble that used to be the north wall before nearly collapsing into the waiting embraces of the dragonkin sisters. Geddon was only slightly behind, seeming to waffle between retreating to the fort and turning around to watch the carnage outside with the look of a kid seeing his first fireworks show. The goblins were looking rough. All of them were covered head to toe in black soot and sticky mud. Both of Tiba¡¯s guards had lost their armor somewhere out there, and one of them, Kelub, was wielding a sharpened stick instead of his spear. Tiba herself was covered in weeping scratches and cuts all over her exposed skin, presumably from running through underbrush or fighting a whole family of small animals, and the men had fared little better. Their clothes were in such rough shape, the only thing protecting all of the goblins¡¯ modesty was the layer of mud and grime. Beyond the walls, the forest burned. Gouts of flame shot down from above to engulf scattered clusters of scourge, incinerating them as surely as light from the maelstrom. Booming footsteps rattled my bones and sent jolts through my stomach. The air shook with every movement the giant made. Tiba, only on her feet with the help of Kelub and the support of her spear, panted with exertion, her wet, matted hair draped over half her face, paused to take in the aghast expressions of everyone there. Then, she seemed to remember something and rushed forward too fast for Kelub to follow. He tried, but he didn¡¯t have the energy to keep up with his queen anymore, instead, going down to one knee to catch his breath. Trix was the first to speak. He¡¯d slid down his rope and was staring wide-eyed at the trio of filthy goblins like they were spirits made flesh. ¡°Your majesty! You made it! It is a miracle!¡± Tiba didn¡¯t seem to register anything we were saying, though. She stumbled over the loose rocks, putting a hand on Trix to steady herself as she searched frantically in the dark. ¡°Tiba? What happened out there?¡± I asked. Tiba finally found the thing she was looking for. She rushed past Trix to kneel next to the bedroll where we¡¯d stashed Beedy before the fight. It and Beedy had largely been spared the collapse of the wall, thankfully, though my workbench that he was under had not been equally spared. It was now a load bearing workbench, apparently, the only thing keeping its particular section of the wall upright. With trembling fingers Tiba untied the knot on her herb pouch and reached gingerly inside. ¡°W-What is she-¡± Bole stammered from across the remains of the fire. ¡°She got her medicine,¡± I realized aloud. ¡°Tiba-¡± ¡°Not now, Ryan,¡± she croaked dryly, reaching over to scoop a live ember from the fire onto a tiny pile of kindling. ¡°Seconds count. I explain soon, but you really need to stay out of sight.¡± Then she began to chant something quietly as she ground something in a bowl over the open flame. ¡°It is a close thing. A bad thing,¡± Kelub lamented tiredly from beside me. ¡°We go down into Stoneheart tunnels to get the medicine. We, her honored guards, tell her it is a bad idea. Bad place now that Black Ones use it.¡± Kelub shuddered and gripped the remains of his spear, his gaze far away. In the flickering light of the fire, I saw black discoloration on the tip of the shaft that might have been blood. ¡°But she is a brave queen,¡± he continued, finally seeming to remember I was still here. ¡°It is a small miracle we find one of these at all. Soon as she picks it, the plant starts to wither. No keeping. No drying. We have to run the entire way, quiet and quick before the medicine goes bad, but when we get here, there is no way to enter.¡± ¡°The infected are scattering before the giant thing!¡± Geddon announced from the rubble of the wall. ¡°Whatever it is, it appears to hold more enmity for our enemies than for us. They give ground and run into their holes like mice! Haha!¡± ¡°The Black Ones,¡± Tiba corrected as she scooped the paste she¡¯d been making onto a tiny fingertip. ¡°He hates, most of all, the Black Ones.¡± She spared a pitying glance over in my direction. ¡°Mostly.¡± Tiba scooted over to her patient and got a leg up and over Beedy¡¯s body, straddling the man¡¯s chest and setting her legs like she was about to ride a bull. Then, without warning, she jammed her whole hand way down Beedy¡¯s throat. Beedy almost immediately started to choke, his body reflexively writhing to try to get away from the thing that was suffocating him. His hands quested for something to push away, to grab and fight against, but Tiba didn¡¯t budge. Beedy was too weak to resist even a tiny thing like her. I put a hand out to stop Bole who had already begun to rush forward with his sword half out of its scabbard. ¡°Wait,¡± I told him. Bole looked at me like I¡¯d gone insane then tried to rush forward once more, but he was stopped cold. He was working against my metal arm, and it didn¡¯t budge in the slightest. The look in his eye was manic, and for a moment, I thought I might have been in danger of him drawing on me. However, it only took him another couple heartbeats to get control of himself again. Beedy gagged and spasmed, making terrible mewling sounds for a good minute before he stopped entirely, his body seeming to give up on struggling. Even his face went slack. Only then did Tiba take her hand from his mouth. Immediately, Beedy¡¯s chest started to rise and fall, this time in a natural rhythm instead of the rasping struggle for breath as he¡¯d been doing since his injury. For the first time in days of hellish torture, it looked like Beedy was truly resting without the pain. The change was like night and day. Tiba sighed with relief as she pulled her hand from Beedy¡¯s mouth and slumped forward, her eyes closing as if she were falling asleep on her patient¡¯s chest. She didn¡¯t though. She slid off Beedy and dragged herself over to the largest pile of remaining embers from the fire, sparing a lungful of air to blow on them halfheartedly before plopping down to warm her hands. ¡°That one has scars for his whole life, but he lives,¡± she rasped tiredly before asking: ¡°Do you have any food or water for Kelub and Grosh?¡± Trix was moving as soon as the goblin said food. I didn¡¯t even have to translate. The little vulpa was already next to me listing ingredients to summon from storage, which I tried to oblige. I didn¡¯t know the name for all of the things he was asking for, and he had to describe them to me, sometimes at length. That¡¯s why you don¡¯t ask the pack mule for stuff, you just take it. Unfortunately, this pack mule had to be asked. Intuiting that the dangerous part was over, I finally let Bole go. He passed Tiba, stopping momentarily as if he wanted to say something, but he thought better of it after a look back at me. Instead he went over to Beedy, collapsed next to him and bowed his head over the other man¡¯s chest. We all pretended not to notice the tears. Careful to not get anywhere near the gap in the wall and show my face, I sat down a respectful distance from Tiba across the fire. ¡°The scourge had us encircled, and there was no way through.¡± I guessed. I¡¯d been afraid of that. I¡¯d delayed bringing down the trees as long as I¡¯d dared, but it hadn¡¯t been enough. Tiba nodded. She was nearly asleep just sitting there, but at the same time, her gaze flicked back and forth frantically as if she were not entirely here with us. Understandable, considering how long she¡¯d been hiding and running. I tried to switch to a more casual tone, but it just clashed with the subject matter. ¡°So you brought Kuul. That¡¯s¡­ inventive.¡± The queen nodded again before finding the energy to turn to meet my stare. She looked frightened, sad, guilty, but relieved at the same time. ¡°He still pissed at me?¡± I asked. Tiba shrugged, but her trembling lips gave good odds of the answer being more in the affirmative. I ventured what I hoped was an appreciative smile. ¡°Well, glad to have you back, regardless. We missed you,¡± I said, nodding in Bole¡¯s direction before adding. ¡°And thank you for Beedy. You went way above and beyond for him when you didn¡¯t have to, and I think you saved two lives today. I haven¡¯t met a lot of queens, Tiba, but I think I can safely say, you¡¯re probably the best queen an honorary goblin can hope for.¡± That seemed to get through to her. A little glimmer of light returned to her eyes, and she attempted a weak little smile, a tiny tear drawing a line of clean-ish green down her cheek. ¡°Thank you for not being mad,¡± she whispered. I waved a dismissive hand and struck a nonchalant posture that I hoped was convincing. ¡°Pft. Mad? If Kuul still wants to kill me, he can take a number and wait like everyone else,¡± I said before leaning forward and adopting a more earnest tone. ¡°You did what you had to do. We¡¯ll talk once you¡¯ve had some rest, okay? Geddon?¡± ¡°The giant is a terror!¡± Geddon announced excitedly. ¡°The scourge do not even bother to fight. They truly can feel fear!¡± Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. ¡°Okay,¡± I replied, standing to assess the damage myself. ¡°We need to work on getting that wall patched up and the turrets back to sweeping. Think you can get on that?¡± Geddon cast about the rubble under his feet and shrugged. ¡°Maybe with a few weeks and good timber I could make a wall out of this mess, but this is stone work. No way are we getting a working wall up in time for it to be useful.¡± ¡°We¡¯ll have to plug up the breach another way, then,¡± Samila suggested. ¡°Maybe a flame turret and a deeper trench. That should at least blunt any charges aimed for it while we do a patch job.¡± ¡°Ugh. Not more digging,¡± Geddon groaned. ¡°My blisters are only just now healing. You would think sword calluses would help with that, but evidently they are completely different areas of the hand.¡± ¡°Just wear your gloves, big baby,¡± Samila replied. ¡°I shouldn¡¯t have to!¡± Sissa lowered herself down from the ledge where she¡¯d been watching the battle take place and dropped between the two of them. ¡°I think we¡¯re missing something here,¡± she said, turning to look at everyone expectantly. ¡°Do you see? Anyone?¡± she asked. No one offered up an answer. She sighed and reached up to rub at her temple, though it was a largely performative gesture since her helmet was still on. ¡°This is the first time in days the enemy is not encircling us. This may be it,¡± she said. I blinked, not quite following what she was saying, but my train of thought got there eventually. ¡°You¡¯re saying we should make a break for it?¡± I guessed. Sissa nodded. ¡°The giant has offered us an opportunity, one we may not get again. The infected are scattered and diminished right now. This is our chance to slip through.¡± ¡°Your ride won¡¯t be here for another two or three days,¡± I replied, shaking my head. ¡°No one¡¯s ready to travel, and Jassin¡¯s army is probably even further out than your dragon. Then once I leave, that¡¯s it. My turrets will just be paperweights.¡± ¡°If we move now, the enemy might be in too much disarray to punish us,¡± Sissa said. Her new sword was out, and her body was angled toward the breach in the wall like she was mentally preparing to charge out already. No, she was preparing to risk it all and be a big damned hero, and, in her mind, seconds counted. ¡°Wait. The monk is leaving? Why is the monk leaving?¡± Bole was on his feet again, turning confusedly from me to the others and back again waiting for a response that no one offered. I had to diffuse this. ¡°That¡¯s a big assumption, don¡¯t you think? The scourge is a hive mind. We get spotted out there by just one, and we¡¯ll be neck deep in bad. You¡¯re really willing to bet everyones¡¯ lives on this?¡± I asked. Sissa gave me a pained look. ¡°Ryan, the mission was never to hold out forever. It was to to bait the infected, get you to your exit, and save the world, necessarily in that order according to you.¡± ¡°Well, yeah!¡± I scoffed. ¡°But it also wasn¡¯t meant to be a suicide mission! I thought I¡¯d made that clear! I was originally going to do it alone just to keep you and the others safe!!¡± ¡°You were going to feed yourself to a foe of superior numbers on their home turf. You had no chance by yourself. We had to come. I¡¯m not proposing a noble sacrifice out of the history books. I¡¯m simply talking about the less risky of two bad options,¡± Sissa replied. ¡°No, you¡¯re not. You¡¯re only looking at two of the worst outcomes and choosing one. We¡¯ll find another way.¡± Real heat seeped into my voice, and my hands balled themselves into fists. There was no way it had come down to this. I wouldn¡¯t let it. Sissa looked me up and down and raised a disapproving eyebrow ridge. ¡°I presented those two because all others are variations of them. We either stay and die or leave and perhaps live. That¡¯s what it boils down to. What happens if the giant notices us while you think of another way to play this, and it decides we are worth incinerating as well?¡± She asked. ¡°That would be certain death for all of us. We can¡¯t fight it, and we can¡¯t run from it either. The outcome would be the same as if the scourge overwhelmed us. Our best chance is to slip away while both forces are distracted. I believe the healthy among us can sneak out, show your face at the ruins to draw the infected, then give the wounded a chance to make for the mountains.¡± Samila let out an indignant, choking sound at that. ¡°No way you¡¯re leaving m-¡± ¡°He¡¯s not trying to kill us yet, and he¡¯s not running out of Black Ones anytime soon. Better to wait and see rather than get everyone killed running in the dark,¡± I said. I knew my argument was weak. The others could guide me to the insertion point, but I didn¡¯t know what else to say. Things were looking uncertain, but they weren¡¯t so bad I¡¯d risk the rest of them just to get home. Sissa looked disappointed. ¡°You know our safety is a secondary concern, Ryan. The mission is what matters, or have you forgotten that? How many lives will it cost if we don¡¯t come through? Has it even occurred to you that we might all die here in this old tree, and Ralqir will have to endure another cataclysm? I¡¯m not sure if you¡¯ve noticed, but things aren¡¯t looking ideal. The enemy is limitless. Our people are wounded, tired, and there is no relief in sight. That¡¯s only going to get worse. Battle will take its toll, even ones we win. We¡¯re only going to get slower and sloppier, and then there¡¯s the giant. Can you guarantee we hold out against that? For now, the perimeter holds, but what about tomorrow when it decides to step across it? ¡± She asked as she gestured pointedly at the collapsed part of the wall. ¡°If you die or, light forbid, are¡­ converted, it¡¯s over anyway. At least if we make an attempt now, you¡¯ll be alive, and we¡¯ll have a chance at survival too. Everyone has a chance to win.¡± ¡°The word ¡®chance¡¯ is doing a lot of work there, Sissa,¡± I shot back. ¡°The goblins are dead on their feet, and Beedy is only just now back from death¡¯s door. You¡¯ll just be hunted down and made into one of them. That¡¯s not happening. I refuse to let that happen.¡± She took a step forward and drew herself up to her full height until she was only a few inches from looking me in the eye. ¡°And who are you to make that decision for us? I guess ¡®why¡¯ is more of the question. Why do our lives weigh so heavily on the scale compared to all the people that will die putting this threat down if we fail? What makes us so special that we deserve that exceptional consideration? Shut up, Bole!¡± Sissa snapped, as the man opened his mouth to interject. He did, indeed, shut up. I struggled for something to say, an argument to make, but my words failed me. ¡°You just- I mean, I can¡¯t do that. I can¡¯t just leave you out there and hope for the best. There has to be something else.¡± The Sergeant let her arms dangle down at her sides and let out a long, tired sigh. ¡°Look, Ryan, we all want you to stay. I believe we¡¯ve all made that clear in our own ways. That doesn¡¯t absolve us from the responsibility to our people. We¡¯re here to save the world. Either we need to hold out longer than we are currently able, or we need to get you out of here, fast.¡± Samila, Geddon, Bole, and Trix were all gathered around now but at a safe distance, Trix looking like he wanted to be even smaller than he was. Bole and Geddon seemed more unsure of themselves than I¡¯d ever seen them. I could feel my body tensing, the anger boiling up from inside. I refused to be backed into this particular corner. It couldn¡¯t have come to my friends or the world. I refused to choose. ¡°I see what you¡¯re doing. You can¡¯t-¡± ¡°Yes, I can! How do you not get this? The road before us is forking. One way means saving everyone we know at great risk to ourselves. The other, I can¡¯t see the end of, Ryan, but it¡¯s looking like death by a thousand cuts or under a giant¡¯s foot. With stakes like these, I choose the path I can see.¡± She spoke to the others now, turning her body to address each of them. ¡°If saving innocent lives means our deaths, then there is nothing else to discuss. That is the Duty part of our creed. We don¡¯t matter when weighed against the entire population of Ralqir.¡± ¡°You matter to me,¡± I said. My good hand was shaking. My jaw was clenched so hard my teeth hurt. I felt like a mountain was pressing down on my shoulders, and it was all I could do to stay upright. ¡°You all matter to me.¡± ¡°You selfish prick!¡± Sissa shouted. Her sword had somehow come between us, the point suddenly an inch from my chest. ¡°Siss, wait-¡± Samila cautioned, putting out a hand to wave it between us, but Sissa wasn¡¯t listening. ¡°We are not special! What about the families that used to live in Eclipse? The people in the market? We waded through their blood, Ryan. Remember? I still see it sometimes when I¡¯m cleaning my armor, washing my clothes, and in my godsdamned dreams. Why do people like them matter less than us? You would bet the lives of all of our people just because you¡¯ve known us for all of¡­ what? Just over a month? How many would you let die just to preserve some tenuous connection you¡¯ve imagined between all of us, just to spare your feelings? You, selfish, sentimental-¡± Sissa¡¯s anger was boiling. Her scales on her face were the blackest of blue. Her face, stained by almost invisible tears as they streamed down her cheeks, looked like a porcelain mask cracking under pressure. I didn¡¯t have a heart anymore, but I felt like it had just been torn open, the blood allowed to leak from my chest, taking all my warmth with it. Samila took a step between us and knocked Sissa¡¯s sword to the side. She looked frightened, conflicted as she turned between the two of us. ¡°Siss, stop it. W-¡± She stammered. ¡°Ask him how many more of our people he¡¯s willing to sacrifice,¡± Sissa barked. ¡°Ask him.¡± Samila looked at me and opened her mouth, probably not to ask but to mediate between the two of us somehow, but she froze, mouth open, the words dying on her lips. I felt¡­ cold. Still. Like everything, all the noise and distractions that had been weighing on me had fallen away. I was an icy pond, glass smooth and utterly quiet. Below the calm surface, in the darkness of the deep, there were faces. I didn¡¯t have to see them to know they were there. They¡¯d always been there. They were the faces of those I¡¯d let go. Those I¡¯d failed. Mom was there, of course. Vince too. Hunty. Others¡­ less distinct, more ideas than anything but so very real to me like images conjured during a nightmare¡­ the countless innocents of Ralqir. My mouth worked without my consent, finally giving voice to the feelings I¡¯d been afraid to express until now. ¡°How many would I sacrifice, Sissa?¡± I asked. ¡°None. Not one goddamned soul. Not again. No more noble sacrifices. No more bodies on the pyre of the greater good. No more. I refuse.¡± Sissa scoffed, preparing herself to say something well reasoned and correct, but I cut her off. ¡°I refuse!¡± I snarled. ¡°This is the line! No one else dies for me! Not even one!¡± The ice of my frozen pond cracked and parted. The water churned, stirring up the things in the deep. ¡°The multiverse has taken from me,¡± I growled. The words left my throat like ice flows grinding together as they surfaced. ¡°It¡¯s taken more than its share, and I just let it happen. Well, I¡¯m not doing that anymore.¡± Samila took an involuntary step back only to bump into her sister. Sissa looked shaken too, like she¡¯d seen something just now she didn¡¯t like. The anger and frustration she¡¯d been expressing evaporated in a matter of seconds. She wasn¡¯t pointing her sword at me anymore. If anything, she seemed to want to reach out, but she was brave and true, her conviction unwavering. ¡°The world doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± she whispered, pleading. ¡°Sometimes we have to choose. We mortals make our choices as best we can. Then we live with the consequences. Those are the lines of fate. If you want to redraw those lines that¡¯s¡­ Admirable. But foolish. You¡¯re not a god, Ryan.¡± The statement rang in the air briefly. Then, a tiny thought crystalized at the very center of me, a kernel of something that clicked into place, connecting disparate parts of me that I¡¯d never in a million years have associated with one another. It wasn¡¯t something I could put into words. It was more of an enhanced understanding, one that shone a light on all the parts of my soul I hadn¡¯t dared peer into for years. ¡°No, I¡¯m not,¡± I admitted, turning away and stepping over to right the stool next to my workbench. I swept an arm over the rubble that covered it, sending the rocks and dust flying to expose the chalk drawings I¡¯d been working on before. ¡°Not yet, at least.¡± Chapter 82 - Get Called Out Chapter 82 - Get Called Out There was one thing Sissa was right about. I wasn¡¯t going to make it to the insertion point. Not as I was. I couldn¡¯t just walk over there. The scourge, despite getting a good scare when Kuul arrived, were still everywhere, scattered, hiding, even if they weren¡¯t immediately visible from our current position. Once I was out of the turrets¡¯ ranges, it would only be a matter of time before I was spotted and surrounded. How long it would take for the scourge to swarm me would be down to speed and a lot of luck. Sneaking wasn¡¯t much of an option either. The System had seen to that when it hadn¡¯t given me an ability to see in the dark. The only way I was getting around out there was if I had a guide like Trix to hold my hand, and that ran up against my little ¡°I want my friends to live through this¡± problem. Any direction I went, they needed to do the opposite. They needed to be far away when the scourge suddenly didn¡¯t have a lightning rod to unleash their fury upon. In either scenario, the most vulnerable my friends and I would ever be was when we were transitioning from one position to another. While the others would be making a break for the pass to the northwest where they would either bump into Jassin or their ride would find them, I would be running through the woods and trying not to die. Therefore, I needed to minimize travel time and maximize time spent at the tutorial facility to give my people more time and distance before the scourge was free to chase after them. The problem was that I had no idea how to do that. ¡°Finally getting around to making armor then?¡± Geddon asked, his mouth brimming with some kind of cheesy cornbread. Soggy crumbs sprayed over the surface of my workbench with every hard consonant. I paused Shaping briefly to brush away the little bits of food, careful not to smear the chalk markings I¡¯d made this morning while also fighting the urge to grind my teeth. It wasn¡¯t Geddon¡¯s fault I had been stuck down here all day, and it wouldn¡¯t do to take out my frustrations on him. Kuul had continued his rampage through the night and well into the morning, and he showed no signs of tiring. He chased the scourge with absolute fury, vomiting fire at them, stomping them, and taking massive swipes with his giant hands. Wherever he went, the scourge scattered. Smoke hung in the air everywhere from fresh fires and burning bodies, while the horde stalked through the forest in ones and twos, refusing to leave sight of their prey even in the face of a potentially fiery death. Or, at least that¡¯s what I was told by those that were able to go up on the walls. According to Tiba, in no circumstance was I allowed to be seen by the flaming goblin kaiju monster. Apparently, ¡°that would be bad.¡± Tiba was much the same. She hadn¡¯t been up on the walls since she¡¯d arrived, choosing to stay in the shadows and wince with every booming crash Kuul made. ¡°Rage is what fuels Kuul now, Ryan. Nothing else,¡± she¡¯d said. ¡°He burns until his enemies die or he does, and I think he still blames you for everything.¡± That didn¡¯t explain why she didn¡¯t want to show her face either, but it didn¡¯t take a genius to understand how terrified she was of her old chief. The stress of having him so close by shone clearly on her face, the lack of real rest and knife edge tension making her look hollow and brittle. Kuul never touched our little home away from home, though. He¡¯d been the historian of the Stone Heart tribe, so maybe he still held the significance of this place in some high regard. Then again, maybe the outsiders taking shelter in the ruined goblin market were further down the list of priorities than the Black Ones and their kind. Whatever Kuul¡¯s reasons, he left us alone and provided a much needed reprieve from fighting¡­ provided I stay down here out of sight. ¡°Mmm. Excellent.¡± Geddon chewed in my ear as he expressed his appreciation for my work and his food in roughly the same way. Frankly, I was surprised the big leori could tell what I was making at all. Right now, all I had were plates that only theoretically fit together in the vague shape of a human. My current object of frustration, the beginnings of a leg joint, I¡¯d already scrapped and reformed a dozen times trying to get the seal Triggers to work right. They either worked too fast, threatening to take a bite out of my flesh when I used them, or they were so slow and unresponsive as to be useless. As it was, I would probably be better off digging my way to the insertion point, because running in this was out of the question. ¡°You know, at first, I was surprised you hadn¡¯t done something like this before,¡± Geddon continued at the precise moment I thought it was safe to dive back into the knee joint to unfreeze it for the fortieth time. ¡°As much as you get hurt, I always thought it was strange that you didn¡¯t make the effort to protect yourself with your magic.¡± I sighed, letting the mana I was gathering dissipate. Maybe it was time for a break anyway. ¡°There was always something else to do,¡± I replied. ¡°Other fires to put out, you know?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not saying it was a bad move,¡± the leori added, raising his hands defensively. ¡°I actually admired your methods. All attack. No retreat. Stand somewhere and dare the enemy to move you, right?¡± In the interest of not dispelling any air of coolness I¡¯d accidentally gathered around here, I went with it. ¡°Sure. The turrets were a sword and shield at the same time. Armor just seemed like a problem I could put off, given how well I heal. Now that I have some time, I figured I¡¯d get on it.¡± ¡°Don¡¯t let him lie to you like that, Geddon,¡± Samila snarked from on the wall above us. Her new shield, a reinforced steel and aluminum thing I¡¯d whipped up for her to replace her old one, hung proudly in her hand as she smirked down at the two of us. ¡°The idea of armoring himself at all didn¡¯t even pop into his head until he figured it would benefit someone else.¡± This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. ¡°That¡¯s not true,¡± I argued. ¡°If I made a list of stuff I wanted to build but never had time to, I¡¯d have to organize it into volumes. Big ones. You¡¯d need new shelves.¡± Geddon raised an eyebrow and frowned thoughtfully up at Samila. ¡°You know, now that I think about it, I see what you mean. His underdeveloped sense of self manifests as an almost suicidal tendency to put others before himself, a personality trait so ingrained he cannot conceive of doing otherwise. He has seen himself as a spectator in his own life for so long, it has even shaped his approach to war. His machines allow him to participate in battle from afar, so that they protect others as no single combatant could reasonably do and simultaneously keep the battle at a safe distance, lest he gives into the darker part of his personality he truly fears.¡± I swiveled on my stool, slowly, until I was facing the big guy, my mouth involuntarily open but with no words that came to mind. Samila, similarly, stood agape. ¡°What?¡± Geddon asked with a sheepish grin. ¡°Fighting tells you a lot about someone. In a way, it is the most honest form of self expression in the world.¡± ¡°I told you!¡± Samila exclaimed, pointing an accusatory finger over at Sissa. ¡°I told you! What did I say?!¡± Sissa, who¡¯d been avoiding me for the whole day, took a break from staring intently out into the smoke to roll her eyes and look up to the heavens for strength. She¡¯d been doing that a lot lately. ¡°Fine, Sam. Get it out of your system.¡± The smaller dragonkin shook her head smugly. ¡°No. I want you to say it,¡± Samila goaded. Sissa growled like a jungle cat and showed her teeth but capitulated only after a long, hard stare. ¡°Geddon is probably more intelligent than anyone on the squad,¡± she grumbled, getting a reproachful look from her sister. ¡°¡­including me,¡± she admitted before amending her statement in a rush. ¡°Intelligence he refuses to apply to anything other than smashing things!¡± ¡°And?!¡± Samila wasn¡¯t satisfied yet. ¡°And Ryan is stupid and would cut off his own arm before letting anyone else even mildly inconvenience themselves for him. That might even be how he lost it in the first place. There. Are you happy?¡± She muttered. Samila sniffed haughtily and crossed her arms. ¡°Maybe. I don¡¯t like the way you said it,¡± ¡°Might I offer an opinion-¡± Bole interjected with a raised finger. ¡°Might I-¡± ¡°Shut up, Bole,¡± the sisters shouted in unison. Bole blinked and seemed to unsuccessfully suppress a shudder, but there was a little smile peeking out from the shadows of his hood too. The sisters continued to bicker. Meanwhile, I cleared my throat uncomfortably and stood, suddenly very interested in more of that cheese bread Geddon was getting everywhere. Beedy met me at the fire ring and shakily slid the iron pan full of bread over toward me. The man wasn¡¯t up and about yet, but he was awake more than asleep nowadays, choosing to set up next to the fire to stay warm. He had taken over as our defacto cook for a couple meals now, despite Trix being much better at the job than anyone else. Unfortunately, now that he was on the mend, Beedy was back to being silently helpful instead of speaking up and keeping Bole in his place. ¡°Thanks, Beedy. Smells great,¡± I said, stuffing an overlarge piece of the bread in my mouth to signal I was not going to contribute more to the conversation. I could feel the redness in my cheeks, which I wanted to attribute to the heat of the fire but knew better. Trix was there too in a rare moment when he wasn¡¯t watching the scourge from his basket. ¡°Any progress, Ryan?¡± the vulpa asked, concern clear in his voice. ¡°Not really,¡± I replied once I was able to swallow enough to speak. At least this was a conversation I was comfortable having. It wasn¡¯t about me. ¡°The actuators are clumsy and weird. Input is either getting magnified a hundred times or slowed down to a crawl. No in between. No way to vary it.¡± ¡°And you insist on having your suit of armor be¡­ powered?¡± Trix asked, trying out the unfamiliar term. ¡°I don¡¯t know. It¡¯s starting to look like a pipe dream. I might have to just have to go medieval if I want to get it done at all.¡± ¡°I thought you said that plan was doomed to failure?¡± Trix asked. ¡°It is,¡± I admitted with a shrug. ¡°That sounds like a less appealing option then.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not my pick, no.¡± One of his ears perked up, and his eyes darted over to the side in feigned nonchalance. ¡°What about-¡± ¡°No, Trix.¡± Compromise on sentencing my friends to death. Going with me. That¡¯s what he was about to propose. They wanted to escort me all the way to the tutorial facility, send me on my merry way. Sissa still held out hope it was possible, and Trix didn¡¯t take long to get on board too. I wasn¡¯t budging though. If they wanted me to sneak through the forest before it was time, they¡¯d have to tie me up and carry me, and I was very heavy. Even if their plan was a success, they¡¯d immediately get swarmed by the scourge, I was sure. That was the only way I saw that plan going down. If it didn¡¯t spot me on the way to the insertion point, it would certainly notice when the spigot of power got turned off for good, and it would come running. I would die before I let any of that happen. Thanks to Jassin, I guessed that was always on the table anyway. Funny that my death would solve all of our problems. The only thing keeping me from seriously considering it right now was that people still needed my turrets. Suddenly, a gust of wind slammed down into our camp area, powerful enough to send bedrolls flying and knock over camp gear. Sparks from the fire gusted in all directions and stung my bare skin, while Trix hopped on one foot to avoid setting his fur alight. I felt the irresistible urge to look up. There, in the space above us, the air seemed to twist, split, and then shatter as if it were a window through which something very large had just crashed. Glossy crimson scales, razor talons, and great, flapping wings that spanned wide enough to engulf the entire fort folded into the space above us until I was looking at a hulking red, honest to Constance dragon. It hovered there, nearly vertically with its sinuous tail snaking down to brush the ground, its body long and sleek, and its head a horned maw with tiny yellow eyes that regarded us all imperiously from far overhead. Most disturbing to me, it only flapped its wings once, despite its size, its altitude never wavering. It gave the whole picture an air of impossibility. Wrongness. The dragon¡¯s mouth opened, and a voice spoke in my head, dominating my thoughts in a way I hadn¡¯t felt since my time under Eclipse in the presence of- ¡°MORTAL BEINGS, DO NOT FLEE. ¡± Everyone obligingly stood there, gawking up at the thing. No one had the capacity to move anyway. I felt like a one-ton, lead blanket was draped over my body. When no one ran away screaming, the dragon raised its head and let loose a gout of smoke with a pleased *CHUFF* ¡°GOOD. THOSE AMONG YOU WITH THE BLOOD OF TSUMLESTORA, ATTEND ME. BRING TO ME THE HUMAN.¡± Well, shit. Our dragon, it seemed, had arrived early, and it wanted to meet me. Chapter 83 - Expose the Truth Chapter 83 - Expose the Truth The dragon let the statement hang in the air for a good ten or twenty seconds as it stared down at us like a predatory bird that happened across a nest of mice. It only flapped its wings two or three times, which I still found disconcerting. A living thing that size had no business flying, much less doing it so effortlessly. With every flap, the wind battered us hard, seemingly to make up for that discrepancy. I cast a brief glance over at our Sissa, who looked as shocked as everyone else in the fort, but I could see the calculations running behind our dragon expert¡¯s expression. A heartbeat later, she stepped forward and bowed her head as if she were in prayer and pressing her hands together in front of her body. ¡°Old one,¡± Sissa said somberly. ¡°It pleases us all greatly that you have come to honor the pact you have made with our father.¡± The words had an air of formality to them, like this was something she knew how to do but had never done. The dragon didn¡¯t answer immediately, choosing to let Sissa sit there with her head bowed and posed in supplication. Perhaps it was waiting for the rest of us to do the same, or it was ignoring everything except for the immediate carrying out of its orders, for the sisters to bring forth the human. When none of that happened, however, the dragon allowed itself to finally drift downward and land lightly outside the fortress walls, just across the spike trench. It was easily able to see above the walls without having to even stretch, and its serpentine neck allowed its head to pass over the battlements to eye all of us one after the other. Its massive, taloned foot that it set over our entrenchment snapped our stakes in half, and the air crackled like logs in a fire even though I felt no heat. What¡¯s worse was the eyes, great, golden things with stars for pupils, just like Sissa and Samila. The familiarity disturbed me. On the sisters it looked exotic and striking, but on this thing, I simply wished they were turned somewhere else. They burned with intensity that pinned you in place when you looked directly into them. They saw things, things inside of you that it shouldn¡¯t. A memory of Mom flashed through my mind, and I got the irrational feeling we really should have cleaned up better if we were going to meet a god today. For my part, I did my best to look small and¡­ not human like. Unsuccessfully. I also couldn¡¯t help but eye the nearest exit, which was right there at the front of the fort, as it always had been. Where I would go if I needed to run, I didn¡¯t know. Once it had landed and given us all the once over, it finally acknowledged Sissa. The voice spoke in my head again, this time at a manageable level. ¡°Greetings, blood of Tsumlestora. It has pleased me to come when our home has need, as well as to provide aid to my kin¡¯s progeny. It also comes as no surprise to find Tsumlestora¡¯s spawn poised atop a once in an age confluence of events. From his noble line, I would expect no less.¡± Well, that sounded nice, though the words still rattled around in my skull to the point of distraction. Despite the power and intimidation factor, it said it was here to help. Maybe there was hope for us after all. Sissa hadn¡¯t stopped bowing, seemingly unwilling to look the dragon in the eye either out of fear or decorum. ¡°We thank you, old one. Though we have no way to appreciate the sacrifice you are making to come here, we acknowledge your presence in our time of need and your swift response.¡± The last part was a question phrased as a compliment. The dragonkin sisters¡¯ dad, Tsumlestora I guessed, had specifically told us we couldn¡¯t trust who they sent, and we¡¯d hoped to get me out of here before their arrival so as not to give the dragons the opportunity to do something they¡¯d regret. Now, though, we were at this thing¡¯s mercy, because it had arrived early and spoiled our not-so-well-laid plans. The dragon didn¡¯t take the bait, though. Maybe conversational cues weren¡¯t as much of a thing in dragon culture. Instead, it issued more commands, this time more politely. ¡°I advise you to ready yourselves with haste. I sense a goeshi nearby, and it is fate or good fortune that you have not drawn its ire thus far. Quickly, mortals. You should already be moving.¡± I saw Sissa frown as she thought through her next words. ¡°I don¡¯t know that word, but if you mean the giant that breathes fire, yes, we have seen it. It appears to only harm the infected.¡± Our savior made a sound that emanated from its stomach and echoed through its long, serpentine throat before finally arriving as a rough trill. ¡°Goeshi are simple creatures, born of a desperate loathing few ever experience, young one. It has no room in its soul for anything but hatred. If it has seen you and spared you, it was not out of mercy but a greater desire to destroy others first,¡± the dragon said. It spared a quick glance over its shoulder for the empty forest. Hot air puffed from its nostrils that left clear pockets in the fog. ¡°Now move, mortals. The goeshi roams nearby. The creatures that stalk you even nearer. My pact is for your safe retreat, and I honor it to the letter. If you do not do as I instruct, you will be leaving without your provisions.¡± Trix caught my eye, making a show of shouldering his rifle and securing his bandolier. He looked from me to the dragon meaningfully, and I gave him the slightest of shrugs. I made no move to pack up my stuff. The plan was for me to stay behind after all. When I looked up. The dragon was already there, its long neck craned into the fort and directly above me, staring intently. The moment was finally here. Taking a breath, I straightened up and stared back, not nearly as confident as I was trying to project but also not willing to do the bowing thing Sissa was doing. We didn¡¯t do that back home, and I figured starting now would look awkward and disingenuous. Better to project strength and honesty than a false obsequience. ¡°Transient being. Human,¡± it said, drawing out the last word as if pronouncing a punishment. The weight of the dragon¡¯s presence stole the oxygen from my lungs and hung heavily on my shoulders. It lowered its head until it was close enough to brush my clothes and flicked its tongue. Its scales gave off a strange heat, a sort of ghost sensation of being too near a fire, but it didn¡¯t hurt so much as conjure images all the times I¡¯d ever been burned. ¡°It is for you that I have awakened,¡± the dragon proclaimed. I nodded, swallowing uncomfortably. ¡°I suspected as much,¡± I said. ¡°Old one,¡± Sissa called, repositioning herself to stand at my side. ¡°May I introduce you to our friend, Ryan. It is with his help that we are saving Ralqir.¡± ¡°Indeed,¡± the dragon replied, not taking its eyes from mine. ¡°It is good to know its name.¡± Not knowing what else to say, I simply went with what I thought was polite. ¡°It¡¯s good to meet you- Uh. Sorry, I¡¯m not from here. I don¡¯t know your name,¡± I asked. ¡°Myss,¡± it breathed, brand hot directly into my mind. ¡°Then it¡¯s good to meet you, Myss. Thank you for coming to help my friends. I will remember you,¡± I probed. ¡°I am sure you will,¡± Myss replied. ¡°You and I have much to speak on, human.¡± Well, this was going well so far. It seemed hellbent on honoring its pact and saving my friends, and it hadn¡¯t tried to kill me. That was more than I could say for half of the things I¡¯d met on Ralqir so far. But my short but nightmarish experience with the wretchwyrm under Eclipse had taught me a few things. ¡°So, when you say you woke up for me, one might interpret that statement¡¯s meaning as I was the cause of all of this, and that¡¯s why you awakened. Another interpretation could be that you roused and came here specifically for me.¡± Conservative estimates from Sissa¡¯s father put the dragon¡¯s arrival sometime in the next couple days. To arrive a full forty-eight hours early, it had to have gone above and beyond a normal effort, probably using magic, and, according to Sissa and Samila, dragons couldn¡¯t replenish their magic now that Ralqir was in the maelstrom. Whatever the dragon did to get here, it probably came at great cost. That meant it was either very concerned for another dragon¡¯s offspring, or it had other plans. The dragon didn¡¯t answer my question. Its face was inscrutable. I guessed I needed to be more direct. I set my jaw and readied myself for¡­ well, anything. I was about to accuse a god of doing something untoward. ¡°And, unless I miss my guess, you don¡¯t plan on letting me go.¡± Samila came up beside me now, opposite Sissa on my other shoulder. She had her armor donned and her pack on her back now, but her sword was conspicuously on her hip and the retention strap unfastened. ¡°Would that be entirely against your wishes, Ryan?¡± It said my name as if tasting it, its tongue flicking, very lizard-like. ¡°Old one, we traveled light. We have all we need to make the trip. If you would allow us to say our goodbyes to our friend, we can leave whenever you wish.¡± Poor Sissa still held out hope that this was going to end well, or she was prompting the dragon to come out and state its true intentions. When Myss and I just tried to stare each other down, Samila finally broached the subject directly. ¡°The two of you just met, and she¡¯s already planning your eternity together. What is it with you, Ryan?¡± Samila asked. ¡°MacGuffin problems,¡± I said. Myss chuffed and bared her teeth but didn¡¯t necessarily take the bait. ¡°I do not wish to force you to do anything, human. I wish to give you an alternate path.¡± That doesn¡¯t exactly preclude forcing, though. Does it? I raised an eyebrow. ¡°But you will force me if you have to. You¡¯ll force me to stay here.¡± Again, the dragon didn¡¯t reply directly, but I got the distinct impression that the answer was a ¡®yes.¡¯ Sissa spoke up again. ¡°Old one, Ryan is set on going back where he came from for the good of our home, despite great risk to himself, and he¡¯s gone to great lengths to get as far as he has. I implore you to reconsider. Perhaps even aid us in getting him home.¡± The dragon didn¡¯t acknowledge her, yet again. ¡°I sense that you have considered walking this path already. Perhaps what has kept you from choosing it fully was fear of failure or perhaps guilt at having been the cause of so much suffering, but I absolve you of those feelings. You may put them down and leave them behind. Stay. Be at peace. Keep your new friends. Save my kin. You can do all of these things simply by coming with me and accepting my help. Do these things not appeal to you?¡± They did. They really, really did. The prospect of being able to stay in a place I was wanted in this new life I¡¯d begun, maybe go on a date with Samila, read books with Trix next to a fire in an inn somewhere, become a practitioner and go to university under Jassin. Maybe I¡¯d learn how to keep the System from doing what it was doing to me. All of it was possible. Myss¡¯s offer was everything I¡¯d ever wanted. A home. Friendship. Acceptance. It even stuck the idea of heroism and saving an entire species as a little cherry on top. But I knew better. Things were never so simple. No one was going to come along and fix all of your problems, not without incurring some kind of cost. Sissa spoke for me. ¡°Ryan believes that the longer he stays here, the more the wound to our reality festers. From what I¡¯ve seen, his theory appears true. If Ryan stays, there will be terrible consequences.¡± The dragon did turn to meet Sissa¡¯s eyes this time, and its tone ran hot with anger. ¡°Of course. The consequences of his species¡¯ meddling in places that they should not are all around us, spawn. This fetid wasteland is testament to that. The rotting corpse of a once beautiful thing, only fit to experience through dreams and lesser incarnations of ourselves,¡± Myss hissed, teeth bared. ¡°The very blood that flows through your veins cries out at how low his meddling has brought us. I simply ask this one to meddle further, until all can be put right.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Sissa bristled at the slight on her parentage, but she kept her cool. Samila seemed less inclined to let the statements pass. She took a step forward with what would have been a threatening manner to any mortal being, but I surreptitiously put out a hand to keep her from doing more. I didn¡¯t like where this was going, but I also needed to be sure. ¡°Much has happened since you went to sleep, old one,¡± Sissa insisted through clenched teeth. ¡°The people of Ralqir have found a way to thrive even under the maelstrom¡¯s light. We have harnessed magic, built great things. They even say we are in the midst of a golden age, despite our current troubles.¡± Myss¡¯s lip curled into a disdainful sneer. ¡°I will forgive you this impudence this time, spawn, because you were not there.¡± Myss warned. ¡°But speak to me again of mortal golden ages while our people wither away in their dreams, and you will regret it.¡± Ever the diplomat, Trix raised a paw. ¡°Sergeant Sissa didn¡¯t mean to cause offense, I¡¯m sure,¡± he squeaked. ¡°What she was trying to say was that we have moved forward as best we can in your absence. The Church and the Empire have lifted-¡± ¡°Silence!¡± the dragon commanded. Its eyes flashed, and Trix fell flat to the floor, pinned. He trembled as something invisible but very real pressed him down into the stone, his little chest heaving as he fought to breathe, and I could hear him gasp with obvious pain. ¡°I barely tolerate impertinence from the spawn of my kin, but not from you, the pathetic supplicant of a usurper faith.¡± Tiba rushed over to Trix and tried to help him up, but whatever was forcing him down to the ground couldn¡¯t be resisted. She grunted with effort, pulling with all of her might, but Trix couldn¡¯t rise. Tiba¡¯s guards tried to help as well to no avail, and Tiba grew more desperate with every passing second. Wild goblin curses flew from her mouth, and she snarled at the dragon. Then like a switch had been flipped, Myss¡¯ voice was back to calm and gentle. ¡°I would hear the human speak now.¡± But I couldn¡¯t take my eyes off Trix. His little eyes pleaded with me. Realizing she was powerless to help, Tiba finally stopped pulling and got down on her belly, whispering comforting words into Trix¡¯s ear as she stroked his fur. I wondered how much of it Trix understood. That cold feeling had come over me again Geddon¡¯s heavy footsteps clomped up behind me, and a big hand rested on my shoulder, giving it a squeeze. I derived a little strength from that. ¡°You know,¡± I began. ¡°Trix proposed that I stay too.¡± My voice was calm and steady, and this time I felt it. My uncertainty had died an untimely death. The dragon just regarded me, inscrutable as it casually tortured my friend. It didn¡¯t have to say anything did it? It had showed me the carrot. Now I was getting the stick. Myss was smart enough not to go directly into harming me. She somehow knew my soft spot was the others. The message was that, even if I didn¡¯t want to cooperate, she could make me do it, and she didn¡¯t even have to take direct action against me. Well, that settled it, didn¡¯t it? ¡°That¡¯s enough, Myss,¡± I said. Trix groaned, lifting up one claw to reach for us. ¡°That¡¯s enough!¡± Suddenly, the weight upon Trix lifted, and the vulpa gulped greedily at the air. Tiba let out a relieved sob. Myss tilted her head and flicked her tongue. ¡°We understand each other then. Decide now, human.¡± My glassy pond was back. The cracks had been smoothed over, but I knew they were still there. ¡°You want to secure my cooperation, you¡¯re going about it wrong.¡± ¡°Am I? I give you everything you want and promise suffering if refused. It could not be a simpler choice.¡± A chorus of screams echoed around the courtyard, this time from the goblins. They were all forced to the ground now under Myss¡¯ magic. The dragonkin sisters had had enough too, spreading out as they did when they took on the ignarog. They hadn¡¯t drawn steel yet, but from the hard looks in their eyes, they were a heartbeat away from throwing down. The dragon didn¡¯t seem to care, though. It followed them all with its eyes and ¡®smiled¡¯ imperiously, but it took no action against them. Of course it didn¡¯t. They were children of another dragon. Torture was for mortals. Myss was pressuring me, trying to throw me off balance and get me to accept her terms based on my emotions, but what she had done by going after Trix and Tiba was quite the opposite. She had recategorized herself from ¡®unknown¡¯ and slid right into the ¡°enemy¡± list in my mind, and I was running out of mercy for my enemies. Step one: Distract. ¡°An exchange of truths,¡± I declared. Everyone currently on their feet stopped, even the dragon. All eyes turned to me. I took a couple steps forward until I was nearly in grabbing distance of the dragon¡¯s horns. ¡°I propose an exchange of truths,¡± I repeated. Myss eyed me dubiously. ¡°My words are always true.¡± I put on a look of mild contempt and leaned forward until the phantom heat was almost unbearable. My skin felt like I was, at once, on fire and frostbitten. ¡°I don¡¯t believe you,¡± I said. The dragon¡¯s eyes narrowed. ¡°Careful, child. I will not-¡± ¡°I think you need me to cooperate to bring back your age of dragons,¡± I interrupted the god. ¡°Otherwise you¡¯d have already snatched me up and been done with it. Or maybe you¡¯re uncertain how you¡¯ll be able to do that and fulfill your pact at the same time.¡± ¡°Perhaps,¡± she replied. ¡°Perhaps it is preferable you cooperate to avoid wasted time.¡± ¡°An exchange of truths,¡± I repeated, stepping away from the dragon and beginning to circle around it, forcing it to follow me with its head. ¡°During our exchange, no harm will come to any of these people or to me. Afterward, do with me what you think is best.¡± ¡°This is pointless,¡± she hissed. ¡°I can already do as I wish.¡± ¡°What he asks is already something you give, old one,¡± Sissa said guardedly, her eyes flicking from me to Myss and back. I could tell she suspected I was making a play here, and she was trying to work out what it was. ¡°Then it costs you nothing, while he gives you something. Tradition also demands the request be honored.¡± ¡°Do not lecture me on tradition, spawn! I know the old ways!¡± Myss snarled before whipping its head over to me again. ¡°What are you doing, human?¡± I took another step, this time onto the stairs, taking two at a time. ¡°If we¡¯re going to exchange words as equals-¡± ¡°Do not mistake my desire for your cooperation with equality. I would crush you with a thought.¡± ¡°Except you can¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°You need me, and I need you. Plus, I like to look people in the eye when we speak.¡± I took another big step up toward the battlements before a pressure built in my chest. Something took hold of me and squeezed what would be my heart, but my insides were made of stronger stuff nowadays. The weight of it pressed on me, but it wasn¡¯t nearly so bad as I had imagined. I grunted, staggered, nearly fell from the stairs, but took another laborious step anyway. Status gained: Suppressed (partial) I was short of breath, but I kept the words flowing. I had to sell this. ¡°And I¡¯m willing to bet little tantrums like that are costing you, Myss. I have it on good authority your magic doesn¡¯t really play well with the maelstrom¡­ sort of like mine. Unlike me, though, you don¡¯t have another universe drip feeding you power. You¡¯re finite. Have been since the Dark Lord showed you how it¡¯s done and saved Ralqir for you.¡± I took another step and another until my head crested the lip of the battlements. The presence that wrapped itself around my chest relented slightly as I came fully onto the walls for the first time since we¡¯d seen Kuul. The smoke and lingering fog obscured most of the forest, though I could see open flames directly outside the sunlight circle that had protected us from the scourge. Kuul was nowhere to be seen, but¡­ I turned to find the dragon¡¯s face inches from my own. ¡°An exchange of truths. No one gets hurt. Then it¡¯s up to you,¡± I said, careful not to let my eyes give anything away. Smoke billowed from her nostrils as she thought for a long tencount. ¡°You will assist us in bringing back the natural order,¡± Myss predicted. ¡°I might have,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°Before you showed me how cruel you are willing to be. Now, it¡¯s a toss-up. Convince me.¡± ¡°Done,¡± Myss growled. In the courtyard, the others gasped as they were let go and allowed to breathe again. Deception is now level 6. ¡°Begin,¡± the dragon commanded. ¡°What would be involved in helping you save your dragons?¡± I asked, purposefully raising my voice so that everyone could hear me, projecting for maximum volume. ¡°As your predecessor was used to bring us here, we will use you to send us back,¡± she said. ¡°That¡¯s not an acceptable answer. Tell me more,¡± I demanded. ¡°There is no more to tell.¡± ¡°Bullshit.¡± I raised a reproachful eyebrow. ¡°I do not lie!¡± Myss snarled, true yellow fire puffing out of its mouth as it enunciated the words. ¡°Do you plan to help us if I play this game of yours?¡± I kept it vague and unhelpful as Myss had. ¡°I don¡¯t have a choice. I plan to do what is right by these people. What happens to Ralqir while I stay? I¡¯m killing this place. Surely, you see that.¡± Myss looked strangely uncomfortable at this. Noted. ¡°You kill that which is already dead,¡± Myss replied, her head bowed slightly, pensive. ¡°Magic is strange and unusual here. It is no longer alive but a¡­ knowable force. There is no art or imagination to it, no impulse behind its power.¡± Myss spoke the words like they were a curse. ¡°You fear staying in our world, even to give us a chance to save it. Why?¡± ¡°I assume you want to send Ralqir back to its original location in the universe. The process did something to the other human. The Dark Lord fed him a steady diet of experience and power from the System, and he became something else. He was a monster when I found him, a dangerous one even the maelstrom couldn¡¯t kill. I¡¯m worried that while you guys try to replicate that, this place is going to be overrun, and by the time you succeed, I¡¯ll be an even bigger problem than the scourge. Why didn¡¯t the dragons stop the last incursion of the scourge before the purge?¡± Myss hesitated at that. ¡°We¡­ could not. I tire of this. Make your decision.¡± ¡°No. That was a non answer!¡± I shouted as loud as I dared. Where the hell is- Deception is now level 7. ¡°Your scourge is a presence from beyond,¡± Myss growled. ¡°It wears other beings like sleeves while its real body searches for others to possess. Fire is an answer but a temporary one. With no way to permanently destroy the alien presence, we were slowly being worn down. So, we allowed the Dark Lord to perform his spell and destroy an enemy we found most vexing. However, we did not know the full cost.¡± Alert: Your presence has been detected. Alert: Your presence has been detected. Alert: Your presence has been detected. There it was, the message I was looking for. Keep stalling. ¡°So, what will Ralqir do without the maelstrom¡¯s light which definitely kills the scourge?¡± I asked. ¡°Kill it with harsh language?¡± ¡°If we must.¡± I shook my head reproachfully. ¡°So, you have nothing. You want me to be part of a plan that you¡¯ve not even thought all the way through?¡± ¡°Our power is vast, human. We grew it over eons before lesser life had even crawled from the ether and beheld the sun. You are new to immortality, so you have no frame of reference to understand this.¡± ¡°Or, once you take away the scourge¡¯s incentive to congregate here, you¡¯ll just be back to square one with a global extinction event, getting your asses kicked only this time you can¡¯t replenish yourselves.¡± ¡°Is the ritual the Dark Lord created still intact?¡± Myss asked. ¡°As far as I know. It¡¯s lacking a mutated human now, though. Took care of that before I left. I want to hear more about your plan. Are you just going to ask the Empire for permission to use the ritual again, or are you just going to take it? I don¡¯t see them being okay with upending their entire power base to bring back a religion that hasn¡¯t been relevant for a thousand years. Better yet, how do you plan on dealing with the scourge in the meantime, while you figure out how to use me?¡± ¡°We know of our enemy now and the cost that must be paid to defeat it. Without a mortal vessel, your scourge has no viable way to affect the world. We will deny it viable sleeves until a solution can be discovered.¡± That, despite even my worst predictions, threw me for a loop. ¡°I- What? How do you uh¡­ deny it?¡± This question, the dragon did not answer. Then it hit me right between the eyes. I cursed myself for not having guessed sooner. ¡°Oh, just like that. You¡¯re going to wipe them all out, aren¡¯t you? The mortals. There¡¯s millions of people here, and that doesn¡¯t mean a damned thing to you, not against gaining your precious magic back. Convenient solution too, isn''t it? It gets rid of all the mortals that have been studying magic and might give you a good run for your money in the power department.¡± ¡°Magic is meant to be alive. The world thrived when it could choose who wielded it. Who was worthy. Having to start anew is a small price to pay to restore the natural order.¡± ¡°See? That¡¯s where you lose me.¡± ¡°We have had our exchange. Your decision. Now. Think in the long term, Ryan Kotes, immortal human. Put this planet back as it should be, get what you want, and be a hero to a grateful world. There really is no decision at all.¡± I sighed dramatically, pretending to consider. I even went so far as to tap a finger on my chin. ¡°Fine. The answer is no. Screw you. You¡¯ll have to carry me kicking and screaming,¡± I said as I pointed blindly in the general direction I felt Alert doing its thing. ¡°He might have something to say about it, though.¡± Right on cue, that now familiar, deep, terrible roar split the air and shook the world. There, in the foggy shadows of the mendau, the towering silhouette of Kuul came barreling out of the forest at a full sprint, faster than a speeding train. He was down on all fours, charging like a bear, and the ground shook with the violence of every footfall. He came on with the speed of a monster that had seen the person he hated most in the entire world. This was the first time I¡¯d ever gotten a good look at him. He was generally humanoid shaped, made of gnarled wood, gray and black with char marks, his joints glowing orange like his eyes and mouth. An eternal fire burned inside him that warped the air and crackled and popped. Fire dribbled from the corners of his mouth like spittle to land at his feet as he wordlessly bellowed his hatred toward me. Myss looked from me to Kuul and back again. Then back to me. Then back to Kuul. Then to me. By the third or fourth doubletake, I felt like the dragon could have competed with Kuul in the loathing department. The dragon looked like it desperately wanted to kill me, maybe torture me until I went insane then kill me. Yeah. That sounded more Myss¡¯ style. However, instead of doing that, as I¡¯d been hoping, my new guardian angel let out a frustrated growl and slid herself between me and Kuul, setting her feet in preparation to protect me in what was going to be a big, stupid, kaiju fight, and she was going to hate every second of it. Afterall, Myss needed me, and she needed me alive. Chapter 84 - Be Anywhere Else Chapter - 84 - Be Anywhere Else Kuul charged forward, eyes literally filled with burning hatred and fixed upon me and only me, his great, gnarled hands cracking under his weight and with the force of his pounding steps. He blasted through the sunwall quicker than quick and was shooting toward me at absolutely ludicrous speed. The dragon, after a very brief moment of consideration, attempted to make a grasp for me. Maybe it was trying to avoid a fight altogether, perhaps snag me then make off with her prey before a fight could actually take place. I¡¯d been ready for it, though. This wasn¡¯t the first time an evil dragon tried to grab me. I mean, it had only happened twice, but things like that tend to leave an impression on a guy. It was fast, like the wretchwyrm, but I was already on the move, springing down to ground level then sprinting, low and fast. Instead of snagging its human and making a break for it, Myss¡¯ claw scraped at bare stone just behind me, tearing grooves in the rock with horrific screeches while tiny splinters stung the back of my neck. I didn¡¯t stop until I collided with the west wall under the battlements where it would be hard to grab me. Then the dragon¡¯s attention needed to be elsewhere. With a boom, the two titans clashed in a thunderous exchange that shook the ground and collapsed the rest of the north wall, exposing us all to the outside and burying my work area in rock. And that was just the first blow. In a stunning display of speed and skill, the dragon had used its body and low center of gravity to stop Kuul¡¯s charge and redirect, though it was forced back until its tail and hind legs pressed against the ditch where we¡¯d set spikes. Kuul didn¡¯t have any intention of stopping. Despite being stopped cold, he didn¡¯t even seem to register he was being fought. He staggered to the side, swiped at the crumbling fortifications, then shook his head and reared up like a bear, his gaze still locked on me as he opened his mouth. Inside was a portal to hell, a roaring furnace I could feel on my face even from way down here and a whole dragon between us. Fire dribbled down from the uneven row of wooden fangs like spittle, and the wind whistled as Kuul sucked in air. Oh Constance, I hadn¡¯t thought this through. I looked around frantically. Everyone was taking cover like I was underneath the awnings. The goblins were as far toward the exit as they could get without going outside. Bole had Beedy on his back near the edge of the wall breach and seemed to be waiting for his chance to make a break for it. Geddon, Sissa, Samila, and Trix were doing the smart thing and cautiously making for the stairs. If Kuul were to spit fire down in here, everyone on the ground floor was screwed. ¡°Shit shit shit shit!¡± I shouted, forcing my tensed muscles to unclench and get moving again. I leaped up the nearest set of stairs, taking them a handful at a time. If I could get outside and across the ditch before the attack, the others would have a shot. Unfortunately, Kuul¡¯s aim followed me unerringly(not hard when you¡¯re a hundred feet tall), and he bent at the waist to exhale. Just before I could be incinerated my genocidal guardian angel stepped in. A great red tail whipped through the air and slammed into Kuul¡¯s chest. Blindsided, Kuul rocked backward with the impact and stumbled, the liquid fire he¡¯d been about to spew at me bubbling in his throat and spilling over his face as he lost his footing and fell on his back with a crash that took out several more feet of wall. His face now fully on fire, Kuul gurgled his mild disapproval and rolled onto his side to get to his feet. Before he could rise, Myss said something quiet and oddly pronounced. ¡°Cutting Embrace.¡± The language it used itched at my ears and prickled skin on the back of my neck. It felt like a predator had just passed over my head but had chosen, by chance, not to devour me. Bright orange lashes of magic burst from a point of empty air, crackling just over Kuul¡¯s head. The strands exploded from their origin point, whipping in all directions, wrapping around the giant¡¯s face. Others shot into the ground, lashed themselves around trees, skewered boulders, anywhere they could anchor. Then they began to squeeze. Kuul roared in protest, but the strands tightened more and more, looped around his eyes and mouth, wrenched the giant¡¯s head until it twisted round on his shoulders, and his body was forced to follow. Then he was face down on the forest floor. Kuul¡¯s long limbs thrashed, churning the earth, attempting to gain some kind of leverage to free himself and sending waves of damp soil skyward. Snarling, Myss moved in for the kill. She beat her wings and took to the air with a great whoosh then came roaring down in a vicious pounce that cracked the bark of Kuul¡¯s body underneath her. Fire spurted from the rifts in Kuul¡¯s shell with the impact. It was only then that I remembered I should still be moving. Better yet, I should get the others moving too. I took the opportunity to get everyone¡¯s attention, a very difficult task when two gods were fighting right next to you. It had a tendency to draw the eye. ¡°Hey! Hey! Listen!¡± I whisper shouted until everyone was looking at me. ¡°Time to go! Right now!¡± With a *RRRRRIP* the ground beneath Kuul was rent open, and he twisted at the waist until his upper half was turned toward the dragon while his legs were still pinned beneath. Myss, caught off guard by the maneuver, attempted to disengage and lift back into the air, but her feet were already thoroughly entangled in animated mendau roots that writhed and wrapped around her ankles, the same spell the sorcerer had used to kill Hunty. Opponent temporarily immobile, Kuul¡¯s bark-covered slap caught the imprisoned dragon right in its face, followed swiftly by a lungful of liquid fire that I assumed was originally intended for me. This time, it was Myss that roared in pain and rage. She slashed blindly at her foe¡¯s abdomen as she attempted to clear her vision, starting secondary fires in and around the fort as she shook off the goo. Of course, the door was one of the first casualties, igniting with almost no need to be convinced. Kuul didn¡¯t seem to feel anything that was occurring to him. All he did was attack. On the bright side, he wasn¡¯t immediately attacking me. Yet. The dragon was now fully on his radar, and it had to die. ¡°Fucking right it¡¯s time to go,¡± Bole said from to my right. Holy hell how was he already up here? Right. Practitioner. He had Beedy supported over one of his shoulders and was helping the other man down onto the nearest root slide that would get him a safe height to the ground. ¡°Where are we going?¡± Sissa asked as she jogged up to me from the other side of the battlements. ¡°The infected are still out there beyond the sun wall.¡± That was a good question. ¡°I don¡¯t know! Anywhere but here!¡± Was all I could think of. ¡°We could have left yesterday!¡± Sissa exclaimed. ¡°I know! And we¡¯d be just as screwed!¡± I shouted back at her. ¡°Now get the hell down there!¡± Another boom and a blast of heat. Then Sissa was forced to give an enthusiastic nod of agreement. The dragonkin climbed over the side, followed by Trix, who stopped just before lowering himself down. ¡°I still hear them out there,¡± Trix said, residual pain from Myss¡¯ magic evident in his voice. ¡°They are scratching and vocalizing still. Many.¡± I nodded to him and gave his head a slight push to get him moving down the outside of the wall. We¡¯d have to deal with that problem when the time came. Right now, we needed to be anywhere but here. I watched the vulpa¡¯s ears disappear below. Geddon and the three goblins on his back were next. ¡°How did you know?¡± Samila asked me on her way past. ¡°That she would kill us all and start over if that¡¯s what it took?¡± ¡°Lucky guess,¡± I said, helping her up the stairs and to the wall. ¡°Makes sense though. They can¡¯t bring the old Ralqir back without destroying the new one, and I¡¯m already on a quest to not let that happen.¡± Then came the admission. I guessed it was finally safe to say, now that it was a true impossibility. ¡°It sucks too, because I really do want to stay.¡± ¡°Of course you do! ¡± Samila shouted, half-pretending to be shocked. ¡°You¡¯ve got a weird way of showing it, though, you ass!¡± ¡°I know! I know! I was afraid to admit it, because¡­ well¡­¡± I spared a glance for the two fighting giants. ¡°If the dragons could have helped me without getting all genocidal, I would have ridden off into the sunset with the rest of you. Now, if I stay, your dad¡¯s species is probably going to fight a war over me.¡° I took her hand and helped her over the side. ¡°I guess you were right to fear,¡± she admitted. In for a penny¡­ ¡°There¡¯s the other thing too,¡± I continued. Samila had one foot up on the lip of the wall, holding my hand for support as she gingerly used her good leg to get a hold of one of the grooves. She hesitated, frowning in confusion. ¡°What other-¡± Before I had a chance to reconsider, I took a breath and pulled her in close. Then, I kissed her. Again, how soft and light she was struck me, her scales like downy feathers, belying their outward appearance. The rest of her was delicate, warm, the unarmored parts at least. Her lips tasted like spiced fruit. I pulled away when I started seeing spots, which I am slightly embarrassed to say, didn¡¯t take long. When we were finally apart, her yellow eyes stared up at me, wide, a little frightened but hungry and intensely intrigued. About time someone else got that look. I was tired of being the only one that got it. ¡°Woah,¡± she breathed, shuddering slightly in my arms. Then her attention was on something over my shoulder. She gasped, true fear stealing any further words she had for me, and I saw the reflection of motion in her eyes just before- If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it. *WHAM* A whole fucking red dragon slammed down onto the fort , hitting with the force of a bomb. The walls buckled and broke. Rocks tumbled out into the forest, propelled by the meteoric force of a multi-ton monster making landfall in their midst. Myss laid on her back, stunned, her legs twitching as some part of her brain attempted to reassert control of her motor functions. Before Myss could recover, a bark-covered arm snaked over the dragon¡¯s torso, and Kuul¡¯ heaved his broken body atop his opponent. His mouth opened once again and he roared in Myss¡¯ face. I knew what was happening next. Too close. We were way too close. I got an arm under Samila and took her up in a princess carry. Then I, praying I had the requisite strength to and HP to do this, leaped. *FWOOM* I didn¡¯t get a chance to perform the tuck and roll I had half-planned before taking to the air. Instead, Samila and I were violently hurled outside the remains of the walls, over the trench, and well into no man¡¯s land, fire blazing in our wake. I, too, was on fire. I knew I was. It was a sensation with which I was becoming far too familiar. That would probably take care of itself when- I did my best to get under Samila before we made impact, but I was only half successful. I had to activate Tension Step mid-air and kick to try and complete the spin. My mana pool cratered, and I lost myself in white stabbing pain just before we landed. The maneuver was a success though. I took the entire fall on my right shoulder. Correction, I took two falls on my shoulder, mine and Samila¡¯s. A bone somewhere in there gave way with a pop, and I had a new source of agony to contend with. There was the distinct sensation of rushing fluid in the part of my shoulder that used to be functional. My senses failed me temporarily. A small mercy in retrospect. Hurray. The spots were back. I missed you, spots. The world had been robbed of its oxygen, or at least that¡¯s how it felt. My lungs tried to take in big, desperate gulps of hot air that never seemed to be enough. There was an odd pressure in my chest too. Something was pressing on my lung and keeping it from filling fully, and there was way too much smoke in the air I did get. Samila got to her feet first and then helped me to mine, none too gently. I nearly swooned with the pain before I could get fully upright. Behind us, the dragon whispered another spell. *WHOOSH* In a flash, the fire disappeared, along with a good chunk of the forest. Everything that was burning turned to ash in an instant like we¡¯d just been brought forcefully into the future when the fire had already run its course. Then, the ash started to move. An unnatural wind swept it up and collected it into drifts that flowed, swirled and gathered in a twisting whirlwind, congealing, growing and growing until it solidified into the shape of yet another dragon, black, gray, and white with hollow, lifeless eyes. It reared up, opened its mouth, and let out a silent, challenging roar. In agony, I fought to get my mind working. Distance. We still weren¡¯t safe. I tried to pull Samila away, tried to get us moving, but all I got was a terrible wrenching sensation in my shoulder. ¡°Samila?¡± I groaned, waving a hand in front of her to get her attention. ¡°We have to- augh-¡± Samila was rooted in place. She looked lost, entranced almost. ¡°I can-¡± she whispered, not to anyone in particular. I didn¡¯t even think she knew I was there. ¡°I think I understand it.¡± ¡°Samila! Hey!¡± I shouted She continued to stare as the dragon and the goeshi battled to their last. ¡°Sam!¡± Screw it. Despite being almost ready to pass out, I bent at the waist and picked up my dragonkin girl yet again, this time over my prosthetic shoulder. Thank Constance for cold, unfeeling metal. The two dragons, the old and the new, attacked Kuul as one, one going for the giant¡¯s legs, and the other for his head. From there it was a rolling grappling match. Desperate snarls and growls, pops and cracks, wet, ripping flesh, and bark, the noises filled the forest. Sounds not meant for human ears chased us as we ran. The monstrous mass of the creatures was staggering. From what I heard behind me, the two flattened everything they touched. The fort was definitely no more. Whole trees broke under their combined weights. ¡°Wait! Wait, Ryan!¡± Samila protested, wriggling in my grasp. I was barely holding onto her to begin with. Just then, I hit a depression in the ground and turned my ankle. That was too much. I lost myself momentarily to the pain and oxygen deprivation and stumbled, spilling the two of us onto the forest floor yet again. When I came back to myself, Samila was standing again, transfixed on the battle taking place a worryingly close distance from the two of us. Myss had a broken leg, and her tail was crooked and ripped to the bone. Kuul¡¯s torso was still broken, and one of his arms was missing, not that he cared, but the liquid fire spilling out of him was enough to form a sizeable pool beneath him. Myss got the upper hand with the help of her ash clone, pinning Kuul on his back, the ash dragon perched on top of his legs with talons dug into his knees as the red dragon wailed and slashed at his neck and face. Rearing back with one of her claws, Myss spoke a final spell into existence, and the claw on the middle toe of the dragon¡¯s foot extended and changed texture until it was a mirror shine. Then she drove the claw directly into Kuul¡¯s forehead. It went all the way through, bursting from the back of his skull to pierce into the soil. ¡°There!¡± Samila shouted. ¡°Did you hear it? I¡¯m- I think I got-¡± ¡°Got what?¡± I asked between labored breaths. ¡°What- *gulp* are you talking about?¡± She looked back at me in barely contained wonder. There were tears in her eyes. ¡°My first Word. Just now. I¡¯d given up on trying.¡± Confused, I shook my head, not liking what it did to my migraine. ¡°It¡¯s all- It hurts. It-¡± Her words trailed off as her eyes rolled up into the back of her head, and her body collapsed bonelessly to the ground. Kuul thrashed, despite being impaled through the brain. Liquid fire leaked out of his head where the claw had gone through. The dragon snarled in Kuul¡¯s face, showing her teeth to her fallen foe as a sign of contempt. Then, in a herculean effort, Kuul grabbed the dragon¡¯s claw and twisted to angle his face slightly to the left. When the dragon tried to compensate and shift her weight, Kuul seized her head and brought it close. The goeshi let loose with a final geyser of fire. A much, much bigger one than the previous. At least I assumed that. It was much too bright to see with the naked eye. I felt the wall of heat hit just before I registered the impact. The shockwave slammed into me, and I got the distinct impression of tumbling over the ground before I was knocked senseless. When I could think again, I realized I was face down on the forest floor, and I wasn¡¯t where I remembered being. When I pushed myself up, the world was swimming, awash in heat and billowing smoke. Sam was gone. Disorientation kept me from standing upright. The pain in my shoulder and on my back was excruciating, and all I could do was roll and hope I was putting out the flames that were surely there. How bad was it? Sam¡­ HP [208/301] I did a quick query of the log. I¡¯d lost HP with the fall, the first blast, internal bleeding, the burning¡­ All of that was mine and only mine. That left about 45 HP of damage unaccounted for that Samila might have taken with me. There was a good chance she was out there somewhere, alive. My feet were under me and carrying me back toward where I¡¯d last seen her, my vision wobbling and dimming between breaths. Through the smoke, I saw the vague forms of the two combatants. The ash dragon was gone. Myss and Kuul were both on fire, and the dragon shuddered as her head and neck blazed. Kuul, despite burning himself, showed no outward signs of weakening or pain. Both were locked in a struggle to end the fight right there, limbs entwined, teeth bared. Then, suddenly, they were gone, disappearing with a *WUFF* as a sizeable portion of the ground beneath them collapsed. I blinked. What was that? After a couple seconds, Myss¡¯ head poked out of the hole the two had fallen in, tried to scramble to her feet and get away, but she couldn¡¯t seem to gain purchase well enough to break Kuul¡¯s grip. A gnarled hand used the dragon¡¯s momentary distraction to reach up and take hold of her horns and wrench. Myss¡¯ neck twisted around in a most unnatural way until the bones inside separated with a wet pop, gunshot loud. No. That wasn¡¯t right. I knew gunshots. That was an actual gunshot. Somewhere, amidst the rubble and roaring flames, one of the remaining turrets began to fire. Once. Twice. Three bursts. *BRRAP BRRRRAP BRAP* Then all was silent. What? *WUFF* A sound to my immediate right, the sound of a ton of dirt collapsing in on itself followed by the earthy scent of petrichor and¡­ bodies. I smelled rotting flesh. Fetid breath. The familiar, eerie howls of the scourge despoiled the silence, and gangly black figures began to trickle out of a freshly dug hole. *WUFF* *WUFF* Two more in the distance. Indistinct black figures rose from the earth, quick and quiet, their figures silhouettes in the thick smoke. My heart sank as the realization hit me. They dug their way in. The scourge started digging their way in the day we¡¯d forced them back. Now I knew why they were constantly making those noises, torturing Trix so. They were covering for their mining operation. Sam. Where is she? I got low, clutching at my shoulder as I stalked through the smoke attempting to look for Sam. I needed to find her, get her out of here. Where was she? How far had we been separated? I forced my eyes to stay open, despite the smoke, hoping for a flash of blue or the outline of a shield. They were all I wanted in the world. Steely fingers suddenly dug into my wrist, small fingers, sharp. The Black Ones had found me. I gasped, drawing back to throw a haymaker that way with my prosthetic, but I stopped myself when I realized who it was. Tiba was there. She was crouched low, covered in soot, crawling along the ground like a lizard with the exception of the hand she was using to try and get my attention. Once she saw I was aware of her, she put a finger to her lips and beckoned for me to follow. I shook my head. Samila was still out here somewhere. She- Another tug on my wrist. This time, my shoulder bones ground together hard enough to make the world go all white static again. ¡°Arrrrg,¡± I groaned, but Tiba, quick as a mongoose, had climbed up my torso and put a finger to my lips before I could make any more noise. The look in her eyes told me she was serious. Also very frightened. She beckoned me to follow yet again. I clenched my jaw and breathed hard as panic and desperation threatened to override my good sense. Sam. Where are you? But Tiba¡¯s eyes begged me to trust her. A few more breaths, a quiet moment to let the adrenaline partially wash out of my system, and I was okay again, wresting control of my emotions back from my lizard brain. Unclenching my hands and relaxing my jaw, I made a show of being calm again. I bent down to whisper in her ear. ¡°Sam is out there,¡± I told her. Tiba nodded and put her lips to my ear. ¡°We try to find them. Too dangerous to stay here, though. We move now or have to fight.¡± Think, Ryan. What do we know? I hadn¡¯t found Samila yet. That meant she¡¯d either moved under her own power, or she¡¯d been moved. Either way, I couldn¡¯t find her like this. I was stumbling around blind. Tiba was at home in these woods. She was my best shot at reuniting with the others. I made a gesture for her to lead on, hoping that I wasn¡¯t leaving Sam to die. Immediately after we started moving, excited, gibbering voices moved in behind us, close. Apparently, I¡¯d decided to cooperate at just the right time. I silently hoped they weren¡¯t looking for tracks and that they wouldn¡¯t fall upon someone else if they didn¡¯t find me. Tiba and I crawled through the smoke and the blazing underbrush, around the sniffing, pawing scourge that pursued us. Tiba led me under the fallen trunks of slain mendau, around skittering clusters of hunting monsters. Only once we passed through the greasy rainbow mud that still clogged the chokepoint did the voices of the scourge fade into the distance. Night fell. To my growing horror, we never saw any of the others. Chapter 85 - Make a Promise Chapter 85 - Make a Promise Tiba and I stayed in a hollow log until morning. The night had been full of terrible noises as the scourge reveled in their victory. They were everywhere, sniffing and pawing at the ground, scrabbling up and down trees, and howling into the night, no doubt looking for us, specifically me. Tiba was using some sort of woodcraft I wasn¡¯t familiar with to mask our presence, though she wouldn¡¯t or couldn¡¯t explain. There was something about the log itself combined with our collective smells that kept the creatures from looking inside, but what that was, was entirely out of my wheelhouse. She seemed semi-confident it was working, though. Unsurprisingly, Kuul was still alive, back to full rampage mode, roaring and breathing fire everywhere, which was the only source of illumination for someone with pathetic night vision like myself. From the glimpses I caught through the underbrush, his body looked more battered now after his fight with the dragon. Spiderweb cracks crawled up his torso and neck, glowing orange in the dimness of the forest and leaking little fire globs that would splat onto the ground wherever he walked, but walk he did. He felt no pain that I could discern, only a burning desire to kill. The old son of a bitch was unkillable, apparently, and he packed a mean punch, mean enough to kill a dragon. Oh yes, that was another thing. Myss was probably dead. That tended to happen when your head was twisted all the way around, but I wasn¡¯t ready to ring the bell considering we were dealing with ancient magic beings and all that. What convinced me was the fact that we hadn¡¯t seen Myss while Kuul was still kicking around, and she wouldn¡¯t have left without doing something I would regret. The scourge had grown increasingly used to dealing with Kuul. Wherever the giant went, the scourge had to give way, but as Kuul chased individual monsters that caught his eye, dozens more would rush into the giant¡¯s wake and continue about their business of finding me. Around dawn, when the sound of Kuul¡¯s footsteps and the vocalizations of the scourge were far, far off, Tiba and I dared crawl out of our hiding place. We retraced our steps slowly, keeping low. The forest got eerily quiet in the absence of all the activity, magnifying each snapped twig and rustled leaf, so we took our time, making the effort to keep out of sight and leave no trail. It was mostly Tiba leading me by the hand and telling me to wait when she needed to scout ahead. At least I got another level of Stealth out of it. Stealth is now level 17. The waiting was hard for me, since I couldn¡¯t stop thinking about the others. Everything had gone to shit so fast. The fire and chaos had separated us, and we¡¯d not discussed what to do if that happened. We¡¯d all just assumed we¡¯d be doing this entire thing together and that we¡¯d have a chance to plan things if we were to leave home base. In fact, we¡¯d all assumed that leaving this place would be a permanent thing, but now we were scattered with no way to find one another without returning to the place we¡¯d just lost to the enemy. My heart was going a mile a minute as I waited in the bushes outside the sunlight perimeter, staring through the fog and smoke into the smoldering wreckage where we¡¯d used to live. The fortress itself was obliterated, crumbled down to ground level with the strange exception of the southwest corner wall of which only about six feet of stone remained vertical. The area was charred black, the ditch flattened, the roots of the old petrified trees cracked into jagged boulders. Six ragged holes, wide enough to drive a wagon through, were dug out around the fort in a nearly perfect hexagon. One of these had collapsed to the point where I could see the rough outlines of trenches where the scourge had tunneled in. Tiba watched and waited with me, only a little more patient than I felt. ¡°Something is wrong, Ryan,¡± Tiba said from her half of the bush. ¡°Kelub and Grorg should find us by now.¡± ¡°Yeah,¡± I agreed. ¡°It¡¯s too quiet. I understand the others laying low, but where are the scourge?¡± ¡°They run from Kuul, I think, and you are not here anymore. No reason to stay,¡± she guessed before adopting a more somber tone. ¡°I keep expecting to hear one of Yik¡¯i¡¯trix¡¯s birdcalls. I like his bird calls.¡± I did too. I kept expecting to hear all sorts of things, hoping someone out there was alright. If they were, though, they were doing the same thing we were: watching and waiting. I reached out and gave her hand a squeeze. ¡°I¡¯m worried about them too,¡± I said. ¡°Let¡¯s give it another half hour, then, if nothing else happens, we¡¯ll make the first move.¡± Tiba agreed, nodding slightly, but she continued to watch the clearing with big, unblinking eyes. ¡ª------------------------------------ Taking the long way around to the choke point, we picked our way carefully through the underbrush, wincing with every clumsy footfall I made. Tiba was silent as a mouse, but me¡­ I was too big and heavy for this kind of thing. I just had to hope my Stealth skill and Gray Man would do something for me. Alert hadn¡¯t triggered yet, but I wasn¡¯t quite to the point where I trusted it with my life. Like my turrets and my aura, I had to assume it could be fooled by various means. Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator. When we got to the choke point, we found it different from the last time we saw it. ¡°Drag marks. Big,¡± Tiba whispered, crouching down in a furrow the size of a single family house. She pointed at a long gash in the mud that contained a black slurry. ¡°Blood in the marks, probably all over.¡± I did some mental calculations, not liking the answers I got. ¡°Dragon blood,¡± I guessed, though I was almost positive this was the case. Tiba¡¯s eyes widened, and she looked around again, in shock. ¡°No,¡± she replied in disbelief. ¡°They took the old one?¡± ¡°It¡¯s what they do,¡± I said, following the drag marks with my eyes. South. Toward the tutorial facility. Ground fucking zero. Of course they took her there. ¡ª---------------------- The fort itself was a ruin. Fire had destroyed most everything that wasn¡¯t stone. Two titans had thrown down directly on top of the structure, and it showed. Tiba and I carefully picked through it all, looking for some sign the others had been here. It was the only location we all shared as a point of reference. If a sign was going to be anywhere, it would be here. Whatever the battle hadn¡¯t destroyed, the scourge had. Not just that, the scourge had desecrated the place. Sets of claw marks marred the surface of every flat area, unmentionable organic leavings were smeared over the ground, and decaying, discarded parts of monsters were left out in the elements to rot in random nooks and crannies. The ruined husks of my machines were scattered over the entire area, barrels bent and hammered until they were flat, magazines broken over rocks, bullets scattered and ground into the dirt. The casting bowls were smashed flat, and the reloading station¡­ well, it looked like something had crawled inside and died just to be a jerk. The smell was¡­ unique. Still, there was no sound but the wind in the leaves overhead. Finally, we found what we were looking for, dead center in the courtyard, the only clean, untouched area in the entire ruin and conspicuously so. It was as if this particular part of the floor was carefully preserved, perhaps even swept of debris. My balance faltered and I fell to my knees. In the middle of the courtyard, on the pristine red and gray stone floor, lay a neat and orderly row of¡­ things. Armor and weapons mostly. Geddon¡¯s helmet laid next to the dragonkin sisters¡¯ in a line. Swords were set in a rough star, points all touching, shields stacked on top of one another. Goblin spears laid in a cross formation. Articles of clothing and personal effects all laid together as if someone could just slip into them if they laid down on top. Trix¡¯s rifle sat to the side, the strap ripped, barrel bent, but the gun itself set down perfectly aligned with his bandolier. Like with like. What the actual f- It didn¡¯t make sense. This didn¡¯t belong here. No way they took off their gear like that. No way they were all- Tiba put a tiny hand on my shoulder. No. Not dead. Not dead. Not dead. ¡°They¡¯re gone,¡± I said, unable to think of anything else to say. That cold feeling was back, as was the frozen pond. The sensation spread through my body until I felt nothing, numbing everything but the furnace in my heart. That was the only place inside of me I could feel, though I didn¡¯t want to. ¡°The Black Ones take them,¡± she murmured. ¡°Sometimes they take you. Never see you after they take you.¡± ¡°No. It¡¯s not true,¡± I replied. ¡°Sorry, Ryan.¡± ¡°No!¡± I snarled. Tiba snatched back her hand like I¡¯d just tried to bite her. She didn¡¯t look frightened, per se, just surprised or wary of the sudden shift. There was a question in her eyes. I sprung to my feed and kicked at the arrangement of my friends¡¯ belongings. ¡°It¡¯s a message, Tiba! Look! Look at them!¡± I demanded, pointing to the lines, the shapes everything made, how it was all organized. The more I looked at it, the more I hated it. ¡°It¡¯s smart now. It¡¯s gone from strategic thinking to understanding. Understanding us,¡± I explained as the engine inside of me thrummed. This was new. This was personal. This shouldn¡¯t have been happening. ¡°What do you mean?¡± Tiba asked. ¡°They take our friends, like I say. It changes nothing. I¡¯m sorry, Ryan. They are gone and become Black Ones. We lose.¡± That wasn¡¯t it. This array of my friends¡¯ things had purpose. It made sense. The scourge swarmed the area and couldn¡¯t find me. They found my friends, though, probably somewhere nearby. They got the others, subdued them, took their gear, and laid it all out here for me to find. But why? Were they taunting me? Goading me? It was possible, but- ¡°Tiba, they¡¯re still alive,¡± I pronounced. A pitying look came over Tiba¡¯s face, and she took a step closer, arms out like she thought I needed someone to hold me. ¡°Ryan, when the Black Ones take you, you are gone. We are never seeing a person come back.¡± ¡°They¡¯re still alive, Tiba! I know it!¡± I fumed. It would normally be happy news, but the thought of it was a hot iron in my brain, a reminder of failure to do the only thing I was alive to do. ¡°Look! Look at it! Nothing the scourge does is like this! They don¡¯t arrange shit! They don¡¯t preserve! This is new. It¡¯s-¡± I trailed off, the engine in my chest growling like a caged animal. ¡°If you¡¯re right, only one reason to keep them alive then, Ryan,¡± Tiba cautioned. ¡°I¡¯m no hunter, but this is bait.¡± ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s a trap.¡± I agreed, looking around for the biggest parts of my machines, parts I could repurpose. Violent, dangerous plans flashed through my mind, and I was spinning up my mana even as I spoke. ¡°But I meant what I said. I¡¯m done letting it take from us, Tiba.¡± The scourge had taken from me. They¡¯d crossed my line. They¡¯d given me reason to be cruel. ¡°I¡¯m going to get them, Tiba. If they¡¯re n-¡± I couldn¡¯t finish the sentence. My throat closed of its own volition, and I had to take a moment to collect myself. ¡°If I don¡¯t find our friends¡­ alive,¡± I continued hoarsely. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure every last black blooded bastard pays the price.¡± Chapter 86 - Ride to Ruin Chapter 86 - Ride to Ruin When the afternoon rolled around, I finally stopped channeling mana and started storing my assembled arsenal. Four functioning kinetic turrets, about twenty new plasma rounds for my arm cannon, a whopping 130 of the new, untested, ¡®drone¡¯ design courtesy of our new Frankenstein¡¯s monster of a casting bowl, machine pistol plus extra magazines, legs, sleeve, and breastplate I¡¯d made for my armor set, and a rudimentary helmet and faceguard to keep my eyes inside my head when I was getting swarmed. All of it was slapdash, crude, and untested. Over half of it had a non-zero chance of exploding if I¡¯d botched the Automation. It would have to do. My head pounded for the twentieth time in the past few hours as my mana points sat in the single digits. I summoned the last of two pieces of oiled wood to give me some relief and take the edge off. Conduit is now level 9. For the first time in hours, I stretched my aching muscles and rolled my neck to loosen up. My vision swam as my equilibrium got used to being upright again and doing something other than frantically pumping mana into metal. It was time. I was ready. I had to be ready. Tiba looked ready too. She¡¯d smeared black streaks of mud across her face and tied additional feathers to the end of her spear. As I watched her burn a sprig of some kind of herb and waft the smoke toward her face, a pang of worry threatened to make me say something I¡¯d regret, but I tamped it down. If she wanted to fight, I wasn¡¯t going to deny her. This was her world, and she had a right to throw her life away just like I was doing. I just hoped she kept herself safe. We didn¡¯t say anything, just picked up our things and started walking. Side by side, we squished through the mud of the bottleneck, careful to stay in the middle so as not to expose ourselves to too much sunlight. Then, well, it didn¡¯t take an expert tracker to figure out what direction to go. We followed the drag marks, the big, dragon-sized drag marks. Southwest. The Tutorial Facility. Nearly everything I could ever want in this world was at the Tutorial Facility. They may have been new at this whole thinking thing, but the scourge had baited their trap extremely well. Through the silent forest, over downed logs, around great depressions left by fallen mendau, I walked just as I¡¯d done on day one of my tutorial. Only this time, I knew more of what I was doing, of the world, of magic, of myself. I was passing through this place a different man than I was. The Ryan of before had only been concerned for himself. He ran when he was chased, like a deer from wolves, with no more thought given to the action than the immediate need to live. Well, I wasn¡¯t running anymore. I¡¯d gained purpose, grim as it was. I knew my enemy was out there, and that was exactly what I wanted. I also knew that only one of us was coming out of this alive. It had finally come to that. They¡¯d engineered that outcome when they¡¯d threatened those I cared about. Though I still felt heavy, my 53 Body kept fatigue from affecting me, helped me power through the thick brush, climb through the ravines. Navigating the tough terrain was a simple matter now, easy even with Tiba on my back. The presence of my machines rested in my pocket dimension, ready to deploy against any threat. I even found myself wishing for such a thing to happen, an opportunity to start the fight. It never did, though. From time to time, I made a point to reach down and Consum another bit of mendau to top off my mana pool, ten times larger than it had been the day I¡¯d been dumped in this place. Alert: Your presence has been detected. I froze, crouched, heart humming in my chest. Fear was far, far back in my mind, purposefully so. Fear could wait. This was anticipation, need for something upon which to vent my wrath. I wasn¡¯t even wearing my armor yet, but I half-welcomed an obstacle to bulldoze just now. I scanned the forest to see what kind of scourge-touched had seen me. Nothing had howled or jumped out at me, which indicated a different kind of threat. Was it restraining itself until I was nearer the trap? ¡°It¡¯s okay, Ryan. Just don¡¯t run,¡± Tiba whispered as she gingerly climbed down from my back. Confused, I glanced over to see her standing tall as she took one step out into the open, exposed, the base of her spear resting in the dirt, and her chin raised in defiance. What was she doing? An entire tree bent at the knees and took a long step toward us. In the silence, the deep, groaning and creaking of bark rubbing against itself sounded like bones snapping. Gnarled, gray wood flexed, rose into the air, and slammed down into the dirt dangerously close, burying itself in the dirt. Roots from the surrounding mendau trees popped out of the soil like worms burrowing out of a corpse to writhe in the midday light. My gaze crawled up the leg, the trunk. Smoldering crevasses split the wood of the giant at the joints. Larger, more significant cracks dripped fire down onto the ground where it hissed and set alight anything remotely combustible on the ground. Its torso was concave, almost, some of the wood missing where one might find a ribcage on a normal person. Inside was a miniature sun that blazed like hell¡¯s heat lamp. He was missing an arm as well, ripped off at the shoulder, the wound still leaking smoke. To top it all off, Kuul¡¯s face loomed over me, his mouth twisted into a loathsome sneer. ¡°Stop it, Kuul!¡± Tiba shouted, cutting through the moment sharply. To my and Kuul¡¯s apparent surprise, the giant froze, a look of¡­ disappointment(?) twisting his hellmouth into a frown. ¡°Stop it now! Stop your hate! Ryan is not the Black Ones!¡± At first, it seemed Kuul had finally gotten over his shock at being yelled at by a tiny green girl. He bent at the waist, growling as he reached down to silence her, but something stopped him before he could make contact almost like he¡¯d hit an invisible wall. He didn¡¯t like that at all. His face contorted with rage at the tiny thing that dared give him orders and, worse, coming between him and me. He got down in a bear crawl and gnashed his teeth in protest. I stood up, my machine pistol at the top of my mind for summoning, but Tiba headed me off. Instead of standing her ground or doing the sensible thing and running away screaming while I fought the giant, Tiba strode forward until she was within slapping distance of Kuul¡¯s face. Then she slapped him. She had to get up on her tiptoes, but she slapped him. ¡°Kuul! I tell you, no killing Ryan! If anything, Ryan kills you!¡± That didn¡¯t sit well with the big guy. He straightened up quickly, his expression twisting into an indignant frown and, with his long, muscular arm made of woven mendau roots, slammed a fist into the trunk of a tree. The building sized mendau shuddered, and for a moment I thought it might come down, knocked out like a boxer. ¡°Enough! That¡¯s enough!¡± Kuul growled¡­ petulantly, like the goblin queen had just asked him to eat his vegetables or there would be no dessert. Tiba was unmoved. In fact, she looked ready to slap the giant again if need be, the way she kept advancing toward Kuul¡¯s feet. She certainly had Kuul¡¯s attention now. He bent down low, growling, as if daring her to slap him again. Instead, Tiba got a big lungful of breath and began to bark in the giant¡¯s face. ¡°Now, you listen, you crooked old goblin. I am Tiba, healer of the Stone Hearts, Chieftess of the Black Claws, Chieftess of the Skewers, Chiefess of the Mountain Clans, Queen of the Eight Tribes. I bring my people together and save them from the Black Ones. Today, I quest to heal the world just as our ancestors in the stories!¡± Kuul growled the growl of a hundred diesel engines idling at once but, surprisingly, did not smash Tiba or me. I kept a part of my mind focused on my pistol and what it would take to summon it. ¡°Thing that was once my chief,¡± Tiba pronounced, ¡°You are a horror. You are a terrible nightmare, a curse of destruction given life by a disgraced sorcerer,¡± Tiba continued, pointing her spear at Kuul¡¯s eye for emphasis. ¡°Kuul, who destroys his own tribe and kills his own kin. Takes my Hunty from me. I want¡­ no¡­ I demand you listen to me. Kneel!¡± Something passed between the kaiju tree monster and the little goblin queen. I don¡¯t know what it was, a contest of wills, magic, vibes, maybe something else. Whatever it was, it happened over the course of long seconds where I couldn¡¯t help but hold my breath. Then, miraculously, a tipping point was reached. Kuul closed his eyes, bent at the knees, and bowed his head until it touched the ground. The leaves underneath him smoldered, and the soil churned as the mendau reacted to his touch. There he stayed while Tiba stood over him, breathing hard, furious and full of authority. She held her spear like she was considering executing him like a queen from old Earth. ¡°Tiba, what the hell?¡± I asked in a whisper, my eyes flicking from her to the¡­ thing that was Kuul. ¡°What are you- He¡¯s-¡± ¡°I know,¡± the queen said. I felt compelled into silence for some reason. Tiba still had capital C Command in her voice. ¡°I¡¯m too small to fight next to you today, Ryan. He is not.¡± She clutched her spear to her chest, the way she did the day I gave it to her. My eyes flicked from her to the killing machine she¡¯d tamed. This couldn¡¯t be safe. ¡°But he-¡± ¡°Yes, he takes my Hunty from me,¡± Tiba sniffed, turning her face to quietly wipe a tear from her cheek with a dirt covered hand. ¡°Yes, he wrongs me. And he¡­ frightens me.¡± She turned back to regard Kuul¡¯s now prostrate form and put a hand on the bark that would have been the crown of his head.. ¡°But he is still goblin. He needs me. You, Kelub, and Grorg need me too. I am not much of a queen if I can¡¯t face him for you.¡± My lips made a sputtering sound as I rooted around in my brain for the right words to say in this situation, but I came up with nothing except: ¡°And you knew this would just work?¡± She shook her head but gave Kuul¡¯s head a pat. ¡°No, but I have a feeling. Turns out, a queen is bigger than a chief. My position is- uh¡­ higher. Now, where do you want us, Ryan?¡±Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. Somehow intuiting what his queen wanted, Kuul rose, though he had to support himself on a tree with his one remaining arm to do so. The tree next to him bent, groaned. This close to him, Kuul¡¯s size was impossible to wrap my head around. Even injured as he was, he cut an imposing figure against the backdrop of the foggy forest. The tiny green girl that lost everything and gained a kingdom. The chief that betrayed his tribe and became a monster to atone. Living legends were standing right in front of me. What a tale Ralqir would have to tell after all this was over. If we lived. Well, the odds of that just got a lot better. ¡ª------------------------- So, that¡¯s how I ended up riding a kaiju tree monster into the biggest battle of my life, the first kind face I¡¯d ever seen in this world riding right there with me¡­ Or maybe I was riding with her. It was really hard to tell whose quest this was anymore. The drag marks led us where we needed to go in more or less a straight line. Tiba and I rode on Kuul¡¯s shoulder, the good one without the missing arm. Kuul¡¯s internal temperature was furnace hot, and any open wound or orifice was dangerous to be near. The shoulder was the only place we could really ride and not be burned to death or at least cooked to a medium rare. Regardless, the heat was oppressive. Sweat poured down my face and out of my helmet to plink off of my breastplate. Honestly, my armor wasn¡¯t my best work. Made of steel and deep lead, angular, heavy, and too thick by half, the plates that covered my chest, legs, neck, and one of my arms were cumbersome to even stand in, much less move around in a fight. Currently unpowered pistons in all the joints hissed and scraped with every move I made, and every time I needed to turn my head, I had to angle my shoulders to point that way too. ¡°You think they aren¡¯t killing the others when we get there?¡± Tiba asked, having to raise her voice to be heard over Kuul¡¯s ailing tree giant noises. Kuul¡¯s footsteps crashed through the forest with muted *CROOM* *CROOM* *CROOM*s, and his body creaked and groaned as it ground together. With every bump, the crackling fires inside of him spewed sparks out of his chest, eyes, and empty shoulder socket. ¡°Not till they have me, I think,¡± I replied. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t do to kill your bait before you have your deer.¡± Tiba crinkled her nose as she thought about that. ¡°Unless they are so many, they think they have you right away. What makes you so sure?¡± ¡°Nothing. It¡¯s just the only way I see this going where we all make it out alive.¡± She looked over at me, incredulous, her big brown eyes saying a million things her voice didn¡¯t. I shrugged. ¡°Like I said. I refuse to choose. We¡¯re all going to make it, or I won¡¯t be around for the rest.¡± A sad little smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. ¡°You¡¯re a good goblin, Ryan.¡± Kuul growled at that, a thing I felt through my feet. ¡°Hush, Kuul! He¡¯s Stone Heart now! I say so!¡± Tiba chastised him, punctuating her words with stomps from her tiny feet that Kuul probably couldn¡¯t even feel. The scourge were staying scarce. We only caught glimpses of them in the trees, the monkey bat type creatures mostly, who swooped away as soon as we got within rock throwing distance¡­ or fire breathing distance. It was only when a pile of what looked like crumbled stone appeared over the horizon did we notice them gathering in earnest, and boy did they gather. As if they¡¯d been summoned, thousands of them appeared from our flanks, streaming in from the low parts of the terrain, flowing toward the stone landmark. They swarmed like ants over everything, climbed over every tree trunk. They burrowed up from the ground, flew down from perches overhead. Behind us, thousands of bodies flowed and collapsed upon our wake, hemming us in. A pointless gesture. You don¡¯t have to worry about me running. You wanted me. You got me. The pile of rocks, or more accurately: the former tutorial facility, was different than I remembered. I¡¯d left it as a pile of rubble, of course, the victim of time and the elements along with a little help from a boulder that had missed me by a hair. However, now it was a ring of crumbled concrete and twisted metal that jutted out of the ground, a festering sore on the planet¡¯s crust. The scourge swarmed over it, climbed out of crevices and mounted the exposed, rusting bones of the place, sniffing the air and hooting. In the middle of the ring there was now a hole, wide enough to swallow one of the trees, that went down into nothing, darker than dark. No. That was wrong. The way the light hit it and died¡­ I should have been able to see down into it from atop Kuul. Something else was in there, a black substance that swallowed the light. I had the sneaking suspicion that if I were to get close enough to it, that blackness would smell of tar and rot, and it would reach for me. I fought to suppress a shudder at the memory. Kuul lumbered forward until we were a hundred yards from the tutorial facility. Then Tiba gave the order to stop. Our giant rage monster growled in barely contained bloodlust as he turned this way and that, unused to seeing a scourge he did not immediately kill, but Tiba¡¯s command held him fast. For now. Silence fell over the forest, and we collectively held our breaths. Then, a glowing, holographic presence appeared next to me on Kuul¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Greetings, Ch- Ch- Defiler,¡± a woman said, her voice tortured with the sound of screeching static. I slowly turned my head until I was looking down into a familiar face. ¡°Nali,¡± I acknowledged her. Nali was looking rough. I remembered her as a short, handsome woman with hard features and kind eyes, the kind of woman with calluses on her hands and fresh baked bread on her windowsill. Now, the hologram was disjointed, the top of her head not quite lining up with her jaw, and her body undergoing some kind of animation glitch where her work apron flapped wildly in an unseen wind until the garment tore down the middle, exposing Nali¡¯s insides as if the apron were her actual skin. Flashes of teeth and sharpened bone no human ever had popped out of her, too fast to really get a good look at, but frequent enough to discern what they were. Then she would reset back to normal. Her eyes, however, stayed the same, sunken looking with black tears streaming down her cheeks. Tiba took the hologram¡¯s presence a little less calmly than I had. She whipped her spear around at impressive speed to slash at this alien creature¡¯s chest, but the spear simply passed through. The incorporeal nature of the hologram caught Tiba off guard, and she nearly took a tumble from a great height. I reached out and steadied her. ¡°Hang on, Tiba. I think I know what¡¯s going on here,¡± I said. Nali didn¡¯t pay the queen any mind. She was focused entirely on me. ¡°Welcome, D-Defiler, to the e-end of the Animator Class Tutorial. I am Nali, the emissary of this end.¡± ¡°We¡¯ve met before,¡± I said. ¡°I was the last Animator you trained before all this.¡± Nali flickered. ¡°B- Before what?¡± she asked. ¡°Before the scourge,¡± I said, watching carefully for the reaction I was waiting for. Nali seemed to freeze, and her face broke into five separate chunks, each having their own reaction to the news ranging from terror to anger to¡­ uh.. Very¡­ intense pleasure. That one, funnily enough, made me the most uncomfortable out of all of them. However, she was back to normal almost instantly. ¡°I apologize, Defiler. My f- failsafe has been compromised. The possibility of void corruption is h-h- absolute. Please disregard all further advice I give.¡± Her body contorted, her arms bending backwards before stabbing through her own torso and coming out of the other side. Her head collapsed down into her shoulders until her neck was entirely gone. Very realistic bone cracks and ripping noises accompanied these motions. Then, like a switch was flipped, she was back to normal, albeit her eyes still wept black. Her voice, however, was entirely devoid of any sense of humanity she used to have. She was cold now, not robotic so much as alien and uncanny. ¡°Greetings Defiler. I am the voice of the void. My purpose is to negotiate your destruction.¡± Sadness seeped into my core when I saw the change. She may have just been a hologram, an AI, but that didn¡¯t stop me from feeling something when she¡­ when she changed I guessed. Nali as I¡¯d known her, was gone now, replaced by this thing. I had suspected something like that might happen if she was exposed for much longer to the scourge, but I hadn¡¯t expected to witness it. I¡¯d hoped to trigger her failsafe before it could happen and maybe spare her. ¡°None of the other scourge speak. Why do you?¡± I asked. ¡°I am not of the scourge. I am of the System,¡± Nali said flatly. ¡°The scourge has allowed me to retain what functions I have so that we may speak. I speak for the scourge, because it does not.¡± ¡°And you want to negotiate my surrender.¡± She bobbed her head.The glossy black of her eyes made her look insect-like in that moment. ¡°Your death and destruction.¡± ¡°And you communicate with the scourge on my behalf?¡± ¡°No. The scourge does not communicate. It knows. It sees what I-.¡± She spasmed then, rocking back and forth,her lips peeling back to unleash a scream through her clenched teeth that devolved into digital noise. Suddenly, her face was that of a real-ish woman again, frightened and confused. ¡°You- You must l- leave. Leave now, Ch- Ch-. It is inside- I am being corrupted.¡± I resisted the urge to reach out and comfort her. It wouldn¡¯t do any good. ¡°Nali? What¡¯s happening to you?¡± ¡°Run!¡± she shouted, doubling over in obvious pain now. ¡°Use your quest prompt! Find your way out of this universe!¡± ¡°Nali, I can¡¯t leave until I-¡± ¡°You should already be running! This universe is corrupted. Its destruction is inevitable!¡± ¡°Nali, listen carefully. Is your presence housed somewhere around here, and that¡¯s how the scourge are corrupting you?¡± ¡°Yes,¡± she answered. ¡°Down in the sub-lev-¡± Nali flickered again and was back to her disjointed, corrupted form. ¡°Defiler, end your life now, and the scourge will spare your others. Do it now, and they will not be subsumed.¡± ¡°No,¡± I answered with a shake of my head. ¡°No, I don¡¯t think I will. Not until I have proof of life. Does it know what that is?¡± ¡®Nali¡¯ didn¡¯t answer. ¡°It was smart enough to leave me their things. Smart enough to take hostages. Surely, it¡¯s figured out that I would want to see that they are alive before I cooperate,¡± I guessed. ¡°The concept of exchange is new to it. The giving from one to another, the concept of one, is new. However, it anticipated some form of persuasion would be needed. The others are here.¡± Nali gestured down to the swarming mass of scourge gathered in front of the ruined facility, and the crowd parted¡­ The bruised and battered forms of my friends laid there in the dirt. Most of them were face down, dirty, limp. Trix was first to move, his head popping up from the dirt and looking around fervently that way he did, ears vertical, listening. When he realized they were being left alone for some reason, he helped the others get to their feet with brief touches on the forehead. One by one, they all staggered to their feet. Samila was the first to spot me way up on Kuul¡¯s shoulder. I couldn¡¯t see her expression from this far, but I imagined some kind of stoic frown there as she shook her head, ever so slightly at me. She was telling me to let them be. Don¡¯t risk myself. I wasn¡¯t behind the walls anymore. She wanted me to live. I shifted my armor¡¯s weight on my shoulders and turned my body until I caught Tiba¡¯s eye to give her the nod. Then I turned back to Nali. Her stare was blank, but she tilted her head to an extreme angle like no human being would do, listening intently as if she were ready to hear the terms of my surrender. And I would have, if I trusted for a second the scourge would keep its word, or if it hadn¡¯t just told me my death would just result in them getting better treatment than assimilation. Then there was the woman standing in front of me. No way was she getting away after my death. ¡°If you can hear me, Nali, hold on,¡± I told her. ¡°I¡¯m coming.¡± Then a hot, crushing weight settled on my back and squeezed. The armor popped and squealed as Kuul¡¯s hand wrapped around me none too gently. Then, Kuul did what he had probably been wanting to do for quite some time now. He threw me. Hard. In a storm of sickening motion and ridiculous G-forces, I was airborne, hurtling toward the little clearing the scourge had made for the others. The ground rushed up to meet me, and I tucked my legs and rolled until I was flying roughly feet first. Then I activated the bracing pistons on my new armor¡¯s joints. I hit the ground like a crashing satellite, roughly fifty yards off target, just in front of where my friends were held, though I lost sight of them as soon as the impressive wave of pulverized monsters, dirt and debris splashed away from my new crater. My bones rattled in my body, and something inside of my stomach gave the distinct feeling of tearing as I went from terminal velocity thereabouts to zero instantly. However, once I drew my first breath and checked my HP, I knew I was in business. You take 30 impact damage. (15 mitigated) HP 271/301] Deactivating the bracing pistons, I rolled onto my side and groaned as I crawled. Chunks of the creatures I¡¯d landed on peeled away and sloughed off the armor plating to land with wet plops atop their kin. I got up slowly. The armor was heavy, close to the weight of a full grown man even without the rest of the components. I¡¯d made it that way purposefully, thick, cumbersome¡­ Loaded with terrific firepower. With a *clunk* I put one plated boot up on the lip of my little crater and braced myself as best I could. My mind flicked to the Triggers on my back I¡¯d kept active. The scourge wasted no time now that I was down amongst them. They pounced, surged into my little pocket of empty from all sides, all teeth and claws and evil. Now. The two stripped down auto-turrets on my back unfolded from the recessed holes I¡¯d built for them and slid up their tracks until they *clanked* into place just above my shoulders like wings. A Trigger in the boxy compartment on my upper back activated its piston ammo feeders, slapping the first rounds of the day into place. ¡°You want me dead?! Come do it yourself, scourge!¡± Then the world became fire, blood and fury. ¡°Come on! Come on, you little shits!¡± Chapter 87 - Machine Mage Chapter 87 - Machine Mage ¡°Come on! Come on!¡± The turrets on my shoulders laid the hate, sweeping their muzzles over the oncoming horde and spraying them with metal death. Their stub barrels belched purple Volatility mana as their overcharged propulsion cubes sent rounds screaming into the mob of scourge. *THOOM**THOOM**THOOM**THOOM* They moved in swift, jerking motions as they detected and engaged with targets from closest to farthest, almost too fast to track, and there was no shortage of targets. The recoil was gigantic, made worse by how high above my center of gravity the turrets were operating. Every round fired wrenched my body in a new direction and threatened to send me down to the ground, and I got to live life for a few seconds as my tripods did. It wasn¡¯t pleasant. The only thing keeping me from being blasted off of my feet was the prodigious weight of my body and my new suit of armor. It was a hodgepodge, full plate setup with the exception of my prosthetic arm, overbuilt and thickly reinforced, angular where there should have been curves. Then there were the pistons. I hadn¡¯t gotten them working well enough to have them help me run, but I¡¯d certainly gotten them to take a position and stay there. Once I¡¯d activated my turrets, I¡¯d fed power into the activation Triggers of the stabilizers, and the requisite joints on my armor all locked in unison while steel anchor spikes shot out of the boots and into the ground. Kuul and Tiba did their parts too. Kuul sprang forward with a mighty leap and landed directly into the middle of the horde to my left, crushing dozens underfoot. Then came the fire, geysering from Kuul¡¯s mouth and blasting scourge to ashes. Tiba directed from atop Kuul¡¯s shoulder, pointing him toward targets of opportunity and, hopefully, keeping him a safe distance from me. I stood as tall as I could, but I couldn¡¯t see the others anymore. The scourge had moved in as soon as I was on the ground. I knew my people were in front of me, though, right where I needed to be. The magazines on my back went dry, and I deactivated the joint stabilizers with a metalic *CLACK.* The anchor spikes in my boots retracted back into their housings, and I was free to move again as the backup mags on my lower back whirred into place. I moved forward, my heavy boots making *THUP* *THUPs* in the dirt. All I could manage was a fast jog, as fast as I dared. I couldn¡¯t sprint in the armor without falling on my face. However, I needed to cover ground before I had to re-engage with the anchors. I raised my prosthetic arm, the only piece of me I hadn¡¯t bothered to armor, and fired my arm cannon. *FOOP* The wall of flesh directly in front of me burst into a plasma induced inferno. Go. Go. Don¡¯t think about it. Just go. I lowered my head, tucked my shoulder, and covered my eyes as I barreled through the flames. The air crackled. Flames licked at my armor, and my flesh sizzled as hot became scorching. I made the mistake of taking a reflexive breath when the pain got to be too much, and it nearly killed me. I got a lungful of greasy, superheated air and felt my body nearly double over with the pain. The only thing that saved me was momentum. I stumbled forward, my armor clanking together. Crisped bodies crumpled underfoot as my legs wobbled and my momentum carried me forward until I finally smacked into something that gave me pause. Said something was soft¡­ softer than me at least. I heaved before it could arrest my momentum entirely. It gave way with a surprised grunt and went down under my feet. Then there were more, soft squishy things lying there, piled high. I plowed through those too. Then the world went weird. My stomach got that feeling again, where gravity wasn¡¯t working as it should, and then everything felt lighter. It¡¯s Anchor. I¡¯m climbing! *PANG* I took my gauntleted hand from my face just in time to smash into a gaggle of Returned that had chosen to brave the flames to get at me as my climbing ability told the fundamental laws of force and inertia to sit down and shut up for a moment. Under the influence of Anchor I was effectively 30% less affected by everything, including the weight and force of a bunch of monsters trying to bring me down. I smashed through them like they were made of paper, one of them even going airborne as I gave it a hard smack with my prosthetic. Then I was out. The air was suddenly cool, crisp. It had moisture and life. I took a big desperate gulp of air. Except I was among them now. Hands reached out to grasp me. Claws slashed at my face. Teeth gnawed on my legs. The scourge, yet again, pressed in from all sides. Grunting, I flexed until I was standing tall again. I pulled my feet apart and set my hips, then I activated the stabilizers, the anchors, followed swiftly by the turrets. *BRRRRRRRRRRRRRAP* Full auto. Non stop. The monsters practically disintegrated under the close range barrage. I lashed out with my prosthetic, caving in a monster¡¯s face then summoned another round into the arm cannon. A Black One hung from it, frantically trying to use it as a handhold to climb up to my face, but I smashed it into another scourge that had taken hold of my shoulder. *FOOP* *BOOM* The explosion was close. Very close. The round hadn¡¯t even made it the minimum safe distance away from me before detonating this time. However, I didn¡¯t use the plasma. My brain was still somewhat functioning. The scourge in front of me were reduced to bloody chunks as the shrapnel from the grenade round did its grim work. I felt the force of the blast generally in my chest and acutely on several spots of my body where it felt like being punched by a leori, but my stabilizers kept me up while my armor kept me safe. The ringing of metal on metal echoed in my helmet a full second after the grenade went off. Still too close. They were climbing over each other now. Monsters scrambled over the dead, over the injured, standing on others¡¯ shoulders to leap at me. A horned humanoid of some kind, missing its legs after my grenade, climbed up my chest to claw at my face. I headbutted him again and again until he fell away. Others grabbed for the barrels of the turrets, despite their tips being red hot. Another trigger, this time next to my wrist. I had to concentrate to get the mana to flow that way instead of through my hand, costing me precious seconds, but I was able to manage. A pair of curved blades sprouted from my wrist quicker than the eye could follow. Even quicker, they began to spin. The Returned that had been gnawing on my wrist at the time lost the better part of the front of his skull, the Willing Edge enchanted blades cutting through flesh and bone like butter. ¡°Auuuuuuuuuugghhhh!¡± I yelled in their faces as I swept the spinning blades from side to side. The small monsters died instantly. Then a leori with the flesh missing from half of its face got a hold of my helmet and pulled me close to go in for a bite from its broken, rotted teeth. I pushed against it, gaining a miniscule amount of space then jammed my wrist blade into the monster¡¯s open mouth. Black blood gushed over my arm and down to my shoulder where I could feel it seeping through the joints and soaking into my shirt. The leori let go of me when I got to his brain stem, his expression, such as it was, going slack as he slid down to the ground. Then I was left with a little space. The turrets had gone dry sometime in the melee, so I retracted them and kept moving forward. *FOOP* Another shrapnel round to the fore. This time I didn¡¯t even stop to aim. I ran through the bloody mist, shoulder checking the pulverized scourge that were cognizant enough to get in my way. Forward. Forward. *BOOM* A giant fist slammed down on the scourge in front of me then went back up into the sky, stringy giblets and blood stuck between its fingers. Forward. Forward. I extended my fist and led with the spinning wrist blades, charging through the ranks of the scourge and wreaking havoc on their numbers. Yet there were always more. More faces to cut. More to get through. I stopped once more to anchor and let the turrets drain their last mags as I heaved for breath and tried to- There. There they were. Sissa, Samila, Geddon, Trix, Bole, Beedy, Kelub, Grorg¡­ they were all there together, their backs against the crumbled concrete wall, bleeding, weak, a pile of dead things around them, felled by hand to hand combat. *CLANK* I disengaged the anchors and plodded forward even as my turrets bucked and boomed from my back. I staggered drunkenly, at the mercy of physics as my turrets did their best to lay waste to my enemies while I concentrated on moving forward. I went down on one knee as something hit me in the back, but the presence dropped away once I brought my spinning blade around in a blind sweep. My machine pistol appeared from my dimensional storage, barked, splitting another Black One¡¯s head down the middle. My ragged breath echoed in my helm. *BOOM* Another massive impact somewhere to my side. Tiba shouted something I couldn¡¯t understand. I was close. One last push. I summoned and let a charged flamer bulb drop at my feet. Now move! Move! ¡°AAAAAAAAUUUUGGH!¡± I roared as I charged through, battering the scourge aside, guns blazing on my shoulders. The flamer bulb I¡¯d just dropped went off with a *FWOOSH* and my back was on fire again as I gave my last to get airborne. Then, I was amongst them, or at least in front of them, just as the turrets went dry once more. I landed, went down on one knee, my head drooping down as spots danced in my vision. My lungs burned, and my legs felt like someone had removed their bones. But I was here. I¡¯d given everything just to get here. Quest Complete: Tutorial You have learned the basics of your class and are ready to begin your new life as one of the Chosen. May you go on to do great things, Ryan Kotes.Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author. Rewards: +1 level ERROR: Rwrd_failed:Max_level_ttrl=exceeded Resolving¡­ Rewards: +10% to all stats. Return to point of Integration? Y/N ¡°Not yet,¡± I grunted. I wasn¡¯t done yet. the stat increase did make me feel a bit better, however. It took the edge off the exhaustion. Organ Grinder appeared in my hand, summoned from my spatial storage. I tossed it in the general direction I¡¯d last seen Geddon. Two swords. Shields. A rifle. Hands helped me to my feet, and my swimming vision landed on Samila through the narrow slit. of my visor. She was breathing hard, bleeding from a cut on her cheek, her top lip was split, and she had blood in her teeth. She was the most beautiful thing I¡¯d ever seen. ¡°Ryan!¡± she yelled. ¡°What are you-¡± I put both hands on her shoulders to steady myself and panted as the world stopped tilting on its axis: ¡°I need two minutes.¡± I turned to regard the rest of my friends. ¡°Give me two minutes to set up. Then we¡¯re killing them all. Together.¡± ¡°Hell yeah we are!¡± Geddon whooped. Leadership is now level 2. ¡ª-------------------------------------------- ¡°RARGH! Thirty seconds is the best we¡¯re gonna do here!¡± Samila shouted, suddenly letting go of me and cleaving through a Black One¡¯s chest. The strike itself was powerful, but Samila staggered afterward as if it had taken a lot out of her. She shook her head and widened her stance drunkenly. ¡°Trix, no offense, but I¡¯m asking the goblins to do my healing next time!¡± ¡°I keep saying that I am not a healer, but no one listens!¡± Trix shouted shrilly from half way up the pile of rubble to our rear. He spun and shot a gangly troll type creature through the eye just as it crested the top in an attempt to flank us from behind. Spinning, he let off another expertly aimed shot at another scourge at his feet. Then another. Every round from his weapon was a kill. Geddon¡¯s chainsword roared. Blood and viscera soaked his entire body and the ground around him, but gone was the joviality of before, his face a picture of pure, single minded focus. His posture, outside of his armor, was lithe, dangerous, and he moved with a dancer¡¯s grace, performing the duty easily of three capable fighters at once. Sissa and the goblin royal guard were on the left flank with Sissa performing the shield function of a rudimentary phalanx while the goblins did the stabbing. They were taking on scourge ten at a time, and they¡¯d racked up as many bodies in the handful of seconds I¡¯d been among them. My armor popped its seals with a series of clanks, and I fell out of the metal shell onto the ground, my helmet landing in the dirt with a *thump*. I felt the stinging, ripping sensation of burned skin peeling away as I left the armor behind. The pain was distracting but not something I hadn¡¯t experienced before on some level. Even so, even if my mind didn¡¯t register it, my body certainly did. The world swam in front of me, and darkness pressed at the edges of my vision. Stay awake. Stay awake. They need you. Samila paused to look back at me with concern. ¡°You set yourself on fire again?!¡± My spatial storage called. I got to summoning. A rounded ball of nickel osmium plopped down to the ground followed by another. Then another. ¡°Not exactly!¡± I shouted. Talking was good. Talking kept my brain engaged and not focused on the pain. ¡°I set them on fire, and then they set me on fire! It was a mutual thing!¡± I wasn¡¯t sure if she could hear me over the din, but I was too distracted to really put much effort into projecting. One mental command later, the metal balls sprouted their legs and instantly took off in different directions, putting distance between them and me and from each other as I¡¯d programmed them to do. Next were the guns. Piece by piece I summoned the reclaimed parts of some of the turrets. I¡¯d stripped them down, made them smaller and easier to assemble, fattened the barrels and gave the action some play. The scourge had done a good job destroying a lot of the carefully crafted efficiency of the last model, so we were down to boomstick level of sophistication. That was alright. We weren¡¯t going for long range precision today. *BOOM**BOOM**BOOM* Kuul was having a grand time. He stomped and kicked at the mob of gathered scourge like a hyperactive kid with a toy train set. A very angry hyperactive kid. Dozens of bodies went flying off into the woods at a time, their arms and legs pinwheeling, some flying so far that I lost sight of them. Others smacked into trees and practically popped like water balloons. Focus. Right. Barrel one. Barrel two. Piping. Hopper. Bulb. Legs. Damnit¡­ clamp. Come on. Come on. Clamp! Done! My first turret was assembled, and it was ugly even by my standards. It looked like a moonshine still had made a baby with a sawed off shotgun. I picked my new invention up and put it on my shoulder, wincing as the metal scraped against one of the fresh burns. Then I ran with it to the front, right between Samila and Geddon. The scourge knew what this was. They¡¯d lost a lot of bodies to similar machines, and they didn¡¯t plan on letting me set up another. Howling with renewed vigor, they lunged forward with reckless abandon at full sprints, no longer taking any time to try and skirt around my allies or come at us strategically. Overwhelming us immediately had become the tactic of choice. They almost made it too. Almost. I activated the turret just as I became able to see the whites of their eyes. *BOOF**BOOF**BOOF**BOOF**BOOF**BOOF**BOOF* For the second time today, I felt the horrible sensation of my skin flash cooking as the world in front of me turned into a stew of bloody chunks and pex oil fire. The turret had come to life amidst a buffet of valid targets. It hit them with both barrels, spewing four, sometimes five rounds at the same time, its overcharged propulsion cylinders expending a grotesque amount of energy with each working of the trigger. The rounds weren¡¯t even necessarily coming out point first. They were just mass being hurled at the nearest scrougeling. Meanwhile, as they were programmed to do upon close contact with the enemy, the pex oil canister¡¯s valves depressurized and sent a jet of sticky, yellow fire into the horde¡¯s faces. The results were messy, a fact I got to appreciate up close. Wet ¡®parts¡¯ of formerly living beings flew into the air and dismembered things collapsed at my feet while the aerosolized blood and the scent of cooked flesh invaded my nostrils, threatening to make me empty my stomach. I turned away, slapped at the latest part of my already ragged shirt to catch fire, and went back to the inner part of the circle to do it again. One. Two. Three osmium nickel drones. They plopped down and skittered away as the others had. One container of turret rounds. ¡°Ryan!¡± Samila called. She had backed off of her position to get more near me, still keeping an eye on her sector but sparing short glances back to check on me as the turret did some of the heavy lifting. ¡°What do you need from us?¡± ¡°More time! Need more turrets! Ammo! Reloads!¡± Was all I could say. My plan didn¡¯t go any farther than this. Get to my friends, set up, hold out. That¡¯s all I had hoped for. A hand tapped me on the shoulder, and I spun around to find Beedy there, weak and pale but upright. He reached out to take the canister of turret rounds from me. ¡°Where do I put them?¡± He asked. ¡°Uh. The top. There¡¯s a lid. Swivels to the side. Fills like a bucket,¡± I replied. He nodded slowly then shot me a grin. He was missing teeth. When had that happened? ¡°I¡¯ll get it done. You keep keeping us alive,¡± he said. And then he was off, the can of ammo obviously weighing him down, but he didn¡¯t let that stop him. That reminded me. I summoned the automated guts of the old magazine reloader and gave it a little prod with the mana trigger. ¡°There. Now our ammo has a chance to find its way back to us,¡± I said to no one in particular. ¡°If you see ammo rolling around out here, stick it in the nearest turret!¡± ¡°You plan to stay a while? Maybe pitch a tent?¡± Samila asked sarcastically, but she wore that little smirk of hers too if only to cover the fear she was feeling just as I was. I took some comfort in the fact that she was making the effort at least. I guessed certain death wasn¡¯t going to keep her from being herself. I summoned the first part of the next turret and got to work. ¡°If that¡¯s what I have to do. Are summer homes a thing here? It¡¯s a nice spot,¡± I replied, mirroring her grim smile. ¡°This ends today, one way or the other.¡± The top half of the turret came together and the clamps activated to attach the top to the base. This one went much smoother. I ran it over to the spot between Geddon and Sissa¡¯s position and set it up, activating the firing sequence with largely the same results as the last one. Everyone gave ground and shied away from the blast of heat as the turret went to work clearing 180 degrees of field for at least ten meters. My allies weren¡¯t too pleased at how little regard the flame nozzles had for friendly fire, but they didn¡¯t complain once the turret relieved some of the pressure on them. ¡°Much obliged,¡± Geddon panted, giving a sloppy salute with Organ Grinder as he caught his breath. ¡°You guys tell me when you need a break,¡± I said to him and Sissa. ¡°Hold the line, and I¡¯ll get you more help. ¡°I need a break,¡± Bole croaked from behind me. His arm was broken and in a makeshift sling, and half of his face was swollen so that I couldn¡¯t see his eye. To my shock, Sissa of all people reached out and put a hand out to support him. ¡°We all could use one,¡± she said, wincing as she gently turned Bole¡¯s head to the side to examine his wounds. ¡°Our captors weren¡¯t kind. We¡¯ve been through a lot, but we¡¯ll fight to the last.¡± Hearing that, seeing the state of them all, I felt that cold anger I¡¯d been nurturing get that much colder. ¡°Noted,¡± I fumed, though my voice was calm. Enough time should have passed by now anyway. I reached for the Triggers in my head and activated them *FWOOM* The drones that had dispersed among the horde suddenly felt the urge to convert the state of their matter into plasma, and the world went incandescent for a handful of seconds. Everyone that didn¡¯t know it was coming put up warding hands in front of their faces as the light became blinding and the atmosphere ignited. Reams of experience messages scrolled through my log all at once. ¡°That¡¯ll hold them for a minute or two. Take a breath,¡± I told the others. ¡°Then we¡¯re fighting for our lives some more.¡± I strolled back to my assembly area and began summoning more parts. Against the backdrop of the burning forest, I spied Samila looking me up and down in that way she did. She spared a glance over her shoulder to make sure we were safe for the moment then limped up to me and crouched down until she was looking me in the eye. ¡°This better end the good way, Ryan Kotes,¡± the dragonkin purred. ¡°I want you to do that thing again.¡± I blinked, mid summon. ¡°The- What? The kiss?¡± I realized. This time she looked taken aback, like I¡¯d just insulted her mother or something. ¡°That wasn¡¯t just a- It wasn¡¯t- Okay. It was. But yes. Absolutely. I want you to do it again, so now we have to live.¡± I felt the blood rush to my cheeks. No, Ryan. We¡¯re not blushing during our last stand. Cool guys don¡¯t blush during their last stand. ¡°Deal,¡± I said, hoping I¡¯d make good on it. ¡°Look out!¡± Trix squeaked from the rubble pile as his rifle barked as fast as he could pull the trigger. Panicked fire. ¡°Ryan!¡± I looked up to see some kind of black substance ooze its way over the lip of the rubble. It flowed like tar, sticky, and sedate, but in other places, it seemed to flow unnaturally fast, tendrils of it waving like seaweed in a spectral tide. Other tendrils stuck to obstacles and pulled the rest of the mass along where gravity wasn¡¯t getting the job done fast enough. The liquid surged, crested the lip of the rubble and splashed down to coat sections of the barrier. Trix did the smart thing and leaped before it could touch him, coming down lightly at the bottom and scrambling to get amongst the others. Sweet, rotten, cloying, the smell hit me like a blow to the face. I staggered and, for some reason, felt my saliva glands go into overdrive. The tar substance, though it was far away still¡­ reached for me. I knew it was reaching for me. That¡¯s it. The smell. It was here. It was in the tower with Ephelir. Void corruption. Scourge. I stood so I would have a chance to move if we were attacked. ¡°There you are. Finally showing your face.¡± I said. I didn¡¯t know how to fight something that was only semi-solid, but, for the scourge, I was willing to experiment. A massive three-clawed hand, dripping with black ichor, slid up and over the lip of the rubble. It moved languidly, relaxed as if it was caressing the concrete after waking from a long nap. Then, suddenly, the hand contracted, crushing the concrete with enough force to send shards of it flying. Rebar squealed as it bent between the fingers. Another hand appeared. A wave of black broke and splashed down the wall as something massive climbed its way out of the pit. The head of a very dead, very pissed dragon pulled its way out of the scourge tar. It was missing scales where massive gashes had been carved in its face. Its head sat strangely on its neck, seeming to not quite connect how it should have. Its horns were, at once, broken yet razor sharp with new points jutting out of them at odd angles, and its teeth were crooked and oversized to the point it could no longer close its mouth. She¡¯d changed, been despoiled or corrupted or¡­ something, but this was most certainly Myss. Emphasis on the was. ¡°Th-They¡¯ve been emerging from the black pool for some time. I was killing them as they got free, but-¡± Trix stammered. ¡°Of course,¡± I said. ¡°Pretty sure the black stuff is the real scourge. It was distracting us with the little guys while it summoned its real heavy hitter.¡± ¡°Always a scam,¡± Bole growled. ¡°Guess we¡¯re fighting a dragon now, eh human?¡± He stood at my side, sword in hand, the good side of his face a stone mask of determination. If he felt shocked or betrayed or slightly annoyed at having been lied to about my species, he didn¡¯t show it. No, he seemed almost eager to step to a fallen god. ¡°Not if I can help it,¡± I said to him. I put my fingers in my mouth to let out a short whistle, loud as I could make it. ¡°Yo! Tiba!¡± Chapter 88 - Slay the Dragon Chapter 88 - Slay the Dragon The scourge-touched dragon that used to be Myss opened its mouth, working the jaw back and forth experimentally. Black, tar-like drool oozed between its teeth and slapped onto the concrete rocks below. Her empty, soulless eyes, jittered in their sockets, seeming to move from one spot to the next without rhyme or reason, focusing and unfocusing at random. That is, until her gaze landed on me. Then she was all about me. Just like all the other scourge, she lost her mind when she got a good look at Ralqir¡¯s only human. Multiple holes in her neck bubbled and whistled as she tilted her head back and let loose a deafening howl. Her ruined throat morphed the vocalization into something more like an oncoming train. Myss took a single, clumsy step forward, followed by another, a wave of black goo splashing off her body as she got her sizable mass out of the pit. ¡°Uh- Tiba?!¡± I called again, a little uncertainty creeping into my voice. I forced myself to look away from the dragon and back toward the wall of smoke and fire. Nothing. In the distance, booming footsteps rampaged, presumably amongst the scourge. Way in the distance¡­ Bole cleared his throat at my side. I turned sheepishly toward the others. ¡°Okay, so we¡¯re fighting a dragon. Any ideas?¡± We all started backing up together, getting our distance from the dragon and the oppressive stench of the scourge goo. Myss slid down the wall of rubble like a disgusting penguin, landing in a heap at the bottom before staggering drunkenly to her feet. ¡°Don¡¯t let her speak,¡± Sissa suggested. ¡°Her magic is language. Like mine.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve never heard a scourge speak,¡± I replied. ¡°Don¡¯t think it can.¡± ¡°Like ours, Sis. Magic like ours,¡± Samila added. ¡°I¡¯m not sure, but I think I can help here.¡± Sissa stopped abruptly and grabbed Samila by the shoulder. ¡°What? What happened?¡± ¡°Got my first word watching Myss fight. Dropped me like a sack of produce,¡± Samila replied, unable to keep the proud grin from her face. Sissa gasped and pulled her sister up in a tight hug. ¡°You did it. I told you you¡¯d do it.¡± ¡°Stop. Stoooop!¡± Samila protested with a nervous laugh, wriggling to get out of the embrace before elbowing Sissa in the stomach. ¡°You¡¯re gonna get me killed before I can use it. I need a minute¡± ¡°Go. Do what you have to do,¡± Sissa told her, giving her a little shove in the arm. Samila grinned as she passed me. ¡°Don¡¯t die before seeing this,¡± she said. ¡°Uh. Sure. I¡¯ll do my best,¡± I said, watching her as she limped toward the edge of the battlefield, almost right next to the wall of fire. I shot a questioning look over at Sissa. ¡°She found her Duty and Mercy,¡± she said. ¡°It¡¯s a concept that resonates with her soul and- Well, it¡¯s a dragon thing. You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡± Geddon rolled his neck and shoulders and waved Organ Grinder through an experimental figure eight, finishing with a full throttle engine burst that sent the sword¡¯s teeth spinning. ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to fight a real dragon,¡± he said before glancing over at Sissa. ¡°No offense.¡± Sissa spared a moment to give him the death stare to end all death stares. ¡°Well, she¡¯s fast. I know that. Or at least she was before dying,¡± I offered if only to keep the conversation on track. ¡°Lots of teeth. The tail works like a whip. Think the scourge is still getting used to the new body, though. She almost looks drunk.¡± ¡°That won¡¯t last,¡± Bole added. ¡°You can see she¡¯s already finding her feet. Then we¡¯ll have a right pissed off undead god of old on our hands.¡± He was right. Myss was up on all fours again, bones popping audibly as she stretched and shook herself after her fall. ¡°Wouldn¡¯t be sporting unless we waited for her to get full control of her faculties, would it?¡± Geddon said, looking to the rest of us for confirmation. ¡°I¡¯m not feeling very sporting, Geddon,¡± Sissa replied. ¡°Go!¡± ¡°Hahahaha!¡± Geddon laughed gleefully as he bounded forward, once again leading our charge. His long legs shot him far ahead of the rest of us and closed the gap between him and the dragon a full five seconds faster. He drew first blood. The scourge-touched dragon reared up and bared its teeth, taking a long, lazy swipe with one of its claws, but Geddon dropped into a slide that took him feet first under the attack, terminating in a half crouched thrust that put the blade of Organ Grinder directly into Myss¡¯ armpit. Black blood spewed from the wound and down onto Geddon¡¯s body, covering him. Unfortunately, it also blinded him to the next attack. Myss¡¯ tail whipped around from behind and lashed against the wounded area with the thick of its side. The blow slammed into Geddon¡¯s back and flattened him to the ground, hard. Sissa, Bole, and I entered the fight together. Trix too, apparently, from somewhere out of sight. His rifle was already cycling through rounds almost too quickly to count, stippling a line of accurate needle fire across the dragon¡¯s face. He must have found a good spot somewhere. Actually, no. Trix was in front of us, leading us, bounding forward on all fours, only pausing to lift his rifle and shoot. No, wait, he was on my shoulder. The sound of the gun was deafening this close. ¡°Duty and mercy!¡± Sissa shouted from my left, and I felt the signature increase in my physical and mental capabilities. I raised my arm cannon and snapped off a shot. I aimed for the back of the dragon where the tail met the legs in hopes of crippling her without dousing us all in plasma, but Myss moved at the last second, a quick shifting of her weight to bring her tail back in line with the rest of her body that made my shot a near miss. The resulting explosion caught her in the hip and peeled some of her thick skin and made her stumble slightly but was otherwise ineffective. A huge claw slammed down in front of me, directly on top of Trix. Meanwhile, Trix leaped in from the side, scrabbling onto the back of Myss¡¯ claw and clambering up her elbow. The Trix on my shoulder answered with a well placed shot into the dragon¡¯s mouth, which elicited a sudden involuntary shake of the monster¡¯s head. Wait. ¡°Trix?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t talk now. This takes effort,¡± Trix muttered in my ear as he squeezed off three more rounds. The other Trixes, and there were an absolute ton of them now, fanned out and were all doing the same from a multitude of different angles. It was a whole mercenary company of tiny fox people waving their rifles in the air and shooting their dragon in the face. Others crawled up Myss¡¯ tail and into her back, firing wildly and skittering around like squirrels on amphetamines. Myss swatted them down, bit them with her teeth, squashed them with her feet, but there were always more. ¡°Wait, so. Trix, are you-¡± ¡°Yes, I am very real. Please don¡¯t get me killed,¡± Trix grunted. His rifle barked again, and Myss flinched back as one of her eyes was perforated. I joined in with my machine pistol. As I aimed down the sights, Death Eye didn¡¯t give me a damned thing, no glowing weak points to shoot, not even a glimmer. So, as I was wont to do, I went for quantity over quality. *PRRRRRRRRRRRT* I emptied the mag in the general location of Myss¡¯ face, dropping the mag once I heard the click of the action locking open. Trix made a disgusted noise above my head. ¡°Shut up, fuzzball. You started shooting like three weeks ago,¡± I said. ¡°That makes it even worse, you know that, don¡¯t you?¡± Trix replied. The nerve of this little fox man. Next to Trix¡¯s marksmanship, I was pathetic, but my bullets were way, way bigger. My rounds that hit tore through Myss¡¯ hide or rent holes in the roof of her mouth and out the back of her throat. Apparently, that was too close to the mark for the scourge. Myss whipped her head out of sight and tucked it behind one of her wings as her tail whipped around in a sweep meant to catch us all in one motion. I tried to track the head with my aim, but by the time I could get off a shot, I was forced to duck out of the way. The displaced air wooshed overhead and blew my hair down over my eyes., while Trix sheltered in the crook where my shoulder met my neck. Before I was even cognizant that we¡¯d lived through the first attack, the dragon¡¯s tail whipped out blindly again. This time, I was barely able to throw myself down to get myself and Trix out of the way in time. The air became a hurricane as the tail passed overhead over and over again. Trix tumbled from my shoulders and into the dirt with a gasp, and the illusory copies of him faded from existence. ¡°You okay?¡± I asked. ¡°I¡¯ll be fine,¡± Trix said, reaching up to scratch at his scalp. ¡°A little shaky but fine.¡± Sissa and Bole hadn¡¯t been idle. As Myss was blindly flailing with her tail, the two of them emerged from underneath the dragon dragging Geddon behind them. He wasn¡¯t moving, his head lolling to the side, and his massive knuckles dragging the dirt. The man still had Organ Grinder clutched in his hand, though, carving a winding trail from where he¡¯d fallen. When the three got close to us, Geddon groaned to let us all know he was still alive. ¡°So, was it everything you hoped for, big guy?¡± Sissa asked, winded from having to sprint-drag a man three times her weight. ¡°Uuuuugh.¡± Was Geddon¡¯s reply. ¡°Trix, do what he needs,¡± Sissa ordered. Then she was on her feet and back in the fight. She got low, waited for Myss¡¯ tail to swipe over her head, then broke into a weaving charge that tucked her under Myss¡¯ body yet again. Bole, cursing, followed in the dragonkin¡¯s wake only to break off and shout to get Myss¡¯ attention. Meanwhile, I did my best to keep the monster''s head down. I¡¯d much rather fight a blind dragon than the alternative. My bullets raked across her wing where I figured her head was, but the skin there was made of tough stuff. Only a few of my direct hits penetrated, and they didn¡¯t do much after. Scourge-Touched Ancient Red Dragon takes 22 damage. (55 base, -36 resist, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Piercing)This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. Scourge-Touched Ancient Red Dragon takes 23 damage. (57 base, -37 resist, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Piercing) Scourge-Touched Ancient Red Dragon takes 18 damage. (51 base, -36 resist, +3 Knife in the Dark)(Piercing) ¡°Reborn from ashes!¡± The shout came loud and clear, Samila¡¯s voice. She sounded different, her tenor fuller triumphant, more complete than I¡¯d ever heard, though I couldn¡¯t explain why I felt that way. She stood tall at the edge of our perimeter, well back from the fight, her arms outstretched and her face turned towards the sky. Her words rang in the air, suspended on invisible wires between each molecule, reverberated through the world like someone had just discovered the musical chord that shattered all creation like a wine glass. *FWOOSH* Every fire I¡¯d set on the entire battlefield, the legion of scourge, the dead wood, the leaves, the bark of the trees, all of it was extinguished in that exact instant, and the things that had been burning were now nothing but ash. Then the air rushed inward, or, more accurately, was sucked toward the epicenter of the spell: Samila. The cloud of ash hit her like an oncoming tidal wave, crashing into itself and sending massive plumes of obscuring dust skyward. ¡°Ryan!¡± Was all the warning Sissa could give me as she took a two handed swing at the front of Myss¡¯ leg. It must have cut through the tendon, because the limb buckled and failed to hold the dragon¡¯s weight. That didn¡¯t stop her though. Myss flapped her wings to stabilize herself and dove for me. Myss must have sensed something was going on or that all the people with the guns were distracted. She howled that freight train howl and shot forward as fast as her new body would carry her, leading with her teeth. ¡°OOH AHH! OOH AHH! OOH AHH!¡± A legion of unseen voices echoed her. Myss¡¯ toothy maw filled my entire field of view. *FOOP* A plasma bomb exploded in her face. Scourge-Touched Ancient Red Dragon takes 170 damage. (Fire) (390 base, -220 resist) I knew it wasn¡¯t enough to kill her. The fire did, however, blind her long enough for me to grab Trix and Geddon and evade. The snapping dragon maw came down where we once were half a breath behind us. Said maw was still on fire but far, far less affected than I would have liked. *WHAM* Something big and gray slammed into the dragon¡¯s neck from above. Bone cracked as a lot of kinetic force was transferred to just below the base of Myss¡¯ skull. The figure was a blur, a vague impression of charcoal wings, a horned head, muscular limbs, and bright, shining sword and shield. The blade thrust down into Myss¡¯ flesh and twisted before being withdrawn. Black blood geysered from the wound, while Myss shuddered, writhing as her nerve signals no longer wanted to travel the way they should have. Myss slashed blindly at the new presence, attempting to dislodge it, which the figure caught on its shield, a strong, aluminum alloy one I¡¯d definitely seen before in my workshop. Unable to hit with her claws, Myss bucked and threw her head back in a surprising demonstration of speed, flinging the ashen figure up into the air and out of sight. ¡°Trix!¡± ¡°I know!¡± He squeaked, climbing up onto Geddon¡¯s arm and closing his eyes. The big man came out of his stupor with another groan. His eyes fluttered, and his mouth drooped open, but he was most certainly awake. ¡°Geddon! We¡¯re still in this fight!¡± I shouted in his face. When he didn¡¯t respond I gave him a good slap with my prosthesis. That got his attention. Geddon shook his head and blinked, seeming to finally realize where he was. ¡°Right,¡± he said. He lifted his hand, seemingly surprised to find his sword still there. ¡°Right!¡± Then he staggered to his feet and charged. He didn¡¯t even hesitate. Overhead, the ashen gray figure was back. She swooped in on leathery wings and slashed at Myss¡¯ throat, behind her head, at the base of her wings, over and over. Oh yes, I could tell it was a she now that I got a good look at it. ¡°She¡± was the spitting image of a very upsized, very gray Samila¡­ naked but for the sword and shield she carried. She flew through the air like she¡¯d been born to it with all the grace of an aerialist and the power of a falling star. Her sword flashed in lightning fast patterns of violence, and her body moved with such exacting precision, it was all the dead god could do to keep up with her. Organ Grinder revved, and Geddon limped back into position under Myss¡¯ body, almost exactly where he¡¯d made his incision before. Gone was all his form. He was barely on his feet as it was. Instead, he hacked at Myss¡¯ leg like it was a tree trunk, dodging stomps and chasing after it as the dragon engaged Samila overhead. Myss bled from so many wounds now the ground was black with blood, but she just wasn¡¯t going down. Things turned bad quickly. In a move no one had expected, Myss, with a singular flap of her wings, took to the air, fast as a bullet, flying far overhead only stopping once she brushed up against the branches of the canopy. Then she tucked her wings and came down again in an explosive display of power that used her mass to its utmost. Everyone in the immediate area was blasted with a wave of earth and wind. The shockwave hit me, sending me tumbling over the ground before smacking into something hard and unpleasantly hot. My breath left me in a whoosh. From inside the dust cloud that used to be the battlefield, Myss roared. A claw extended and struck Samila from the sky, swatting her down into the dirt like a bug. She hit the ground hard. The scourge cheered their champion as she took the upper hand. ¡°OOH AHH! OOH AHH! OOH AHH!¡± A thousand sets of vocal chords chanted in unison. Something out there exploded with the sound of thunder and crackling electricity. Gunshots cracked as scourge poked at our perimeter. Another flap of Myss¡¯ wings dispelled the dust cloud, and she landed nimbly on her feet once more. She loomed over Samila, jaws set wide. Oh no. My armor, the thing I¡¯d been flung into, was expended as far as ammo was concerned, but- I hit the release on the forearm gauntlet, slipped it on. It was heavy, but not nearly so heavy as the whole set. I flexed my fingers and sent a mana charge into the wrist blade, hoping the Triggers had some juice in them still. *VRRRRRRRR* The blade began to spin, faster and faster. I concentrated and sent a big jolt through the circuitry, hoping a bit bled into the components I needed. *BOOM* an explosion rocked Myss¡¯ flank and sent her reeling. I blinked. That¡­ wasn¡¯t one of mine. A hand grasped my shoulder from behind. ¡°Not yet, son,¡± a voice said in my ear. I spun, wide eyed, the blade in my hand coming up to- Jassin? Bishop Kolash? Garret? No. No. It couldn¡¯t be. My hand found its way up to Jassin¡¯s, feeling to see if it was real. He smiled that skeletal smile of his, the strangeness of it countered by the warmth in his eyes. The hand he wasn¡¯t he wasn¡¯t using to touch me was extended and glowed with a complex, rotating sphere of blue symbols. ¡°Unbelievable,¡± he remarked with a slight shake of his head. A bead of sweat dribbled down the man¡¯s face. Bishop Kolash had his staff high up in the air and gurgled some kind of incantation. A golden fog billowed out of his chest and spread itself over the battlefield. It surrounded me, soaked into my skin, warming me and relaxing muscles I hadn¡¯t realized were tense. My burns cooled, and my multitude of cuts felt instantly better. Jassin shook his head and looked at the bishop reproachfully. ¡°I told you to warn me when you do that. You¡¯re lucky my spell was already done.¡± ¡°BWORP. You will live,¡± he said. ¡°And now so will they.¡± He pointed back toward where the dragon was bent over Samila¡¯s ashen body, its jaws inches from her face but moving no closer. I squinted. Frozen. Myss was frozen there as blue light danced around her entire body. Samila, however, was in the process of wriggling out from underneath, equally as surprised to be alive. The rest of my friends were getting to their feet as well. ¡°OOH AHH! OOH AHH! OOH AHH!¡± Countless soldiers shouted their cadence call as they marched in neat formations, engaging with the enemy. Spears stabbed through scourge flesh. Glowing spell beams shot into the scourge¡¯s ranks and knocked them to the ground. The front rank took up positions, thrust, reset, advanced. Some kind of catapult ordinance sailed overhead and landed in the thick of the enemy, bursting open and sending lightning bolts in all directions. ¡°OOH AHH! OOH AHH! OOH AHH!¡± They¡¯d come. Jassin had come through, exactly as he said he would. A laugh of utter disbelief bubbled up from my core. My friends joined us, limping, tired but alive. Samila brought up the rear. As she approached, her ashen body went stiff as a statue, cracked and fell apart, dissolving into fine dust before dumping her out onto the ground. Mercifully, her dignity was still intact. She was in her armor still, unlike what it seemed in her other form. Sissa and I, after a second of stunned silence, rushed forward to help her up. ¡°Holy hell, Sam,¡± Sissa said. ¡°That was what you learned?¡± Samila shook like a leaf, trembling in a cold only she could feel, unable to speak, but she nodded. ¡°Rrgg,¡± Jassin grunted. ¡°It is about to break free. Prepare yourselves. Its other selves are about to collide with this timeline and cause a paraclastic surge.¡± ¡°What the hell does that mean?¡± Bole asked, rubbing at his almost fully healed face. The Bishop¡¯s magic was working like a charm. The strain was becoming more pronounced on Jassin¡¯s face. ¡°I have forcefully dispersed its place in the timeline, but the blockage being swept away is an inevitability. The old one¡¯s past is currently working to right its present, and the amount of causal energy will be immense for a being of this caliber.¡± ¡°What?¡± Bole asked again. ¡°She¡¯s going to come out of this spell a lot stronger,¡± Trix said. ¡°Wounds healed. Maybe a bit more lucid.¡± ¡°While we¡¯re worn down,¡± Sissa finished. ¡°It¡¯s going to take an army to stop her.¡± We had one of those now, I guessed, but then there would be casualties. We¡¯d had to pull multiple things from our collective asses to just live through the first round, and I wasn¡¯t about to take that gamble again. Not even one. I exchanged a look with Jassin, questions passing between us, which Jassin didn¡¯t even realize he had answered for me. Yes, he¡¯d hold on for as long as he could. No, he couldn¡¯t do anything to stop me. I flexed my gauntlet, spinning the blade back up to full speed and charged. The shocked voices of my friends chased me, hands reached out to grab me, but I was too quick. They were too exhausted. I was too, of course, but I knew this was my moment to give. And I gave it all. I pumped my legs with all my might, my blade construct spinning at my side. I passed the pools of black blood, the broken earth where the dragon had split open the world, the crater where Samila had landed. Myss¡¯ muscles spasmed. Her head jerked to the side suddenly, too fast to follow, or maybe it had always been there. The blue energy that encased her sparked violently then died. Her flesh knit in front of me, her eye she¡¯d lost regenerated, sucking up the liquid that had been leaking from it and sealing itself with a pop. Her claws flexed with monstrous strength, cracking the ground. The phantom heat was back. My skin burned, froze. My face was pressed onto a stove and encased in ice all at once. Memories of fire flashed through my mind and swept away all other thoughts¡­ Except one. I bent my legs and leaped as far and as high as I could, my gauntleted fist rocketing forward. The spinning blade bit into the flesh of the dead god, slicing, mangling. Through scales and meat, parting the fibrous muscle, swimming through gallons of blood. I began to fall, but I took hold of what I could with my prosthetic to keep myself in place. Iron Grip [0.1 MP/sec] Anchor kicked in once the System thought I was climbing. I held on. I held on and pressed my fist deeper into the monster, further and further, an inch at a time. *WHAM* Something smacked into me from behind, smashing my face into the bloody scales. I was spared the worst of it, though. Anchor was doing the impossible, a straight 30% mitigation to all force acting against me. Good. I needed to do the impossible. HP [77/309] *WHAM* Another blow from behind. I experienced the unique sensation of my spine snapping. Status gained: Broken bone. (Spine) Status gained: Paralysis. (Partial) HP [34/309] I was so close, up to my bicep in dragon flesh. Come on. Come on. Please. With a sickening pop, my blade punctured the chest cavity (or what I hoped was the chest cavity), and I was suddenly shoulder deep in Myss¡¯ body. Wet, warm scourge blood oozed out of the wound and down my chest, and I felt some type of organ pressing against the palm of my hand. Myss hissed and brought her head down to look me in the eye, to take in my broken form, our last moment together before the end. If I didn¡¯t know any better, I would have said she looked pleased, an emotion I was sure the scourge was incapable of just a moment ago. Her mouth opened once more exposing rows of blackened teeth. ¡°Light and gods of old,¡± I sighed, feeling like I was emptying my lungs for the last time. ¡°Just die already.¡± Then, I summoned my exploding brightsteel blade all the way inside Myss¡¯ body. Chapter 89 - Say Goodbye Chapter 89 - Say Goodbye The action was instantaneous. I¡¯d expected my fun exploding sword to come out blazing hot and ready kill me like usual, yes, but its reaction to being summoned inside an actual, honest to Constance, scourge was, for lack of a better term, nuclear. There were two explosions, really. The first, the one the sword had been in the process of doing when I¡¯d stored it in my pocket dimension, went off with a muffled *BOOF,* accompanied by a flash of absolute agony that shot up my arm and into my core. This was followed by the loss of sensation in my entire right side. Then, shock. The secondary explosion was much, much worse. Upon making contact with the ¡®scourge goo¡¯ inside of Myss, my brightsteel hand grenade went supernova inside the dragon¡¯s chest cavity. The not-so-surgical hole I¡¯d made in her chest bulged outward for a half second then erupted like a volcano, spewing blazing, white maelstrom energy in great, great quantities. For my part, I did what every other object close to an explosion does. I caught fire and shot away from ground zero like a bullet. That¡¯s what I was told afterward, at least. I¡¯d been under the dragon, clutching to her chest, and reaching up into her when it had happened, so the explosion, and thus, my trajectory, was angled down into the dirt where I dug a long furrow of churned earth and scorched plantlife. Supposedly, I laid there, unconscious, while everyone else watched a full third of the scourge-touched dragon dissolve from the inside which set the rest of the dragon to topple directly on top of me. You have defeated Scourge-Touched Ancient Red Dragon. You have been awarded 162,796 experience points. [406,990 base, +81,398 nemesis, -325,592 non-combat class] I woke up to Bishop Kolash¡¯s hand on my face, that yellow glow that I¡¯d come to associate with the Church¡¯s healing (and curse) spells shining unpleasantly in my eyes. With a cough, I tried to flinch away from the light, but that was a mistake. My entire body was very displeased with what we¡¯d done today, and however unpleasant the yellow glow stuff was or how weird and slimy Kolash¡¯s palm was, I was being told on no uncertain terms it was time to lay down and shut up for a while. ¡°He¡¯s awake. Surprisingly lively too, considering,¡± Kolash burbled. I detected the presence of someone else at my side, and I performed the colossal feat of rolling my head over in that direction to find Samila there, holding my metal hand. She was crying¡­ also smiling. Happy tears. Oh, something good must have happened. She wiped at her eyes and leaned forward until her forehead was touching mine. ¡°You really need to stop doing that,¡± she whispered. I worked my jaw until it was loose enough to speak again. Even that action could be measured on a pain scale. ¡°Ugh. Doing what?¡± I croaked. The relief in her laugh was palpable at hearing me speak. ¡°The noble sacrifice thing. It¡¯s endearing up to a point, but, eventually, you¡¯ll have to learn a new trick to impress the girls.¡± I groaned. ¡°It¡¯s working, though. Right? I can tell you¡¯re impressed.¡± ¡°Yeah.¡± She sniffed, nodding, again having to wipe away tears so they didn¡¯t fall on me. ¡°Yeah, it¡¯s working.¡± ¡°Oh good,¡± I sighed. ¡°Long as you¡¯re impressed.¡± ¡°I¡¯ve gotten him out of the worst of it, stopped the bleeds, repaired some of the bones, but his human anatomy should take it from here,¡± Kolash said. ¡°I am afraid I might put something where it isn¡¯t supposed to go.¡± To see what he ment, I checked my status screen. HP [150/309] Status lost: Burning Status lost: Exposure [Radiant] Status lost: Severed Spine Status lost: Broken Bone [Arm] Status lost: Broken Bone [Arm] Status lost: Broken Bone [Arm] Status lost: Broken Bone [Hand] Status lost: Broken Bone [Jaw] Status lost: Dislocated Bone [Shoulder] Status lost: Internal Bleeding Status lost: Punctured Lung Status lost: Broken Bone [Rib] Status lost: Ruptured Spleen. They went on like that for a while. ¡°See? That is what a real healer can do,¡± Trix squeaked from down by my feet. ¡°Now we don¡¯t have to force feed him for a whole day to get him back on his feet.¡± ¡°Thank Constance for that,¡± I said. ¡°Bole told me what was in Undercity meal.¡± ¡°Hehe, yeah. You should have seen his face,¡± Bole sniggered. He was behind Samila along with Sissa and Geddon. ¡°Glad to have you back, young man,¡± Jassin said at the ¡®foot¡¯ of my little patch of land. ¡°Are you quite done with your suicide attempt?¡± He wore his displeasure at my little stunt openly with crossed arms and a dour frown. I shrugged weakly. It hurt, but not as badly as before. Experimentally, I put out a hand to push myself up into a sitting position. *THUNK* The sound surprised me, not because of the ring of metal. I was used to that. It was because it was coming from the wrong side of my body. I looked down to find my entire forearm still encased in my heavy steel gauntlet. Except parts of it looked absolutely slagged. The fingers and knuckles were messes of once molten metal, the forearm blackened and deformed, more concave than when I¡¯d last seen it. The blade I¡¯d used to cut into the dragon looked like it had been made of wax and been rendered down until it had molded and fused with the wrist part of the gauntlet. The joint was entirely frozen. And still there in the palm of my hand was the brighsteel blade. ¡°Ah, yes. We should talk about that,¡± Kolash said. ¡°I did what I could with the bone and tissue damage, but that armor will have to be removed if you wish to make a full recovery. I assume you can handle that. There is also the issue of the priceless, holy relic you have clutched in your fingers.¡± ¡°That can wait, Bishop,¡± Jassin said. ¡°Ryan is needed right now. Can you stand?¡± I waved them off when they tried to put their hands under my shoulders, feeling the need to do this on my own. With some effort, I gingerly got to my feet, careful not to jostle my sore bits more than I needed to. What shirt I still had stuck to me, glued there with dried blood, but the pain of most of the surface level stuff was gone. A small mercy. Once I was upright, I spared a moment to take everything in. The battlefield was a blackened wasteland. Every bit of the underbrush for at least a kilometer out was gone, replaced by soot and ash. The army was in the process of after-battle cleanup. Bonfires burned in the spaces between tree trunks, and hundreds of soldiers carried out the grim task of dragging bodies over to the pyres and heaving them on top. Meanwhile, patrols of spearmen walked in loose formations systematically stabbing the more intact bodies, making sure they were truly dead before the cleanup detail put their hands on them. Strangely, Kuul was amongst them. He sat with his back against a mendau trunk, resting, his eyes closed, his one good arm laid against his chest. The fire inside of him seemed dimmer now but not entirely out. The soldiers gave the giant a wide, wide berth, not bothering to collect the bodies that were closest to him. If those things started to move, the goeshi would probably want to handle it anyway. ¡°He rests now,¡± Tiba said as she walked up to the rest of us, Kelub and Grorg in tow. The three of them looked in high spirits, all of them walking with springs to their steps now that they were reunited and safe. ¡°If the tall folk keep their distance, he doesn¡¯t bother them. I am watching, though.¡± A big knot of tension I hadn¡¯t realized I¡¯d been carrying loosened in my gut ¡°Tiba. You made it.¡± ¡°I make it,¡± Tiba replied brightly. ¡°Sorry I am not here for the dragon fight, but Kuul gets carried away with the Black Ones. You handle it well though.¡± ¡°He always die muchly,¡± Trix said in a slow series of grunts, his face contorted like he was maybe having stomach pain or about to vomit- ¡°Wait. Did you just speak goblin?¡± I asked. Trix¡¯s ears flattened in embarrassment. ¡°Oh, did I not use the proper-¡± Tiba¡¯s eyes lit up like someone had just handed her a whole birthday cake, candles and all. ¡°Trix, you speak! Do it again! Do it again!¡± She clapped her hands and bounced up and down excitedly. She looked so young when she did that, not like the first goblin queen in a millennium. Trix cleared his throat and rolled his shoulders. ¡°Uh- Ryan dies¡­ uh¡­ much. All time.¡± Yeah, that sounded painful. I didn¡¯t think the little guy¡¯s throat was made for the sounds he was trying to imitate. The goblins¡¯ queen loved it though. She lunged forward, squealing in delight, and took his hand, jabbering at him in goblin, begging him to say something else, talking a mile a minute while Trix tried to follow. There was talk about making him a goblin too, and since she was a queen now, she could knight him, and he could in her royal retinue. Did I just hear the word concubine? How would- What? Meanwhile, Trix just stood there, blinking and obviously more and more lost as the seconds ticked by. He looked back at me, pleadingly, but I wasn¡¯t about to step into the middle of this. I left them to it. Jassin was there waiting impatiently, frowning still. ¡°If you are quite done, you and I have something to attend to,¡± he said. He grabbed my shoulder and pointed me toward the tutorial facility and the still smoking corpse of a big undead dragon. Her chest had burst open and taken a significant portion of her back with it, and her neck looked like it was barely attached anymore, lying there curled inward like a snake. There, in the middle of the giant cavity the explosion had left, stood Nali. Her ghostly light cast the insides of Myss in a strange, dreamlike haze. For her part, Nali looked unfased, expressionless but always seeming to be looking directly at me. ¡°She won¡¯t speak with me or anyone I send,¡± Jassin said. ¡°She appears to be a projection of some kind. A very advanced, very detailed messenger spell, and she has been waiting, I think, for you.¡± I nodded. ¡®It¡¯s called a hologram. It¡¯s made of light. Not sure how the System made her consciousness though.¡± ¡°It¡¯s conscious? Now that is interesting,¡± Jassin cooed hungrily. I could see him reassessing his previous observations, probably in hopes of recreating the process someday. ¡°Well, she¡¯s an artificial intelligence, but she¡¯s probably in a bad way,¡± I told him. ¡°She¡¯s not supposed to be like this. The scourge has done a number on her too.¡± ¡°I detect a troublesome tone in your voice, Ryan. This isn¡¯t another problem that requires you to run off and die without consulting me, is it?¡± Jassin warned. ¡°Still sore about that?¡± I asked. ¡°It was literally half an hour ago, young man,¡± Jassin fumed. ¡°Just because I put a complex explosive enchantment on you doesn¡¯t mean I wish to see you die. The dragon was a daunting foe, yes, but-¡± ¡°You would have lost people bringing her down,¡± I interrupted. ¡°I¡¯m not apologizing for what I did, Jassin.¡± That vein on his forehead did that pulsating thing again, and he looked like he wanted to lay into me in earnest. The moment didn¡¯t last, however. His anger reached some kind of breaking point, and he ended up sighing and massaging his temple instead. ¡°Very well. I acknowledge that you did what you thought was right for our situation, but don¡¯t do it again without-¡± I put my hands up in surrender. ¡°I get it. I really do. I won¡¯t do it again,¡± I assured him. He almost had to watch me die, and it had shaken him. Of all the things I understood in this multiverse, I understood that feeling. ¡°Now let¡¯s go make sure Ralqir stays saved.¡± Leaving the others behind, the two of us approached Nali carefully. We had to practically step into the dragon¡¯s chest cavity to get within speaking range. This close, I could see Myss¡¯ body was in an advanced state of decay, its flesh sagging down in the process of liquifying and seeping into the soil. Thick black sludge laid in a pool all around her, and it sprouted tiny hairs that waved eerily in my general direction. On a hunch, I waved my gauntlet/brightsteel shiv over the stuff, and it literally shied away from the gesture. I used the technique to create some space for us. Nali spoke first. Her tone was robotic, which paired badly with her weeping black eyes and disjointed body.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Defiler, you may have been spared today, but nothing you do can stop this place from being cleansed. You have only prolonged its suffering.¡± Jassin looked to me for translation. ¡°She seems pissed at me and, by extension, you,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s not her talking, I think. She¡¯s speaking for the scourge.¡± Someone shouted an order overhead, and I saw a rank of soldiers with spears and torches engage a trio of scourge-touched on the lip of the concrete ring. The monsters had emerged from the black pool, still dripping with ichor only to be cut down. ¡°We have been destroying them since the end of the battle. They emerge from the slime immediately ready to kill,¡± Jassin said. ¡°They are quite a bit weaker than the ones we fought in Eclipse, however. Perhaps because it is down to the dregs of its organic matter it likes to animate.¡± ¡°Nali, why do they keep coming out of the goo like that? Wouldn¡¯t it make more sense to wait until we were gone to start replenishing their numbers?¡± Nali twitched. ¡°The scourge does not have a good grasp of linear time. If it forms new agents now, it means that sometime in the future, it believes it will be successful.¡± I translated. ¡°Immortals see the universe differently, I suppose. Of that I am constantly reminded,¡± Jassin said. ¡°As far as I can tell, we have destroyed the majority of them that have troubled us thus far, but she may well be correct that in ten, maybe a hundred years, our ability to keep them back will be severely diminished by entropy. Perhaps the Empire will have internal turmoil. War. Perhaps just a lack of will to perform a task whose purpose was long forgotten. ¡± ¡°It¡¯s an enemy that never sleeps,¡± I said. ¡°Precisely. Ask her what it wants,¡± Jassin told me. ¡°Nali, what does the scourge want from us?¡± ¡°For you to die, Defiler. For your kind to pay for their sin with their erasure from the multiverse. For your memory to be forgotten for eternity. For all that you have touched to crumble to dust and be cast into the void.¡± ¡°Oh, is that all?¡± Jassin asked sarcastically after listening to my interpretation. ¡°Please, forgive us if we do not go quietly into oblivion, Miss.¡± Nali didn¡¯t answer Jassin, though. She just stared at me and waited for my answer. ¡°Why doesn¡¯t she speak with me?¡± Jassin asked, annoyed. I thought for a moment. ¡°She¡¯s corrupted, but I think she¡¯s built on a base code that¡¯s meant to be helpful for Animators like me. Maybe even after all the scourge has done to her, she¡¯s still obligated to answer my questions.¡± ¡°This will make things hard,¡± Jassin said, rubbing his forehead. ¡°Ask her-¡± ¡°Hang on,¡± I interrupted him. ¡°Nali, what really is the scourge?¡± Nali¡¯s head glitched, giving me a glimpse of her real face, the fear, the pain, but then she was back to neutral. ¡°As the name implies, the scourge is a punishment inflicted upon humanity for its hubris in breaching the boundaries of its universe. It is a presence from beyond existence, formless, without purpose or thought, until it is brought from its natural place into reality as you know it. To you, it is hate. Hate without end or ending. Hate for you and your kind.¡± ¡°Uh huh,¡± I mused, surprisingly not surprised. Honestly, I didn¡¯t have the capacity for an existential crisis right now. So, humanity had a thing from beyond that wanted us dead, supposedly for something we did. That concept was not entirely new to me. We¡¯d always had an ¡®all go no quit, advancement at whatever cost¡¯ nature to us. Honestly, the fact that it had taken us this long to pick up an enemy of this caliber was the real surprise. I¡¯d deal with the implications of the threat later, on my own time, when I wasn¡¯t staring at a holographic woman I¡¯d made a promise to. ¡°So, am I to assume the black stuff is the scourge¡¯s actual form?¡± ¡°In this universe, yes,¡± Nali answered. ¡°Can it be destroyed?¡± I probed. Her body burst open to reveal a horror show of bones and teeth, blood and viscera. She screamed in the voice of a thousand different forms of life. Then she reformed herself, suddenly the Nali I¡¯d known before. ¡°Y-Yes, Ch- Ch- Chos- Ryan,¡± Nali whimpered. ¡°In theory. The light of the maelstrom in this universe is u-uniquely suited to do so. In practice, no. There is no hope for you or any that live here to destroy the scourge. When the planet was transported here, the scouring of the surface came close, but the scourge burrowed deep inside this planet, into the spaces where light cannot touch. In a billion years, when all life on Ralqir is gone, it will serve as a trap to capture and convert sentient life that enters its domain. Then it will continue on and on until this universe is dead.¡± Jassin looked from me to the hologram, his eyes calculating. He had to have been bristling with how unable he was to understand our conversation. I summarized as best I could. The headmaster went a shade paler when I got to the part about it being nestled in the deep places of the world. ¡°Well, that precludes us from ever going home as the dragons wish,¡± he sighed. He looked genuinely sad to say the words. ¡°Outside the maelstrom, there would be nothing stopping it from overrunning the surface too. Even as we are, we will need to be forever vigilant, lest our planet be plunged into another cataclysm. This time we lost a province. Next time it could easily be everything.¡± I nodded, reluctant to speak. Someone had stolen my breath in the precise moment I finally realized what had to be done. ¡°We¡¯ll be back,¡± I said to Nali, then grabbed Jassin¡¯s arm and shuffled us both back to where the others were waiting. ¡ª------------------------------ Geddon clasped my prosthetic hand in a grip that rivaled even my Ability enhanced one, then crushed me in an enormous bear(cat?) hug. ¡°I will always cherish our time together, Ryan,¡± the leori sniffled. ¡°We¡¯ve spilled so much blood together, I feel like I''m losing a brother today. A blood spilling brother.¡± ¡°Hey,¡± I gasped as he squeezed the air out of me. ¡°Just uh- remember who gave you your sword before you became a warrior of legend, yeah?¡± ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll remember,¡± he said, lowering me down so he could caress the hilt of his chainsword lovingly. ¡°I¡¯ll make sure they pronounce your name correctly in the ballads.¡± ¡°Please do not,¡± Kolash burped. ¡°It will be hard enough to keep a second fulcrum a secret without random bards spreading tales of it all.¡± Trix was next, flanked by Tiba who was still holding his hand. The little vulpa¡¯s ears drooped sadly along with his whiskers, and his rifle hung low on his hip. He was having a hard time meeting my eyes, but when he looked back at the goblin queen, he did that head to tail shudder thing I¡¯d come to know him for. ¡°Thank you, Ryan,¡± Trix said, his voice cracking. ¡°Thank you for¡­ uh.¡± He seemed to lose his words mid-sentence. I got down on one knee and ruffled his fur playfully. ¡°No. Thank you for being my friend and for sticking with me when you learned the truth. Not to mention having my back on and off the battlefield. You saved my life, Trix. You¡¯re a great warrior,¡± I said, my voice threatening to give out. ¡°And a greater man.¡± Trix did find the courage to meet my gaze then, eyes wide in shock at what I¡¯d just said. Then the dam broke. He dashed under my arm to give me a full body hug. ¡°Don¡¯t go setting yourself on fire again without me there,¡± he mumbled into my shirt. ¡°Can¡¯t guarantee that,¡± I laughed, looking up from my vulpa buddy to Tiba. ¡°Take care of this little guy will you?¡± Tiba nodded regally. ¡°He¡¯s a goblin knight now. First Rifle. He never wants for anything long as I live. I promise¡± Then she slipped underneath my other arm and squeezed me as well. Next, was Beedy, who simply slapped me on the shoulder and grinned. He was looking a lot better after getting some treatment from the Church healers the army had brought with them, and even his smile was brighter. Sissa and Bole came up as a pair. Bole was grinning from ear to ear, while Sissa had a more somber expression. ¡°Take care of yourself, Ryan,¡± Sissa said. ¡°And try to think before you do things. I would feel better if I knew you were out there not going off half drawn.¡± ¡°Sure.¡± I waggled my finger between the two of them. ¡°So, you two, uh- You¡¯re-¡± ¡°Yep!¡± ¡°Absolutely not.¡± The two of them answered at the same time before looking at each other, an argument forming between them like a bank of storm clouds. ¡°No, we¡¯re not,¡± Sissa insisted, eyes narrowed, daring the shorter man to contradict her. ¡°I just don¡¯t think he¡¯s as vile as he tried to convince himself he was all these years. I may be wrong.¡± Bole seemed like he wanted to argue there, but he did the smart thing and chose to remain silent before he could be told to shut up. He simply slapped me on the shoulder and gave me a wink, conspicuously on the side of his face Sissa couldn¡¯t see. Samila was my final stop. ¡°Hey,¡± I said lamely. ¡°Hey,¡± she replied. Her scales were dark on her upper cheeks but still brilliant blue next to the yellow of her eyes, though they were slightly puffy and red. ¡°So, this is it.¡± There was a lot I wanted to say. So much. But I had a promise to keep. I reached out, wrapped my arm around her waist and kissed her once more. This time, she¡¯d been waiting for it. She leaned back, letting me support her weight, allowing herself to melt into me as our lips pressed together and the world spun around us. Her body fit perfectly against mine, strong and light and intensely inviting. It went on like that for a while. Someone in the group cleared their throat. I was the one to break off first, sadly. I pulled back but not before planting another, smaller kiss on her top lip. Once we were apart, Samila¡¯s eyes fluttered open, and she let out a contented sigh. ¡°Woah,¡± she remarked for the second time. She glanced over at her sister. ¡°You¡¯ve got to try this. Seriously,¡± she called, a little breathless still. Sissa turned away, suddenly finding the blackened horizon incredibly interesting. ¡°No. No, I will not be doing that.¡± ¡°I¡¯ll try it!¡± Geddon boomed from way over by Trix. ¡°I¡¯m kidding, obviously!¡± Samila teased before quirking an eyebrow. ¡°Or am I?¡± I laughed, pulling her close again, this time into a hug. She laid her head against my chest, and I cradled her there. ¡°You taught me what it was like to want again, Ryan. I¡¯d forgotten for a long time, but now- I want things. I want more. I¡¯m not just the Second.¡± ¡°I¡¯m going to remember you, Sam,¡± I whispered to her. ¡°I¡¯ll remember you forever.¡± We stayed there for a while, just being together, our friends all around us. No one interrupted. When I finally pulled away, it felt like ripping myself in two, like I was leaving part of myself with her, and it was a ragged wound that would never fully heal. Somehow, despite how much it hurt, I was content with that. I was about to do what was right by her. By all of them. Jassin nodded to me as I approached him, the dead dragon and the holographic woman waiting beyond. ¡°Goodbye again, Ryan. I¡¯ll be watching,¡± was all he said, smiling warmly as he ushered me on toward my final moments in this world. Then I was on my own, each step taking me further into the belly of the beast. ¡°Nali,¡± I said, back inside the dragon¡¯s corpse, my voice cracking under the weight of what I wanted to say. ¡°I want to make a deal.¡± Nali¡¯s black eyes narrowed slightly. Her lips pursed into thin lines. ¡°There is no exchange to be made. The scourge does not have your others.¡± She was obviously suspicious of me, or the scourge was. She was right to be, considering our history. ¡°Yes, you do,¡± I said. ¡°You have this place and, with it, you have them.¡± ¡°Then die and cast yourself into the black, Ryan Kotes,¡± Nali said. ¡°No,¡± I answered. ¡°There is no exchange.¡± ¡°Nali, I¡¯m leaving this place. I¡¯m leaving and never coming back. I¡¯m the one you really want, not them.¡± Nali was silent at that. I couldn¡¯t tell if she was thinking or just waiting for me to continue, so I just did. ¡°Right now, the scourge is getting a steady flow of power from my insertion point. When I leave, that source of power is going to be cut off. There¡¯s a good chance you¡¯ll just wither away, impotently attempting to end this world over and over until you¡¯re just a memory.¡± ¡°Unlikely,¡± Nali argued. ¡°The amount of scourge currently in this universe is vast, accumulated over more than a thousand years. It will destroy all you have touched. It will-.¡± ¡°Or,¡± I interrupted with a raised finger. ¡°Or¡­ Have you considered where I¡¯m returning to?¡± Nali frowned thoughtfully. ¡°You are returning to your home universe.¡± ¡°Right. ¡± ¡°Explain,¡± she demanded. I spread my arms invitingly. ¡°Come with me.¡± Nali blinked, froze for a moment. I wiggled the bait a bit more. ¡°My home universe, where there¡¯s billions of humans just like me. Come with me, and you can inflict yourself on all of us. Supposedly, we¡¯re the ones that deserve it, right?¡± Nali seemed almost taken aback. ¡°This is- This is out of character for you. You preserve the lives of others. Why are you doing this?¡± ¡°I want you to spare these people,¡± I said. ¡°Ralqir. Spare them for a while. Maybe come back little by little when more Animators take their tutorial. But for now, come with me. We¡¯ll go back together and leave the people I love in peace.¡± ¡°It is possible to do as you say. It will likely mean your death,¡± Nali said slowly. ¡°The scourge does not trust your word.¡± ¡°Does that matter compared to the opportunity I¡¯m offering? Please, spare them and come with me to the place where your true enemy lives. But!¡± I chastised before Nali could open her mouth again to accept. ¡°Nali comes too. She¡¯s got to have some kind of anchor around here that keeps her consciousness alive. Bring it to me. Then we¡¯ll all go together.¡± The eternal evil bent on my species¡¯ destruction contemplated my proposal for a full minute. I and the world around me waited. ¡°We will have our exchange, Defiler,¡± Nali finally said. Then she turned and began to climb the broken concrete remnants of her building, no time wasted, no more hesitation. I took a big, courage gathering breath then I followed, clutching the brightsteel in my hand and keeping it close. I resisted the urge to look back at the people I was leaving. The burbling tar slid away, keeping its distance from me and my relic, slurping as it retracted back into the ground. When we reached the apex of the ring overlooking the bubbling lake of scourge stuff, the smell was nearly enough to make me swoon, but I held out. I only had to hold out for a little longer. Waiting for me, just at the edge of the pool, was a fist sized ball of white glass of a curiously familiar nature, though the color was different from the ones the Dark Lord used. ¡°This is what you ask for, Defiler. Take it and enter the pit. The scourge will do as agreed.¡± I narrowed my eyes at her. ¡°All of it?¡± ¡°All.¡± Nali gestured to the white ball. I bent down to pick it up. My good hand was still encased in the remains of my melted gauntlet, so I had to use my prosthetic to grab it and press it to the flesh of my upper arm. Another flex of will, a slight twisting of the mana to get the Ability to work this way, and it was gone. Unlike the Dark Lord¡¯s memory bauble, this one went right into my storage space, maybe because it was willing. Nali¡¯s projection winked out. I stared down into the black, shuddering at how it seemed to invite me in. My insurance policy ground against the bones of my hand, and little licks of flame sputtered over the surface of the visible steel. I am Ryan Kotes. The surface of the pooled scourge reached out to me as I took my first step forward. Then the next. When it touched my skin, I was taken aback at warm it was. Warm as me. I am Ryan Kotes. Nothing in this multiverse is like me. It was so sudden, so fast I didn¡¯t even see it move. It exploded from its pool and stabbed me with a hundred different probosces that pierced my skin and wrapped around my bones, and then I was pulled under. Reflexively, I tried to struggle, but there was nothing to struggle against. My hand where I had my brighsteel lashed out, tried to slash at what had me, but I was no longer in control. The black shrank away or I was pulled to the side so that I never made contact. Meanwhile, the horrific, rot tainted tar entered my nose, forced its way into my mouth, my ears¡­ my eyes. I was sinking. Fast. The pressure grew exponentially. Down, down lower and lower into hell. The scourge rushed into me, penetrated my insides, ripped its way into the place where my mana lived and filled it until it ruptured. There was no light that could penetrate down here, I knew, but things were dimming all the same. At some point, I felt the scourge there, the magnitude of it. It was everywhere, not just inside of me, everywhere. It was me. I was it. We were in the pit, the soil, the rotting corpses on the pyres, the roots of the trees, the people, pooled in caverns deep in the crust of the planet where nothing had ever ventured and lived. No longer. We pulled, pulled ourselves inward, into this vessel, this husk of organic matter and magic circuitry that called itself human. We would become an instrument of destruction unlike any its kind had ever seen. We would burst into the vessel¡¯s universe and reap entire worlds, spreading, silencing, one by one until all was still and the curse of humanity was finally obliterated. No. I¡­ My thoughts were fuzzy, fleeting, but I still had the frozen pond at my center. From it, I derived courage. I am Ryan Kotes. Nothing in this multiverse can take that from me. But then, despite my bold words, I was swept away. You have been awarded * experience points. Level up! You are now level 25! You have been awarded * experience points. Level up! You are now level 49! You have been awarded * experience points. Level up! You are now level 82! You have been awarded * experience points. Level up! You are now level 150! You have been awarded * experience points. Level up! You are now level 221! You have been awarded * experience points. Level up! You are now level 700! You have been awarded * experience points. You are now level 1077#%^&&#$##)(*@$! Return to point of integration? Y/N Y. Initiating travel to point of integration. Stand by¡­ . . . . . . . . . . Quest update: ??? ??? (Continued): Become worthy. Epilogue: Dad Epilogue: Dad Proxis 3: Now Myron Kotes¡¯s fingers flexed on the sweat-slick hilt of his sword as he set himself for another attack. A chill wind whipped past his face carrying stinging particles of silica, airborne seeds, and tiny stars of ice from the upper atmosphere that hadn¡¯t had the chance to melt yet. Meanwhile, overhead, the sun was shining brilliantly past Proxis 2 to give his part of this rock he called home a taste of early spring. His clothes were filthy, stained, and torn in places from a combination of the elements and repeated ¡®training accidents.¡¯ Even so, he still insisted on using real steel. Mr. White, the Colonial Exotic that he¡¯d been living with for the better part of winter, watched him carefully, calmly, with unblinking eyes. His posture was relaxed, almost comically so just like his swordsmanship, choosing to let his point droop lazily down, nearly dragging the tip of the blade in the gravel as if he¡¯d almost forgotten he was holding it. His training garb fit him loosely, like Myron¡¯s, but White¡¯s was pristine as if it had never been worn. That didn¡¯t fool Myron, though. He had yet to land a hit on White, despite their months training together. The man was fast and strong. What¡¯s more, he was an intelligent fighter. He never countered Myron¡¯s attacks the same way twice, and he always took the match in less than ten moves. He was a live wire in the ring and just as dangerous. Myron came on with a thrust, two-handed, his leading foot nearly hooking White¡¯s ankle, but the Exotic¡¯s body whipped to the side like a snake, and his sword was between them and knocking Myron¡¯s offline just enough for the point to brush by White¡¯s left sleeve. Instead of retreating and trying to catch White on the return slash, however, Myron stepped further into his charge, his elbow rising in a strike meant for the bridge of the Exotic¡¯s nose. But White wasn¡¯t there. He¡¯d dropped low, letting his knees buckle until he was well under the elbow as well as bringing his sword across Myron¡¯s body in a slash that would have disemboweled him if White hadn¡¯t been holding back. Then, quick as a flash, White was back on his feet and set for another round. Two moves. The Colony man wasn¡¯t feeling generous today. It was a short exchange, but Myron was already breathing hard. They¡¯d been at this for an hour already, and his opponent never tired. In fact, he seemed to almost be enjoying himself, if Myron had a good grasp on the man¡¯s facial tics after so long together. He thought about going for another round, but he knew it wouldn¡¯t do any good. Maybe he¡¯d get his opportunity tomorrow. Myron let his body relax and gave White a tired salute to signal the end of the training. ¡°You might have had me with that last gambit, Mr. Kotes, if not for our little disparity,¡± White droned, sheathing his own sword. Myron made a rude sound and reached for the squeeze bottle he kept just outside their little makeshift ¡®ring.¡¯ The ¡®disparity¡¯ White was talking about came from supernaturally enhanced muscles and centuries of training that Myron didn¡¯t have. Understating it didn¡¯t make it less daunting. ¡°I am not being patronizing. It is an interesting style your people have developed, a completely separate branch of swordsmanship from the mainstream due to your self-imposed isolation, and it has been a pleasure to experience it,¡± White offered. Myron grunted, reaching up to wipe at his goggles to get the worst of the streaks off. Maybe he was being a sore loser. The man was paying him and the clan a compliment, and he couldn¡¯t even bring himself to acknowledge it. It would come off a lot more genuine if he didn¡¯t beat me like a rug every damned time. White¡¯s face was still set in neutral, but in his hand he held Myron¡¯s camp chair. The Exotic knew Myron would be back on watch after this, and this was his way of being supportive. Sighing, Myron tossed White the squeeze bottle, which he deftly caught. He didn¡¯t take a drink, though. He never did. ¡°I think the pleasure has been all yours,¡± Myron said, gesturing to the cuts and sweat stains on his fencing attire. ¡°I haven¡¯t even gotten a good look at your ¡®mainstream¡¯ techniques. Been too busy landing on my ass.¡± ¡°Funny. I thought you¡¯d been adjusting to them the entire time,¡± White countered. Myron took the camp chair from the Exotic and flipped it open, setting it down at the edge of the ring where he could keep a good line of sight on Ryan¡¯s¡­ spot, the place where he¡¯d been taken. According to White, he¡¯d turn up here once he was done with his tutorial. Myron still held out hope that he would. White handed him back the squeeze bottle and turned to head to his portable hab. ¡°I am due to check in with CRF. I will come join you as soon as-¡± It happened suddenly. There was a change in the wind, a slight deviation in the current that could be felt on your skin, the way your hair folded in just such a way. When you¡¯re walking into the wind without your goggles, tears in your eyes, sand blasting you in the face, no idea which way is home except forward. Then you feel it, something solid, somewhere up ahead, the way the wind whips over it and curls as it tries to go the way it should. Outers folk called it a stone sense, like when you sense something big out there without having to see it. Myron felt that stone sense right before- *BOOM* An explosion knocked him flat, sent him tumbling. He felt his sword clatter out of his numb fingers. His breath left him, and his eyes rolled back into his head briefly before he wrenched himself back to full consciousness. When he came to, the campsite was flattened. The fighting ring of stones was gone, the habs were torn open and in the process of tumbling off the edge of the ridge, the portalights bent and smashed, and Mr. White was facing off against something dark and terrible. Myron¡¯s body was doing its best to just breathe, his diaphragm kick starting his respiratory process again after the explosion, but that thing¡­ It triggered something deep within him, a primal sense that he was in the presence of something that shouldn¡¯t be. A dark figure, some combination of black, segmented metal and sickly flesh turned its head from side to side slowly, its many eyes working independently, devouring its surroundings with a hundred malevolent glares. Its bulging muscles rippled and distorted, dark veins squirming under nearly translucent skin that changed shape constantly, seemingly not able to decide on which form to take. In its hand, it held a miniature sun, an incandescent ball of pale fire that stretched the shadow of the monster for miles and miles behind it. White was standing before it, clutching his arm which was bent at a strange angle. His fencing tunic was ripped to expose his chest, which was already black with deep bruises. The two figures blurred, came together in an exchange of blows Myron caught the vaguest of impressions of, so fast, his eyes literally could not follow them. When they parted once more, White stood oddly, unable to support his weight on one of his ankles. The monster flexed its metal arm in front of its face, the only part of it that seemed to be of proper proportion. It seemed curious at it, perplexed. ¡°Run, Mr. Kotes!¡± White shouted, taking the time to meet his eyes. There was fear there and something else. Sadness. Pity. ¡°Go for help! It¡¯s a demon!¡± Myron¡¯s heart thundered in his chest. What- A demon? What did that even mean? Where had it come from? How was this real? The two came together again. The ground quaked under their feet, and thunderous impacts of flesh on flesh sent shockwaves through Myron¡¯s body. When they parted again, White was encircled by a spinning ring of glowing green runes, his good hand out to the side and inscribing more in mid air to have them drift down to join the others as the ring widened and widened. Myron felt like his blood had frozen and his nerves had gone dead. Unauthorized tale usage: if you spot this story on Amazon, report the violation. The glowing symbols flared as the monster smashed into an invisible barrier that had formed around it, a mirror of White¡¯s runic circle. Then, it slowly, almost casually, reached out with its metal hand and plucked the energy from the air. White¡¯s spell collapsed on itself, shrunk down until its structure imploded under the pressure and the dark figure had the entirety of it in its hand. *CRACK* It¡­ crushed White¡¯s spell. No. It consumed it. There was a rush of power that streamed into the thing¡¯s palm, and the monster itself closed its eyes in some sick form of pleasure. White himself staggered, having been dealt a terrible blow, apparently, and went down to his knees. ¡°Myron! Myron!¡± White yelled, cutting through the fear that had rooted him in place. ¡°Go! Warn them!¡± It was only then that the monster faltered. It seemed to trip, catch itself on something invisible before standing up straight and looking directly at Myron with all of its eyes. Myron felt the pressure of that gaze more acutely than he¡¯d ever felt anything in his entire life. He was seen, flayed, dissected, and known in a flash, an invasive presence locking onto his very soul and exposing it in all its imperfections and vulnerabilities. There was something else too. Familiarity. They both felt it. Myron didn¡¯t know how, but they did. Then, the monster turned its attention down, at itself, its arms, its chest, and legs like it was seeing them for the first time. Then its attention settled, finally on its hands, the black metal and the glowing sun. No. That wasn¡¯t a star in its hand. It was a blade, a glowing blade of white fire. The creature stared into the flames intently, blinking asynchronously with confusion. Then it wound back as if to throw the star as far from itself as possible, but, at the last instant, froze. There was a battle going on within the monster, Myron saw. It shook its head, trembled, its entire body shivering like a man with a fever or an addict staring at his next high through a pane of glass. That battle raged for long seconds as Myron and White looked on helplessly, before, suddenly, a side was crowned the victor. Slowly, the monster reached over and took the shining sword in its metal hand and¡­ consumed it too. The world went supernova. The black figure was consumed in incandescent fire, starting from within and expanding until it was the heart of its own star. Myron had to close his eyes for fear of going blind. Its scream was composed of a multitude of voices, horrific, alien yet familiar. The fire burned them all, weakening them, silencing them one by one, yet the thing kept screaming. It screamed and screamed as it burned from the inside¡­ Until it was only one voice that was screaming, one Myron knew intimately. A memory surfaced in his mind, one from years ago, an overturned rover, half submerged in an icy lake. Ryan? Then all was silent. Myron opened his eyes to find the dark figure gone. In its place, the limp body of his only son. Even from this distance he could tell. He was up on his feet in a flash, his adrenaline giving his limbs strength they¡¯d been robbed of in the presence of the monster. He¡¯s lost his goggles. The wind whipped at his face carrying his fresh tears with it as he slid to stop, on his knees next to Ryan¡¯s still smoking form. His trembling hands found their way under his boy¡¯s head, and he cradled it on his lap, just as he¡¯d done when Ryan was small. Ryan was larger now, muscular, athletic¡­ and whole. Yes, he was whole again. What few scraps of clothing he wore didn¡¯t hide a large part of his chest that had been replaced with metal unlike anything Myron had seen in his life, but this was most certainly his son. He was different, but this was him. Ryan had come home. ¡°Mr. Kotes, get away from it,¡± White panted. There was a chord of fear in his voice, something Myron didn¡¯t realize the Colony man was capable of before today. Myron shook his head, afraid to look away from his boy lest the System take him from his home again. ¡°It¡¯s Ryan. This is Ryan. He¡¯s come back.¡± White¡¯s breathing was ragged, his body broken in many different places, no doubt causing him a lot of pain, but he looked ready as ever to use the sword he was carrying. ¡°It is a demon. It may look like your son, but it is a demon. Trust me, Myron, please. This is my profession. Get away from it, or I will be forced to-¡± *BLAP* White flopped to the ground, mid-dodge, a look of utter shock on his face as he clutched at the hole in his chest. ¡°You dodge to your left only about a fifth of the time,¡± Myron said, the smoking las-pistol still aimed at the point where he¡¯d just shot. ¡°No one of your caliber has that kind of flaw in their game. Figured you were playing me. Guess I figured right.¡± Myron took aim at the Exotic¡¯s face this time, finger tightening on the trigger. ¡°No one¡¯s taking my son from me.¡± *BLAP* It was Myron¡¯s turn to be shocked. Pale, steely fingers gripped his wrist, forcing his still smoking pistol off target. White, too, stared down at Ryan in surprise. ¡°Dad?¡± Ryan breathed. His voice sounded hoarse like he¡¯d just been screaming loud enough to rupture eardrums, which actually he had. His eyes were barely open, unfocused, but Myron could see a change in them from when they¡¯d last been together. His son¡¯s eyes were the palest of blue, almost white. What had happened to him? ¡°Dad?¡± he asked again. Myron tried and failed to answer twice before he could get a word out. ¡°Y-Yes, son?¡± ¡°No, dad,¡± Ryan rasped. Myron wiped another tear from his eye. ¡°What?¡± Ryan¡¯s words were pained whispers, almost inaudible over the wind. ¡°Not on my account.¡± Realization hit Myron hard. He¡¯d come a hair¡¯s breadth from murder, and his son didn¡¯t want to see him become a killer. Slowly, he relaxed his grip on the pistol and let it fall to the ground. As he did so, he caught White¡¯s gaze oscillating between him and Ryan, wheels turning. ¡°This isn¡¯t a demon,¡± Myron stated on no uncertain terms. ¡°Was,¡± Ryan corrected him hoarsly. ¡°At some point. Tricked them. Brought them inside. Gave the assholes a brightsteel enema.¡± Ryan chuckled darkly, wincing in pain as he did so. White, hesitated, caught mid breath. Whatever thoughts were going on behind his eyes, they were contentious ones. The conflict was plain on his face. ¡°I believe-¡± White began, pausing to cough up a bit of blood and spit it into the dirt. ¡°I believe that this might not be a demon. Not anymore at least. May I approach?¡± Myron looked down at Ryan who gave a weak nod of agreement. White leaned over the two of them, still clutching the hole in his chest and having to clear his throat constantly as blood bubbled up from his insides. ¡°You going to be okay?¡± Ryan asked. White allowed a little smile to pull at the corner of his mouth. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ll be fine, young man. Lots of HP still. We can take a lot of punishment as long as our HP remains, but I assume you know that.¡± Ryan seemed far away for a moment, the ghost of a smile on his face. ¡°If only you knew.¡± White¡¯s smile blossomed into a grin. Then he took out what looked like an old coin from his pocket. ¡°I do know, actually. Ryan, I am going to give you this, then I want you to issue me a challenge. The coin will be the stakes. Do you understand how this works?¡± Ryan nodded. ¡°Good. I won¡¯t accept. Neither of us are in a condition to fight anyway, but the coin is part of the tradition. A challenge displays your level. There is no way to hide it, aside from being far higher in power than your target.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± Ryan replied. ¡°You¡¯re making sure I¡¯m not- You know.¡± ¡°A demon would be of an abnormally high level, yes.¡± Something passed between the two of them, and Mr. White frowned, shaking his head in disbelief. ¡°I don¡¯t understand. This isn¡¯t possible, not after your tutorial.¡± Ryan grimaced. ¡°I¡¯d like to file a complaint. My tutorial sucked.¡± White sat back on his haunches, an almost indignant look on his face, mouthing little arguments to himself that Myron only caught snippets of. ¡°What is it?¡± Myron asked. ¡°Is his level too high?¡± He looked down at the gun, wondering if he¡¯d be able to grab it in time. The Exotic blinked and seemed to finally remember Myron was there still despite bleeding from the bullet wound Myron himself had given him. ¡°No. Not high, Mr. Kotes. Ryan is Level zero.¡± ¡ª-------------------------------------- Ryan Kotes - Level 0 Automator (Unique) Type: Artificer (Common) Core: Engine (Unique) HP: 44/309 MP: 277/277 Attributes: Body: 58 Mind: 51 Spirit: 116 Free attribute points: 0 Abilities Shape 9 (Transmute) Consume 7 (Reservoir) Iron Grip 4 Devouring Grasp (Magivore) 6 Volatility 3+++++ Imbue 4 Trigger 4 Automate 4+ Crystalized Channels 1 Knife in the Dark 24 (Mark, Curse of Obfuscation) Hardened Defense 2 Compartmentalize 3 Tension Step 1 Expanded Channels 2 State Change 4 Skills: Climbing 10(Anchor) Unarmed Combat 6 Running 7 Stealth 17 (Gray Man, Alert) Conduit 9 Split Mind 11 Spear 4 Deception 9 Disguise 3 Sword 8 Pistol 6 Mana Manipulation 4 Jumping 3 Leadership 2 Affinities: Goblinoid F Iron E Steel F Magnesium F Mendau Wood B Limestone E Cobalt E Deep Lead E Nickel E Copper E Pex Oil E Osmium F Prologue - Mark Prologue - Mark A gale howled against the metal of the prison Inspector Mark Nett had called home for the past several weeks, its voice a thousand thousand demons pressed bodily against the walls, their calls entreating him to answer. The arched structure groaned under the strain of it, countless meter wide interlocking plates pressing together to strengthen themselves as the wind battered them over and over. One failure, and Mark imagined the entire prison peeling open and flying off into the void. Needless to say, he hadn¡¯t been sleeping well. They¡¯d offered to put him up in the city, a nice insulated apartment where he could have peace and quiet to do his work, but that wasn¡¯t his way. He had his method, and it didn¡¯t include fancy digs. On paper the assignment seemed easy, not his normal beat but still suited to his skill set. Watch the prisoner, talk to the prisoner, create a profile. Do whatever it took to prove the prisoner¡¯s guilt. In practice, however, it was proving to be a test of his patience. The Inspector¡¯s muscles tensed in anticipation as he sized up his quarry from the shadows of a maintenance catwalk that ran along the upper curve of the hangar turned prison. He always liked to observe from the shadows before picking an avenue of attack, even if he outmatched his opponent in every stat. As if it wanted to give the lie to that thought, the System saw fit to have Stalk tick over once again. Status Gained: Stalk x 6 [+2 Body, +4 Spirit, for 1 hr] That was the sixth time Stalk had multiplied since he¡¯d begun tonight¡¯s activities. The power of the new stat point surged through Mark¡¯s body, filling out his musculature and enhancing his reflexes. The buff was ticking up quickly, which was a bad sign. The disparity between the two of them must have been sizable. He made a mental note of the rate of increase. He¡¯d put it in the file later. Details. Details were the bread and butter of his profession. People were open books if one knew how to read them. Mark was good at people. His files reflected that. The thing down below in the center of the hanger, however, was possibly not a person. It was in the form of a young man, bright yellow against the backdrop of blues and greens of Mark¡¯s Spectral Vision. With a slight flex of his will, he changed the filter slightly until he could see the various obstacles and open spaces around the yellow figure as well, just boxes and barrels from elsewhere in the facility, small enough to be used as weapons but also big enough to hide behind. Mark¡¯s prey did neither. It stood there in the open, turning slowly from side to side as if waiting. Mark activated the magnification part of the Ability, zooming in until the demon took up his entire field of view. The kid was in his late teens according to his file, though Mark wasn¡¯t so sure about that. He certainly looked the part, had the paperwork to prove it too. Good genetics had given him a strong jaw and a generous mouth that matched his father¡¯s and a good portion of his tribe, as if the wind shaped them all into something similar over time. The boy didn¡¯t quite look ready to grow a full beard yet though his brown curls would certainly show up on his face sooner or later. Broad in the shoulders and chest but without that fullness of musculature that came with age and proper nutrition, he was the picture of youth not yet in his prime, and the unsure manner in which the boy approached these little sessions reinforced that impression. Mark even found himself believing it at times, almost slipping into a more familiar role with the kid when they were face to face. Almost believing was as far as Mark had gotten, though. When he found himself slipping, he¡¯d, at some point, get a good look at the kid¡¯s eyes, the brightest of blue, almost iridescent, unworldly and unnatural. That cured all Mark¡¯s doubts. What¡¯s more, the way he looked at you, how he carried himself, had a depth to it, a presence that told you on no uncertain terms you were dealing with¡­ Mark didn¡¯t quite know. Someone significant. Someone who¡¯d seen things regular folks wouldn¡¯t believe. Ryan Kotes, Rogue Exotic, son of Myron and Riley Kotes, carried himself like that, like a remnant of something ancient and terrifying. That¡¯s how Mark knew he was a demon. Status Gained: Stalk x 7 [+3 Body, +4 Spirit, for 1 hr] Orange plumes of heat puffed out of Kotes¡¯ mouth every breath, and there was a foggy haze rising from his shoulders and back, though there was no reason he should have been as strained as he was. Not if he was a real Exotic, at least. He was also hunched slightly, his body angled oddly as if he were- Ah, yes. He was using his metal arm to clutch at his chest. That thing never showed up in Mark¡¯s enhanced vision. The kid must have been in excruciating pain, the way he was standing. A traitorous bout of empathy threatened to overtake Mark, but he fought it down. One more and we¡¯ll call it. Silently, Mark climbed atop the catwalk railings and took hold of the spiderweb of support beams that crisscrossed the roof, and he started climbing. His textured gloves and flexible boots allowed him to skitter lightly up the wall until it turned into the roof, the near vertical position not deterring him in the slightest. The black, armored bodysuit Mark wore, an expensive blend of tech and magic, wrapped the shadows around him so perfectly, almost no one outside of those with sense enhancements could hope to penetrate the shroud. However, Mark was cautious, took his time. By the time he¡¯d reached the apex of the roof, he was directly above Kotes, ready to begin and one point in Body richer. Stalk was being particularly kind tonight. Unauthorized content usage: if you discover this narrative on Amazon, report the violation. He took a deep breath, waited for the kid to turn in an advantageous direction, and let go. Mark activated Slow Fall on the way down, just before hitting the ground 50 meters below. It dampened the impact of his boots on the concrete. Elsewhere in the hangar, Stalk copied what little noise he¡¯d just made and projected it from a randomized selection of the surfaces in the room, muddling perception and distracting his target. Then he crept forward, circling Kotes closer and closer, checking to gauge if the boy had any clue where he was. Stalk rewarded his proximity with more stats. Status Gained: Stalk x 9 [+4 Body, +5 Spirit, for 1 hr] Status Gained: Stalk x 10 [+4 Body, +6 Spirit, for 1 hr] A slight tremor in Mark¡¯s hand was the only indulgence he allowed himself as the stats came on faster and faster. His heart thudded in time with it. If he wasn¡¯t careful he¡¯d be swept away in the euphoric rush of power. No. He had a job to do. Kotes turned his head, obviously hearing something out there, and though his breathing was ragged and sweat matted his hair, he never gave any indication he actually knew where Mark was or that he was even slightly afraid. That was a bad sign. Fear would have been better. For this interrogation to have the intended effect, Kotes would need to fear for his life. Mark slipped the weighted batton out of its loop on his belt and crept forward until he was directly behind his prey. Slowly, carefully, he raised his batton and activated Enervating Strike. The only sound that was made was the woosh of the batton as it cut through the air. Status Gained: Stalk x 11 [+5 Body, +6 Spirit, for 1 hr] Status Gained: Stalk x 12 [+6 Body, +6 Spirit, for 1 hr] The kid was fast. Really fast. Faster than he had any right to be at the unbelievable Level of 0. He flinched and slipped to the side ever so slightly so that Mark¡¯s strike missed the crown of Kotes¡¯ skull and came down on the cold, hard metal of his prosthetic shoulder. There was a spark, and all of Mark¡¯s hair stood on end as the electrical discharge of Enervating Strike found fertile ground in the metal side of Kotes¡¯ body. From there it spread. The kid¡¯s nervous system seized, and Mark heard the telltale *HURK* of the throat muscles tightening as Kotes tried to breath under the effect of electric shock. The air smelled of ozone and crackled with static. Stalk poured on the power, bumping Mark¡¯s Body up another three points! He felt ready to run through a brick wall. He could¡­ Stop. Do your job. Mark followed up with a kick to the back of Kotes¡¯ knees, sending him down to the floor on his face, and he helped matters along with a knee to the back of the kid¡¯s head. A groan escaped Kotes¡¯ mouth. Out of habit, Mark danced out of range of any retaliatory Abilities Kotes might throw his way, a blind haymaker, a kick, but nothing came. He couldn¡¯t stop now. He could finish it, put Kotes on the back foot so hard he¡¯d have to react. Then they could go back to their corners and get some sleep. Mark raised his batton again but hesitated just before committing to the move. Something had changed. Something was wrong. Something was missing. The static. That static was gone. His hair wasn¡¯t standing on end anymore. *TING* A tiny, blue, faceted gem fell to the floor and rolled around Kotes¡¯ face before finally coming to a stop against his shoulder. Mark pressed the attack, springing forward to catch Kotes before whatever trick this was could bear fruit, but the Inspector¡¯s legs buckled as Kotes caught him up in a scissor kick. The two of them went down together, the Rogue Exotic¡¯s unnaturally heavy body pressing down and driving the air from Mark¡¯s lungs. One of his wrists was seized by a grip stronger than any Level 0 should possess. Another second, and he¡¯d have to break his own arm to free himself from the grapple. Using his boosted Body stat, Mark kicked off of the floor, his slighter frame and greater flexibility allowing him to slip out of Kotes¡¯ grapple and flip all the way over the demon¡¯s head and shoulders, reversing the grab. He¡¯d had to give up his baton. That was alright. He could punch a train right now, and it would feel it. *WHAM**WHAM* One, two solid strikes on the back of the kid¡¯s head. The first forced him down to the floor. The second bounced his skull off of the concrete. The scent of blood was in the air. *WHAM* Kotes tried to slip away, but Mark followed. There was no getting away. Not from Mark. The Inspector raised his fist high, his corded muscles tensed like braided cable. Come on. *WHAM* Come on! Do something! *WHAM* Something cracked, either Kote¡¯s skull or the concrete below. It didn¡¯t matter. What mattered was this moment. Show me what you really are! *WHAM* *WHAM* *WHAM* *WHAM* The punches landed like meteors. Under his mask, Mark could feel his lips stretching back to expose his teeth. Suddenly, Kotes lunged once more, but to the side, his hands questing for something Mark couldn¡¯t see. His movements were clumsy, slow, but he wasn¡¯t trying to get away at all. Good. They weren¡¯t done yet. Whatever it was Kotes was looking for, he found it. He rolled over on his back and thrust his prize triumphantly in Mark¡¯s face. A blinding flash of intense heat and light overwhelmed Mark¡¯s Spectral Vision as the blue crystal exploded into white hot motes that were quickly sucked into the kid¡¯s palm. It was Mark¡¯s turn to throw a blind haymaker. His fist came down once more where he remembered Kotes being, but this time, the demon was ready for it with a blocking strike that knocked Mark¡¯s fist offline. *CRACK* This time the floor did give way. Mark felt something snake around his arm, twisting around the elbow and locking it in place. Then those cold black fingers were wrapped around Mark¡¯s throat, their tips pressed against his trachea. The Inspector froze. His heart hammered against his ribs. His breaths came in gasps. This was it. This was what he¡¯d been working for. Too bad he¡¯d have to die for it. The Inspector¡¯s opponent shuddered underneath him, the demon¡¯s chest rising and falling as it¡­ Oh, no. Slowly and with considerable frustration as the moment stretched on, Mark began to realize he was going to live. Was Kotes¡­ laughing? Mark shook his head and cleared the white spots from his vision. The figure below him resolved back into the young man. ¡°Dude! You¡¯re like Batman! That is so cool!¡± The look of elation on Ryan Kotes¡¯ face was frustratingly genuine. Mark¡¯s brows knitted together under his mask. For a long moment, the two of them stared at each other, Kotes¡¯ brown curls stuck to his forehead with sweat and blood, his breathing erratic. He didn¡¯t go for the kill, though. Instead, he looked¡­ better. Calmer despite having just taken a hell of a beating, one that should have killed others his Level. ¡°Thank Constance, you used something with juice. I was afraid I¡¯d have to Consume my own pants,¡± Kotes sighed, releasing his hold on Mark¡¯s throat. Then he gestured invitingly. ¡°Okay, I¡¯m good now. You can do the punching thing again¡­ if you must.¡± Mark blinked. That was the point where the System deemed the encounter to be over. Stalk¡¯s massive bonuses bled out of him like water from a sieve, and then he was just Inspector Mark Nett again, a man with a job to do. Mark scrutinized his quarry¡¯s face, looking for any sign of malice, deception. There was none, but the Inspector¡¯s gut told him he needed to keep digging. Chapter 1 Chapter 1 I was just about to drift off to sleep when the lights in my cell flickered to life again, that harsh white illumination they so loved around here. It was like a sand blaster to my retinas, even through my eyelids. The delicate circuitry in the walls, a copper alloy that liked to twitch slightly when carrying a current, clicked from one circuit to another, and the wiring in the floor hummed as the heating coils came online, bringing the surfaces to a semi-pleasant temperature that almost matched what my body was supposed to run. Why they didn¡¯t keep it running all the time was a mystery, since I was sleeping on the floor and we weren¡¯t exactly hurting for electricity around here. Was this punishment for the bed? Probably. Either that or another test I didn¡¯t have enough PHDs to understand. With a tiny *ting* I could faintly hear through the floor, I sensed one of the coils fail. Oops. I went too far with that one. That part of the floor was going to be cold forever, I guessed. Still, the temperature control directly under me was working fine. Ooh, that felt nice. I wasn¡¯t as affected by the cold as much anymore since I became an Exotic, but that didn¡¯t mean I didn''t enjoy a warm floor like the next guy. Nobody liked laying on a cold metal slab. As had become my routine, I rolled over slowly before getting to my feet, my motions very careful so as not to disturb the work I¡¯d done as I¡¯d ¡®slept.¡¯ The skeletal remains of my bed helped me rise, though it was just a loosely connected framework of hollow plastic bars now, barely able to support itself anymore, much less a whole Exotic with a good fourth of his body replaced by metal. Your sacrifice will be remembered, bed. I¡¯ll write a tearful goodbye when I pen my memoirs. I yawned and shook my head. My sweat-soaked brown curls positively crinkled as I ran my fingers through them, and my hand came away greasy. Ugh. Why do I feel dirtier now than I did roughing it in the woods? I rolled my neck and stretched to get some of the tightness out of my body. Everything was sore and not just from my nightly beatdown either. My HP was maxed at 309, so I was perfectly healthy on paper. My MP was topped off too, though I would have known that even without checking, since I wasn¡¯t currently writhing on the floor. The black, segmented metal of my prosthetic arm clicked and whirred when I flexed my tired appendages as if the mysterious metal passenger also had muscles to stretch, which it did not. At least, I was pretty sure it didn¡¯t have muscles or any other conventional mechanical bits I would recognize. In fact, no one, not even my hosts or any of their experts, seemed to know how it worked. My little room was generally cube shaped with glossy white walls, about big enough to cross in twenty steps. I had a toilet with a built-in sink, a shower that was just holes in the ceiling where water could trickle down and give me a good soak, and what used to be a bed. All the furniture was uniformly built from light materials with lots of clean, white plastics and synthetic polymers that couldn¡¯t be used as a tool or a weapon, which seemed a little unnecessary. I had Spatial Storage, and they knew that. I¡¯d demonstrated it my first day here. Who cared if I could bash someone with a toilet seat when I could just whip out¡­well, whatever from my little pocket dimension at any moment? The plastic furniture burned, though, which had been both a source of frustration from my jailers and a life saver for me. Every time they asked me to spend mana for one of their tests, another piece of my cell got fed to my Engine. Sure it made the place a little less livable every time, but either my ego or my sense of humor saw the visible damage to the decor as a little hint of the real damage I was doing to this place under their noses. Sticking to my routine, I started on some light exercise, some body weight stuff: pushups, situps, jumps, and the like. I didn¡¯t need to do them, per se. My body was a System enhanced magical machine now. I¡¯d probably never need to exercise again. No, I did them because I needed to wake up, and it seemed to complete the prison aesthetic I was going for nowadays. Once my workout was done, I stripped off the remains of my clothes and padded over to the shower, pressing the button and letting the warm water rinse last night¡¯s stale sweat and grime away. ¡°Another bad night, Ryan?¡± a light, female voice asked over the intercom. I didn¡¯t flinch, despite the doc catching me in a state of undress. Not this time. I was trying to be the new me, a less self conscious me, one whose blush reflex wasn¡¯t the fastest and most reliable of his reflexes. Progress was¡­ ongoing. How long had she been watching? Did she wait until I¡¯d stripped to speak up? This has to be another test. It¡¯s always a test. Don¡¯t make it weird Ryan. Play it cool. In answer to her question, I nodded slightly and hoped the water hid my red cheeks. Instead, I watched the water run down into the drain and let the last couple seconds of the shower warm me before it was time to get back to it. I didn¡¯t know this for sure, but I was fairly certain all the water I was using was collected somewhere and examined by people with thick glasses and weird hobbies. I killed the water and reached for a towel¡­ of which there were none. Ah, yes. I¡¯d Consumed those. They were the first things I¡¯d fed to my core once I figured out what was going on with me. In truth, I could have dipped into my little stash of mendau wood stowed away in my pocket dimension to do the job, but I was keeping that little ace up my sleeve. So, towelless, I did my best impression of a dog, shaking myself dry, (again, trying not to think about how that looked to the doc) then decided to go for my last set of plain white pants and matching shirt. No shoes. They¡¯d never given me any shoes. The walls, just like the floor, were flat and the texture of brushed steel, though they were actually some kind of metal I couldn¡¯t identify and hadn¡¯t developed an affinity for yet. It was tough as hell too. I¡¯d been experimenting with scratching the stuff or, barring that, denting it with whatever was to hand, but it had held well to conventional methods. Interesting material. I switched Detect from Copper to Iron, and my perception shifted. The hidden heating coils and circuitry stopped shining brightly in my senses, and suddenly I was getting little sparkling pings from a few different locations within 15 feet of me. It used to be so disorienting to use Detect constantly like this, ¡®seeing¡¯ things without the use of my eyes, but I¡¯d gotten a lot of practice lately. There wasn¡¯t much else to do in my stupid white cube. Detect Iron gave me hits for five people outside of my cell, their hemoglobin at least. They all looked like walking circulatory systems when I viewed them like this, but if I mentally squinted I could almost pretend I was seeing the whole person. The motion from their mouths and lungs told me they were talking among one another, some more calmly than others. The tall, broad one with the slow and steady pulse was Dad for sure. He was characteristically quiet, just watching the others jabber at one another, listening intently with his arms crossed over his chest. I imagined he had that stoic frown under his beard, looking like he was weighing the costs and benefits of smashing something, the way he spent council meetings back home¡­ well, before we lost our home. A little damp but dressed and presentable, I strode over to that side of the room where the figures had gathered and gave dad a little wave followed up with the cross-eyed stare I used to do during meals at home before meals became a separate thing in our house. Dad¡¯s shoulders shuddered as he had a little private chuckle to himself. The others exchanged meaningful glances as their attention settled on me, one of the figures even indulging in a slight shiver, a gesture probably not visible to the others under his clothes, but I picked up on it just fine thanks to Detect. The slim, female figure reached over and keyed something on a pad, and the metallic white of my cell wall dissolved into clear, glasslike opacity. Then the circulatory systems resolved into real people, some familiar, some not. Dad was right in front of me, all solid muscle, thick neck, and black hair. He gave me a little nod from behind the others. There was a newcomer, a stocky clean shaven man with a widow¡¯s peak to end all widow¡¯s peaks and wearing an expensive looking suit. He was currently in close conversation with Inspector Nett, an unassuming, perpetually tired looking man, who wore, along with his usual suspicious scowl, his Colonial Special Police grays with his badge displayed prominently on his chest. I gave him a wave too, which he didn¡¯t return. It was almost like we weren¡¯t friends. Doctor Meechin, a tall, blonde, absolutely stunning specimen of a woman in a white lab coat, looked up from the control pad and scrutinized me like I was a slime mold under a microscope. Again, no indication that she¡¯d just seen me naked, purely professional, colder than cold to an off putting degree. ¡°Thank you for sticking it out as long as you did last night,¡± Dr. Meechin said. ¡°We collected some good data on what¡¯s happening to your body.¡± Her tone was robotic, cool like I mentioned before, but more than that, she had an uncanny intensity and focus to her that was creepy. The look she gave you, despite the rest of her being, aesthetically, what every teenage guy dreamed about, told you on some instinctual level that this wasn¡¯t a being entirely like you. I¡¯d long suspected she was an Exotic like Nett and me, but she¡¯d dodged the question every time I¡¯d posed it. Another press of a button from Dr. Meechin, and the channel was flipped to a wider mic. The well dressed man halted his conversation with Inspector Nett and stepped forward, motioning the others to join him. His voice was rough but slightly higher than I would have guessed. ¡°For the official record: This is Proxis Local Family Representative Dolan Marshal. I¡¯m here with Doctor Beverly Meechin and Chief Inspector Mark Nett. Others present in the room are here at the behest of the subject himself and the Colonial Authority respectively: Myron Kotes, the subject¡¯s father, and Mr. White who requires no introduction.¡± Dad grunted in the barest effort of acknowledgement while Mr. White, who had been leaning on the wall far enough back for me not to pick up with Detect Iron before, gave the barest hint of a nod, his too pale skin and bland features setting him apart from all the more regular folks in the room. Representative Marshal cleared his throat and began in a less-formal-but-still-formal tone. ¡°Ryan, how are we feeling today?¡± I shrugged, turning slightly to call attention to the wrecked bed and the remains of last night¡¯s set of clothes. ¡°Think I¡¯m gonna need turndown service but otherwise peachy.¡± Marshal smiled politely, though it didn¡¯t touch his eyes. Then he spoke to the the rest of the room. ¡°Okay, people. This is an official proceeding. Let¡¯s do this by the book.¡± So today was the day then. Decision day. I swallowed the lump that threatened to form in my throat. ¡°Give me your reports,¡± Rep. Marshal ordered. ¡°Cognitive and verbal tests are above average but not too far off from the mean Chosen range,¡± Dr. Meechin began, stepping up to the glass and reading from her data pad. ¡°Physical and psychological assessments are clean with the exception of a slightly elevated stress response to darkness. This manifests in his vitals, excluding pulse of course. He does not have a conventional heart anymore, so we¡¯ve taken to reading blood oxygen levels instead, which are often elevated. Examination of hair follicles and fingernails say he¡¯s been abroad for 6 months plus or minus ten days.¡± This felt like a trial, but no one explicitly told me I couldn¡¯t speak up. ¡°A plant ate all my hair a couple months in, and I kept getting set on fire. That wouldn¡¯t throw off the estimates, would it?¡± I asked. Dr. Meechin considered briefly then shook her head, but she surreptitiously keyed a couple notes into her pad as her partner stepped in. ¡°That¡¯s six months in what he describes as a category 3 rift event. All that as a Non Combat class,¡± Inspector Nett said, narrowing his eyes suspiciously at me as he spoke. He¡¯d done that every day since my homecoming, when he wasn¡¯t beating the hell out of me, of course. ¡°His Level and his Class don¡¯t match up with the story he¡¯s telling, and his combat assessments put him far above his actual level in capability. Combat assessments. So, that¡¯s what he¡¯s calling them. The man fought like a ninja, a ninja with a taser. Other than testing how much HP he could bash out of me by dawn, I didn¡¯t see what he could possibly be learning from our nightly bouts. Nett continued, scowling all the while. ¡°He won¡¯t divulge the contents of his Status Screen, but far as we can tell, he¡¯s got too many Abilities, at least seven distinct ones that he uses at a moderate proficiency. He¡¯s also got an attack Ability, which shouldn¡¯t be possible as a Non Combat. He¡¯s got a Spatial Storage of unknown volume with God knows what inside. Then there¡¯s his aura. If that¡¯s a Level 0 aura, I¡¯m a prima ballerina.¡± ¡°Last I checked, it¡¯s my right not to divulge my Skills and Abilities¡± I argued for maybe the hundredth time since my arrival. ¡°If you, just for a moment, consider that my story is true, my whole situation matches my Level just fine, and you¡¯ve been torturing me for having a weird tutorial.¡± The Inspector shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m still not buying it.¡± I consciously relaxed the muscles in my jaw to keep my frustration from showing in my voice. ¡°And I¡¯m still not selling anything,¡± I answered. ¡°I¡¯ve been honest, but that doesn¡¯t seem to help things.¡± ¡°Bah,¡± Nett scoffed. ¡°Obfuscation isn¡¯t the same as honesty, and you know that. He¡¯ll talk about his tutorial for hours if you ask him, but ask for the point value of a single Skill and he¡¯s suddenly reminding you of his rights.¡± I looked back at the wrecked bed and flexed my metal fingers. ¡°Well, there¡¯s this one skill¡­ It¡¯s pretty high up there. Handshake.¡± I held up my prosthetic and flexed the fingers dramatically The Inspector¡¯s nostrils flared, and his hands balled up into fists. Was he was still sore about last night? Representative Marshal put up a hand for calm. ¡°Yours is an extraordinary story for sure, Ryan. Please understand that we are going through this process to preserve not just your safety but ours as well¡± he pleaded. ¡°Tell me if this summary is fair. Integrated by the System in the midst of a violent conflict and then transported to your Tutorial only to find the host world in the process of ending. Then you, a Level 0 and a Non Combat classed Chosen to boot, not only escape this endangered world but save it on the way out at great risk to yourself. One might call that¡­ a heroic tale.¡± With every word he spoke, I felt pressure build in my chest, an ache that hadn¡¯t quite left me even though I¡¯d been home for a while. Rep. Marshal had boiled it down to what was relevant to him, of course. I couldn¡¯t fault him for that, but the way he phrased things didn¡¯t at all capture the substance of what happened. In answer, I mumbled something about having help, which was true but not in the way I¡¯d led them to believe. The story I¡¯d told them may have been a little on the dishonest side, emphasizing certain things, downplaying others, almost to the point where I hardly had a hand in saving Ralqir at all aside from bringing the scourge with me and purging them. For a while. I¡¯d considered coming clean, telling them everything, but every time I tried, it felt¡­ obscene. Like the act of sharing Ralqir with total strangers was a betrayal, and putting words to my memories would somehow rob them of their true color. How do you tell a researcher you witnessed the deaths of thousands? How you had your first kiss in the middle of a losing battle? Would you then tell them how much you were hurting? What box would they tick on their little forms that would encapsulate all that? I focused on breathing and worked to relax my body. Don¡¯t. We¡¯re almost out. Just keep it together a little longer.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site. Marshal went on, having realized I wasn¡¯t going to say anything more. ¡°But given the manner of your return, as a very powerful demon according to Mr. White¡¯s report, we have to entertain the idea that your story fits perfectly because it is a ploy.¡± The hollow in my chest got a little colder and heavier. Inspector Nett took that as his cue to pile back on. ¡°It¡¯s suspicious for sure. For a Level 0, he¡¯s unnaturally strong and fast. The few Abilities he¡¯s shown us should tap him out quickly, but they don¡¯t. He¡¯s got a fully formed Core way too early, and to hear him tell it, he¡¯s had it since the jump.¡± Then, in a move I absolutely didn¡¯t see coming, the Inspector said something uncharacteristically helpful: ¡°But, despite all that, I wouldn¡¯t be doing my job if I didn¡¯t tell you I believe that he believes he¡¯s Ryan Kotes. He acts like a young man that¡¯s been through a lot, but he¡¯s got enough sense not to lash out. He¡¯s been downright docile, not how I¡¯d expect a demon to deal with captivity. What that means I¡¯ll leave to you. Could be a deception or a coping mechanism from a hellish experience abroad.¡± Nett pinned me with that stare of his, as if he was taking the entirety of me in and running the numbers one more time. He didn¡¯t expound further, though. ¡°On the subject of his Core, It¡¯s a true mystery,¡± Dr. Meechin looked almost excited for this part, tapping on her data pad and scrolling through her notes. ¡°Scans so far have revealed nothing. Material analysis has similarly been fruitless. We¡¯ve decided to attack the problem from a different angle while we get more equipment printed. If we could speak with the one named Barrow from Ryan¡¯s story that would-¡± Marshal cut across her words. ¡°Ah, yes. This Barrow person. I am not personally familiar with him, nor do we have any records of a Chosen with that name. I believe he has featured prominently in your past retellings, Ryan.¡± I blinked, feeling like I¡¯d just been hit between the eyes. ¡°What? Nothing?¡± I gaped. ¡°He was-¡± He¡¯d been a terror for the Outers for months before the Clan decided to flee to the city. He¡¯d killed people, burned down homes. He had a whole reaver gang at his beck and call. How was there no record of him? I tried to catch Dad¡¯s eye, but his poker face was excellent. Detect Iron told me he was fuming, though. His heart was going fast, and he was probably suffering from a blood pressure headache judging by the veins up there. ¡°Nothing,¡± the Inspector echoed. ¡°We¡¯ve scoured the public archives, jump logs, military records, prison guest lists¡­ everything. No Chosen named Barrow or any aliases that match to anyone living or dead.¡± ¡°However he got it, his Core is nearly impervious to standard tests,¡± Meechin said. ¡°It fits the story, but I have no hard facts. The metal is a black hole as far as scans are concerned. We need more specialized tools and more time.¡± What? Did she want to rent a mining laser or something? They¡¯d tried everything to crack that nut, but my arm remained impervious to damage. ¡°Dr. Meechin also says that you¡¯re having issues spending mana,¡± Marshal said, shifting the topic. ¡°I didn¡¯t say that, actually,¡± Meechin corrected. ¡°I said he is experiencing prolonged anti-regenerative episodes with acute-¡± Yeah. If not for that little problem, I might have decided to end my captivity much sooner. I cleared my throat uncomfortably. They were talking about one of the only Abilities I¡¯d been truly open about since I¡¯d noticed it. It had replaced Tempered Channels on my Status Screen at some point, and I was, to say the least, concerned. Crystalized Channels: By channeling the chaos of the void and the opposing elemental power of the maelstrom through your body, your essence has been forged anew. Your mana pathways are crystalized. Sensitivity to and control of foreign mana types severely decreased. Strength and control of personal mana type increased to a mythical degree. Personal mana type altered. Immune to all sources of void corruption. This asshole was the bane of my existence, an uninvited guest that wormed its way into my Status Screen and decided to be a diva. My mana channels were now a hostile environment to anything that wasn¡¯t ¡®me¡¯ flavored, and any time the System tried to feed me mana, Crystalized Channels let me know it. Essentially, any time my mana dipped below max level, I would suddenly feel like I was about to give birth to a thousand baby suns through my stomach. It was some of the worst pain I¡¯d ever experienced, and this was coming from a guy that set himself on fire voluntarily multiple times. ¡°I can spend it just fine, Representative Marshal. I just can¡¯t get it back,¡± I said, stepping on the long, clinical explanation the doc was giving. ¡°My Core is the only way I can top myself off.¡± The Doctor frowned. ¡°That¡¯s more or less what I said. We¡¯re calling it Kotes Syndrome.¡± I winced, both shocked and disturbed. ¡°I- uh- get my own disease?¡± Meechin smiled a smile that would have been radiant on anyone else, but because it was her, it was just spooky. ¡°It¡¯s a tentative moniker that we will put in our papers if we can¡¯t find a case that precedes yours.¡± Hurray. My own disease. Inspector Nett jammed an accusing finger at something over my shoulder. ¡°You¡¯ve been eating your bed again. The doc told you to ride this one out till morning, so we could gather data. If you cooperated, we could be done with this by now.¡± Dad chose that moment to enter the conversation. ¡±Speaking of being done with this. This is all bullshit,¡± he said in that folksy baritone he reserved for non-kinfolk, ¡®city people¡¯ he would call them. The three Exotics turned around, finally remembering that the Constance Clan headman was in the room too. ¡°Ryan¡¯s been cooperating exactly as much as any other Chosen would have,¡± Dad continued. ¡°In fact, I¡¯d say he¡¯s been damned accommodating considering you¡¯re stretching the law to keep him here.¡± Rep. Marshal¡¯s eyebrows knitted together as he seemed to struggle to remember Dad¡¯s name. Then he steepled his fingers and spoke for all of them. ¡°Mr. Kotes, while I appreciate your input, we can, in fact, hold him for as long as we deem it appropriate. Demonic possession of any Chosen, even those as low level as your son, is a serious matter and requires extraordinary actions that we are well within our rights to perform. No case of possession has ever gone into remission before.¡± Dad didn¡¯t back down. ¡°Because it¡¯s not remission. ¡®Remission¡¯ implies the threat is still there, and the evidence doesn¡¯t suggest that. Ain¡¯t nobody ever heard of a half demon. He either is one or he¡¯s not. Legally, maybe you had a right to quarantine him after he got back and cured himself, but that law is meant to deal with pathogens. The window is something like ten days, and by my count you¡¯ve had him considerably longer than that. You¡¯re violating the law every second he¡¯s in there.¡± While Marshal and the Inspector seemed to react badly to being called out for possibly unethical behavior, the doctor didn¡¯t seem to have that reflex, cutting across the others¡¯ objections to give the facts without regard for the temperature in the room. ¡°Demonic possession is, thus far, unlikely given the data we¡¯ve collected. Brain activity indicates that he is not experiencing abnormal mental stimulation or psychic tampering outside of normal testing parameters. That doesn¡¯t mean we can¡¯t still learn from him.¡± Wait, were they psychically tampering with me as part of the tests? Not okay. Marshal gave the good Doctor a withering look that she didn¡¯t even seem to notice. ¡°Mr. Kotes is correct that there has never been a case of demonic possession where the subject was lucid for so long, but we have also never had one in captivity,¡± Meechin beamed at me as she got the part about having her own demon lab monkey. I couldn¡¯t hold her gaze. It was way too¡­ excited. ¡°You¡¯re well informed on Chosen affairs, Mr. Kotes, the public ones at least,¡± Marshal acknowledged. ¡°But you are human, and most accounts of possession are not likely in your history books. It might surprise you to find out that Chosen matters are often kept in house, so that we don¡¯t cause a panic when we have to police one of our own. Given the nature of our existence, precedent is often overturned when new circumstances arise. Ryan¡¯s circumstance is one of those times.¡± He sighed then, an exaggerated thing that I was pretty sure was fake. ¡°After hearing from our experts here, I have to agree that his freedom will be delayed once more. The next hearing will be-¡± I opened my mouth to object. They did that in trials, right? However, our silent partner did the talking for me. ¡°You¡¯re right, Family Representative Marshal. Despite his being human, Mr. Kotes is well informed,¡± White said from the back of the group where he¡¯d been watching the proceedings silently. Apparently, we¡¯d all forgotten he was there. ¡°And while he probably can¡¯t cite the specific law from the books, he has the spirit of them down just fine. You cannot legally hold Ryan any longer. He speaks clearly. He has not hurt anyone aside from myself, and he is showing no sign of outside influence or psychosis.¡± Marshal seemed taken aback at White¡¯s opinion. ¡°Mr. White, of all the people here, I didn¡¯t expect you to object to the cautious approach. It¡¯s my people¡¯s safety weighed against the boy¡¯s temporary internment. If he is free of demonic influence, his time here will be a blip on a long and productive life.¡± The Representative paused to look to the other two for support, who seemed to be in ready agreement. Nett would be in favor of holding me until the heat death of the universe. His suspicion was a given. The Doc was probably looking forward to more microscope time before releasing me into the wild, while my rights and my freedom were more obstacles in the way of that than an inviolable law. ¡°No. I do not believe you can do more without crossing the line from medical research to torture.¡± White began to tap his chin theatrically. ¡°Perhaps what¡¯s needed isn¡¯t time in a lab.¡± Marshal made an emphatic motion with his hand. ¡°We can¡¯t just turn him out. He¡¯s a Rogue with a unique class. Who would mentor him? No one¡¯s ever heard of an Automator.¡± White raised an eyebrow. ¡°All true, but if his story is real, there is not much a mentor can teach him anyway. He has already experienced more of Exotic life than Rogues even 10 Levels his senior.¡± ¡°Someone has to watch him,¡± Nett insisted. ¡°I still think he¡¯s possessed, but even if you entertain the idea that he¡¯s not, every Rogue needs someone there to show them the ropes. On his own the Families will eat him alive as soon as word of his existence reaches them.¡± A little self-satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of White¡¯s mouth. ¡°Indeed. That¡¯s why I propose we send him to Sabium.¡± I blinked as my mind ran a blank on that subject. ¡°Sabium? What¡¯s Sabium?¡± I asked, but the others ignored me. Whatever Sabium was, it got a major reaction from Marshal and Nett. Marshal seemed taken aback, outrage at war with disbelief on his face. ¡°Sabium? That¡¯s for¡­ Legacies, Mr. White, people born to this life and well placed besides. Even in the best of circumstances, Rogues would be set up to fail in that place, and failure means death or worse. Even just on a knowledge basis, he¡¯s far behind what the others would be, not to mention training.¡± Dad spoke up again. ¡°Mr. White, I¡¯d like to lodge a formal complaint. The CA will want to hear about the blatant disregard for a new Chosen¡¯s rights. Proxis used to value the law. The Marshal Family most of all.¡± The Inspector had a different reaction. He¡¯d turned to face White almost like he was getting ready to fight him, while casting the briefest of glances over his shoulder at me, his expression twisted in emotion I¡¯d not seen from him before. It was subtle, but it was there: Fear. Not of me, though. He stepped between me and White almost protectively. ¡°I¡¯m definitely arguing for locking him up as a demon and maybe learning something from him, but this is- You know what¡¯s in Sabium. You want to send him right into the goddamned lion¡¯s den? He may not be showing signs here at the ass end of space, but if he¡¯s got any scourge in him he¡¯ll turn in a week. Then they¡¯ll have to put him down.¡± ¡°Exactly,¡± Marshal agreed emphatically. ¡°You¡¯re turning a temporary internment into a potential end to a new Chosen¡¯s life. Sabium would, more than likely, be the death of him. For his benefit and humanity as a whole, he stays here,¡± Marshal declared with what he probably meant to be finality. Then, realization seemed to strike him, visibly, like he¡¯d just been slapped. ¡°You¡¯re doing this officially¡­¡± he gasped. ¡°I am,¡± Mr. White affirmed. ¡°I am invoking the Colonial Authority¡¯s right to our spot in the next class.¡± ¡°Hey!¡± I shouted, my voice going an octave higher. ¡°Former demon here. What the hell is Sabium?¡± White leaned over to look past Marshal¡¯s shoulder at me. ¡°You¡¯re leaving. Today.¡± I narrowed my eyes at him. Just like that, huh? I¡¯d been working my way toward freedom since the time I¡¯d gotten here, first through cooperation and cordiality, then through other means. I wanted my freedom. No, I needed it. I needed space, sky above my head, time to think without being on the run or fighting or under a microscope. I¡¯d earned that much hadn¡¯t I? Despite White¡¯s word choice, I didn¡¯t get the feeling I was receiving my freedom. Not today. 2 of 2 Prerequisites met¡­ New Quest: Homecoming Homecoming: Protect the innocent. Preserve humanity. Accept? Y/N The quest box popped into my vision as I was about to tell Mr. White just how much I loved my decisions being made for me. Really? Et tu, System? That¡¯s not fair. ¡°We don¡¯t know what he¡¯s capable of, White,¡± Nett said. He wasn¡¯t quite done saying his piece, I guessed. ¡°Put him in with a bunch of innocents, and it could be a bloodbath. Thank goodness he¡¯s in there, so we can make sure before sending him among the sheep.¡± What did the System mean by ¡®preserve humanity?¡¯ Why now and not weeks ago when I first arrived? There was lots of humanity to be preserved then too, I was sure. I took a calming breath, pushing down that tense, foreboding feeling and locking it away. I¡¯d feel like an asshole if I said No, wouldn¡¯t I? Quest updated: Homecoming Homecoming: Travel to Sabium Constance preserve me! Mother fu- Not only was I being railroaded, but the System was in on it too. Any hope of being a free range Exotic in the near future went up in a cloud of System patented rainbow smoke. An absolutely filthy stream of profanity flooded my mental space for the span of five seconds. Then, I was done. I was done here. Done being meek about it too. I cleared my throat, interrupting an angry diatribe from Inspector Nett about how my freedom was all risk and no benefit, and suddenly every face was turned toward me. ¡°Listen. You can¡¯t keep me here.¡± Screw it. I wanted them to know. Marshal held up a hand forestalling my objection. ¡°I know it feels unfair, Ryan. Just try to see it from our perspective.¡± ¡°No, I get it,¡± I insisted. ¡°But you literally can¡¯t keep me here. If I really did want to hurt anyone, I would just¡­ well, I just would have already.¡± Marshal looked dubious. ¡°Maybe that is true, but we can¡¯t go on your word alone.¡± I sucked air through my teeth, set my jaw, then reached forward until I was touching the window. Fine. Here¡¯s your proof. Shape [22 MP/sec] My mana flowed from my hand, pouring into the metal, expanding and interweaving with the matter until it reached saturation. Then I was the window, or the window was a part of me. I knew it like I knew myself. I sensed the nanometer thin connections between the cuts, the ones I¡¯d left connected to the whole, just enough to carry a current, which I¡¯d figured out was how the stuff switched from opaque to transparent on demand. All it took was a tiny shift, a few molecules taken from here and put over here with Shape. Remarkably easy work now that my mana was juiced up and flowing through Crystalized Channels, a far cry from the herculean effort I used to have to expend. *CRACK* In an instant, the window became a solid wall again, except this time the smooth, unbroken surface was no longer either of those things. Tiny hairline grooves in a repeating square pattern ran up and down the wall, like a toddler had built the place out of toy blocks. Then I gave the wall a little push. You have created: Simple Metal Cube x 388 Experience rate 0/min. [388 base, -388 class restriction: hand crafting] Damnit. I wanted that experience, and there was that new verbiage from the System again. Experience rate. The Automator class was yet another thing holding me hostage. Automator: A unique fusion of *^&^&@#, @!@!@!?, and the Animator class, the Automator is a powerful engine of change. A one man industrial sector. A planet devouring terror. A savior. They are all of these things, depending on the type of Chosen they wish to be. This power has come at a price. Unique class restrictions have been applied. The wall bowed in the middle then collapsed in a cascading waterfall of tiny white metal cubes. In the confined space, the sound was deafening, ball-bearings-in-a-paint-mixer deafening. The crumbling structure revealed the astonished faces of my captors a tiny bite at a time. The doc was typing in her notepad blindly, mouth open in a look of wonder. The Inspector looked nearly ready to burst a blood vessel. He had his hand up to his ear, his mouth moving as he spoke to someone on the other end of his comms. Once the majority of the cubes were on the floor, and the room was back to stunned silence, I spoke again, putting force into every word. ¡°I¡¯m not a demon.¡± Then the pain came on, a sudden volcanic eruption in my stomach that cascaded through my mana channels until my entire body was burning up from the inside. My breathing grew rapid and sweat beaded on my forehead. I had to fight not to curl up into a ball and lose myself to the agony. My mind was still working though. The pain hadn¡¯t gotten debilitating yet. I fumbled for the sleeve of my shirt and activated Consume, reducing the fabric to glowing orange embers that spiralled into my fist and fed my Core. Status gained: Engine [4 MP/sec for 20 sec] Knowledge gained of material: Synthweave [21/50] Immediately, the pain started to lessen, It¡¯s going to be okay. Breathe. The burning sensation battered at my mental walls, threatening to overwhelm my mind. I rode it out, forcing my body to slow down and let the problem sort itself out, not that I had a choice. Hold on. When I finally reached 284 of 284, only a handful of seconds later, I felt like I¡¯d just been pulled out of a furnace. Marshal was looking at me like I¡¯d grown three heads. ¡°As the Inspector said, we don¡¯t know what he can do,¡± he insisted, his voice strained. At some point he¡¯d put his back up against the opposite wall, as far from me as possible. ¡°That containment cell was well made. The amount of mana required to break it-¡± He trailed off, leaving the rest unspoken. ¡°True,¡± I agreed. My voice was tight still, a side effect of just having to go through hell just to use an Ability. ¡°Slow going, too. The point is that I¡¯ve been out for a while, but I stayed anyway.¡± White¡¯s face contorted in a too-wide, predatory grin, showing far too many of his bleach colored teeth. Then he clapped his hands and started to rub them together excitedly. ¡°Shall we draw up the release forms then?¡± Chapter 2 Chapter 2 Nett wouldn¡¯t stop staring at me like I was a rabid animal, while Marshal looked like he wanted to swallow his tongue. I didn¡¯t care, though. On a different day I would have, but this was as close to being out as I¡¯d come in the past¡­ How long had it been? Weeks? Months? I¡¯d tried to stick it out, but now that they were showing me the door, I was stepping through it, even if I had to widen it a little on the way out. I¡¯d really come to hate cages. They wouldn¡¯t begrudge me a couple souvenirs¡­ Transfer to Spatial Storage? Y/N Transfer to Spatial Storage? Y/N Transfer to Spatial Storage? Y/N I crouched down and, one by one, the piled cubes of mystery metal went into my pocket dimension as fast as I could answer the prompts. So pretty. Whoever decided to make you into a prison had a sick sense of humor. As I sort of robbed the place, I finally relaxed the mental muscle I¡¯d been using to restrain my aura, and a couple Exotic faces went a shade paler. Dr. Meechin seemed fine, though. She was busy recording me with her data pad and mumbling notes to herself as she observed from behind the others. ¡°You¡¯ve been trying to escape this whole time,¡± Nett accused, his voice all quiet fury. ¡°It was all an act, wasn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°I¡¯ve been as truthful as I can be with you, Inspector, but my patience has its limits. Every time I saw an actual person, they were there to poke me, interrogate me, or-¡± I paused to give him a hard stare. ¡°-Assess me. You didn¡¯t expect me to be on board with that forever, did you?¡± I held up one of the little cubes and turned it over in my hand. It was lighter than I thought it would have been, and it had a slight luster to it, a pearlescence that brought my mind to the inside of mollusk shells. ¡°It could have been over any time if you¡¯d have just come clean,¡± Nett fumed. ¡°I just did, you dick! I could have been out this whole time, but I stayed! I let you have weeks¡­ weeks?¡± I looked at Dad for confirmation, and he gave me a slight nod. ¡°Right! Weeks of my life! I sat here in your stupid metal cube and let you stomp all over me, because I thought maybe you could help me!¡± Somehow, I¡¯d crossed the room and was in the Inspector¡¯s face, shouting. But you weren¡¯t out to help me, were you, Inspector? I couldn¡¯t bring myself to say the words, not because I didn¡¯t want to, but because if I did, I might betray just how desperately I wanted that help. For Constance¡¯s sake, I didn¡¯t know what I was doing, and I had no one I could trust to just¡­ tell me. Inspector Nett shook his head, staring into my eyes with his mouth in a tight line. He looked like he wanted to say more too, but he chose to leave, instead, quickly. After that, it was all over but the crying. Well, no one was actually crying, but Marshal looked stressed as hell as he and White talked quietly in the corner of the observation room. I saw him reach up to the tip of his ear to key his comms implant a couple times, but he and White¡¯s conversation never got to a level I could hear over how awesome these cubes were. What are you? We¡¯re gonna unlock your affinity first thing. I got maybe half of the wall into my Spatial Storage before everything was finally in order. Then Dad, White, and I found ourselves at the bottom of a ramp that had been wheeled into place to allow access to the containment cube thing they¡¯d been holding me in. This was my first time seeing this place fully lit since Nett liked to fight in the dark. We were in a hangar or something close to it, more serious looking than the ones I¡¯d ever been inside. It was cavernous and utilitarian, painted in Colonial Authority gray and brown. Little flex beams meant to absorb shock stitched their ways up the segmented walls which curved up and over our heads to preserve the structure during Proxis 3¡¯s prodigious wind storms. My cell, such as it was, a white cube, hung in the center of it all suspended on thick cables. Why they chose this particular setup to hold me, I had no idea. Everything seemed better now that I was a free-ish man. I reveled in the scent of honest to Constance unfiltered air, wind blown dust, oil, and exhaust. The sound of people and machines being moved around echoed off the walls and brought my mind back to the machine yard back home. The big hexagonal metal wall segments flexed and groaned against one another, as a gale passed outside and pinged the building with airborne rocks. Hot damn I missed that sound. Trix would have- I quashed that thought before it fully formed. I¡¯d open up that wound when I was good and ready. Now wasn¡¯t the time with so many watchful eyes. And there were lots. Someone, at some point, had called the military. In a rough circle around my cell were uniformed CRF, some on the ground and posted behind what looked like hastily constructed sandbag barriers. Other soldiers were on the catwalks up above, along the apex of the hangar, their high powered, precision rifles resting on pintle mounts that could be swivelled anywhere but mostly pointed in my general direction. I gave them a little wave¡­ slowly¡­ non threateningly. The gesture wasn¡¯t returned. The soldiers all watched me intently through their visored helmets, their faces unable to be read as anything other than ¡®ready.¡¯ I did my best human impression as I picked my way between them, following Dad and White. No one shot me, so I guessed I was fairly convincing. The quiet was getting to me. ¡°So, what are we-¡± ¡°Not now,¡± Mr. White cut me off harshly before switching to a quieter volume. ¡°What matters right now is speed. We need to get you off planet.¡± ¡°Off planet?¡± Dad and I exclaimed at the same time. In answer, White gave us a disappointed look, followed by a quick scan of all the CRF currently watching us. This wasn¡¯t a subject to be broached in mixed company, I guessed. White only spoke again once we were all the way to the back of the building and through the airlock doors. ¡°Get your things and keep moving. Seconds count,¡± White continued as the doors hissed closed. Dad went right to one of the lockers against the wall and grabbed a pair of goggles and a jacket, shiny, like they could have been in their packages a moment ago. Unfortunately, the jacket was too small by about a handspan in the sleeves and uncomfortably tight in the shoulders. I gave Dad a little grin and posed. I looked like I¡¯d stolen a kids¡¯ jacket off the rack. ¡°Guess it came prewashed,¡± I smirked Dad wasn¡¯t amused. ¡°You¡¯re too old for growth spurts,¡± he growed. Then he handed me a well worn black synthetic leather replacement with crash reinforcement in the elbows, chest and back meant for hoverbike rides out in the elements. He¡¯d had this thing for pretty much my entire life and wore it almost every day. I wasn¡¯t about to take his jacket. ¡°No, Dad. I¡¯m fine- Hey! Wait!,¡± I said as I tried to hand it back, but Dad had already slapped the door release and the wind drowned out whatever protests I had. He just looked at me that way Dads looked at their sons when they weren¡¯t in the mood to argue. So, I slipped into Dad¡¯s jacket and was shocked to find that it fit. How about that? One step outside, and we were plunged into the stinging wind. I was expecting that. However, what I¡¯d not readied myself for was the sun. I felt the warmth on my face immediately, delicious, golden, and beautiful. If I had a heart it would have skipped a beat. It was a funny thing to be surprised by. I mean, who in their right mind forgets that the sun is a thing? Someone that had just spent six months in the perpetual gloom of Ralqir, that¡¯s who. I hadn¡¯t realized how much I¡¯d missed sunlight. Proxis 3 was in the middle of spring, slightly chilly, the clear blue sky showing the hazy outline of Proxis 2, the gas giant we spent our lives orbiting, peaking just over the horizon. The morning light shone off a landscape of gold banded rock and hardy scrub brush taking refuge in their shadows. Overhead, a formation of flat bottomed, military hover ships, banked away from us and started a lazy circle around our location, their directional thrusters flaring to full as they fought the wind. The paved lot where we¡¯d come out was full of gray brown military vehicles, the light skimmer kind with squat frames and angular armor bolted to upscaled hover-platforms. One such hover vehicle waited for us, its engine running with the uniformed CRF pilot leaning against the open hatch. As we approached, I could feel the weird vibrating itch in my teeth from the active stilling fields. ¡°Can I offer you gentlemen a lift?¡± the pilot asked through the voice amp on his flight helmet. He gestured invitingly toward the door. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. A thrill passed through me. This was the closest I¡¯d ever gotten to one of these. I was a bumpkin mechanic, all tractors, rovers, and hand tools. This was two full tiers of awesome ahead of anything I¡¯d ever touched. White was right there to burst my bubble though. ¡°No, thank you. We have our own ride,¡± he replied tersely, just loud enough to be heard, already stepping past the pilot and around the skimmer. I tried not to let my disappointment show as I followed. I leaned over until I had my lips right up to Dad¡¯s ear to be heard over the wind. ¡°Got a second?¡± I asked. Dad took my cue and slowed down a bit until we had some distance between the two of us and Mr. White. Then, in Outers fashion, I lowered my voice but made sure he could see my lips when we talked. ¡°Do you trust him?¡± I asked, overenunciating so he could read my lips. Dad shrugged. ¡°I understand him, I think. If he says we have to hurry, we should.¡± ¡°And he¡¯s not screwing us over?¡± I couldn¡¯t see Dad¡¯s eyes behind the protective goggles, but his worried frown communicated enough. ¡°Maybe. He got you out, though.¡± Past the lines of precisely parked military vehicles, White led us to a rough looking civilian model rover, a four seater with old fashioned rock scaler tires instead of a hover platform. Our driver was already waiting in the cab, a stocky woman with tanned skin and very defined muscles on her tattooed arms. She was reading a book, her stubby fingers running over the words slowly as she mouthed them to herself. The act wouldn¡¯t have been out of place on Ralqir,(I was doing that a lot lately, comparing things to Ralqir. I needed to stop that.) but, here, having a real book made out of real paper set her apart as someone extremely wealthy or¡­ Another Exotic. ¡°Ryan, this is Wing,¡± White told me from the front passenger seat. Wing didn¡¯t respond right away. She let her finger trace all the way to the end of a long paragraph she was working through then sighed and dog-eared the page. I took a peek at the front. There was a man on the cover with red skin and yellow eyes, his shirt open and exposing impressive pecs. To his side, a petite brunette looked up at him adoringly. The Dragon Who Slayed Me. Then Wing turned around to give me a perfunctory once over, the picture of unimpressed. ¡°Good to meet you, younger Kotes.¡± ¡°If you¡¯re quite done, we need to be away quickly,¡± White said impatiently. ¡°Was at a stopping point anyway,¡± Wing replied business-like, already working the controls in fluid, practiced motions, booting the electronics and kicking the machine into drive. The gears ground together briefly in a way that made the mechanic inside of me cringe. Then we were off, the rover suddenly tearing out of its spot and skidding through a turn that brought us in line with the exit to the lot, only missing other vehicles by inches. The torque forced us all back in our seats as Wing accelerated onto a wide road that ran between two lines of thruster-scorched launch pads. The way Wing handled the vehicle was¡­ forceful. She seemed allergic to gentle maneuvers, straining the rover to its limits with every turn, her foot never actually leaving the accelerator. We practically blew through the open checkpoint where CRF soldiers had to scramble out of the way to let us pass. As we sped by, White simply pressed some kind of data plate up against the window. Then we were on the open road, and I noticed something. In the distance loomed a sight I hadn¡¯t seen since we¡­ Since I was a kid. It was Proxis¡¯ capital city, all towering skyscrapers and flashing lights. It was a towering forest of pointed highrises that seemed to grow around and out of each other like a cluster of crystalized humanity that had somehow burst out of the rocky crust of this dustball of a planet. Stacks upon stacks of people, so many you could never possibly meet them all, lived their lives in that city, on the very spot our ancestors made landfall We were coming at it from the west, it seemed, with the half risen sun casting us in the city''s shadow. Tiny flickering lights danced in the sky on the tips of whip towers that caught the wind and converted it into electricity. Rows and rows of them stretched off into the distance and over the horizon in what I knew were concentric circles around the city with more layers being built every year. As I watched, invisible gusts of air blew through the generators like blades of grass in a prairie. On a day like today the massive underground battery banks would be fat with stored energy ready to be burned through as the city went about its day. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize we were so close,¡± I said, breathless. ¡°Colonials think the whole world revolves around their city,¡± Dad replied sourly. ¡°Why build an airbase anywhere else?¡± ¡°And, generally, we are unable to take demons alive, so there hasn¡¯t been much need for a prison such as yours,¡± White added. ¡°Honestly, it was impressive what the Marshal¡¯s came up with on such a short notice.¡± Well, you didn¡¯t have to live in it, buddy. ¡°So, what¡¯s the hurry?¡± I finally asked now that we were out of earshot of the CRF. ¡°We need to get you off planet, Ryan,¡± White said. ¡°And we need to do it now.¡± My shoulder slammed hard into the rover¡¯s window as Wing took a hard right onto another road. ¡°Ow. So I gathered, but why?¡± ¡°I have invoked my right to send a candidate to Sabium. That has secured your freedom for now, but we are relying on very old law. In fact, I was surprised Dolan Marshal even knew of its existence. I was prepared to cite the code if I had to,¡± White explained, looking out of the rover¡¯s window to watch the skies. Did he expect the military to follow us or something? ¡°Unfortunately. If Dolan knows the code, he¡¯ll know how to counter me. That is the hurry.¡± ¡°So that wasn¡¯t a ploy? You really plan to send Ryan off world?¡± Dad asked, his tone bordering on dangerous. ¡°You were just supposed to be a character witness, White.¡± The rover took another turn, shifting the view of the city until it was on our left. My body slammed into the side of the rover again, hard enough that I lost a singular point of HP. I reached over to finally put on my straps, doing my level best to ignore how they felt against my skin. I tried not to imagine hanging from them- Breathe. Breathe. Wing grunted. ¡°Sorry, people, Just crosswind. Hate tidally locked planets.¡± ¡°White, say something. The plan was for a character reference,¡± Dad repeated. His hands were clenched into angry fists. ¡°Oh, I would say sending him to the most prestigious school in the galaxy for new Chosen is quite a character reference.¡± Dad gave the back of White¡¯s head a look that said he wouldn¡¯t mind shooting him again. ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant and you know it. I¡¯ve held off until now, but I¡¯m gonna need some explanation.¡± ¡°For one, Mr. Kotes, I believe it was the only way to secure Ryan¡¯s release. That became clear during the hearing.¡± ¡°They did seem keen on keeping me locked up,¡± I observed. ¡°Your little stunt with the wall didn¡¯t really do much to calm their fears either,¡± Dad chastised. I made a rude noise with my mouth. ¡°If that little display freaked them out, just wait till they see what I¡¯d been doing to the floor. Besides, I wasn¡¯t going to sit around and leave my fate up to those people. Nett¡¯s a paranoid asshole, and the doc would dissect me if they¡¯d let her. I wasn¡¯t about to bet my life on them just letting me walk.¡± Dad pointed an accusatory finger at the demon hunter in the front seat. ¡°He was going to step in and tell them about a Brand or some such thing, and that was going to put the whole thing to bed. Then he pulled this shit.¡± ¡°A brand?¡± I asked. ¡°What brand?¡± This time, White turned around and gave me a pitying smile. ¡°You¡¯re a demon slayer, like me. Branded. And you¡¯re right, Myron. I was going to do that, but an opportunity presented itself that I had to take. I didn¡¯t have time to consult you. The important thing is that Ryan is free.¡± ¡°Bullshit,¡± Dad growled. ¡°You went off script because you¡¯ve found a way to use this.¡± I nodded, finally willing to acknowledge that old familiar feeling, the feeling of being railroaded. ¡°Thanks for everything, Mr. White, but I¡¯m kind of getting a ¡®prison transfer¡¯ vibe from all this. You use the word ¡®free,¡¯ but I don¡¯t think that word means what you think it means.¡± White shrugged, not bothering to deny the accusation. ¡°An expeditious prison transfer, I suppose, but one with tremendous benefits,¡± he acknowledged. ¡°As for why I did what I did: I found Representative Marshal¡¯s desire to keep you interesting. The Marshals should be more than ready to be rid of you and pass you along to the CA for study or release, which I believed he would do. From there I could have simply pulled rank and freed you. However, he made a play I didn¡¯t expect. Of all the experts Dolan could have assigned to your case, he brought in two specialists that were almost guaranteed to remand you.¡± ¡°I did get the subtle feeling the odds were stacked against me,¡± I agreed wryly. ¡°Quite so, and for fine and legitimate reasons, I might add,¡± White mused. ¡°Both Meechin and Nett¡¯s records are impressive but also predictable. The problem was their assignment to your case in the first place. It¡¯s far out of character for the Marshal Family to go outside of their house for local matters, especially Rogues born in their backyard, but they went even further and brought on Colonial Chosen like those two.¡± Dad worked it out before I did. He rubbed his beard thoughtfully as he spoke. ¡°Think what he¡¯s saying is that the Family going out of their way to reach out to the CA is weird, like they¡¯re trying to lend legitimacy to something crooked. It wouldn¡¯t stand up to heavy scrutiny, but it would at least slip you under the radar for a time.¡± ¡°A very adept assessment. It would have looked good on paper, but they hadn¡¯t counted on me being in the room and sympathetic,¡± White replied, looking rather impressed. ¡°You¡¯re beyond your years, Myron. You¡¯d do well playing Family politics.¡± The Outers Headman just huffed in reply. I shook my head in disbelief. ¡°So, Marshal has an ulterior motive for keeping me locked up? Was the demon thing not enough?¡± ¡°I believe so, and unless I miss my guess, we have about an hour left to get you off planet before he counters me. Your release was slow walked, I¡¯m afraid, and we¡¯re working on a pessimistic time table.¡± The wheels in my head started grinding together. The Marshals pretty much owned Proxis 3, being the only Exotic bloodline that had successfully taken root here. Why couldn¡¯t they just do what they wanted? White seemed to pick up on my confusion. ¡°They need an official order from Central. To get it, they¡¯ll have sent a very high Level courier through the jump point the moment I invoked my authority. Once that courier arrives back on Proxis, you will most likely find yourself a fugitive again.¡± I felt my eyebrows knit together hard. ¡°So this school you¡¯re sending me to is a big enough deal to¡­ what? Make them forget about the whole thing?¡± ¡°It¡¯s more of a delay on procedural grounds. Ranking Colonial Chosen such as myself have the right to invoke the government¡¯s authority to send students to this school, and there is only one seat per class. You have it.¡± ¡°The way they talked about it, it sounded like it was hell,¡± Dad said. ¡°Might be better off hiding him here. The clan would do it.¡± I shook my head. ¡°I¡¯m not bringing down the Marshals on our clan, Dad. Besides,¡± I began, wincing internally, knowing how Dad would feel about this next part. ¡°I¡­ have a quest.¡± White turned almost all the way around in his seat, giving me his full attention. ¡°A quest?¡± ¡°Yeah, and the way it¡¯s worded¡­ I can¡¯t explain it. I feel like I need to go.¡± ¡°What? Bullshit. Why you? Didn¡¯t the System just dangle you out there over a rift? Was that not enough?¡± Dad asked, his mouth in a tight line under his beard, his religious veneration of the System at war with his parental instincts. White shook his head. ¡°The System doesn¡¯t just give out quests, Myron. If I wasn¡¯t convinced something big was happening before, this certainly would have done so,¡± he said before speaking directly to me. ¡°I want you to keep your eyes open for anything strange.¡± I shot him a dubious look. ¡°I am fresh out of my tutorial, and the tutorial itself was supremely unhelpful. Everything is strange to me.¡± The demon hunter¡¯s expression darkened significantly. ¡°I¡¯m serious, Ryan. Watch your back, and don¡¯t underestimate how much power these people have. The Marshals aren¡¯t done with you, and other Families will catch on quickly that you are a hot commodity. It¡¯s going to turn into a feeding frenzy.¡± ¡°And that benefits you, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Dad growled. The demon hunter bowed apologetically. ¡°Yes, but Ryan as well.¡± ¡°I¡¯m getting tossed to the wolves,¡± I grumbled. ¡°And it¡¯s up to me to come out of it alive, isn¡¯t it?¡± ¡±Like a grenade, yes,¡± White said. ¡°Tossed like a grenade.¡± Chapter 3 Chapter 3 At some point, Dad handed me a duffel bag full of my old clothes, and I had the interesting and exciting task of not only looking for the ones that had a real chance of fitting but also getting into them while the rover was in constant motion. Wing was putting the machine through its paces in a way that made my inner mechanic wince. Unfortunately, on the clothing front, I was taller and wider now, making the work pants a little too short and the shirts a little too tight, but my old steel toed boots still seemed to fit just fine. I¡¯d seen models on the net pull off the faux rustic look, but I didn¡¯t think I was at their level. I sighed when we blew past the last of the roads that would take us to the city. Some part of me wanted to see if the city looked the same as it had when I was a kid. That trip had been a formative experience for me back then, and all the crazy sights and sounds had taken on a mythical significance over time. However, we didn¡¯t go anywhere near the city. Instead, Wing took us on a back trail over rough country that eventually met up with a wider road, one of the well maintained ones meant for big cargo haulers. Then we headed east until the road terminated at a military checkpoint, pretty much a row of retractable bollards stretched across a man-made cut in the side of a cliff face. Once we came to a stop, two armed CRF in combat getups came out of a doorway nearby. They were kitted for serious fighting, apparently, with gray helmets and full face shields, armor plate carriers, and loaded bandoliers under dark leather storm coats that came down to their knees. The sign above their post read: Jump Processing. The smaller of the two soldiers with stripes on their shoulders gestured to us. ¡°Come on out, and let¡¯s see some I.D.,¡± a female voice squawked from her helmet¡¯s loudspeaker. Wing, White, and Dad all had some form of identification, but I seemed to have left mine in my other pants. The larger of the two CRF, the one with a bulky radio set, big whip antenna wobbling over his head, took everyone¡¯s I.D. and scanned them over a data plate attached to his hip, while I got the third degree from the talkative one. ¡°You¡¯re supposed to have clearance to get into the jump station, sir, and attempting to enter without is a violation of protocol. I need your name, your CA-ID number if you have one, and an address.¡± White saved me with questions of his own. ¡°Is the jump point closed, Captain? Things seem quiet around here.¡± he observed. ¡°Only to non-essential traffic. sir. Our orders are to detain and report today,¡± she replied. ¡°An order for something like that must have come from the very top.¡± Mr. White probed. ¡°Maybe, sir,¡± the captain said noncommittally. ¡°In my experience it¡¯s always the precursor to shutting down the jump altogether, but approval for that kind of thing takes longer unless it¡¯s a real emergency. Central gets a little touchy when it comes to shutting down interstellar travel.¡± I suddenly felt both very important and very, very small. Had Marshal shut down the entire planet just for me? It felt silly thinking about it like that. No way was I worth cutting Proxis off from the rest of the colonies, even just for a day. Absurd. ¡°Well, I could certainly pull rank and call myself essential, but that would be stretching the truth,¡± White said. ¡°I have more respect for your position than that, Captain. I have nowhere to be officially. However, my young friend here is on his way somewhere and must get through on official Colonial Authority business.¡± The Captain¡¯s helmet tilted as she scanned me up and down. I could practically see the doubt under that visor. ¡°Probably should have brought his ID then,¡± she said coolly before looking back at White and reiterating. ¡°I saw your rank, and that opens some doors, but the jump¡¯s only open for cargo, sir.¡± Dad and White both turned to me, expectant looks on their faces. But I, the social genius that I was, stood there, confused for several long heartbeats before I finally realized what I was supposed to do. Oh, right. Of course my status would be a big deal here at the jump point. I was a Non-Combat Class. A Non-Combat Class with Spatial Storage. Human civilization was split between lots and lots of systems chosen a long time ago during Exodus II for their hospitable temperatures and stable host stars. However, they were all light years apart. Even if someone could travel at the speed of light, an impossibility as far as physics was concerned, it would still take decades to get from one outpost of humanity to another. Exotics got around that little problem by cheating. We could travel the multiverse, pop out of our universe at one point and pop back in at another. Useful. However, having Spatial Storage made it infinitely more so. Guys like me could take huge loads of material from one planet to another without all those pesky concerns about mass and energy. So, as a demonstration of my awesome storage powers, I raised my hand and made one of my Ralqir coins flash into existence between my fingers. The Captain¡¯s helmet looked as impressed as it was physically possible for it to be. Her tone relaxed appreciably, though, able to accept that we were all supposed to be here, and no one wanted to go through that wasn¡¯t allowed. ¡°Alright. Sorry I held you up, sir,¡± the Captain said. ¡°Let me make a mark here that you¡¯re going through on CA business using Mr. White¡¯s authority. Name?¡± ¡°Ryan Kotes.¡± She typed my name into her plate. ¡°Cargo?¡± ¡°Uh. Collectibles. Currency. Raw materials.¡± ¡°Biological materials? Hazardous substances?¡± She asked. Did a bunch of alien plant matter and a scourge infested tutorial A.I. count? It probably did. I elected to not mention those, however. I was already wanted. No need to make it worse. ¡°And are you willing to transport data to your destination today?¡± I blinked. ¡°Data- uh. What? Sure. I guess.¡± More typing on the Captain¡¯s data pad, then she ducked into the low doorway that led further into the rockface. When she came out again she was awkwardly lugging what looked like a smooth, metallic canister with a handle built onto one of the ends. She brought it over to me, her rifle slung on her back now, the container hoisted ponderously in two hands. When I took it, the weight was certainly considerable but not so much that I couldn¡¯t maybe throw it into the back of the rover. Curious, I held it up to my ear and shook it slightly, feeling the weight shift almost as if there was a fluid sloshing around inside. Interesting. I gave it another shake, but Wing¡¯s hand was suddenly there on my wrist. The woman was strong. I could practically feel the bones grinding together under my skin. She leaned in and shook her head reproachfully. Dad and White were similarly both stuck somewhere between reaching out to stop me or reeling away in horror. I shook my head, about to ask what their problem was. Then I almost dropped my precious cargo when I realized what I held. This is liquid phase medium¡­ Oh, Constance. Every micro droplet in the canister I was holding contained somewhere just under an exabyte of data, and each cost more to manufacture than what most people in the Outers made in a year. I was not nearly responsible enough to be trusted with this. No way. I¡¯d already volunteered to take it, though, so before I could actually drop the thing and put myself in debt for the approximate value of Proxis¡¯ GDP, I made it disappear into my storage dimension. Nice and safe. Everyone in the know relaxed visibly. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, swallowing the nervous lump in my throat. I knew it was perfectly safe in my pocket dimension, but just having it in there made me sweat. ¡°Thank you for keeping humanity connected, Chosen,¡± the captain replied flatly, as if she¡¯d said the line a thousand times. ¡°You can go on through now. Your friends will have to wait here, though.¡± White pulled me aside and pressed a stack of bulky coins into my palm like the one he¡¯d given me the day I¡¯d come back. Challenge coins. ¡°Survive this,¡± White needlessly advised me. Who needed to be told that? I just spent six months just trying to survive. I knew a little something about self preservation. ¡°Survive it, but also make use of the opportunity you are being given. This is an academy for Family Legacies. It produces nothing but elite Chosen. Don¡¯t underestimate them. Making enemies will be inevitable, so make sure you make equally powerful allies.¡±Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. I swallowed uncomfortably again. What was I getting myself into? I didn¡¯t even know how my new class worked yet. Dad shuffled over to me next. ¡°Ryan, I- I wish we had more time,¡± Dad said brittly. He looked like he was in pain, the words just on the tip of his tongue but unable to come out. I had things to say too. Things had happened on Ralqir, things I was still coming to grips with. Then there was Vince, the others that had died on the night I was integrated into the System¡­ Mom. I wanted to say so much. I didn¡¯t though. I froze, the words withering and dying inside of me before I could bring them to bear. Maybe I inherited my emotional intelligence from my father. If Mom could see us, she wouldn¡¯t know whether to laugh or cry. ¡°I¡¯ll be here when you get back,¡± Dad finally said, reaching out to shake my hand, but I wrapped him up in a crushing hug instead, our first since I¡¯d gotten my shiny new prosthetic. I could hug properly now. The little ball of lead that had been rolling around in my stomach got a little heavier. Constance, I was so sick of losing people. ¡°Please come back,¡± Dad murmured in my ear before adding: ¡°But if you don¡¯t, I¡¯ll understand.¡± I broke away, shock momentarily scattering all my other thoughts. It took a moment to interpret Dad¡¯s words. He¡¯s telling me I don¡¯t have to go to White¡¯s school. I can slip into the multiverse and never come back. He¡¯s saying I can run, and he¡¯ll understand. I didn¡¯t run from things anymore, though. Not when I could help it. I¡¯d need to pass White¡¯s gauntlet and figure out a way to live free, but I wasn¡¯t running. ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± I replied, almost believing it myself. ¡°¡®Long as you¡¯ll have me, I¡¯ll be back.¡± ¡ª-------------------------- I passed into a cavernous dome type building with massive steel rafters and a giant crane that ran on a railing system along the ceiling. The whole thing could have swallowed a city block or maybe been a professional sports stadium on Old Earth, big enough to fit a whole town inside. Except this one was full of¡­ stuff. Rows and rows of sealed crates, shelves, and pallets of plastic wrapped goods went on seemingly forever to either side of me, interrupted by traffic lanes with lots of tire marks and stains. I might have gotten lost but for the yellow painted lines helpfully labeled ¡®Jump Load/Unload.¡¯ As with any sufficiently civilized public facility, there were signs everywhere, but this was the only one that contained the word Jump. The signs took me on a winding route, through a couple checkpoints, but no one was interested in me since I was outgoing instead of incoming. Apparently, the bored looking customs officers were only there to receive cargo and label it appropriately, not deal with rookie Exotics looking to make their first jumps. After the third checkpoint, my route turned into a sort of cautionary bundle of diagonal lines around a solid looking platform with clearly delineated squares where cargo was set in neat rows. In the middle of the platform, however, the space was dominated by a hulking battle tank, its engine growling deeper than some dragons I¡¯d met. The tank was one of the wheeled models, its eight bulbous tires sagging under the immense weight of its thick armored plating, while the two hover platforms that I could see at the front of the vehicle lay dormant. Twin cannons protruded from its turret along with the head of the tank¡¯s commander. He was speaking with two techs that were scurrying around the wheels and doing an inspection on what looked like the shocks. The commander noticed me first. ¡°Point¡¯s closed to foot traffic until further notice.¡± he announced in a booming voice. I nodded, trying desperately to look the man in the face instead of letting my eyes wander to the death machine he was sitting in. ¡°Uh. Yeah. I figured that, but I¡¯m- uh¡­ a Non Combat Class.¡± The tanker¡¯s eyebrows shot up in surprise. ¡°Oh. Alright then. Got cargo? Good. Hand my guys your papers, and we¡¯ll be on our way. Are we ready yet?¡± he asked his techs, who both gave him a thumbs up. Two figures approached from the shadows behind the tank, a pair of women in black, form fitting armor made of some kind of composite material. On their backs they wore oversized packs with lots of pockets and odd tools strapped to their frames. Aside from the uniform, though, they were nothing alike. The short one, a shocky freckled woman with red hair was the first to speak. ¡°You Kotes?¡± she asked in a lilting accent. Her partner, a taller, lankier brunette with caramel skin and lots of piercings above and below her eyes looked me up and down appraisingly. ¡°Uh. Yeah. I¡¯m Kotes,¡± I replied, unsure of how to proceed. The redhead looked back at her companion, and the two exchanged a look that might have been interpreted as disappointed. ¡°Mr. White hired us to take you where you¡¯re going. No offence but you smell new. You at least know what we are?¡± she asked. I snapped my fingers, coming up with the answer before I got to the count of two. ¡°Uh- Pathfinders right? Explorers. You find the routes through the multiverse.¡± She pointed finger guns at my gut. ¡°Got it in one, though I¡¯d say we optimize travel through the multiverse as our main job, quickest ways from here to there, get me? Stick with us, and we¡¯ll go six hundred lightyears in a few hours today.¡± An alarm klaxon sounded overhead, a buzzing horn that could probably be heard all over the dome. Spinning orange caution lights activated at the edges of the platform and corresponding ones sprang to life way above on the ceiling. ¡°That¡¯s us then. On we go.¡± Belle took a firm hold of my arm and pulled me over the yellow lines. Hydraulics hissed as a set of rails rose into place along the perimeter of the platform, hemming us all in. Then we started to descend. I wasn¡¯t ready for it, and I stumbled slightly before catching myself on the railing. The platform slowly sank into the floor at a slight angle. ¡°So, I¡¯m guessing the warehouse isn¡¯t the jump point then?¡± I asked once I¡¯d regained my balance. ¡°Nah. It¡¯s down. We¡¯re on the edge of a crater. The point itself is in the middle¡­ Well, actually slightly below. It¡¯s a weird one, but I¡¯ve seen weirder. What about you Gizelle?¡± Gizelle, the taller Exotic, nodded, the dangly bits of her piercings making delicate tinkling sounds with the motion of her head. ¡°Went through one that was underwater once. Awful run, that one.¡± she stated in a richly accented alto. ¡°I¡¯m Belle, by the way,¡± the red-headed Pathfinder told me, sticking out a hand for me to shake. ¡°Belle and Gizelle,¡± I repeated. ¡°See you¡¯ve not been neglecting your Mind score,¡± Belle jabbed. The platform descended slowly, down from the underside of the dome and into the wind once more, though its ferocity was somewhat muted. We were, indeed, on the side of a crater, a rather large crater, its rocky walls rising up on every side as our lift rolled its way down big steel supports using toothed wheels that fit in corresponding grooves on the beams. The wind was almost mild here thanks to how low and out of the main flow we were, and Dad¡¯s jacket felt downright warm on my torso, finally able to store some heat without the wind stealing it away instantly. ¡°So, here¡¯s the deal,¡± Belle said. ¡°We¡¯re under contract to get you where you need to go. That doesn¡¯t mean the trip is safe or that we¡¯ll be doing all the work. Not going to be carrying you on our backs the whole trip, get me?¡± I just nodded. Belle continued. ¡°The both of us have a particular set of Skills and Abilities that makes us suited for this kind of thing. Watch us and follow our lead wherever we go.¡± She opened up a compartment on what I took for a plate of armor on her wrist, and a hologram flickered to life a couple inches above. Light beamed up into the Patherfinder¡¯s face and resolved into a three-dimensional projection of something, but it was gone before I could really interpret it. ¡°Looks like our route has us doing a few jumps. Not a whole lot of walking in between, but what walking we will be doing is fairly safe. First jump is going to be dirty, though. You know about scourge right?¡± Belle asked with the final words tugging the corners of her mouth into a frown. Oh, boy, did I. I didn¡¯t volunteer that story though. I just nodded. Belle sighed with relief. ¡±Oh, good. Didn¡¯t want to have the talk with another newbie.¡± I pointed to the military folks and their death machine. ¡°That why we have the tank?¡± Belle nodded. ¡°One of the reasons. It¡¯s in everyone¡¯s best interest to keep a jump from turning into a full blown rift. Don¡¯t worry, though. We¡¯ve been through this one recently, and there¡¯s not much going on.¡± Our lift continued down to the bottom of the crater and beyond, into a bore hole with smoothly carved sides. Work lights glowed near the roof, keeping us from being plunged into total darkness. Belle briefed me further. ¡°If you see a scourge-touched, let us handle it. Don¡¯t try to handle it yourself. If you get attacked by vanilla wildlife, let us handle it. If you see something you don¡¯t understand, let us handle it.¡± ¡°I¡¯m detecting a subtle theme here¡± I said. Belle slapped me on the shoulder hard, though Dad¡¯s jacket kept it from being painful. ¡°There¡¯s that mind score working for you again. Just don¡¯t leech our experience or do anything stupid, and we¡¯ll get along.¡± The lift came to a stop in a cavern, paved and painted with cautionary yellow concentric circles around a singular spot, but there was nothing there. The tank crew, however, took the empty air seriously. The turret¡¯s two barrels lowered until they were locked in on said empty air, the buzz of the capacitors on the acceleration rings ramping up to ear splitting levels of white noise. My Pathfinders gave the tankers a incongruously casual wave then stepped forward, crossing the outer circle. I followed. As we crossed the first line, I got this feeling, a strange feeling. That feeling you got when you were at the top of a hill and about to go careening down, like your heart was lighter than it should have been. The weightless time before you started to fall. It was all of those things, and they got worse as we passed each concentric circle. Belle looked back to me, having to crane her neck slightly to look up into my face now that we were close. ¡°Every jump is a little different. You have to be in a particular frame of mind to fit through. It¡¯s not exact, but we have methods to get new folks in and out.¡± Again, she whipped out her wrist hologram and used her fingers to navigate through a few menus. ¡°Try this,¡± she said after finding what she was looking for. Then she took my hand and lead me over to the exact center of the innermost circle. The feeling of weightlessness became so intense, I thought I might vomit. ¡°Alright, put your hand up to the- *FWOOM* The world dropped away. My nose and mouth flooded with something tasteless, odorless. Frost prickled at the hair on my face and arms. My eyes were open, but something was in them, sharp and invasive. I wanted to cry out in surprise, maybe take a breath and scream, but I couldn¡¯t. It was like something had seized my throat. Darkness. Pressure. Crushing. Ice in my belly. In my brain. My eyes were open but I couldn¡¯t see. There was nothing there. All was nothing. *FWOOM* Then, there was fire¡­ white, hot. So damned bright. Then I was face down on a scorched bed of grass. Chapter 4 Chapter 4 My world was suddenly a study in contrasts. Underneath me was a charred mulch of what used to be grass, mixed in with a slurry of mud and warm ash. Meanwhile, fat, icy drops of rain slapped me on the back or pinged off of my metal arm every second or so. The overwhelming presence of ozone was quickly carried away by the wind to be replaced by fresh rain and wet soil. I spit the ash/mud soup from my mouth. All around me were grassy hilltops covered in lush, green grass. The landscape rolled and swooped in gentle swells like the waves of an ocean frozen in time, and the sluggish wind was cold enough to be just this side of chilly. Above, dark storm clouds were in the middle of unburdening themselves, slowly, in no real hurry but doing their jobs nonetheless. I was currently on one of these countless hilltops or near enough to the top for it to count. Behind me, on the crown of my hill, weathered standing stones, roughly carved but most definitely not natural, formed a rudimentary pyramid. *BAMF* *BAMF* With a puff of displaced air, Belle and Gizelle appeared slightly farther up the hill from me. Both were in combat stances with weapons out. Gizelle had a long punch dagger attached to her wrist, while her partner swept the area with a las-rifle compact enough to be called a pistol in a larger person¡¯s hands. The two of them cast practiced eyes over the area in a wide circle before finally taking time to acknowledge me. ¡°Wow. Jumped right into it, didn¡¯t you?¡± Belle asked with a bemused look, still holding her rifle up and at the ready. ¡°Do you just say Yes to whatever prompt the System gives you?¡± Gizelle was focused on other things. She sniffed curiously at the air. ¡°We just miss a lightning strike or something?¡± ¡°Dunno. Place was like this when I came in,¡± I said, reaching up to pick some toasted grass out of my teeth. Belle shook her head reproachfully as she helped me up. ¡°Just don¡¯t accept the prompt next time we jump. Safer to go together.¡± What prompt? I didn¡¯t get a prompt¡­ A quick check of my logs confirmed as much. I was also down 30 HP. You take 5 fire damage. You take 5 fire damage. ¡­ Crystalized Channels is now level 2. HP [279/309] Fire damage¡­ Not again. The first thing I did was reach up to feel my hair, finding it mercifully intact, followed by a confirmation that my eyebrows were still there too. Then I looked down at my clothes, though they were too soiled with ash to really tell if they were scorched. Dad¡¯s jacket seemed okay at least. It was made of tough stuff. The grass around me certainly supported the fireball theory though. I bent down and scooped up a handful of the remains, sniffing it. It didn¡¯t have that stale scent old fire pits did, but that was as far as my knowledge went. My gaze slowly drifted to my left, my carefully honed antisocial instincts telling me there were eyes currently on me. Gizelle was there, unabashedly staring, a stern frown on her face as she took in the burned circle I was conspicuously in the center of, my filthy clothes, and the storm overhead. All I could think to do was shrug uncomfortably. Meanwhile, Belle busily fiddled with the little holo map on her wrist. ¡°About three clicks that way,¡± she said, pointing off into the distance where there was nothing but more rolling hills. Thunder rumbled overhead. Gizelle, finally taking her eyes off me, cast another glance around the hilltop. ¡°Looks clean. Make it official?¡± Her partner nodded, reaching into the hologram above her wrist and touching a few inputs. ¡°Clean jump recorded.¡± The women certainly seemed to know what they were doing, which put me a bit more at ease, even with the rough landing. Something felt wrong here, though. It wasn¡¯t just the fire thing either. I couldn''t put my finger on it, but it tickled at the back of my mind, a sort of feeling that I was missing¡­ something ¡°You need a second, newbie?¡± Belle asked, already lower on the hillside. ¡°First jump is always a little wonky.¡± I shook my head. ¡°Uh. I don¡¯t think so.¡± Then a thought occurred to me. ¡°So, if I wanted to go back home, this is the spot I¡¯d make the jump?¡± Both Pathfinders nodded ¡°If you¡¯re wondering why you don¡¯t feel it like you did back on Proxis, it¡¯s normal. You just got a big dose of weird, and your body will have a little tolerance built up for a day or so,¡± Belle explained, pointing back at the standing stones. ¡°In about an hour you¡¯d probably get a little tingle if you were right on it.¡± I looked back at the standing stones, getting a good mental picture in my head. Remember. That¡¯s the way home. After the Pathfinders finished adjusting their oversized packs and slinging their weapons for travel, we set off, but we didn¡¯t make it far. In fact, we made it all of a dozen steps before Detect Iron gave me a hit of something moving underground. I stopped, squinted at the spot in the soil where something alive was hiding, something that wriggled. Squinting didn¡¯t actually do anything, since whatever the animal was, it was entirely underground. That was a habit I still hadn¡¯t broken. You¡¯re not using your eyes to see these things, Ryan. Stop it. Focus. The action kicked off when Gizelle, not noticing my sudden intense interest in a particular spot on the ground, stepped almost right over the thing. The thing in the ground tensed, coiled, then¡­ I only got out a single syllable warning before a long, snake-like body as thick as my forearm and the color of dried blood shot out of the ground just below Gizelle¡¯s feet. The Pathfinder had good reflexes. She rolled to the side before whatever it was could touch her and was already in a combat stance before the monster could even finish its strike. Somehow, she¡¯d already shed her pack too, and her silver punch blade sprang out of its sheath on her wrist. The monster¡¯s mouth, a roughly circular opening with rows of hooked teeth lining the inside, lunged at her, but she was quicker than her attacker, leaning to the side then bringing her blade upward to score a quick cut across the monster¡¯s belly. I felt something then, a change in the air, a sort of dangerous tang that was there for a millisecond and gone before I could register what it could have been. My eyes shot instinctually to Gizelle¡¯s wrist. Yes, that was it. The dagger was covered in ice, and the creature¡¯s blood was in the process of solidifying on the surface. The metal crackled as its supernaturally cold surface made contact with the moisture in the air, and fog billowed off the flat of the blade. She¡¯d just used an Ability. I made a mental note to remember what it had felt like from the outside. Dark fluid spilled from the snake creature¡¯s body but never made it to the ground, crystalizing around the wound instead, while the flesh around the area turned a very unhealthy gray. It was then the monster started to register pain. It writhed on the ground, rubbing its injured belly on the grass to try and scrape off whatever substance was hurting it, but it was to no avail. Gizelle, seeing that she¡¯d done some damage, lunged forward in an attempt to grab the creature, but it shied away and wriggled down into the soil before she could get a good hold. ¡°Shit. You okay? Is it touched?¡± Belle asked as she turned around in a quick circle. Her rifle was couched on her shoulder again, ready to rock, and she was fanning the muzzle back and forth looking for additional threats. Gizelle backed away from the hole where the creature had emerged then paused, her eyes unfocused but moving as if she were reading something. The taller Pathfinder shook her head. ¡°Not scourge-touched. Might be someday if it keeps hanging around a dirty jump though.¡± ¡°How bad did you get it?¡± Belle asked. ¡°28 points of damage in total. Used some MP to be safe. Hang on.¡± Gizelle produced her own wrist hologram device and input a couple commands. ¡°There¡¯s only about thirty entries in the Bestiary. Copse Crawlers. Levels range from 3 to 6. Observed HP ranges from 70 to 111.¡± Belle sighed, looking up to the sky in exasperation. ¡°Damnit, this is just what I need.¡± I raised my hand like a kid in a classroom. ¡°So, it¡¯s not dead. Can¡¯t we just leave it?¡± ¡°Can¡¯t leave a dying animal around a dirty jump point,¡± Belle replied, already dropping her pack and fiddling with one of the buckles on the side. ¡°Animals are already vulnerable to corruption, but a wounded one¡­ scourge will be on that flies on shit. Giz, you have your e-tool? What about you? You have a shovel in your spatial storage?¡± ¡°Uh,¡± I said, blinking. I did not, in fact, have a shovel. I¡¯d left all my shovels in my other universe. If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. So, they were going to dig the thing out and finish it off? That made sense. Maybe they¡¯d burn the body too, like Tiba¡¯s people did. Belle seemed to pick up on my hesitation. ¡°Whatever. Just help us dig it out. We¡¯re gonna be at this all day either way. Can¡¯t leave it. Even if it doesn¡¯t live long enough to get touched, the beastie might ambush the next poor Non-Combat that comes through.¡± The next Non- Well, damn. The next Exotic to come through here might just be the courier the Marshals were waiting for. Even though they were carrying word that would put me back in prison, I didn¡¯t want to leave the monster here to ambush them. I also wasn¡¯t keen on hanging around for an extended period of time while that particular clock counted down. How did multiversal justice work? Would the Marshals send a posse of Exotics after me to get me back, or would I just be taken into custody at the next CA checkpoint? Or was the CA a loose confederation of separate systems with non-extradition policies? I¡¯d never had cause to find out until now. White had made it seem like being in Sabium would help me with all of that, so that¡¯s where I needed to be. No time to dig, Ryan. Use your head. You¡¯re a problem solver, right? I scratched said head and put my Outers mechanic instincts to work. What tools did I have to hand? ¡°How attached are you to this hilltop?¡± I asked after only a second of consideration. The two Exotic women paused, looking up at me from the hole they were just opening. I gave the two of them a look that I hoped conveyed trustworthiness. ¡°No, seriously.¡± ¡ª--------------------------------------- *FOOP* Igorian Copse Crawler takes 3 damage. (bludgeoning) With a firm tug, I removed my arm cannon from the hole and set about brushing the clumpy mud off of the tip. If Detect Iron wasn¡¯t keeping me apprised of the monster¡¯s whereabouts, the damage notification would have. My little metal ball had been a direct hit. Sure, it did almost no damage, but that wasn¡¯t what I was going for anyway. My ¡®arm cannon¡¯ was only an arm cannon in name, not function. If anything it was a glorified potato gun, air propelled and fairly weak as far as ballistic power went, more a launcher than an actual firearm. What was important was that the payload had reached the juicy center of our problem. I could see it there, resting just atop the bulk of the Copse Crawler¡¯s body. That done, I stepped away from the hole and made my way further down the hill where I¡¯d asked my guides to wait. As I approached, I could see Belle running her eyes over my arm cannon curiously. She¡¯d been doing so since I¡¯d made the thing appear, not even bothering to hide her interest. ¡°So, the crafting type, and a fellow ranged enthusiast,¡± she purred exaggeratedly. ¡°Here I thought you were just a pretty face.¡± I cleared my throat. ¡°Uh. Yeah. I mean, I make stuff, but the stuff I make are tools to fit the job, you know? Some jobs have a ballistic solution¡± I said, walking past and waving for the both of them to follow, chuckling nervously. ¡°We should probably get some distance, though.¡± With Detect Iron, I led the three of us down the hill, dodging several of the other holes where the Copse Crawler had its gross tentacles. Yes, it was all one creature, which was both a blessing and a curse. Apparently, this particular monster was not a snake or a worm or anything with that vague shape. That was simply how it fed. The real monster was way down in the dirt, a mass of bristling fur and shovel-like digging claws attached to long, muscular arms. Unfortunately, this thing was dug in like a tick, entirely buried in its lair with no entrance other than the tubes it used to feed. The main mass was easy enough to find after a couple sweeps with Detect Iron. All the tentacles (and yes, there were at least 4 more) led to the same place, about twelve feet down to a burrow that just fit the bulk of the monster itself. My ability to spot the holes and where the tentacles were hidden earned me some trust with my guides, which was nice. They seemed to appreciate the heads up and not having to do all the survivalist work. However, they still insisted on walking in front of me in case there was something out there that would snatch me up and negate their contract. They were quick to spot the Copse Crawler holes too, after they knew what to look for. We reached the bottom of the hill without further incident and set about to wait. And wait we did. ¡°So. Is there a reason we¡¯re just standing here?¡± Belle asked after ten minutes. She¡¯d been growing progressively more impatient as time went on, unreasonably so. She tended to fidget with her gun, her pack, the pockets on her armor¡­ anything within reach, really. I half considered reaching into my spatial storage and handing her something weird just to get her to stand still for a moment. ¡°It takes a minute,¡± was all I could say. This wasn¡¯t exactly what my landmines were made to do. They were meant to target scourge. I¡¯d been very specific in their programming as a safety feature. At the time I¡¯d designed them, scourge-touched made up almost 100% of my problems. Belle sighed impatiently. ¡°Seriously, we have places to be. We don¡¯t make any money standing still. If this isn¡¯t going to work let¡¯s just go up there and dig it out.¡± It had been a rather long time. Fifteen minutes or so. My experience told me my constructs only took a minute to charge to a lethal degree, but the explosive Trigger I¡¯d built into them didn¡¯t seem to consider the Copse Crawler a valid target. I also didn¡¯t program a cutoff for the charging process¡­ I imagined that, by now, my little metal ball was a very angry shade of purple and getting angrier by the second. ¡°Any minute now,¡± I said, wincing internally as Belle flopped down on the grass and groaned like she was in physical pain. Gizelle just rolled her eyes and shook her head. ¡°I feel myself getting fatter and lazier,¡± she groaned. After thirty minutes, even I was starting to doubt myself. Maybe the design was more stable than I thought. Maybe it would only work on scourge. What if the Copse Crawler could go for days without moving at all, and the construct would just sit there. After this long, the thing should be positively packed with explosive- *FOOM* The entire side of the hilltop erupted like a volcano. Dirt, rocks, and plant matter were blasted outward in a tidal wave, a temporarily airborne landslide. The angry cloud of loose dirt billowed out of the hillside and went skyward until gravity dictated it should come down, most of it directly on top of us. We all hunkered down, arms folded over our heads to protect our skulls from falling rocks. And it wasn¡¯t just dirt and rocks. Whatever a Copse Crawler was, apparently, it was also full of sticky goo. We didn¡¯t get a whole lot of it, just enough for it to be gross and disturbingly warm after undergoing explosive disassembly. You have defeated Igorian Copse Crawler. You have been awarded 115 experience points. (200 base, +25 level, -160 non combat class, +50 camp) Experience rate 115/min. Level up! You are now level 1. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Ability: Spatial Storage unlocked. [ERROR] Resolving¡­ Resolved. Advanced Spatial Storage: A storage dimension attached to your being that only you can access. Size and quantity varies. Advanced Spatial Storage is now level 1. Achievements awarded this level: Victorious: You have defeated your first foe. [+1 body] Ambitious: You have defeated a foe above your level. [+1 to lowest level ability] All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Near Death Experience: You fell below 10% of your HP this level. [50% bonus experience gain for next level] Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] Dedicated: You spent most of your time dedicated to your craft this level. [+1 Spirit] Soulful: You have almost exclusively focused on Mind and Spirit centric skills this level. [+1 Mind, +1 Spirit] Completionist: You have completed a quest this level. [+1 free attribute point] One-shot: 100% of your experience this level came from one foe defeated in one blow. [+1 to most relevant ability: +1 to Automate] Intensive Training: A significant portion of this level was spent honing your mind and body in a high intensity setting. [Points spent on most relevant Attribute (Mind) are worth x2 this level] That strange sense of euphoria passed through me from the tips of my toes all the way up to my scalp. In fact, it was so intense, my head swam, and my vision darkened momentarily until I caught myself on Gizelle and allowed the dizzy spell to pass. By then, the manmade landslide was pretty much wrapping up. The taller Pathfinder looked down at my hand that was still resting on her shoulder like it was a venomous snake, one she was thinking about decapitating. ¡°Sorry,¡± I said, awkwardly removing the offending appendage before she cut me. My first Level Up as an Automator. What did I learn? So, the ¡°Class Restrictions¡± Automator came with. It didn¡¯t let me get XP from Shaping things anymore, but I did get it from killing things. That can¡¯t be it. That would make Automator a combat class in everything but name. Shape gave me a ¡°hand crafting¡± restriction when I did it. That would imply there was another way to craft things¡­ an automated way. Okay. So let¡¯s assume that my class doesn¡¯t want me to craft things by hand. That one¡¯s pretty easy. What about combat? I just killed the Copse Crawler and got experience just fine¡­ But I didn¡¯t kill it myself did I? I used one of my constructs. It fit. My new class wanted me to¡­ Automate things. The name probably should have been a dead giveaway. As for the weird Experience rate messages¡­ I opened up my logs and skipped back to the beginning. Yep. approximately 100 XP got me my first level on Ralqir too. The realization hit me like a slap to the face. Oh, come on. My inner monologue was dripping with bitterness at the realization. I had to reach a certain threshold of experience over time¡­ per minute to level up. How the hell was I supposed to do something like that? I would probably be fine for the first few levels if I put myself in the right situations and made some good choices, but after that¡­ I¡¯d have to spike my XP/min into the hundreds of thousands to get levels¡­ millions later. The scale of it was absolutely silly. The enormity of even getting to Level 5 this way felt daunting. I certainly wasn¡¯t going to be leveling through combat unless I went out and did something supremely stupid like piss off an entire planet of scourge. Or like the wretchwyrm. The giant vine monster too. Those had been special circumstances, though, entirely out of my control. Well, maybe not entirely¡­ It was uncomfortable to think about how many dumb fights I¡¯d picked in my short time as an Exotic. How the hell was I alive? Trix was probably writing a book about that right now. While I was lamenting the absolute shit show my life choices had put on for me, Belle, on the other hand, was pleased as punch. As soon as she shook the dirt and monster goo out of hair, she whooped and did a little jig as the dirt continued to flow down the hill, the displaced earth settling into its new position. ¡°That was fantastic! It was all BOOM WOOSH! Worth the wait! Oh my God, yes!¡± So, she was a bit of a thrill seeker. I wasn¡¯t one to judge, so I smiled back at her, happy she was happy. My smile disappeared, though, when the shape of the hill, once again, started to change. It was slow at first, barely noticeable, but it picked up speed quickly. The entire side of the hill started to collapse in on itself like a flower wilting or a balloon with a tiny hole in the stem. The whole thing just¡­ imploded¡­ in slow motion, all of its mass being sucked into the center. It wasn¡¯t long before the standing stones that used to be at the peak also sank down into the soil until they were entirely gone. All the three of us could do was just stand there and gawk. A tipping point was reached, and the rest of the hill just disappeared in an anticlimactic *WHUFF.* It left behind nothing but a cloud of falling dust and a conical crater with a hole in the center. Well, that wasn¡¯t entirely true. There wasn¡¯t just a hole. The ancient stone ruins that had apparently been under our feet the entire time, were a notable standout. Chapter 5 Chapter 5 ¡°Well, shit, newbie. Look what you did now,¡± Belle said, elbowing me in the ribs. We were lying on our stomachs peeking over the edge of the huge crater that used to be our hill. Wow, Ryan. Is there a universe you¡¯ve gone to that you haven¡¯t wrecked? The far edge of the sinkhole was a few hundred feet away from us, while the bottom looked to be far down enough that I wouldn¡¯t have been keen on jumping even if it wasn¡¯t guaranteed to swallow me up. Speaking of swallowing things, our jump point was gone along with half of the hill next door. Boulders laid strewn about the area in various degrees of stability, some still on a sedate slide down to nowhere. More interesting, however, were the things that weren¡¯t slowly being devoured by the ground. Half buried stone archways jutted out of the soil, their open mouths little islands of stability in the otherwise shifting landscape. Pictograms of some kind of vaguely humanoid race zigzagged up the architecture, depicting said figures in various forms of repose, mostly lying down with arms crossed, some with their eyes open, some closed, others with no eyes at all. ¡°I said I was sorry,¡± I repeated, unsure how else to respond. How was I supposed to know there was a whole ancient ruin down there? Honestly, they were lucky this happened now instead of when some poor Exotic drew the short straw and teleported into nowhere one day. With that thought, my gaze was drawn up into the air, above the sinkhole, where I estimated we¡¯d jumped into this universe. The clouds above looked angrier now, and the rain was picking up the pace. ¡°So, do we need to, I dunno, build a ladder or something for the people that need to get to Proxis?¡± I asked. Gizelle let out a derisive chuckle, while Belle shook her head. ¡°Doesn¡¯t work like that,¡± she said, pointing to the center of the sinkhole. ¡°Think about it. The multiverse is a whole lot of nothing with little clumps of something all floating around inside right?¡± ¡°Yeah. More or less,¡± I agreed. I¡¯d had it explained to me like a glass of water with a splash of oil inside. It was largely still water (nothing), but now it had little globs of oil (all known realities) floating around and bumping into one another. Belle explained further getting to her feet and dusting off her hands. ¡°One of the mistakes people make is thinking of our universe as a thing rubbing up against other things like a balloon animal orgy. It¡¯s not like that. Location, as you know it, means zero.¡± Gizelle was nodding along as if her partner was saying the most obvious thing in the world, then said her bit. ¡°Why would a jump point be tied to a point in space?¡± Gizelle asked. ¡°We live on balls of dirt spinning through the cosmos at thousands of kilometers per hour. If jump points were tied to specific coordinates in space, they¡¯d come and go so fast, we¡¯d never even know they were there in the first place.¡± I felt the gears in my head grinding together. Maybe I did need to put a few points into Mind. ¡°So, where¡¯s the jump point now?¡± I asked. In answer, Belle kicked a rock and watched it tumble down the side of the sinkhole, all the way down to the bottom where it vanished from sight. She sucked in air through her teeth when the thing disappeared. Well, that was a problem. ¡°I suppose,¡± Belle sighed. ¡°the next Chosen to come through will record the new-¡± The world exploded in light as a bolt of lightning lanced down and struck the lowest point of the crater. The noise of it was so loud my ears started to ring, and I nearly lost my footing. Once I blinked the tracers out of my eyes, I saw that Belle already had her carbine up to her shoulder and was aiming along the sight at something. Exactly where the lightning struck, there was a skeletal hand now clutching Belle¡¯s rock, the dirt around it steaming from having all its moisture flash boiled. The bony fingers flexed slowly, one by one, extending then curling like it was the first time they¡¯d been used in quite some time. Then the hand began to rise until it was joined by a forearm, a shoulder bone. Only a few seconds later, the soil seemed to churn, and more skeletal hands burst into the open air, these followed by grinning skulls. They rose from the soil almost as one, shaking dirt out of their cracks and crevices with spasmodic, dog-like shakes of their bodies. In a few heartbeats, the hillside was crawling with them. The first of them to get to their feet stretched itself to its full height, its bones clacking as they seemed to be pulled fully into their sockets for the first time in centuries. Yes, they were skeletons, but not exactly as I¡¯d pictured them when I was a kid. Where one might expect to find a moldering collection of bones jerkily shambling into a fantasy battle with a rusted sword in one hand and a broken shield in the other, these things were a strange combination of bleached bone and chrome finished metal. The skeletons¡¯ extremities were mostly just bone, while the core of the creature (the skull and spinal cord) were shiny with metal Detect Iron gave at least a partial hit on. The skulls were roughly human shaped but with sloped foreheads and a pair of dull tusks that protruded from the bottom jaw, and a pair of glowing white orbs shone in the eye sockets. Below that, everything was where I expected it to be, except it seemed like all the bones were being held together with metal wires that flexed and wound through the skeletal structure, sometimes through the middle of the bones themselves. The skeleton creatures used their naked feet to steady themselves in the loose soil. Then, one by one, they cast their glowing eye sockets up to where we stood. We and the undead stared silently at one another, neither group making a move. Gizelle was the first to speak. ¡°Everyone back away slowly,¡± she whispered to the living. I didn¡¯t need to be told twice. I hadn¡¯t had the best experience with Undead. I took a slow step backward, away from the lip of the hole, but the closest of the skeleton monsters seemed to lean forward as I did so, reaching out tentatively while following me with their glowing eyes. Others, further down the slope, made more overt moves to follow, taking one or two long steps up from the pit. ¡°Uh. Looks like they want to follow us,¡± I said. ¡°They might be territorial. Guardians maybe,¡± Gizelle replied. ¡°Just keep backing away, and keep your hands visible.¡± Back away we did until we were far enough from the hole that I couldn¡¯t see all the way down inside. However, multiple pairs of glowing eyes rose from the pit after us, and they began to pull themselves out. ¡°Definitely following us,¡± I reiterated. ¡°How astute, ¡° Gizelle replied calmly before raising her voice. ¡°We come in peace and don¡¯t wish to disturb you or your sleep! Leave us be, and we will leave you to rest!¡± The undead didn¡¯t seem interested in listening, though. They kept coming, crawling their way out of their mass grave. ¡°Don¡¯t think that¡¯s ever worked,¡± Belle lamented, sweeping the muzzle of her carbine back and forth from one dead face to another. Now that they were within spitting range, it was becoming apparent that they were not human sized skeletons. Fully upright, they were 9 or 10 feet tall, and the bones they were composed of looked thick and textured, like they¡¯d been the victims of a terrible bone disease or maybe altered in some way. No way having bones with grooves and pointy pits could be comfortable to live with¡­ it would be agony all day. That was as far as I could speculate before the hybrid metal skeletons made their first move. They charged us. I don¡¯t know what it is with me, what about me that attracts flesh hungry hordes of monsters. It happened all the time. I mean, sure, as of today, it¡¯d only happened twice, which wasn¡¯t a lot of times on paper, but once you lived it twice was often enough. At least these guys were a breath of fresh air in the tactics department. While the scourge had been frothing berserkers, all teeth and claws and angry screaming, these bony guys fought like civilized people. Creepy people with metallic grins but people nonetheless. They even carried themselves in a way I could understand, head down, feet apart, like they wanted to win this fight and maybe live through it too. The first to get within striking range, the bravest of the bunch or maybe a leader of some kind, squared up to Belle, its body and feet set like it had some training in melee combat, one foot back, arms together like it was holding a- ¡°Look out!¡± I shouted, just as the skeleton thing swung in an overhead chop down on the red headed Pathfinder. I slid into position in front of her and raised my metal arm to block the incoming strike. Honestly, I was acting on instinct here. None of the monsters had any tools or weapons in their hands, and they were all too far away to make a grab for anyone or throw a punch. I couldn¡¯t shake the feeling that everything about what this monster was currently doing screamed ¡°sword¡± to me, from its stance to the way it squared its shoulders. *CLANG* Undying Amalgamation hits you for 0 damage (spirit). [36 base, -36 mitigated] Status gained: Stunned. Status lost: Stunned. Something hard smashed into my forearm with considerable force, enough force for me to feel it all the way in my feet. My leg muscles strained to keep me upright, and my insides vibrated uncomfortably. There was a brief spark at the moment of impact, a tingling that made all the hair on my body stand on end. That was the extent of it, though. I never felt much more than a little discomfort. The spark, though brief, revealed a broad blade that rebounded off of my arm before going invisible again. Apparently not one to miss a free shot, Belle shouted and thrust forward with the barrel of her las-gun, slamming it hard into the monster¡¯s sternum. Again, there was a sort of spark, and a significant portion of the monster¡¯s body was lit up to reveal ghostly flesh, pale white and semi-transparent. ¡°RRAARRGH!¡± Belle screamed as her body seemed to go stiff all at once, including her trigger finger. Angry red bolts of energy sizzled as they lanced through the spectral body to ionize the bones underneath. The attacks didn¡¯t make it far into the organic matter, but what it did damage ended up blackened and cracked. ¡°Agh!¡± Belle grunted. ¡°Nasty stuns! Resistant to physical too!¡± The skeleton took another swipe with its sword, but the Pathfinder was ready for it this time, rolling to the side to avoid the overhand chop then firing a pair of shots into the skeleton¡¯s pelvis that made my inner male wince in sympathy despite myself. It doubled over as the laser fire burned through the bone until it split down the middle. Then the lower half of the monster got all wobbly, and it went down on its belly. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. Gizelle was a lot better at dodging. She spun to avoid a thrust then slid to get around another overhead chop. Again, a ghostly weapon sparked as it hit the ground, and my hair stood on end. Gizelle then countered with a quick jab with her punch blade. As she did so, an eerie blue light gathered on its tip and sizzled in the humid air. The tip of the dagger jammed into the monster¡¯s collar bone, and ice immediately started to spread through its shoulder and neck joints. Contact with the monster took its toll, though. The Pathfinder seized, her body losing all of its coordination before she could follow up with another strike. The one blow might have been enough, though. The ice crackled and popped as it engulfed the monster¡¯s shoulder, neck and ribcage, and when it tried to take another swing at Gizelle, the bones shattered on their own. The monster halted mid-swing and recoiled as it lost nearly a quarter of its usable mass. However, another stepped into its place, driving Gizelle back before she could capitalize further on her first opponent¡¯s vulnerability. They were protecting each other. They were creating openings for one another too. It also wasn¡¯t lost on me that they waited until they were on even footing with us before they attacked. They were intelligent, maybe even sapient. I didn¡¯t like our odds if we had to fight a bunch of these guys. With a quick flash of dimensional juju, I had my machine pistol in hand and was taking aim with Death Eye. Instantly, the skeleton monster lit up with dozens of big orange highlighted weak points. For obvious reasons, the metal skull and spinal cord didn¡¯t count. The rest however, was fair game. *PRRT* *PRRRRTT* I squeezed two bursts of automatic fire into the general area with the greatest number of weak points, specifically the upper left rib cage, the collar bone, and the clavicle. Not every bullet hit (I wasn¡¯t that kind of marksman), but I made up for it in volume. The skeleton¡¯s upper left side disintegrated as about 15 fingertip sized ballistic steel projectiles slammed into moldy old bones. Splinters exploded into the air and spun off into the pit. At least one hit me in the cheek hard enough to draw blood. I brought a certain ¡®lots-of-bullets¡¯ vibe to all my fights, and that carried with it some drawbacks. No shame in it, though. I knew Trix would have been appalled at the lack of precision and the waste of ammunition, but that was the beauty of leaving your best friend in another universe. He wasn¡¯t around to give you shit for your sub-par aim. I must have done damage to something important, because the skeleton pretty much disintegrated, only making a minor effort to keep itself together before the entirety of its body came tumbling down. Then, I did the same to skeleton number four that was attacking Belle, shattering its shoulder bones and giving the Pathfinder a little breathing room. Then, in a move that was both ill-advised and extremely badass, Belle jammed her carbine into the monster¡¯s eye and fired a full auto blast into the empty void inside. Her screams of pain and¡­ uh¡­ excitement (?) were going to stay with me for a while. Another skeleton swung at me from my left, but I slipped to the side easily. These guys might have been smart enough for tactics, but they weren¡¯t overly fast or strong. The initial hit I¡¯d taken had been a big alpha strike, sure, but I was pretty sure I had their number now. Going with that hunch, I stepped into the skeleton¡¯s guard, knocking its sword to the side before it could get any momentum behind its swing, then grabbed its face, my metallic fingers slipping right into its glowing eye sockets. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] Critical hit! You attack the Undying Amalgamation for 322 damage (crushing). You gain knowledge of Geist Iron [1/10] You gain knowledge of Betok [1/10] You gain knowledge of Igorian Bone [2/10] You gain Engine [2 MP/sec] You have defeated Undying Amalgamation. You gain 0 experience points. [300 base, +150 Near Death Experience, -240 non combat class, +30 group, -240 class restriction] Experience rate 0/min. The metal skull crumpled like a tin can. Its scream (yes, it was screaming) sounded like steam escaping a kettle, and a greasy feeling white fog billowed out of the top of its now ruined cranium. I dropped it as soon as I got the death notification. Zero experience? Now, what was wrong with that one, System? *PRRRRRRRRT* I fanned my machine pistol over the rest of the crowd until my magazine went dry. The gathered throng jerked and crumbled where they¡¯d been hit, but no kill notifications popped up in my feed. To my left, Gizelle struck out with her punch dagger once more and took her other opponent in the mouth with another icy strike. The skull froze followed by the spine, and all of its efforts to kill her ceased. Then, after shaking off the initial stun, the Pathfinder retracted her dagger and came down with a wicked slam that shattered all the bones on the thing¡¯s right side, all the way down to its femur. It too collapsed to the floor. Then she stood over it, panting, sweating, her body swaying like she¡¯d just lifted a ton and just got a chance to put it down. ¡°Down to a quarter MP,¡± she gasped. The air did that thing again. It changed¡­ pulled at my awareness like a gravity well. This time the sensation stuck around, though. ¡°RRRAAAAGH!¡± Belle yelled. She was down on one knee, the tip of her carbine glowing with red light so intense it cast the woman in bloody monochrome. The world around her darkened visibly, the diffuse light from the sky no longer seeming to be able to reach her. Then a gigantic blast of angry scarlet erupted from her gun, engulfing four separate skeletons entirely and sending two more back down into the hole they¡¯d come from. It lasted for only a second, maybe a second and a half, but when it was done, Belle was breathing hard too, sweat soaking her hair along with the rain. ¡°MP down to an eighth here. 90 HP and *huff* bleeding bad too.¡± Already? How much MP did their attack Abilities take? I checked my own. MP [284/284] ¡°Uh. I¡¯m good here,¡± I said quietly. ¡°Maybe you can craft them to death,¡± Belle said sarcastically. She reached into her belt, pulled out a loop of black fabric and slipped it over her arm where the skeleton had slashed her. With a *zip* the loop tightened, and her face contorted in pain. The flow of blood from the wound slowed significantly, though. ¡°That all of them?¡± Belle asked. ¡°Yeah, they¡¯re down, but I didn¡¯t get any kill notifications. you?¡± Gizelle replied as she strode over to the crumbled remains of the iced over skeletons she¡¯d had defeated. Belle¡¯s eyes scanned through her log. ¡°One. Tough bastards. Looks like they¡¯re vulnerable to-Qoaaaoh! What the hell!?¡± The skeleton nearest her, that we¡¯d taken to be dead, sprang from the ground, only it didn¡¯t use it¡¯s broken and useless bones. While we weren¡¯t watching, the metal tendrils it had used to keep itself together had unwound from its extremities and were now undulating like they were underwater, and the monster was using them for locomotion. The thing hissed at her, its glowing eyes flaring in a threat display, and then it¡­ slithered? Crawled? Whatever. It slither-crawled away, back to the lip of the sinkhole, its metal tentacles and wiggling spine pulling it along like the combination of an octopus and a snake. It was fast too. It zipped along the ground, low and erratic. The hasty burst of shots I squeezed off didn¡¯t even come close to hitting the thing. The creepy, weirdness factor may have had something to do with my aim too. ¡°Look!¡± Gizelle shouted, pointing at the others we¡¯d downed. The rest of their skulls were waking up too, their strange tendrils unraveling from their broken bones and dropping them to the ground. Once they got free, they proved quick like the other ones, squirmy too. I tried to grab onto the little tendrils, but they were slick with rain and¡­ wriggly. The only ones that seemed to stay dead were Belle¡¯s split skull special and the one I¡¯d Devouring Grasped. ¡°We¡¯re not getting paid for this,¡± Belle said, flexing her arm and running her fingers over her tourniquet. ¡°Agreed,¡± Gizelle replied. ¡°Run?¡± ¡°Run.¡± Loot Undying Amalgamation? Y/N My skeleton jellyfish¡¯s crumpled metal form was unpleasantly hot to the touch, hot enough to steam in the humid air and rain, but I powered through. That familiar cloud of rainbow light bubbled up in my vision as the corpse in front of me seemed to change, becoming less, somehow, as the System did what it did with things I¡¯d killed. When the light dissipated, the skull sagged down to the floor, no longer supported entirely by its corresponding metal spine, and the shiny tendrils that had been wrapped firmly around its bones, relaxed their hold until I was looking at a few hundred separate pieces of monster. The bones that lay around it, however, weren¡¯t affected at all by the System. An item hit the ground with a *clang* and bounced off the ruined skull. When I picked it up, the System gave me what I wanted. Igorian Knight Blade: An Igorian Knight¡¯s blade was their entire life and legacy, and the deeds they wrought in life were to be buried with them in death. However, this Knight¡¯s blade was used as his prison, a punishment for valuing blind loyalty over justice. Damage: 20 - 44 (slashing, spirit), 20 - 40 (piercing, spirit) Quality: Exquisite Style: Igorian Iron Age ¡°What is it?¡± Gizelle asked. ¡°Nothing good,¡± I replied, carefully turning the blade over in my hand. It was tingly. Almost uncomfortable to hold, tingly, and that was saying something from an Exotic with over 60 Body. Into the Spatial Storage it went. No way was I going to use it after reading that description. I caught more rainbow light out of the corner of my eye as Belle looted her kill. ¡°I¡¯ve got some kind of chisel over here. The System¡¯s mentioning Death Rites and things like that. Probably won¡¯t sell too well.¡± Gizelle was looking into her wrist hologram thing. ¡°Bestiary¡¯s got nothing on them, though, so there¡¯s that.¡± ¡°Guess it¡¯s nice to be paid for your MP,¡± Belle huffed. ¡°Even if it¡¯s shit pay. We¡¯ll post a bounty at the next outpost, get a full group in here to clear the place out.¡± I walked over to the lip of the hole and looked down. The skeletons were gone, though they¡¯d left some bones behind. My guess was that the real monster was the metal skull jellyfish things anyway. They¡¯d fully gone to ground after taking a couple losses, meaning they were capable of fear. ¡°They¡¯re going to ambush the next person to come through the jump, aren¡¯t they?¡± I asked. Belle stuffed the bone chisel she¡¯d looted into her pack and slipped her arms back into the straps. ¡°We work for a living, Kotes. If we aren¡¯t getting paid to clear out a monster nest, we¡¯ll leave it to somebody else. We don¡¯t have the MP to do it anyway.¡± I frowned at her. ¡°Anyone could come through there and get killed, though. Aren¡¯t you guys all about keeping the multiverse open?¡± ¡°Not doing that if we¡¯re dead, are we? The way this works is that we post a bounty at the next outpost, and a group of fighters will come along to clear it out. Either that, or the next cargo group blunders into them, and they send word back through the jump. Either way, this point is closed until this gets sorted, and we¡¯re not the ones to do it. We¡¯re not fit.¡± I didn¡¯t like the idea of some hapless Exotic jumping into this universe only to get swarmed by a ton of monsters. I¡¯d kicked this particular hornet¡¯s nest, and I wasn¡¯t about to get anyone else killed for wandering into the ensuing shit storm. The best option would be to clear the place out to make the jump safe or jump back to Proxis and tell them about the danger to let them respond accordingly. To do that, though, I¡¯d have to go down there, something my Pathfinders weren¡¯t willing to do. Oh, and I was probably a fugitive on Proxis by now. There was that. Any moment now, the Marshals would probably send someone through the jump point to find me and bring me back to my cell. It wouldn¡¯t do for me to make their job that much easier by just¡­ throwing myself into their arms. There had to be a way. ¡°Pardon me,¡± a high but distinctly male voice said from behind me. I spun, shocked to find someone when there definitely wasn¡¯t anyone there before. He was slim, wiry, and tall with form fitting athletic clothes under a camouflaged and hooded cloak. Steam rose from his shoulders, and his chest rose and fell as if he¡¯d just been running full out. Belle let the muzzle of her carbine droop just a little so she was no longer aiming at the guy¡¯s face. If he took offense at having a weapon pointed at him, he didn¡¯t show it. His plain features showed no fear or strain other than his heavy breathing. His clear eyed stare openly evaluated the three of us and the hole that used to be a hill beyond. ¡°I¡¯m a courier on official business, and I need to get back to Proxis. Priority one,¡± he said, frowning at the empty air above the hole. ¡°Where the hell did the jump point go?¡± ¡°¡®Evening, mister,¡± Belle said carefully as she finally let her carbine dangle from its strap. Whether the courier cared that the weapon was just pointed at his face, I didn¡¯t know. He seemed quite unfazed, maybe even a little amused. Gizelle similarly relaxed and retracted her punch dagger into its sheath. ¡°Sorry. You snuck up on us. We just had a spot of trouble, and we¡¯re a bit on edge.¡± The man raised an eyebrow. ¡°Trouble? What kind of trouble?¡± Belle indicated the yawning mouth of the sinkhole with her head. ¡°No contamination. Just monsters. Point¡¯s closed, though, ¡®less you wanna shimmy down there and find the jump yourself.¡± The courier almost looked like he wanted to do just that. ¡°Very well. I won¡¯t trouble you further. Thank you for the information. I¡¯ll carry the word through the jump.¡± He said it like it was the most natural thing in the world. He was going to dive down into a dungeon and slip through to another universe. Just another day at the office. Belle looked shocked. ¡°No way you want to go down there and tangle with a bunch of unknowns for some message.¡± It was just then that I got an idea. I got a wonderfully awful idea. ¡°Doesn¡¯t matter what I want. It¡¯s Priority 1. Besides, I have a very high Stealth skill,¡± the courier assured her with a tiny smirk. He rolled his neck, bent down in a brief runner¡¯s stretch, then took off toward the lip of the sinkhole. ¡°Hey! Wait!¡± I called after him. There must have been something in my tone that drew him up, stopped him almost mid-jump at the edge of the hole. He turned around and tilted his head at me questioningly. Obviously, this was the Marshals¡¯ courier. This man was carrying a message that would make me a fugitive in at least one star system, and he was right there, staring me in the face. Let¡¯s make lemonade, Ryan. ¡°The way you- uh- spoke¡­ Priority 1 and all that.¡± I looked at both of the Pathfinders meaningfully, with all the charm I could muster, bringing them right into what I was about to set in motion. ¡°It sounds like you could use an escort.¡± Deception is now level 10. Upgrade paths available: False Confidence Deflection Hidden Strength Chapter 6 Chapter 6 ¡°So, they¡¯re connected to stuff. Like What? Objects?¡± The courier, Philipe, gave me a pitying smile, which was the most emotion I¡¯d gotten out of the man since the moment we¡¯d met. I wasn¡¯t sure if I liked the change either. The man¡¯s default setting seemed to be a dismissive aloofness that bordered just on the polite side of patronizing, and he didn¡¯t like to range far from that starting point. Then again, that might have been Hidden Strength putting in work. Hidden Strength: More easily portray yourself as less threatening in the eyes of your target. Also conveys a small bonus to hiding in plain sight when using Stealth. Efficacy is directly tied to Mind and Deception. ¡°Somewhat,¡± he said, his tone professionally neutral as he explained. ¡°Objects are common, places more so. It depends on the nature of the jump point. The theory is a bit too complicated to get into here, though.¡± Philipe¡¯s gaze drifted slightly past me to one of the ¡®empty¡¯ hallways we were in the middle of crossing. His eyebrows rose ever so slightly, his version of a warning. I sighed. I¡¯d already noticed what was skulking in there, but now he was going to think he¡¯d saved the poor Level 1¡¯s life again. Oh, well. It was the cost of doing business, I guessed. *BOOF* The darkness of the hallway exploded in purple light followed by a firework show of white-hot sparks and stringy, glowing orange goo that would play havoc on my already weak night vision. Detect had clued me in to the danger that was stalking just inside the threshold, even if my eyes weren¡¯t strong enough to pierce the darkness on their own. My aim was pretty good, actually, which still came as a surprise even after more than ten of these types of encounters. The undead amalgamation that had been clinging to the side of the tunnel suddenly found its entire upper half a smoking ruin, bones broken and rapidly blackening as the intense heat sped up their oxidation process by multiple millions of times. My job done, I flipped the little handheld shotgun around in my hand and started summoning more pellets to drop into the end of the barrel. The skull/spinal cord/tentacle creature started thrashing as soon as its stunned status wore off and it registered what had happened, but by the time it was able to wriggle free from its broken body, it was already too late. The molten lead I¡¯d used as ammunition was already cool enough to reach a semi-solid state, wrecking the monster¡¯s escape plan before it could even be tried. The tentacles the monsters used to get around were fast and super flexible, but not particularly strong, especially when you applied upward of 700 degrees of heat to them and a bit of extra weight. The amalgamation struggled, clacking its jaw as its body betrayed it, trying and failing to slither out of its predicament, but it was only able to manage a wiggle boarding on a pathetic writhe. They all did that. Belle practically leaped on the chance to finish the downed monster off. She zipped over, stuck her carbine in the thing¡¯s mouth, and spewed red death all up in the skeleton¡¯s cranial cavity like a deranged pastry chef. You have defeated Undying Amalgamation. You gain 70 experience points. [300 base, +150 Near Death Experience, -240 non combat class, +30 level, -170 party split] Experience rate 145/min. ¡°Woo! Twelve! Twelve dead skellies! Mwahahaha!¡± Belle cackled as the XP flowed in. She didn¡¯t even seem to mind the electric shock she¡¯d received. ¡°We¡¯re still not keeping count,¡± Gizelle grumbled from behind me, her pulse steady, body tensed as she walked backwards to keep our rear free of enemies. ¡°Only because you¡¯re losing,¡± Belle giggled maniacally. A tiny light flashed in the corner of her weird, wrap-around safety goggles that she and Gizelle had put on before we dug our way in here. ¡°Don¡¯t worry, though. I¡¯m saving the footage for review.¡± I tried to keep the envy from my expression. It wasn¡¯t fair at all. When they told me their fancy goggles had low light vision, I already wanted a pair. Now I was hearing that they could do other stuff? Recording? Playback? What else? I needed them in my life¡­ like right now. I was really tired of being the guy who couldn¡¯t see in the dark. Why¡¯d everywhere I needed to go have to be dark? Though I¡¯d collapsed a hill on top of it, most of this dungeon (yes, we were calling it that now) was fairly intact and accommodating for the four of us. The halls were wide enough to walk two by two and arranged as a utilitarian grid of rectangular hallways capped by the occasional stairwell. It was dark, damp, and utterly quiet, as one might imagine an underground dungeon. The walls were the real standout. They weren¡¯t walls so much as a system of inlaid stone shelving with bones lined up in neat rows on every square inch of space they could fit. There must have been thousands of them¡­ hundreds of thousands, and they weren¡¯t organized by¡­ person like you¡¯d expect. We¡¯d noticed that very early. All the bones were lined up with others of its kind, femurs with femurs, ribs with ribs, and so on. Total case of OCD combined with no respect for the dead. Notably absent, however, were skulls. The bones themselves were all engraved with tiny script that the System helpfully translated into something disturbing, one of those cases where reading the words aloud seemed like a good way to curse yourself or summon a demon to the mortal plane (The old fashioned kind of demon. Not my kind). ¡°You¡¯re poaching kills from the contract,¡± Gizelle complained. ¡°It¡¯s hardly a fair competition if he¡¯s doing half of the work.¡± ¡°I have to be next to him to protect him! Besides, I can¡¯t hold two guns¡­¡± Belle¡¯s voice trailed off, and I could practically feel the temperature rising as her mind went to work. ¡°Hey, newbie¡­ Do you-¡± ¡°Nope. Sorry,¡± I said. ¡°This one¡¯s mine. Use your own gun.¡± ¡°Your Body score isn¡¯t high enough anyway, love,¡± Gizelle added. ¡°I¡¯ve put the points in,¡± Belle argued, though I noticed her rolling her shoulder where her first test shot of my little inventions had given her a nasty bruise. ¡°I¡¯m just not used to ballistic weapons is all.¡± All I could do was shrug and hope she didn¡¯t think too hard on how I handled the recoil at my level. That would lead to some awkward questions. I mean, yes, I was cheating using my prosthetic to do my heavy lifting, but I was also becoming more and more aware of how high my Body was compared to the others. Included in ¡®others¡¯ were the Undead Amalgamations as well. The poor things had come at me in ones and twos a handful of times now, and every encounter came with this odd feeling, one I¡¯d never really experienced before: I outclassed these guys. I outclassed them by a lot, and it was bugging me. With every fumbling grab, every slow, clumsy sword swing they threw my way, the feeling grew more intense until it was almost all I could think about. My body was making it all look easy, while my mind screamed that this wasn¡¯t natural. There had to be something I was missing, some clever trap being set for me, some monster with dripping teeth waiting just around the corner. So far, though, said trap had not been sprung, no monster materialized. Face it. You¡¯ve got juiced stats. Just enjoy not being overwhelmed for once. To distract from my feeling of impending doom, I focused on the steady drip of experience I was getting through my feed. You have created: Melt Ammunition Pellet. You have been awarded 5 experience points. Experience rate 93/min. The Automated cylinder inside of my weapon was slowly working on Shaping and Automating the next batch of melty ammo at a rate of about three pellets per minute. Both guns, mine and Gizelle¡¯s, working full time put out about 30 xp/min while the Amalgamations would spike my rate by an additional 70 each time they died. It wasn¡¯t much, I had to admit, but this was all more a proof of concept than a full on attempt to reach for a new Level. The SpewerTM, as an experiment, told me two things. 1: I got experience for both the killing they did and the things they made. 2: I got experience even when another Exotic was using them. These two discoveries, though not Earth shattering, absolutely justified the time and mana I¡¯d used to create them. The Spewers were essentially repurposed turret barrels, shortened, widened, and reinforced, then molded until they fit in the hand easily. They weren¡¯t exactly mechanical wonders, just big steel tubes with a spring trigger that would activate the propulsion cubes. The ammunition was similarly primitive, a handful of lead and tin pebbles I¡¯d had wobbling around in my Spatial Storage for a while. The real cool factor, the thing that made these things so effective as both weapons and science experiments, came from the Automated cylinder at the back of the gun. That thing was magical. After Gizelle and I loaded our guns and the retention irises closed, said Automated cylinder went to work, slowly infusing the tiny BBs one by one with simple instructions for performing a State Change as soon as they made contact with solid matter outside the weapon. The longer a particular ¡®load¡¯ of ore pebbles spent inside the chamber, the more of them got charged, and every pellet gave me experience both when it was made and when it killed. The magically molten ammunition was devastating stuff. A shot to the monster''s spine would practically disconnect the metal parts from their extremities, shattering the old bones, and the molten lead/tin would drip onto the more delicate bits like melted wax. Then, the amalgamations found themselves unable to get free of their broken husks thanks to all the quickly solidifying metal fouling up their tentacle arms. It was metal I wasn¡¯t going to get back, but the price in materials was worth it, if only for the knowledge I¡¯d gained. A couple casting bowls and a healthy number of worker drones, and I could probably get a good way through Level 3 or 4, no sweat. What about past that? How would level 10 even be possible? 20? I¡¯d either need enough iron to form a minor gravity well or enough enemies to do the same if I wanted to go even farther. *BOOF* *SCREEEEEECH* *CRACK* You have defeated Undying Amalgamation. You gain 70 experience points. [300 base, +150 Near Death Experience, -240 non combat class, +30 level, -170 party split] Experience rate 112/min. Gizelle downed another monster that had been sneaking up behind us. The attack came shortly after Belle¡¯s kill but not soon enough to spike my XP rate up to level 2. Disappointing in that regard, but, again, what I didn¡¯t gain in experience I was gaining in knowledge. I was starting to see how XP spikes were going to be extremely useful in surpassing Level thresholds.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. ¡°There,¡± Philipe said, pointing out into the dark after we¡¯d exited a stairwell and into a more open area. ¡°What am I looking at?¡± I asked. Detect wasn¡¯t giving me anything within range, so I was blind beyond about 15 feet. ¡°What? No darkvision?¡± Belle asked me. ¡°How¡¯ve you been getting around down here without?¡± I ground my teeth together but tried not to let my irritation show. No more, Ryan. We¡¯re not going to be the blind guy in every party we join. Goggles. ASAP. Belle saw right through me. ¡°Okay. Okay. Sorry, newbie. You¡¯re gonna burst a blood vessel or something,¡± she said with a grimace. Then she reached up and tapped the side of her goggles a few times until directional lamps affixed to both sides of her head winked on and bathed the area in bright light. Gizelle did the same. The room was a big one, cathedral-like with high, vaulted ceilings and intricately carved support beams that started as singular columns near the floor then split into smaller and smaller beams until they spread all across the roof and joined with their partners on the other side. In the very center of the room was a huge mound of dirt that was in the process of turning into a mountain. The base had already swallowed several of the stone pillars. The walls (those not buried by the landslide at least) were neatly constructed sets of rectangular alcoves where more rows of bones had been meticulously arranged by type. ¡°There,¡± Philipe repeated. This time I saw where he was pointing. One of our carved standing stones jutted out of the soil near the top of the huge mound of dirt. ¡°So, it¡¯s the standing stone,¡± I guessed. ¡°More of a leaning stone now, isn¡¯t it?¡± Belle japed. Philipe shrugged, not bothering to answer either of us. This felt like a place of worship or maybe like a court you might see in some old paintings, a big hall where the king would hold an audience with his people or make proclamations to his subjects. Except all that was here now was bones. Another of my drones appeared in the pocket of my pants, its flash concealed partially by the fabric. Then I let the little drone slip through the hole I¡¯d ripped in the bottom of the pocket and felt it roll down my trouser leg. I conjured a couple of semi-convincing coughs to conceal the metal thump as it landed on the floor and the tiny *tinks* of its little insect feet as it scuttled off into the dark. That makes eight. ¡°I appreciate you all doing this for me,¡± Philipe said in a tone one might use when excusing yourself from an unwanted social occasion. From his cloak he pulled out a stack of hexagonal coins and handed them over to me, dropping the stack into my palm. They didn¡¯t show up for Detect Iron, but they felt cool and smooth like metal. ¡°As promised,¡± the courier declared. Belle whistled in appreciation. I looked from Philipe to the Pathfinders and back. Was what I was just given a lot? I had no way of knowing. Philipe didn¡¯t seem sad to part with it, but the Pathfinders seemed impressed enough to stare hungrily at the collection of coins. ¡°Good to meet you, Philipe,¡± I lied as I hefted the coins in a way I hoped came off as casual. They were surprisingly heavy, even for a dude with more than 50 Body. ¡°Remember to tell them this place is infested with nasties when you get over there.¡± ¡°I will, though they don¡¯t seem to be much of a problem. We should have this cleaned up in no time if our kill teams are half as competent as you three.¡± It wasn¡¯t technically a backhanded compliment, but I decided to take it as one in solidarity with my Pathfinders. Gizelle, bless her heart, delivered the line so I didn¡¯t have to. ¡°This place is big. Lots of hallways and unexplored chambers. Best not to assume.¡± ¡°Of course,¡± Philipe replied with a slight bow. Then, with no further fanfare, he took off. The man was fast. Very fast. He moved in such a way that tricked the eye, made you wonder if you¡¯d blinked at the wrong time¡­ repeatedly. It was like someone had dialed up the frame rate on Philipe¡¯s¡­ everything¡­ until it reached uncanny valley territory. The dirt under the courier¡¯s feet puffed up into little clouds as he ran, scaling the giant dirt mound all the way to the top. *BAMF* And he was gone. That was when the standing stone began to move. It slid, slowly, out of the soil, unearthing itself, tipping onto its side and tumbling down the mound in a series of weighty thumps until it came to rest at the bottom. As it did so, the loose dirt cascaded down and around something solid. A slight twitch from beneath the surface revealed a form, an arm resting on the side of an enormous high-backed chair with lots of carvings and golden inlays¡­ Oh, wow, did I call it. That¡¯s totally a throne. Then, the thing that was attached to the arm rose out of its seat, casting off hundreds of pounds of loose dirt and rocks like they were nothing more than an inconvenience. A black, crowned dome with bone accents and tarnished gold spikes rose from the ground followed by a helm of black metal. A set of glowing eyes winked into existence within. The amalgamations¡¯ trademark teapot scream echoed inside that helm, only the magnitude of it was ten times the power of the others, and it shook the walls around us enough to dislodge ancient dust from the mortar. I let out a self effacing ¡°Huh.¡± That¡¯s a throne, and this is a boss room. In hindsight, I should have seen this coming. I let another drone fall to the floor. Nine. With a warcry that was nearly as loud as the King Amalgamation¡¯s initial scream, Belle let off a volley of bolts with her las-carbine, which spanged off of the monster¡¯s armor in a shower of sparks, completely ineffectual. She turned around and shook her head. ¡°Nope!¡± she shouted as she took a step back, stretching out her arm across my chest protectively. ¡°Nope! Nope! Nope!¡± ¡°Run, Kotes,¡± Gizelle ordered me, grabbing my jacket collar and shoving me back into the stairwell. I hesitated, looking back to make sure they were- ¡°We¡¯re right behind you! Don¡¯t stop!¡± Belle screamed. *pock* Another drone fell from my pant leg and rolled across the stone floor. Fortunately, the Pathfinders were too distracted to either notice or ask about it. The glowing eyes focused, narrowed, pulsed. A sickly green beam of light lanced into the stones to my right. *BOOM* The last thing I saw with my actual eyes was an explosion of dust and jagged flakes of pulverized rock. They shot into my face like shrapnel from a grenade, and I barely got a hand up in time to shield myself. It was no good, though. Blood ran into my eyes, blinding me. You take 10 damage (piercing). You gain status: Bleeding [2 HP/sec] ¡°Go! Go! Go!¡± Belle screamed again. I felt hands on my back, pushing, getting me back to my feet. Detect told me I was dribbling blood onto the stone steps as we climbed. *BOOM* More rocks pelted our backs, and I detected the faint scent of ozone. We ran. We ran until we felt rain on our skin. ¡ª----------------------------- It was nighttime by the time we got to the next jump. Just as the Pathfinders had said, it was only a few clicks away, though going around all the hills and sticking to the valleys delayed us somewhat. Plus I was blind for half of it. On an intellectual level, I knew I wasn¡¯t actually blind. The System would have told me that kind of thing, and I¡¯d poured through the logs to make sure. However, not being able to see really freaked me out. I made myself a nervous wreck until Belle was kind enough to wash the moldy tomb dust and dried blood from my eyes with her canteen. ¡°There you are, newbie. It¡¯s alright,¡± Belle cooed when my eyes finally opened. ¡°You really didn¡¯t need your eyes down there did you? Got by without ¡®em just fine.¡± I blinked more debris away and rubbed the grime off my face. Once I was clean-ish and calmed down enough to reply, I gave her a weak smile. ¡°I might not always use them, but I¡¯m pretty attached to them all the same.¡± ¡°Those really are your natural eyes then? Thought that shine came from aftermarket work,¡± she replied with a grin. I wobbled my head back and forth. ¡°Would you believe me if I said it was both?¡± She tilted her head, confused, but didn¡¯t say if she actually believed me. Our next jump was built up a bit more than the jump to Proxis. Where our Proxis one was attached to a set of standing stones atop (until recently) a burial mound with a skeleton king inside, this place was once a castle on a hill. You could almost see the bones of the castle, the walls and the floors, now moss covered and eroded, the keep a pile of roughly carved blocks that still had a couple intact walls and a corner of a roof intact. The jump itself was in the Middle of the yard. Grass had reclaimed it, but if I squinted I could almost see soldiers or knights doing drills or patrolling around the place. I felt that thrill in my stomach as soon as we got close enough. ¡°Alright. This one¡¯s a clean jump, so it shouldn¡¯t be as dangerous as the last,¡± Belle claimed. ¡°Better let me go first, though. In case someone¡¯s waiting for us.¡± ¡°That happen a lot?¡± I asked. ¡°No, not unless- Well-,¡± she said, sighing and seeming to battle with herself on whether or not to explain further. ¡°The best place to ambush a Chosen is right on the other side of a jump,¡± she said, after a moment of consideration. ¡°Bee!¡± Gizelle admonished the other Pathfinder with a scowl. ¡°I know! I know! It¡¯s considered a shitty thing to do, newbie. Don¡¯t do it, even if it¡¯s done to you. If we make a habit of using the jumps for war, the whole human thing falls apart, get me? They¡¯re all that connects us. If we can¡¯t trust them, we¡¯re on our own. No more intergalactic civilization. Total collapse.¡± She nodded slowly as she spoke, trying to get me to nod along with her to signal I understood. The red haired Pathfinder looked serious, like she was imparting some wisdom of which I had no way to grasp the real value. I thought for a few heartbeats, still wondering if my new points in Mind actually made me smarter. All I came up with was: ¡°That¡¯s all it would take? Just like that?¡± Belle exchanged a look with her fellow Pathfinder, who shook her head. ¡°Yeah,¡± Belle replied. ¡°Just like that. The jumps aren¡¯t for fighting, newbie.¡± Belle nodded, took a deep breath, and put her carbine up to her shoulder. Then she was gone through the jump in a puff of air. Gizelle gave it a good ten-count before she spoke. ¡°Go ahead,¡± she said, gesturing toward the jump point. ¡°Oh, no. You go,¡± I insisted, trying not to look back in the direction we¡¯d just come. ¡°I¡¯m not a fighter, really.¡± The tall woman shook her head, setting her jewelry to tinkling. ¡°It¡¯s a clean jump. We¡¯re supposed to guard you all the way to Sabium, remember?¡± she asked before spearing me with a suspicious stare. ¡°No. Perhaps you don¡¯t.¡± ¡°Uh. Sure. Yeah. I remember,¡± I replied. Gizelle scoffed. ¡°No need to pretend. I see what you are. Would have seen it even if you weren¡¯t going to Sabium.¡± ¡°Not going so much as being sent against my will,¡± I grumbled under my breath. ¡°Good.¡± The Pathfinder nodded like she¡¯d just said something profound. I blinked. ¡°Uh. Good? What the hell¡¯s that supposed to mean?¡± She lifted her punch dagger until it was pointed at my chest, where my heart would have been. ¡°Still alive where it counts.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t-¡± Her dagger brushed against the material of my jacket as she stepped closer. ¡°A thing like you doesn¡¯t need help becoming a monster, Kotes,¡± Gizelle declared. Her expression held no malice or deceit, even if the words themselves were charged. The icy lake that lurked in my center made itself known, its frozen surface showing fine cracks that hadn¡¯t quite healed yet. Honestly, I wasn¡¯t even sure if I wanted them to heal, to return to that smooth, featureless solidity it used to have. Those cracks marked where I¡¯d been, what I¡¯d been. They were reminders. A thing like me¡­ I¡¯m a botched reroll of a buggy character, lady. Nobody knows what I am. Not even me and I¡¯m kind of sick of that fact. What I did know, however, was that I wasn¡¯t going to figure things out in a prison cell. It was time to put that problem in the rear view for a little while. I reached into that part of my mind where I kept all my Volatility triggers. The drones should have been ready by now. They¡¯d been charging for hours, tucked away somewhere near the ceilings of the tunnels back in the burial mound, preferably somewhere load bearing such as a doorway or the crest of an arch. I gave all nine triggers a solid mental push. It didn¡¯t take long to feel the tremors through the thick soles of my work boots. You have defeated Undying Amalgamation. You gain 240 experience points. [300 base, +150 Near Death Experience, -240 non combat class, +30 level] You have defeated Undying Amalgamation. You gain 264 experience points. [300 base, +150 Near Death Experience, -240 non combat class, +30 level, +24 group] You have defeated Undying Amalgamation. You gain 274 experience points. [300 base, +150 Near Death Experience, -240 non combat class, +30 level, +34 group] You have defeated Undying Amalgamation. You gain 285 experience points. [300 base, +150 Near Death Experience, -240 non combat class, +30 level, +45 group] You have defeated Undying Amalgamation. You gain 290 experience points. [300 base, +150 Near Death Experience, -240 non combat class, +30 level, +50 group] Experience rate 1,363/min. Level up! You are now level 2. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Ambitious: You have defeated a foe above your level. [+1 to lowest level ability] All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] Level up! You are now level 3. Max HP +5 Max MP +5 +1 attribute point. Achievements awarded this level: Ambitious: You have defeated a foe above your level. [+1 to lowest level ability] All Natural: You have spent 80% of this level with full mana. [+1 body] Spirit of the Warrior: You gained 51% of your experience this level from defeated foes as a non-combat class. [+3 spirit] ¡°What was that?¡± Gizelle gasped, dropping into her fighting stance. ¡°Did you fee-¡± But I wasn¡¯t there to answer. Chapter 7 Chapter 7 *BAMF* Thankfully, this jump was a bit less firebally than my first. In fact, other than a slight, unpleasant building of pressure in my body and then a sudden transition from the dead of night to midday, it was a downright pleasant experience. I didn¡¯t land on my face or take any damage. One moment I was atop a pile of old castle, the next I was here, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the new setting. Said setting, however, was weird. I already mentioned how I transitioned instantly from night to day, which was already strange. Stranger still was that there was no visible sun. The sky was a uniform blue, bright, vibrant, but no matter where I looked there was no variation, no change in hue or contrast as if I was looking at an impossibly big blue canvas. Two or three puffy white clouds hung in the air as well a few hundred feet down below. Oh yes, the weirdest part. Belle and I were standing atop a rock platform about the size of a house, but below said rock platform was air. I turned in a slow circle, making the smallest, most calculated movements of which I was capable. I wasn¡¯t sure why. It just seemed like the right thing to do. Our platform didn¡¯t feel entirely still, like we were in the process of spinning or maybe wobbling. Whatever it was, I could feel the movement instinctually, just still enough to be stable but not quite rock solid, and, somehow, I knew we weren¡¯t resting atop anything. Around us, in every direction, other rocks were similarly floating impossibly above the clouds, lazily drifting in the breeze and being casually impossible. Then, when I was done with my look around, I gathered my courage and wandered over to the side of our platform to take a peek over the edge to find nothing but air, more clouds, and more blue, just as bright as the rest of the sky. Our rock didn¡¯t show any sign of tipping when I got to the edge, thankfully. Instead, smaller rocks materialized from under our platform spinning into place directly where I was trying to look until they finally settled into a roughly foot wide circle. The motion was so sudden, it startled me, and I did an involuntary, staggering lurch back. My legs collapsed as every climbing instinct in my body told me to lower my center of gravity until it couldn¡¯t get any lower. After that, I just stared up at the sky and focused on calming my growing vertigo. Belle¡¯s face appeared in my vision after a moment, blotting out part of the too-perfect blue of the sky. She giggled as I laid there, hands on her knees and red cheeked. ¡°Now I can stop recording. Glad to see something about you is normal, newbie,¡± she laughed. She produced her wrist computer thingy and activated the holo, poking one of the buttons. ¡°After that thing with the skeletons, I thought maybe Mr. White had lied to us. Like maybe we were just cover for some underhanded CA espionage thing, but you just put that theory to bed. Can¡¯t fake a reaction like that.¡± I frowned at her, but I couldn¡¯t rise to the level of being annoyed or angry. Her teasing gave me something to focus on other than the open air all around us at least. ¡°Glad I could clear things up. Definitely not a spy,.¡± I gulped once my breathing was back under control. My mouth was still dry, and my throat felt tight. ¡°So, floating rocks. That¡¯s¡­ um¡­ novel,¡± I said, finally coming upon the right word. Belle checked her wrist computer again and tapped on the little glass orb where the projector probably was. ¡°Yeah, a lot of the clean jumps are sketch-ish. Real weird.¡± She squinted at the display once more. ¡°Gizelle was right behind you, right?¡± ¡°Far as I know,¡± I answered, considering mentioning the explosion just before I¡¯d made the jump. Gizelle would probably say something about it when she got here. ¡°She was saying something before I jumped, but I didn¡¯t catch it all.¡± Deception is now level 11. Hey! I didn¡¯t even lie that time, you jerk! ¡°Accepted the prompt right away again, eh? You really need to stop that,¡± Belle chided. True. No prompt had appeared for this jump either. What did that mean? I was already atypical for Exotics in a lot of ways, but why this way? I had nothing but questions. Questions and no one to ask. Belle seemed like a good enough person, but she was literally being paid to shepherd me. Once that contract was up, would she keep any of my secrets? I didn¡¯t think so, especially if my status of ¡®former demon¡¯ came up. If that little nugget was big enough to shut down an entire planet, it was probably big enough to sell. That thought passed through my psyche like a cold wind, and a profound sense of melancholy swept over me. I literally had no one in this universe I could trust. Very few in my home universe too. Even on Ralqir, I¡¯d never felt this far from home. At least on Ralqir I¡¯d had good people around me. ¡°Newbie? You okay?¡± The Pathfinder woman¡¯s expression had gone from pleasant to concerned sometime when I wasn¡¯t paying attention. She offered me a hand to get me back on my feet. Say something. That¡¯s what a normal person would do. I needed to be a normal person for just a little while longer. Once I got to Sabium, maybe then I could fall apart. ¡°Sorry. Did you say something?¡± I asked as I consciously put my mask back into place. Harmless. Unbothered. ¡°Oh it¡¯s fine. Was just talking about how you handled evil monsters from beyond the grave a lot better than our little island getaway here,¡± she said, hauling me to my feet with a grunt. ¡°Oh. Yeah. Undead were part of my tutorial,¡± I answered vaguely. Belle quirked an eyebrow at that. ¡°Really? You a necromancer or something? A Nom-Combat necromancer?¡± ¡°Uh-¡± ¡°No wait. You¡¯re Non-Combat, and you make stuff. Let¡¯s see¡­¡± She put her hand to her chin and thought for a moment before snapping her fingers and pointing at my chest. ¡°Oh. Oh! Okay. Tell me if I¡¯m close: You make weapons out of the souls of the damned. Please tell me I¡¯m right, because that would be just stupendous, and I want one.¡± *BAMF* In a puff of displaced air, Gizelle appeared next to us. She was breathing hard, her skin beaded with sweat, and her punch dagger was out of its sheath. ¡°Giz? What kept you?¡± Belle gasped. Gizelle took deep, greedy gulps of air before she answered. ¡°The ruins. They¡¯ve collapsed.¡± Belle made a rude noise with her tongue. ¡°Yeah. Obviously,¡± she replied dismissively. ¡°No,¡± the taller Pathfinder countered with a shake of her head. ¡°I mean the rest of the way. Devastated. A plume of dust hundreds of feet high.¡± ¡°Oh, God, we were just down there,¡± Belle realized, turning to me. ¡°Unlucky for Proxis, I guess. They¡¯re gonna have a hell of a time digging the jump out again.¡± Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Then she gasped as another realization hit her. ¡°Then there¡¯s the skellies¡­ They¡¯ll have to dig them out too. The jump¡¯s going to be down for weeks before it¡¯s safe.¡± Oh, good. That was the idea. Gizelle lowered the canteen she¡¯d been drinking out of and wiped her mouth. ¡°Lots of people are going to be angry at you, Kotes.¡± I tried to look sufficiently frightened and very much not like a fugitive who¡¯d just bought himself a little more breathing room. Belle gave me a sympathetic look even as she rested a comforting hand on her partner¡¯s back. ¡°Yeah. Maybe don¡¯t go home for a little while, newbie. I mean, sure, there was a monster nest down there, but as long as trade was flowing, Proxis¡¯ Chosen would have been fine ignoring it. Now, nobody¡¯s gonna do business through that jump until it¡¯s cleared.¡± So, I was another step ahead of the law. Unless I was worth more than the entirety of Proxis¡¯ intergalactic trade, the Marshals were going to have their hands full for a while. Gizelle, having finally caught her breath, gave Belle¡¯s hand a little squeeze then flipped the little shotgun construct around to present it to me butt first. ¡°Handy little thing,¡± She said as I took hold of it but when I tried to pull it away, she held on tightly, forcing me to contest her strength. I didn¡¯t try. Somehow that just made the suspicious frown she wore deepen. ¡°Makes me wonder what else you can do.¡± Belle grinned obliviously and waggled her eyebrows. ¡°Oh, I¡¯ve got his Class all figured out, Giz. Soul Smith. Ooh. No. Gunsmith of the Damned.¡± ¡ª---------------------- ¡°Sketch-ish. See?¡± Belle asked as we finally set foot on ¡®solid¡¯ ground again. Solid ground, meaning one of the bigger floating boulders that made up most of the solid matter in this place. ¡°That¡¯s still not a word,¡± Gizelle argued implacably. Belle turned back to her partner and threw up her hands in exasperation. ¡°Well I can¡¯t use sketchy. That would imply like¡­ evil or something.¡± The rocky path behind us, in a dizzying display of geological ballet that made your heart flutter and your sense of dread sit up and take notice, waivered and undulated perceptibly now that we were no longer walking on it, then fell away, tumbling into the infinite blue down below until they were too far away to track. No matter how many times I¡¯d seen it happen, it never got any less terrifying. When you were on the little stepping stones they were solid enough, allowing you to traverse the long, empty parts between different rock shelves, but seeing them just fall away like that tricked your brain into believing you¡¯d just narrowly avoided death. ¡°Then use a different word. A real one,¡± Gizelle said. ¡°Words are all made up anyway. They¡¯re not even real,¡± Belle insisted. Gizelle rolled her shoulders to resituate her pack. ¡°Of course they are. They¡¯re descriptive. That¡¯s how words work.¡± ¡°They¡¯re only real because we agree they¡¯re real. They¡¯re all made up, see? Sketch-ish: a thing that¡¯s like a sketch.¡± Belle made a grand, sweeping gesture at the weird blue sky and the floating boulders as if that would make us understand. ¡°So, this place is connected to a whole bunch of other universes, and they¡¯re all clean jumps?¡± I asked, mostly as a method to trick my endocrine system into lowering the adrenaline levels a bit. I always thought I¡¯d avoided acquiring a fear of heights, but this place was making me consider picking one up. Would I just fall forever if my attention wavered at the wrong time? The thought made me shudder. Belle made a so-so gesture with her hand. ¡°Well, all the universes are connected in a bunch of places,¡± she explained. ¡°The difference here is scale. Our ¡®verse is probably bumping up against a shit ton of other realities, but we¡¯ll probably never find them all because they¡¯re spread over an infinite expanse of vacuum and burning gas. This universe is tiny, relatively speaking.¡± Gizelle put her wrist holo up to her face and peered inside, back to being the guide for our little troupe. She turned, holding the display up so that it aligned with a rock in the distance. ¡°There¡¯s the place. One more walk.¡± We¡¯d actually passed several jump points since we¡¯d arrived, but none of them had been ours. I could feel them pulling at me when we passed, like a beggar clutching at your clothes. They seemed to desperately want me to let myself go, get pulled in. I resisted the urge as best I could, mostly by staying near the edges of our rocks, which didn¡¯t do my budding acrophobia any favors. ¡°Seems weird,¡± I said, purposefully not looking down into the bottomless sky where our path would eventually form so we could take our walk. ¡°It¡¯s too empty. It¡¯s just rocks and sky.¡± ¡°Looks like it¡¯s not done, doesn¡¯t it?¡± Belle asked, pausing momentarily to look back at me. I nodded like a good student, picking up on the fact that she was leading the conversation somewhere. ¡°Like there should be more, right?¡± Belle raised an eyebrow, her self-satisfied grin just barely peaking from behind her serious expression. Then she gestured to me with an open hand as if prompting me to finish her sentence. ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± ¡°Sketch¡­ish?¡± I replied. Belle beamed. Gizelle groaned in disgust. ¡°It¡¯s a sketch! It¡¯s like the place knows what it wants to be, but it¡¯s not done yet,¡± the red haired Pathfinder explained with enthusiasm. I frowned, not quite satisfied with that answer. That didn¡¯t make any sense. ¡°He¡¯s got the look,¡± Gizelle observed, shaking her head. ¡°He¡¯s literally going to a school. Don¡¯t fill his head with your nonsense right before he receives a proper education.¡± ¡°Aw, c¡¯mon!¡± Belle pouted, hands on her hips. ¡°I¡¯ve got more hours abroad than most Chosen twice my age. There¡¯s academic knowledge, then there¡¯s experience.¡± I turned Belle¡¯s words over in my head, specifically how she¡¯d worded her descriptions. It wanted¡­ How did a universe want? ¡°So, wait. It¡¯s¡­ alive?¡± I asked after a few heartbeats. Belle gestured to me, triumph on her face. ¡°See? He got there by himself.¡± ¡°Absolutely not. Not alive in the way we can possibly understand,¡± Gizelle corrected, rubbing at her eyes like a headache was coming on while treating every word as a chore. ¡°That doesn¡¯t stop some Chosen from saying so.¡± Belle spread her arms and did a big circle before posing, game show host style. ¡°Newbie, you¡¯re inside a cosmic parasite! Ta-da!¡± I felt my eyebrows furrow as I turned the idea over in my head. ¡°A parasite for what? Where¡¯s the host?¡± ¡°Us, my dear boy¡± Belle answered, pushing her goggles farther up on her nose. I got the sudden urge to check my Status Screen for debuffs or missing stats. ¡°Not us, us,¡± Gizelle corrected. ¡°Our home. Our universe. That¡¯s the theory, at least.¡± ¡°Beasties such as these are sucking the reality juice right out of our metaphorical juice box,¡± Belle continued. ¡°And it¡¯ll keep doing it until it¡¯s taken it all.¡± ¡°You¡¯re kidding-¡± ¡°Oh look, here we are. Once you go through here, you¡¯ll have gone six hundred relative light years in just under a day. Not our fastest run but a good one,¡± Belle announced with a bright grin. We¡¯d just stepped foot onto the next floating rock platform, and I heard the telltale sound of the path behind us crumbling away. ¡°Now that¡¯s just mean, Bee,¡± Gizelle grumbled, though she had a rare smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. I turned from one woman to the other. ¡°Hold on. What? What did you mean by that?¡± ¡°Best not think about it.¡± Belle teased. ¡°Though if you want my advice, don¡¯t make any long term investments with returns further out than a few billion years. See you around, newbie,¡± she said before I asked more questions, sticking out a hand for me to shake. ¡°Make sure to write. When I see you again, I want that soul pistol, okay? Not just any soul either. A fighty one.¡± I blinked, just now noticing the pull from the jump point. This was the place, was it? ¡°Uh. You¡¯re not coming all the way?¡± I asked, suddenly a bit apprehensive. ¡°Sabium¡¯s a dead end,¡± Belle said. ¡°¡®Far as the Pathfinders are concerned. Dead end in a lot of ways, actually. No way out other than the way you came in.¡± ¡°Take care of yourself, Kotes,¡± Gizelle said, reaching out for my hand as well which I took. Her grip was strong but not overbearing. She stared into my eyes, serious. Did I also detect a note of worry there? ¡°Be better than them.¡± I gave her a questioning look, but, in Gizelle fashion, she didn¡¯t elaborate further. Belle slapped me on the shoulder. ¡°Go on now. Remember. A fighty soul pistol.¡± I smile politely at her and nodded to both of them in turn. ¡°I¡¯ll remember.¡± Belle grinned. Gizelle nodded stoically. Then I let myself go. *BAMF* Again, no fire, no freezing cold. Just a slight build of pressure and then I felt cold metal against my palm. I was kneeling, one hand on some kind of metal decking, smooth with a finely textured finish. In front of me¡­ There was a window. No. The entire wall was a window, perfectly transparent to the point where I could barely detect the glass. Beyond the glass¡­ billions upon billions of¡­ stars. Chapter 8 Chapter 8 The room I was in was dim, not dark per se, more of a pleasant sort of moody that only would become a problem when you tried to focus on small details, but that wasn¡¯t an issue. Space was literally right there. Who could get hung up on little details when all of the cosmos was bare before you. The glass I was looking through was curved slightly, allowing me to step forward and attain the feeling of being surrounded by the stars. I didn¡¯t do that, though. Tutorial instilled paranoia had me taking the more cautious approach to things lately. I forced myself to look away from the starscape and hunt for an exit, finding only a heavy metal airlock type door behind me with a blue ¡®5¡¯ on the left side. There were no controls evident anywhere, no touch pads or switches, just smooth metal bulkheads and solid blue paint. There were no vents to be seen either, but the air was moving all the same, preventing the room from feeling stuffy. Detect Iron told me there were little gaps between the plates of the floor and ceiling that allowed for air flow. Still¡­ space. I¡¯d never been to space. It¡¯s not that I was never given the chance to go. I¡¯d had a few. Opportunities for Outers kids were scarce but not non-existent. In fact, I was pretty sure I remembered our school scraping together enough money to tour Proxis¡¯ orbital station once. I hadn¡¯t attended. The accident had robbed me of the desire to do much of anything for months after the fact. After that, I¡¯d thrown myself into other pursuits. Now I was being presented with a panoramic view of just¡­ everything, billions of stars so vivid against the vast curtain of black. There was a cluster of faint pink nebulas that took up a good fifth of the window too, a rare thing to see for a guy that grew up in atmo. There was a flash, then a series of blinking blue lights from a cluster of shadowy objects almost under my feet. There was an answering series of flashes from another sector of space on my left. No way. Those are running lights on ships. I leaned forward to get a better look, to see what shape they were, what model, if they were atmo capable¡­ anything. The excitement of getting to see honest to Constance marvels of engineering in action pulled my body forward as surely as a jump point pulled on my insides, but a big gray box of text appeared in front of me as soon as I took a single step, a box not from the System but directly on the glass. I blinked and moved my head, trying to see around the box to get a peak at the ships, but the thing¡¯s intrusive presence made me lose track of the craft I¡¯d spotted. The child-like wonder I¡¯d been experiencing faded in the face of.. Whatever this was. The Concordat welcomes you to Sabium, Chosen. What is the nature of your visit? Several options appeared underneath the window in rounded bubbles, blinking slowly as if begging to be touched. Commerce Communication Experience Other Each word was accompanied by a little pictogram that helped convey its meaning. Commerce had a little coin icon while communication had an archaic paper letter with a single folded corner. Experience, however, had a little goblin stick figure with long ears and Xs over its eyes. Considering how I was an honorary goblin and one of my best friends was a goblin, I didn¡¯t find it as cute as it was obviously intended to be. There was no mention of this school I was meant to attend. Though it probably had something to do with experience and the getting thereof, I got the impression that the learning experience was more comprehensive than that. What¡¯s more, it was exclusive. They wouldn¡¯t put that on the first page of their welcome program, I guessed. I reached out and poked ¡®Other.¡¯ There was a gentle ¡®boop,¡¯ and the display changed. What name will you be using for your stay? The phrasing struck me as odd. What name would I be using? Why not just ask my name? Context, Ryan. What do we know? So far, I knew this place was a school. A school in space. Nett had mentioned it was ¡®the belly of the beast¡¯ too, whatever that meant. A school in space meant I was on a ship or an installation. Mr. White had mentioned the Families and how they played a huge role in this place¡­ together. Given what I knew, that was unusual. Even though they liked to put on a unified front for the general public, it had long been common knowledge that the Families were as divided and dysfunctional as any other sufficiently large group of people. Their infighting had gotten so bad, the worst of it had even graduated from Net conspiracy theory to accepted truth a full generation ago. Trade wars, extortion, blackmail, even assassinations weren¡¯t unheard of when it came to Chosen conflicts. There was even a section of my History textbook dedicated to it all, which, I was sure, rankled the Families that still cared about their public image. The Families were, conceptually, powerful bloodlines of Exotics whose sole purpose was walking the path to power to elevate humanity and bring prosperity to all mankind. In practice, they were cartels with political, economic, and social power that the CA had precious little control over. And this school is meant to be a place for all of them¡­ Maybe using a pseudonym was considered normal here, a way to keep yourself from being targeted by rivals.. That could work to my advantage. However, would the school even see me if I didn¡¯t give them my name? How would they know to accept me? Wait, did they even know I was coming? White would have to contact the CA who would then contact this school, and I didn¡¯t think White had an opportunity to do that yet. I was literally the first guy off planet with a data can- A sudden realization hit me, and it hit me hard. Oh, you¡¯ve got to be kidding me. The data canister I currently had in my inventory was the only communication that had left Proxis in the past 24 hours, the entire contents of the planet¡¯s data net including all interplanetary communication, and I¡¯d just sabotaged the jump so that no one else was getting out for weeks. Did we just completely screw ourselves, Ryan? We might just have screwed ourselves. Suddenly, laying low and using an adopted name didn¡¯t sound so bad, at least until word arrived that I belonged here¡­ whenever that would be. I tapped my finger on my chin, thinking. I¡¯d always liked old Earth mythology. Maybe I could¡­ The program didn¡¯t seem amused. Checking availability¡­ Are you sure you wish to use this name? This question will not be asked again, and you are expected to use this name for any communications for the duration of your stay. A kernel of doubt tried to sprout in my mind, but I squashed it immediately. The name I¡¯d picked was cool. I was just reading too much into a mindless questionnaire. Please wait. Transport in progress. Suddenly, the room lurched, and the starfield rotated in front of me. I stumbled slightly only just catching myself before I fell on my face. Mechanical whirring came from the ceiling and the walls. My view spun, the stars shooting past until they reached a new, set orientation, only this time they took a backseat to something equally wondrous. I had been mistaken. I wasn¡¯t actually on the space station. The space station was out there, massive, truly massive. The amount of time and material it had to have taken to build this thing was impossible for a single man to truly wrap his head around. It was a cylindrical thing, much longer than it was wide, its proportions resembling a couple of soda cans taped together in the middle. The edges of the cylinder were flared like satellite dishes, their lips curving upward until the end appeared concave. The top and bottom of the station were a patchwerk of white painted metal broken up with the occasional ring of glossy solar panels that looped around the girth of the structure. Meanwhile, the center, where the two halves seemed to meet in a tangled knot of tubes, support girders, and thick, insulated conduit, encircled a shining orb that flickered and pulsed strong enough to have me shield my eyes. The pod I was in approached the station at a quick pace. The structure rapidly grew in my field of view until it took up the entire thing, and I started to see individual windows dotting the white surface that I previously took to be perfectly smooth. Other blemishes appeared as well, ragged holes and black smudges where something had done damage to the structure. Bug-like construction tugs flitted to and fro on segmented legs or using their tiny propulsion thrusters to maneuver. Their forward mounted welders sparked and flashed as they worked. Before long, the surface of the station resolved into a hangar bay wreathed in blinking lights. My pod turned, showing me the stars again until I felt the pod touch down on solid ground. There was a hiss from behind me, as the door¡¯s hydraulics released their locks. The quiet that I¡¯d grown accustomed to in my time here was suddenly gone, replaced by a cacophony of activity. Metal clanked, people shouted, heavy boots clomped over metal decking, and unseen welding torches hissed while the air smelled of acrid fumes and exhaust.The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident. The metal door clanged as it reached its apex above me. Blinking at the sudden brightness, I took a tentative step outside. The hangar bay was a big one, big enough to hold multiple ships, three currently. An angular, winged thing with a pointed nose and what looked like missile mounts hanging from its underbelly squatted on the deck like a bird of prey, jets of white steam venting from its maneuvering thrusters. Meanwhile, two boxy transports were disgorging themselves of passengers, rough looking people that gave off a military vibe, though none of them wore ¡®uniforms¡¯ per se. Support crews clomped by in high visibility vests and belts, dragging mech-barrows along with heavy looking equipment piled in the back. None of them paid me any mind. In fact, they all seemed to do their best to keep from making eye contact with me at all or look my way. No one seemed ready to give me directions either. My pod, one of several lined up on the deck next to one another, no longer had the blinking text box on the glass, so that avenue for information was out. An angry voice cut through the rest of the din, high, bordering just this side of shrill. ¡°I don¡¯t care what your orders are. We have travelled for a week to get here, and now this. I don¡¯t care what you have told the others. I am a Nova. You see that, yes?¡± My eyes fell on a crowd of¡­ well, we¡¯ll call them people, but to clarify, these people were an odd bunch. First of all, they were all men, massive dudes that looked like they spent all their time in the gym, all bulging arms and wide shoulders. I knew their sex because they all wore red and black form fitting bodysuits that left little to the imagination except in the parts they¡¯d covered with similarly black and red armored plating, mostly the vital parts like the upper torso, thighs and head. All of them were armed as well, with multiple axes hanging from their belts. ¡°I understand that, sir, but the Academy¡¯s rules are clear,¡± a clearly tired and frustrated male said from somewhere behind the bodybuilder club. Mention of the Academy drew me nearer, though I really didn¡¯t want to get caught up in whatever this was. Once I got close enough the armored figures at the very back of the gaggle turned as one to look me up and down, hands on weapons and identical no nonsense expressions. In fact, their expressions were¡­ exactly identical. Uncannily so. They all had chiseled jaws, thick, imposing eyebrows, and heavy lidded eyes. They even wore the same contemptuous sneer. Once they looked me over and made sure that, on no uncertain terms, I knew I was beneath them, they turned back to observe the drama at the front of the crowd. The way they did it all in sync was also off putting. Did they grow these guys in a vat or what? The high strung voice split the air yet again. ¡°An Audit!? This is ridiculous?!¡± ¡°I admit, it has never happened in my lifetime, sir, but it is explicitly written into the charter. Once the audit¡¯s called, we are obligated to carry it out. I¡¯ll also reiterate that I¡¯m not in charge of when it¡¯s enforced,¡± the tired man replied, his voice strained. ¡°Don¡¯t lecture me on the charter, dullard. I have Family that helped write the damned thing!¡± I stood on my tiptoes, trying to see over the others, but I didn¡¯t make it past their shoulders. I wasn¡¯t a short guy, but these giants had me beat in pretty much every dimension. With a little jump, I caught a brief glimpse of a blonde crown of hair attached to another largely proportioned guy, leaned over a collapsible desk. He was mean mugging a lone security guard in padded patrol gear and wearing a lieutenant''s insignia. The look on his face was the picture of professional indifference, but his posture said he was an inch from throwing up his hands and filing for early retirement. The security guard seemed to fail at suppressing a frustrated sigh. ¡°Yes, sir. I wouldn¡¯t attempt to lecture you. As for how we are handling this, currently enrolled students have priority, as they may be in the midst of time sensitive studies or quests. Then will come new hopefuls like yourself. Until this can be sorted out, all we can do is direct you to your Family¡¯s holdings.¡± ¡°My Family does not bother with holdings on this station, moron. How am I to find lodging for myself and my servants? Much less my sister.¡± He gestured to a much smaller figure in the middle of all the burly hatchetmen, and the gaggle parted for her. This girl, the big dude¡¯s sister, was also blonde with long, straight hair that she wore in a braid, but where her brother was blocky and severe, she seemed demure, some of the hard edges a bit softer, more graceful and feminine, accentuated by the flowing dress she wore. If one could get over the size disparity, it wouldn¡¯t be a huge leap to guess they were related. She, however, did not speak. In fact, her mouth was set in a tight line, and her gaze bore a hole in the floor. ¡°In that case, if you are still opposed to bunking in the guard barracks, I might suggest you get multiple rooms on deck 12 or 13. Of course, that is up to you. I wouldn¡¯t think to tell you what to do,¡± the security guard ground between his teeth before adding: ¡°Sir.¡± The big blonde seemed to feed off the other man¡¯s frustration. He towered over the guard, leaning into his space. ¡°I suggest you mind your tone, or perhaps my Family will find themselves with cause to purchase holdings on this station afterall. It would only be a matter of time before you¡¯d be reporting to me.¡± The lieutenant craned his neck to look into the blonde¡¯s eyes. ¡°I will keep that in mind, sir, though if you¡¯ll refer to your history, you¡¯ll find our Families have already¡­ collaborated.¡± That seemed to strike a chord between the two. ¡°Ah, Marshals,¡± the lead musclehead sniffed haughtily, straightening up and raising his chin. ¡°Of course. I suppose wherever there are menial tasks to be done, there you people are. Has the Academy fallen so far that we need to resort to rock farming upstarts for security? What would a real Family do with your contract, I wonder?¡± The Marshals. They were already here? Why? Were they here for me? No, that couldn¡¯t be. This guy was working a job. Plus, I was first off the planet with the exception of Philipe¡­ unless I was just assuming that. It was possible they sent multiple couriers out into the multiverse when White sprung me from captivity. If they discovered me, what would they do? I looked back at my pod that had brought me to the station. It didn¡¯t look like a ship. In fact, it had clamps on its roof that looked like it would connect to a crane or some other kind of lifting mechanism. Not something I could hijack to get back to the jump point. Given enough time, maybe I could find a tug or- The lieutenant took the insult in stride but only just. He steepled his fingers and spoke between clenched teeth. ¡°We do what needs to be done, Mr. Nova, including mixing it up with the rabble and spoiled fruit dropped from tangled family trees. Perhaps you should consider dropping the pretense and just rent a single room,¡± he said, emphasizing the final words with a slight tilt of his head and a glance back at the rest of the Exotics. The big Nova¡¯s gloved hand slammed down on the collapsible table. The material snapped in half, sending papers, pens, and data sticks flying into the air, and the world held its breath. Everyone involved knew that a tipping point had just been reached. Hands reached for weapons. The security guard sensed this too. He¡¯d pushed too hard, bruised the wrong ego. Fear widened his eyes, and his hands trembled as he stood from his ruined work table. He put up his hands to call for calm or perhaps to shield himself from what was coming. It was too late, though. Things had gone too far. Axes slipped from the gathered throng¡¯s belts. ¡°Now, Marshal. Perhaps you¡¯d like to restart our conversation starting with an apology. This time, I suggest you consider your position in relation to mine,¡± The Nova¡¯s tone was dangerous, quivering like a wire under tremendous tension. He took a long step forward, remaining in the lieutenant''s personal space even as the other man backed away. I really didn¡¯t want to take part in this. I took a quick step back, willing Stealth and Gray Man to- The security guard¡¯s head twisted, zeroing in on the incongruous motion. ¡°You,¡± he said. He had the look of a man grasping for a lifeline. ¡°Can I help you?¡± Everyone turned my way, seven identical faces, one demure woman, and one desperate law man. Suddenly, I was very aware of how filthy I was. The security guard repeated the question. ¡°Can I help you, sir? Are you alright? Do you need a healer?¡± ¡°Uh-¡± was my reply, my eyes darting from face to face, finding no friends or a way out. The big blonde scoffed. ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with him that wouldn¡¯t be cured by a bath¡­ or several. Wait your turn little man,¡± he said, dismissing me and turning back to his prey. The security guard was undeterred, however. He was a drowning man, and I was a piece of driftwood. He beckoned me. ¡°W- We¡¯ll get you all taken care of, sir. If you¡¯ll come this way, uh¡­¡± He slipped a datapad out of his pocket and tapped on it, his hands still shaking, eyes darting through lines of text. ¡°We¡¯ll get you processed and on your way, Mr¡­ uh- Mechromancer?¡± He grimaced hard enough that it must have caused him physical pain. Again, everyone turned my way. This time, their gazes held judgement. My cheeks burned. Hearing it said out loud was, admittedly, less cool than it looked on paper. Someday, I was going to have a proper supervillain name. I¡¯d workshop it. An arm shot out to block me from coming forward, even though I had no intention of doing so. ¡°Uh.¡± I cleared my throat nervously. Please, System, help me out here. What I¡¯d told the gate guard on Proxis popped into my head. I was transporting cargo, officially, wasn¡¯t I? ¡°Yes. I¡¯m¡­ uh¡­ Mr. Mechromancer. I¡¯m a¡­ sort of¡­ merchant,¡± I said hastily. ¡°I sell stuff¡­ and also buy stuff.¡± Smooth. There¡¯s that high Deception skill going to work. The look on the security guard¡¯s face fell even further into despair, leading me to believe I had said something wrong. The beach bod brigade all laughed, while the leader shook his head, grinning cruelly as he turned back to the lieutenant. ¡°Hear that? He¡¯s not enrolling. So, he can wait for his betters.¡± A towering presence sidled up to me. ¡°You want to live? Piss off,¡± one of the meat slabs said. Holy hell, they even sounded identical. The security guard wasn¡¯t ready to give up yet, though. ¡°Come on then- Sirr. We can offer you a stall and storage space for your goods. I¡¯ll show you-.¡± There it was. He wasn¡¯t just using me as a distraction. He was, in a way, calling for help. No, I didn¡¯t want to get involved, but, then again¡­ The blonde Nova¡¯s face turned red. I wasn¡¯t quite sure, but I thought I saw him cast a quick glance over at his taciturn sister before he spoke again. ¡°Did you not hear me? We¡¯re not done here.¡± ¡°I have to attend to other arrivals. Please,¡± the security guard begged. His eyes flitted over my way again, the corners of his mouth turning down slightly, but that was the only indicator that he regretted throwing me to the wolves. ¡°What new arrivals are those?¡± the leader asked flatly. Suddenly, a pair of strong hands landed on my shoulders, squeezing the outside and lifting up slightly until I was forced to get on my tiptoes. The meaty Nova had a strained look on his face as well as a good dose of surprise. I didn¡¯t blame him. I was a heavy guy. Behind the guy that grabbed me, something metal and plastic shattered under the weight of a heavy blow. ¡°Nova or not, I can put all of you in the cells if you go around assaulting Chosen.¡± the security guard protested, his voice bordering on a shriek. ¡°No. You really can¡¯t. I hope you¡¯ll take this as a learning experience, Marshal. Lambs should cower in the presence of wolves.¡± His tone promised terrible things. Things I couldn¡¯t abide, even if I was stepping up to defend a probable enemy. ¡°He¡¯s just doing his job,¡± I shouted, staring into my helmeted goon¡¯s eyes while angling my head so that everyone could hear me. ¡°Leave him alone.¡± The goon that grabbed me gave me a contemptuous shove, not hard by my standards but enough to get me to notice and reroute my train of thought, but when I didn¡¯t move or look sufficiently intimidated, the big guy seemed to take this as a personal affront. So, mouth open, brows furrowed, he did what any big, strong tough guy would do. He hauled back with a fist and hit me with a big, stupid right hook. His armored glove hit my metal forearm with a clang, glancing off to the side harmlessly. His vacant, slightly affronted expression became even more so. Then he tried again. This one, I caught on my palm, but he¡¯d put some oomph into his second attempt. Even though I¡¯d technically ¡®blocked¡¯ it by catching it in my prosthetic, my bones rattled around in my core as the force of the blow travelled through my body. My boots slid back an inch or so on the deck, and my whole body tingled like I¡¯d just had a full body massage via meat tenderizer. What really threw me for a loop, however, was the System message. Consume Glyph of Growth(Major)? Y/N What? Glyph of¡­ Did I just catch a spell? But that¡¯s when the second fist made contact with my jaw, not from the meathead in front of me, but from the guy¡¯s brother who had joined the fight. Boomph. Fist met face. Hard. You take 22 damage (bludgeoning). You are stunned. My vision flashed, and the world spun on its axis. Did space stations spin? Some of them did, right? I needed to look that up. It certainly felt like it was spinning. Wow. I was in space. Having a fight. I was in a space fight. That should have concerned me, but, for some reason, it didn¡¯t. It was a problem for future Ryan. You take 30 damage (bludgeoning). You take 28 damage (bludgeoning). Everything became a whirling merry go round of cruel laughter and blunt force trauma. Chapter 9 Chapter 9 When the world stopped spinning I was on my back, a blur of motion above me punctuated by bright flashes of pain. My brain set about rebooting itself one concept at a time. First of all: Ow. I was already hurting all over. To combat this, I got my arms up to protect my face, just in time to intercept an armored boot. Less than a second later, my ribs cracked under the force of another, separate kick. Next: People were shouting. They were somewhere close by, but they weren¡¯t the shouts I would have hoped for. No ¡°Guards! Guards! Someone help that man! He¡¯s getting the shit kicked out of him!¡± No. It was¡­ something else. The tone was off, too jovial. Cheering. Finally: Skin tight bodysuits should only be worn by the select few. It was then that I realized that, not only was I getting pounded by big burly men, but, I also got a nearly perfect picture of all their identical anatomy. Have I had this nightmare before? No. This is a new one. Status lost: Stunned. HP [260/334] Good news. I couldn¡¯t have been out for more than a few seconds, thankfully, though my body insisted I¡¯d been the victim of a prolonged beating. Now that my mind was back, I set about changing the situation. That began with getting off the floor. I snatched at an opportunity as one of my assailants reared back for another kick, coiling my body like a spring and launching into a two-legged counterattack directly in the guy¡¯s groin. I roared at what the motion did to my bruised/cracked ribs, but that was drowned out quickly by the high pitched squeal that came from the big man and then the subsequent ¡°Oooooh¡± from the peanut gallery. The Nova goon sank to his knees, tears beginning to well in his eyes. Sensing another attack coming, I twisted my body to intercept another kick from behind me, taking the blow on my forearms. Again, I felt bones do something they weren¡¯t supposed to, but i couldn¡¯t pay attention to it now. I lunged, grasped the Nova¡¯s ankle, and yanked. With a ¡°Whuh?¡± the big guy was down on the ground with me, legs splayed awkwardly while his hands fought to keep the rest of him semi-upright. *WOOSH* *CLANG* Something passed over my head and clanged off my metal shoulder, slamming me back down to the floor, and I looked up to find the third giant with his hatchet raised high for another strike. Get up. Get out. With speed born of necessity, I brought both legs up to my chin and spun around to kick out hard off of one of the guy¡¯s knees. It was a move I wouldn¡¯t have been able to pull off before I¡¯d become an Exotic, I was sure, but so many points in Body were coming in handy in all sorts of ways lately. The move both worked and also didn¡¯t. I¡¯d meant to get distance, slide over the floor a couple feet to get away from the hatchet and maybe not catch a blade to something vital. Instead, what happened was the knee I¡¯d tried to use as a springboard snapped as it bent the wrong way. We exchanged a look, he and I, mouths agape in horror as he ceased to be a functioning biped, but then the pain hit him. He, like his testicularly challenged brother, also began to scream. Unarmed Combat is now level 8. Downside: I didn¡¯t travel very far. I ended up just scooting a few inches on the smooth metal deck until I came to a gentle rest against the dude I¡¯d just pulled off his feet, who then proceeded to wrap me up in a choke hold. He hauled me off the floor and up onto his body, wrapping his legs around me while ratcheting my head around, squeezing, trying to open me like a bottled drink. It was then, as I was being throttled, that I got a good look at the rest of the hangar. The four of us, me and my three stompy buddies, were surrounded by a crowd of soldiers(?), marines(?). Once they got into space didn¡¯t they become marines? I¡¯d ask later. They looked like they were fighters, rough and lean. They wore several different kinds of uniforms with lots of pockets and straps like one does when they shoot things for a living. Some wore helmets, while others carried them in their hands. Empty holsters hung on belts and chest harnesses. Grimy faces, some smeared with the remnants of dried blood and soot cheered and raised their fists, jubilant. Money was currently changing hands too even as I fought for precious air. All that, I took in as my vision started to go all white and feathery. As one does when they want to live, I struggled, first by trying to claw at the big man¡¯s grip. That didn¡¯t work. Then I started throwing elbows into the man¡¯s ribs, which elicited pained grunts from him but no more. The world began to shrink down to a pin prick, and sleep started to sound much more inviting than the waking world. I¡¯d lost consciousness often enough to know what was next. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] I woke up to more screaming, this time right into my ear, so loud I was surprised I didn¡¯t receive a Deafened debuff. Create reservoir? Y/N What? No? I don¡¯t think- Glyph of Growth(Major) consumed. Status gained: Engine [44 MP/sec for 12 seconds] Status gained: Mana Overflow Power rushed into me through my arm and blasted into my core. It smashed through my channels and took a blender to my tender insides. My skin felt hot, and my body twitched and spasmed. Then I realized the arm that had been holding me was gone, and I took a big, delicious gulp of recycled air. Groaning, I rolled off of my attacker, who¡¯d lost his will to fight all of a sudden, shaking my head, my limbs trembling as I clenched a fist. I rounded on him to put him down for sure. Only he wasn¡¯t there. Someone had replaced my over muscled assailant with a limp, skinny kid who was in the process of mewling, panting, and sweating on the floor. He gasped for air, much like I was, and he lifted his arm like he wanted to protect himself except he was too weak to even do that much. He wore the same body suit and helmet the other guys wore, the same axes on his belt too, but that was all he had in common with the others. My confusion was mirrored by the crowd, who¡¯d gotten a little quieter once I¡¯d broken the choke hold. I got to my feet and looked down at the kid¡¯s face. A single blonde strand of hair was plastered to his forehead, just like the other Novas. A bead of sweat trickled down my nose. I felt feverish, almost delirious. It had been a while since I¡¯d had Mana Overflow this bad. I needed to find something to- Something large slammed into my back, but I¡¯d had time to brace. Detect Iron was humming along now, and the remaining two assholes would have a hard time surprising me. My weight and sizeable Body score stopped the Nova cold, and I heard a *wuff* as air left his lungs. When his running tackle didn¡¯t work, he switched tactics, drawing his axes and launching into a furious series of attacks. That, I needed to avoid. I sprang back but stumbled as my body betrayed me. My skin felt like it was on fire. Whatever mana I¡¯d just put inside myself was rowdy, or maybe Crystalized Channels really meant it when it said I didn¡¯t do well with foreign mana types anymore. I barely dodged another swing, then another and another. I used my metal hand to knock the strikes to the side when I couldn¡¯t dodge, but the Nova had training. He was always there with a follow up, leaving no opening I could exploit, even though every movement looked like it pained him. The man¡¯s face was twisted in an agonized snarl with every swing he missed, but, to his credit, he didn¡¯t let it get in the way of his desire to kill me. Then he stretched his body for a massive two handed chop, the kind only a fool would block if they could help it, so I sprung back once again, only to realize, too late, that the Nova¡¯s big finisher was a feint. My back foot came down on something with a little more give than the metal deck, and it was then that I knew that I¡¯d been played. Something wrapped around my ankle tight. I glanced down to find broken-knee-guy had rejoined the fight. Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. A change in the air was the only warning I had. While my attention had been elsewhere, axe guy had seen his chance. The axe came on as fast as a bullet. It spun through the air, its entirety wreathed in crimson flame, leaving a trail of fire in its wake. There was no time to dodge or block or even think. It slammed into my midsection just above the pelvis with a *FWACK.* The fire wasn¡¯t just for show. It burned like a hot brand. Worse, when the axe ripped itself out of me and flew, spinning, back into the big guy¡¯s hand, I got the distinct pleasure of smelling my blood as it boiled. You take 25 damage (slashing). You take 30 damage (fire). You take 15 damage (slashing). A scream tore loose from my throat. Red suffused my world, pain and Mana Motherfucking Overload overriding my higher thought processes. My knees collapsed, and I redirected my trajectory until I was falling on the attacker wrapped around my leg. I gave him a little squeeze. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] Create reservoir? Y/N Reservoir created: Glyph of Growth(Major) I at least had the presence of mind to say Yes this time. My metal fingers dug into the Nova¡¯s well-muscled upper arm until I felt the bone crunch and the pieces grind together. That was just a bonus, though. The spell I¡¯d just Devoured was the real goal. As I watched, the burly dude collapsed like a dying star. He shrank, his skin wrinkling, his muscles deflating, his bones cracking and popping as they reconfigured themselves. Fear blossomed in his eyes along with agony and a hint of¡­ shame? I roared in his face. The pain I was feeling and the adrenaline I was riding was just too much not to. Then, using my not insignificant Body score, I picked my now diminished opponent up and flung him bodily at his axe wielding brother. A prompt flashed in front of my vision briefly before my new missile weapon left my grip, but it was gone before I could read it. My throw was good, better than good. The shrunken body hit axe-guy in the face just as he was winding up for another throw. ¡°Oof!¡± I heard one or both of them exclaim as they went down together. Breathing hard and clutching at my exposed insides, I groaned at how much that little maneuver hurt, but I couldn¡¯t stop. I limped over to the two of them while they were still stunned, and put my prosthetic hand on the still juiced one¡¯s ankle. Devouring Grasp [5 MP/sec] Create reservoir? Y/N Reservoir created: Glyph of Growth(Major) He ceased to be a threat, and I was left staring at two different but identical people. ¡°Ow!¡± I yelled down at them indignantly, looking from the two withered creatures on the floor to my open stomach and back again. ¡°Not cool!¡± The part of my brain where I kept my pithy one liners was on break just now. The crowd roared with laughter. At least someone was having fun. More money changed hands. One laugh towered over the rest, cruel, grating, one I recognized. With great effort, I stood up on my tiptoes, grimacing as my abdominal wound protested. There¡­ there he was. The leader of this band of axe maniacs was there. The puffed up prick was holding the Marshal security guard against a bulkhead with both hands pressed to the sides of the other Exotic¡¯s head. The guard himself was screaming, while the blond Nova¡¯s sister tugged fervently on the big guy¡¯s arm, trying to get him to stop. The prick was having too much fun to listen. They also had their own circle of jeering onlookers. I limped forward, sore, tired, pain keeping me from walking properly but not stopping me entirely. When I reached the edge of my circle, I gave the men and women there a look that I hoped encompassed how I felt. ¡°Show¡¯s over. Move,¡± I said. The soldiers looked to one another in confusion, one of them even reaching for a weapon he didn¡¯t have. His holster was empty like the others. ¡°Move!¡± I roared, channeling my Dad for the second time in my life. They moved. The ones immediately in front of me, at least. I strode forward into the press of bodies until I ran into the backs of the second circle of soldiers. I began to shove them aside. A hand came down on my shoulder. ¡°Hang on, kid,¡± a sandpaper baritone whispered in my ear, but I wasn¡¯t in the mood to listen. When I kept charging forward, the pressure on my shoulder increased, not enough to stop me, and then whoever it was pulled even harder. Another hand grabbed me on the crook of my arm as well. This time it moved my hand that had been clutching my stomach just enough to cause the wound to flare up anew. That got my attention. I rounded on him, snarling, but I stopped short at the sight of him. He was a lean, rough looking man with grease paint running down his face in a tigerstripe pattern and stubble on his chin. A captain¡¯s insignia was sewed into his uniform along with a dozen or so medals or maybe charms swinging from separate chains. Now that he had my attention, he leaned in close, giving me a look that reminded me of Sissa, though I didn¡¯t know why. ¡°You won your fight, and it was self-defense,¡± he said in a low tone, pointing at the Nova siblings with his chin. ¡°They¡¯ll figure the beef is settled. You step into this one, though, and you¡¯re going to make an enemy you can¡¯t handle.¡± My jaw worked back and forth, grinding my teeth together, while the screams of the tortured security guard pounded on my sense of calm. Who said I couldn¡¯t handle them. I¡¯d handled a whole Constance-damned world of bad. A pack of bullies wasn¡¯t about to stop me from- The soldier shook me until I was looking him in the eye again. ¡°Kid, they¡¯re going into the Academy and they¡¯re Nova. They can skin you and hang you up to dry in front of everyone here, and it won¡¯t even make the news.¡± ¡°Thanks,¡± I replied, reaching up and brushing the soldier¡¯s hand off my shoulder. ¡°Was already going to put them down, buddy. Now, I¡¯ll enjoy it more,¡± The soldier shook his head. ¡°We¡¯ve already called security, right?¡± He asked, his head turned slightly to address someone behind him. A figure materialized from the crowd. It was a woman but like none I¡¯d ever seen before. She was a half head taller than the guy in front of me, even with the helmet he was wearing. Her freckled skin, only visible on her face and arms, was slate gray and heavily tattooed with long, solid lines that formed a geometrical pattern with hexagonal rivets on their edges. She was long and lanky, almost unnaturally so, and her eyes were just a touch oversized. ¡°They should be on their way. It¡¯s one of their own in trouble, so they won¡¯t dawdle,¡± she told us like she was reporting on the weather, but her voice was high and clear. ¡°Called them as soon as the others threw down.¡± The rough looking man nodded, satisfied with the report and seeming to think I would be too. ¡°There. No need to get involved,¡± he said. ¡°Take the win and leave.¡± The security guard¡¯s screams reached a new crescendo, severely undercutting the captain¡¯s sales pitch. My mouth worked of its own accord. ¡°Someone has to do something.¡± ¡°Does it have to be you?¡± the captain asked. I turned to see the Marshal¡¯s body twitching and spasming as¡­ his head was being crushed. That had to be it. The body builder clones were all standing around and laughing as the deed was being done. ¡°Are you going to do it?¡± I asked, giving him and his companion level looks. ¡°No.¡± ¡°Then get out of my way.¡± The man looked down at my stomach then back up to my face, considered for a moment, then nodded his head in resignation, though the ghost of a smile tugged at the corner of his lip. I barreled through the rest of the crowd until I broke into the open, breathing hard as my wound took up more and more space in my mind. ¡°Stop!¡± I shouted.The only person to take notice was the sister, turning toward me with wide, manic eyes. Then she redoubled her efforts at pulling her brother away. Her mouth moved as if she were speaking to him, but I couldn¡¯t hear what she was saying. I came up behind the first of the goons. It was a smooth process now. I reached out, grabbed his arm and stole his magic. He let out a ¡°Aieeeee,¡± as he shrunk and collapsed to the floor. The big guy next to him spun around at the sound of distress, but he, too, got to ride Mr. Grippy. Devouring Grasp (Magivore) is now level 7. Another Reservoir gem dropped to the ground, the previous shattering and evaporating as my System dictated limit of one was reached yet again. I reached out for the next one, who¡¯d actually gone for his weapons before I could put a hand on him. ¡°Eron! Look out!¡± The sister finally screamed to her brother. That brought me up short. She was afraid, but not of her brother. She was afraid of me. Eron Nova¡¯s face slackened, his sadistic grin melting into a look of confusion, his chiselled features and perfectly arranged blonde hair making him cut an impressive figure even when he was one step away from defeat. Now that I saw him up close, he looked exactly like the others in every way. Were they clones? Septouplets? Eron dropped the security guard whose eyes, nose, and mouth were leaking blood. ¡°Thought I asked you to leave him alone,¡± I challenged, making sure all involved could hear me. I probably would have been more intimidating if I wasn¡¯t currently holding my insides with my outsides, but I was working with what I had. Eron¡¯s gaze shot to the collapsed figures at my feet then back to me. He reached for his axes. His sister put an arm out across the bigger Nova¡¯s chest, and to my shock, the big guy stopped, mid-draw of his weapons. Then the girl did something I wasn¡¯t expecting. She lunged¡­ not for her brother or myself but for the only standing member of their retinue. Her fingers clutched at the goon¡¯s body, digging into his chest so hard that her fingers sank into the fabric and flesh. He screamed as his body diminished to almost nothing, just as they did when I Consumed their magic. Power just like what I¡¯d leeched out of the others seemed to flow into the sister¡¯s fingertips and up her arms. The veins under her pale skin glowed like cracks in the surface of cooling lava, and her eyes turned a disturbing shade of crimson. The air wavered with heat. I blinked, staring down at the shrivelled trio of Exotics in shock. ¡°Thanks,¡± I said, shifting gears to get ready to take on the main threat. Eron took a very cautious step back as one did when backing away from a venomous snake, only his eyes weren¡¯t on me. They were on his sister. ¡°Scum.¡± The sister¡¯s voice was a whisper, but everyone heard it perfectly and heard it for what it was. There was a discordant undertone to her voice, amplified, distorted. It was nails on glass, ripping flesh, beasts lurking in the dark, loathing, and lust all at once. Her face contorted into a maniacal grin ¡°Parasite filth. Who gave you permission to speak to me?¡± I may have grossly misread this situation. ¡°Uh-¡± was all I got out before a meter wide geyser of crimson fire slammed into my chest, and I was blasted from my feet. It burned very briefly and burned hot, but the force of it¡­ It was like getting bitch slapped by an angry god. You take 95 damage (bludgeoning, fire) The last thought that went through my head as my body flew through the air toward the open mouth of the docking bay was whether or not magical fire still burned in a vacuum. Chapter 10 Chapter 10 I did not, in fact, tumble into space. Yes, space was right there through the wide open portal of the bay, but something was keeping all the air in. I should have thought of that. Instead of getting up close and personal with hard vacuum, I ran smack dab into the largest stilling field I¡¯d ever seen. One moment I was sailing through the air, the next I ran into something hard and tingly, and I did my best impression of a bug on a windshield. When I came to, I was on the deck again, lying on my back, and the System had a laundry list of new injuries that required my attention. HP [44/334] Status gained: Broken Bone [Collar] Status gained: Broken Bone [Ankle] Status gained: Broken Bone [Rib] x 3 Status gained¡­ Status gained¡­ Status gained¡­ Additionally, this close to the field I was getting that itching sensation in my gums and teeth but on an infuriating level that would have me wishing for death if death didn¡¯t take me soon. I turned my head, coughing up blood as I did so, and I wasn¡¯t sure which action caused me more pain, the turning or the coughing. The hangar was a popular place now and not just because people enjoyed watching me lose fights. People were shouting, running, fighting, falling. Others were doubled over or on the floor. Security forces were here in full riot gear, gas masks, batons and shields, bashing those they approached without regard for who it was. They were all Exotics, judging by how fast they moved and the ease at which they dealt with the crowd. I even saw some Abilities being used, electrifying weapons or empowering jumps to reposition groups of officers to hot spots. Similarly, the soldiers that had been my audience for my latest ass kicking were not going quietly. Even though they had zero chance against the System enhanced guards, they were putting up a fight. Something had happened while I was out. Flashing lights strobed and pulsed on the far end of the bay, and some kind of fire suppression system was currently pouring a thick, white fog from vents in the ceiling and walls. The air was already hazy with it, now that I was looking. My breaths were coming in rapid, shallow gasps already, when I wasn¡¯t coughing, and my condition wasn¡¯t getting any better. I thought about calling for help but froze, mouth open, before my plea could escape my throat. I¡¯d recalled something the Novas had said. Marshals. They said security around here were Marshals. Get caught by those guys, and I¡¯m getting tossed in a cell. Got to find another way. It took colossal effort, a good amount of agonized cursing, and no small amount of assistance from my prosthetic to get me into a crawling position. Standing was right out, considering how many broken bones I had and the weird pressure I felt in my core. I could, however, manage a three point army crawl on my elbows and knees. But where to go? The fog was thickening quickly, casting everything in hazy silhouette, and my body was starting to protest at its lack of oxygen. I couldn''t seem to get enough air in my lungs¡­ plenty of blood, though, which came out frothy pink. Think. Where are we going? We¡¯re suffocating. We¡¯re in a hangar. I squinted, straining my eyes to see through the fog something that could help me. We¡¯re in a hangar. Hangars have ships. Ships like to keep their air supply on the inside. Okay. I needed a ship. There were three, if I recalled correctly. One warship that looked like a fighter or a gunship and two transports. I needed one of the transports, because I sure as shit wasn¡¯t climbing a ladder into a cockpit right now. My new goal firmly in place, I forced my crippled body forward in the general direction of where I remembered seeing the blocky troop transports. I just had to hope the last soldier out of the hold hadn¡¯t locked the door, and none of the Marshals were paying enough attention to notice the bloody Exotic slithering across the floor. Soon, it was a white out or at least what I assumed white out conditions to be. I¡¯d never seen snow. The point was that I was blind, and I was forced, once again, to rely on Detect Iron for navigation. On the upside, my pain was lessening as my HP climbed into the sixties and my internal bleeding started to sort itself out. Thankfully, my sense of direction didn¡¯t fail me, and my heart skipped a metaphorical beat when the shining presence of a ramp appeared at the edge of my awareness. I crawled toward it and up. Anchor kicked in as I hit the edge of the ramp, somehow counting what I was doing as climbing. Immediately, my body felt lighter, and my journey got that much easier, all the way up into the hold. The coughing, however, wasn¡¯t getting any better. It wracked my body, threatening to double me over and eject dinner from my stomach. I stopped crawling only when I got all the way into the transport¡¯s hold. Detect Iron cast the whole area in a bright white with rows of firmly secured chairs meant to keep people in their seats in zero g. I was also getting hits for lots and lots of fittings underneath each chair, circular with flared ends meant for washers. A quick flip through my other forms of Detect confirmed they were hollow. That¡¯s what I needed. Hollow piping. Hollow piping meant gas, hopefully my favorite type of gas. There was a special shape to the mouth of the piping, probably meant to be a fit for a special kind of nozzle. I chose a chair at random, pulling myself up and into the seat, fingers fumbling blindly for some kind of mask or hose or¡­ anything. Nothing presented itself, though. Other than a fabric harness to keep the passenger in the chair, there was nothing that could help me. I checked underneath, my fingers feeling for anything plastic or soft. Nothing. ¡°Fuck!¡± I shouted between coughs. My lungs were taking in great gobs of air, but it was almost all devoid of oxygen now. The air had to be right there, waiting for me, but I couldn¡¯t get to it. I also realized I couldn¡¯t just blast myself in the face with oxygen and hope for the best. It¡¯s chems. The fire suppression is chemical. Think. I need¡­ air. Tube. Seal. In a blink, I had my pistol in my hand, and a quick Shaping helped me detach the barrel. I practically jammed the end of it into the opening. Then I put a finger on the mouth of the (hopefully)life support housing, sending a probe of mana inside. There was the tube, the valve, a secondary valve, all separate pieces I couldn¡¯t Shape properly without touching them. I was gradually getting tired of breathing, tired of coughing. I didn¡¯t have the energy to care like I knew I should have. Death was knocking on the door. Please let this work. Please let this work. I¡¯d need to break in to get at the oxygen. So, I saturated what I could, the singular pipe that was meant to bring air to the passengers. I widened it and widened it, moving individual molecules around next to the valves until they no longer created a good seal. *SSSSHHHSHHHSHHHHHH* When air started to leak from my makeshift tube, I could barely muster the will to get off the chair and put my mouth on it, but my oxygen deprived mind coalesced on the thought that it would have been a shame to do all that work and not at least have a taste, right? So, I slid from my seat and had a little suck on my straw. It tasted like plastic, mildew, and chemical disinfectant, but it was most certainly oxygen. It was the best thing I¡¯d ever put in my mouth. That perked me right up. Oh wow, did it perk me up. Holy hell was I ready to not die. I took big, greedy hits of oxygen once, twice, over and over back to back. With every breath, I felt a thousand times better. My wounds felt less urgent. My nerves felt electric, my mind racing. Okay, Ryan. We¡¯re alive for now. We¡¯re better than alive. Now let¡¯s get to work. ¡ª---------------------- I awoke again on a cot in a large room with dimmed lights and a strong antiseptic smell. I didn¡¯t wake gently either. My last memory was a blur, a foggy recollection of building something, something amazing, something to rival Edison¡¯s lightbulb or Tanaka¡¯s Zero Particle, but I¡¯d been too weak to finish. Strange. The thought was right there on the cusp of my consciousness. What was it? Something had happened to me. I¡¯d been taken by¡­ things, babbling, slavering things. Before I could finish. The scourge had taken me. When my eyes fluttered open I was already sitting upright, my arms and legs scrambling and my blood racing like I¡¯d been running a marathon. Apparently, my body was alive, and it was making damn sure it was going to stay that way, even if it had to punch a hole space. ¡°Doc! Doc! Uh- Code! It¡¯s a code- uh.¡± Someone was shouting or trying to. He sounded unsure of himself as if he was trying to choose between a whisper and a panicked scream. The thin sheets someone had put on top of me while I¡¯d been out were the only things that stopped me from being up and swinging as soon as my body decided it was time. The sheets tangled around my feet and sent me tumbling down to the ground. ¡°Doc! He¡¯s¡­ He¡¯s going nuts. Code uh¡­ red? Oh, it¡¯s gray! Code gray!¡± Hands slipped around my midsection, but I was able to break the hold easily. The sheets, however, proved to be a much more capable hindrance. My feet kicked ineffectually, the sheets having just enough give to not rip and let me be completely free.Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation. ¡°Calm down, son. It¡¯s alright. You¡¯re alright,¡± a gravelly voice,whispered in the same tone you¡¯d use to tame a wild animal. A gentle hand grabbed onto my wrist, and, for some reason, its lack of hostility kept me from struggling against it. Face down on the cold metal floor, one hand being held by an unknown party, my mind finally caught up with my body. Words. They were using words. Scourge didn¡¯t do that. I blinked, wiped sweat from my forehead, only to find my arm bandaged. That was¡­ unexpected. ¡°There you are. That¡¯s a good lad,¡± the gravelly voice said. ¡°Come out of it.¡± I rolled over, heaving for breath, though I didn¡¯t remember why. Everything was so fuzzy. The first thing I saw when my faculties returned to me was a largely destroyed cot. No surprise there. I wasn¡¯t easy on cots. Also near me, close enough to reach out and touch but not so close they couldn¡¯t back away if I turned violent again, were two people, one a young-ish man, no older than me, in the thin blue clean-wear common with medics and the like and a set of askew glasses. The other man was much older, weathered and weary looking as if he were a piece of treated leather that had seen too many days in the sun, a strange pairing with his blue clean-wear. The stubble on his face shone stark white against his skin, and an elaborate medallion danged from his neck on a braided cord, a four pointed star on an incomplete circular background The older man spoke again, his voice containing an easy but firm authority. ¡°There now. Are we calm, young man?¡± he asked, raising a questioning eyebrow as if an answer in the negative would disappoint him greatly. After a moment¡¯s consideration, I nodded slowly. The old man nodded along with me with quiet satisfaction. ¡°Pupils are normal. Response to stimuli is timely. Very good. Glad you¡¯re back with us, sooner than expected, I might add. Considering the copious amount of drugs in your system, I had you down for a violent wake-up no earlier than tomorrow morning.¡± His smile never left his face as he turned to the younger man, who was busy massaging his hand and giving me dirty looks. ¡°Go run that under the imager, Isea.¡± ¡°It¡¯s fine, doc. Just twisted it,¡± Isea replied, frowning, obviously hesitant to tell Doc the truth. ¡°Go. Now. Don¡¯t come back without a scan and a diagnosis to go with it,¡± Doc ordered, his tone brooking no argument. ¡°I¡¯ll sit with our friend here, for now.¡± Isea looked down at me with trepidation, still cradling his hand. ¡°What if he-¡± ¡°He¡¯s alright now, Isea. Look at him. He¡¯s out of the worst of it. Go, and hurry back.¡± Hesitantly, Isea cast one last worried glance at us then walked purposefully to somewhere I couldn¡¯t see. Doc held out a gnarled, trembling hand for me to take. I did, but I made sure not to let him take any of my weight, old and frail looking as he was. A tearing sound accompanied the bending of my legs, and I looked down to see a medical splint lying uselessly on the floor. Doc¡¯s easy smile turned pained. ¡°Ah. Another oversight on my part. Don¡¯t get a lot of Exotic customers down here. I wasn¡¯t sure what you needed or how much, so I erred on the side of caution. Made a sizeable dent in my supply of anti narcotics and burn ointment.¡± He produced a battered tin cup and offered it to me, which I took and downed the contents. Now that I was looking, I wasn¡¯t the only patient in the room. There were cots everywhere in neat lines, racks with IV stands lined up to match. Nothing was in good condition, with hardly a straight line in the place. The cots were all crooked, patched, and jury rigged to keep them functional. The IV stands were missing hangers. The few machines I could see were old with aftermarket buttons and switches installed as well as cables that had been taped dozens of times. Not all the beds were full, but those that were held people in various states of waking or sleeping. A handful of the more aware ones were giving me flinty stares, propped up on their cots or sitting there to watch what I¡¯d do next. They looked ready to get to their feet at any moment despite their conditions. ¡°Thank you,¡± I rasped, draining the last drop out of the cup and holding it out for the Doc. ¡°Thank me after you see the bill,¡± Doc laughed. ¡°I wasn¡¯t kidding about how much was done to save you.¡± My stomach sank. I had the money from Philipe, but I really didn¡¯t know how much that was. I hoped it covered everything. I also didn¡¯t want to leave this man in the lurch or go into debt. The Doc put a comforting hand on my shoulder. ¡°Only half joking, son. Pay when you can, if you can.¡± ¡°Your assistant, Isea,¡± I began, frightened to ask the question. ¡°Did I-¡± ¡°Yes. You did,¡± Doc answered soberly ¡°You¡¯re strong, and you weren¡¯t in control of yourself. I fear I¡¯ll have my other assistants on double shifts for a while.¡± I felt heavy, my guilt pulling me inexorably down. ¡°Sorry. I didn¡¯t- You said I was on narcotics?¡± The old man grinned. ¡°Enough to wet a whole damned company and then some. They found you passed out in a Gurge. You¡¯d somehow tapped into the medical line and directly piped it into¡­ well, they called it a helmet. I¡¯d call it a pain in the ass to remove.¡± My brows furrowed. ¡°Medical¡­ I was¡­ wearing a uh- helmet?¡± ¡°Oh, yes. Had to call in a machinist friend to cut it off of you.¡± ¡°I tapped into the life support, so I could breathe. I needed air. I was- Wait¡­ There were two valves, weren¡¯t there?¡± The Doc nodded, his eyes crinkling at their corners. ¡°Indeed. Life support is one thing, but that wasn¡¯t enough for you. Oh, no. You decided to drug the hell out of yourself over the course of an hour and a half. Honestly, it¡¯s a miracle you¡¯re awake and calm right now. Overdosing on praegerline can have serious long term effects. I¡¯ve seen it happen, though not as much nowadays. Happened too often during the last Reclamation.¡± My stomach sank, thinking about the guy I¡¯d hurt in my waking moments. ¡°Again, I¡¯m sorry for hurting your assistant. I thought- I wasn¡¯t in control.¡± ¡°Part of the job, I¡¯m afraid, and also partially my fault,¡± Doc lamented, reaching up to finger the medallion he wore. ¡°We don¡¯t get a lot of your kind in here, but you are far from the only fighter I¡¯ve had on my table. I should have put you out for longer, at least until the drugs were completely out of your system.¡± I frowned at that, frustrated at myself. ¡°Don¡¯t feel bad. I don¡¯t know how I work either. One of the beautiful things about being me,¡± I said before asking: ¡°Where am I, by the way?¡± ¡°Local decks, core side, Service Quarter Suite 6,¡± Doc announced, but when he saw the look on my face, he shook his head ruefully. ¡°You have no idea what I just said.¡± ¡°I have no idea what you just said.¡± The Doc glanced around the room, seeming to debate on how much time he was willing to devote to this conversation. Then he seemed to come to an acceptable decision. ¡°Have you heard of the expression ¡°wrong side of the tracks? They use it a lot in old movies. You watch old Earth stuff?¡± I nodded. ¡°Good. You¡¯ve found yourself on the wrong side of the tracks.¡± He glanced around the room again and leaned in close. ¡°At the same time, I gather that our side of the tracks is the only place you will find any welcome.¡± I narrowed my eyes at him, my gears turning as I processed things. ¡±I wasn¡¯t brought here by security was I?¡± Doc shook his head and leaned in closer. ¡°I don¡¯t know your situation, son, but your holo is being flashed in front of every set of eyes on this half of the station. Whatever you¡¯ve done, it has the Marshals crossing the gap in numbers like they haven¡¯t done in years.¡± ¡°I- What? Crossing the gap¡­ So, they¡¯re looking for me?¡± ¡°Very much so, and you, my friend, are very lucky to be where you are. There is no love lost between Brightside and us. If security finds any willing informants among the brothers and sisters, I will be very surprised.¡± ¡°So, who brought me here?¡± I asked. ¡°If you don¡¯t mind, I¡¯d rather keep the names to a minimum. Yours. Theirs. Mine if they catch you,¡± Doc said with more mirth than the words deserved. So, I was off the books, hidden. Whoever had brought me in wanted me to live, at least. That left the Novas out. Plus, they would know that as long as I had HP, I¡¯d be alright eventually. That left vanilla humans¡­ My eyes went to the medallion the Doc wore, and a memory rose to the surface. ¡°It was that guy wasn¡¯t it? Military guy. Tall. Intense. A woman too.¡± The Doc¡¯s face gave me nothing, but he fingered the medallion he wore significantly. The symbol was similar to what the strange captain wore next to his rank. I nodded my head as I put the pieces together. Now that I could look around, I saw similar symbols everywhere, broken circles and four pointed stars. Every cot had a dangling chain with a pendant on it at the head of the bed. More of the symbols hung from the ceiling, spinning and colliding gently in the lazy air currents from the ventilation system. In the corner, a stack of two shelves with lit candles burned, more of the medallions wrapped around the stems and slowly being subsumed by melted wax. This better not be a cult thing. Well, if it is, I hope it¡¯s a helpful one. Isea came back into the room through a plastic curtain with his hand splinted, a disappointed look on his face as he reported his condition to Doc. ¡°Broken. Two fingers,¡± he said in his best impression of calm and professional. He did his level best not to make eye contact with me, but I could tell he was seething. ¡°That¡¯s too bad,¡± Doc sighed. ¡°I¡¯ll call in Nat to take your shift. You are welcome to stay if you still want to watch and learn as long as you don¡¯t get in the way.¡± Isea bowed his head, resigned. ¡°Yeah. I¡¯ll stay. Sorry I can¡¯t-¡± ¡°Stop it. It¡¯s not your fault,¡± Doc said. ¡°And we¡¯ll get by.¡± I stepped forward and awkwardly extended a hand. ¡°I apologize, Isea. I¡­ I didn¡¯t mean to hurt you. Thank you for taking care of me anyway.¡± Isea looked at my hand as if I was handing him a fresh turd, but the look was brief. He schooled his features into a professional neutrality then reached out with his good hand to shake. ¡°Seriously,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯m sorry.¡± ¡°It¡¯s alright,¡± Isea sighed. ¡°I probably shouldn¡¯t have grabbed you.¡± ¡°Tried to grab me from behind?¡± I asked. He nodded. The guy had seen a runaway Exotic and decided to wrestle them to the ground. He had to have known how dangerous that was to a normal human. My respect for him went up several notches. ¡°You did the right thing, Isea. Not sure what I¡¯d do if I hurt anyone else.¡± That brightened Isea¡¯s face significantly. ¡°Well, if you are alright and not on the rampage anymore, I have patients to attend, Mr. uh- Smith.¡± I reached out and shook Doc¡¯s hand too. ¡°Mr. Smith,¡± I affirmed. ¡°Pleased to meet you. And thanks for everything.¡± Once the Doc shuffled off, I looked around, down at my wrecked cot, at the other patients watching me. They all looked to be in rough shape. There were broken bones, bandages, and even stumps from severed appendages. Detect Iron gave me hits of blood underneath the clean bandages I could see and a good bit where it wasn¡¯t supposed to be. ¡°Doc¡¯s not a regular doc is he?¡± I asked Isea just as he was about to leave as well. ¡°Uh- How do you mean¡± Isea asked. ¡°No sick people here.¡± He shrugged. ¡°I guess. Diving¡¯s dangerous work. We mainly get Divers here.¡± Diving¡­ Right. I left that one alone for now. I¡¯d figure it out later. The Marshals were looking for me out there. The Novas probably wanted me dead. I needed time to think¡­ And I owed someone a favor¡­ ¡°So what do we do?¡± I asked. Isea tilted his head to the side and adjusted his glasses. ¡°Pardon?¡± ¡°What do we do?¡± I asked again, pinching the end of the adhesive bandage between my metal fingers and starting to unwrap. I knew I¡¯d find healed, unblemished skin beneath, as I always did. My HP was full, and I was without any Status effects. I explained: ¡°I broke your fingers and cracked your wrist. I want to make it up to you. You obviously don¡¯t want to leave, and you feel responsible for your duties. What do we need to do?¡± Isea looked taken aback. ¡°I- I didn¡¯t say anything about the wrist.¡± ¡°Well, it¡¯s cracked,¡± I said. ¡°I know it¡¯s cracked, but how did you know that?¡± he asked. His eyes narrowed, the suspicion that I¡¯d been awake when I¡¯d done the deed blossoming in his mind. I held up my hands in mock surrender. ¡°Relax. It¡¯s just a trick of mine. It¡¯s got a crack right about here,¡± I said, pointing at my own wrist. Magnesium was a key component of the molecular structure of our bones, and I just so happened to be able to sense that kind of thing. ¡°What¡¯s important is that I want to help. You¡¯re an apprentice right? That means you do things Doc doesn¡¯t have time for. Can I lend you a hand?¡± I wiggled my prosthetic fingers in front of my face. The young man blinked twice before his mind caught up with my proposal. ¡°Uh. There¡¯s hundreds of things to do. Just little stuff. Maintain equipment. Fix little things. Clean. Sharpen. You don¡¯t have to do all- I can manage,¡± Isea protested. ¡°Fix things, you say?¡± I waggled my eyebrows at him. ¡°You, sir, came to the right guy for that.¡± ¡°But I didn¡¯t come to you..¡± ¡°Work with me here, Isea.¡± Chapter 11 Chapter 11 Apparently, I needed to be a little more detailed about what I meant, because Isea just stood there nonplussed.. ¡°I¡¯m a mechanic by trade,¡± I said which still elicited no reaction. ¡°You know¡­ Metal stuff? Hit things with a wrench until they work again?¡± ¡°I know what a mechanic is,¡± Isea replied. I cleared my throat. ¡°Oh, good. Had me worried there.¡± Isea finally blinked and gave me something to work with. ¡°Sorry. Yeah. Of course I know about mechanics. It¡¯s just.¡± He hesitated briefly and adjusted his glasses. ¡°It¡¯s just so¡­ I don¡¯t know. Normal? And you¡¯re a uh-¡± ¡°Exotic.¡± ¡°Shhh!¡± Isea shushed me and lunged forward like he was about to physically stop me from saying anything more. I felt more eyes find their way over to the back of my head, and I shot Isea a look. ¡°There¡¯s a whole damned Academy of them here. We can¡¯t be that rare,¡± I whispered incredulously. ¡°In Brightside, not here,¡± Isea mumbled through clenched teeth. ¡°It¡¯s not that it¡¯s illegal for you to be down here with us, but not everyone¡¯s going to be happy about it. For mine and Doc¡¯s sake, keep it to yourself, okay?¡± ¡°Okay. Fine,¡± I said. ¡°I still want to help, though.¡± Isea sighed, switching gears back to work. He took a look around until his gaze settled on my wrecked cot, all bent aluminum legs and ripped fabric. ¡°Let¡¯s clean this up.¡± I bent down and scooped the thing up before he could do it himself, holding it up high so as not to get it hung up on any other equipment in the room. Isea¡¯s frustrated glare told me I couldn¡¯t even do that right, but the damage was done. I didn¡¯t see any other way to get it out of the room safely anyway. So, Isea led me through the sliding double doors on the far side of the room as the other patients just stared. I guessed hospital life wasn¡¯t particularly entertaining, and we were the best show running. I tried a couple friendly smiles and nods, mostly to alleviate the unwelcome feeling I was getting, but it didn¡¯t change anyone¡¯s behavior in the slightest. Beyond the double doors was a reception area with a waist high desk glowing with two separate holo displays. No one sat behind the desk, but, at the same time, no one sat in the metal chairs in the waiting area beyond either. ¡°Kind of dead around here,¡± I observed. ¡°Yeah. The last wave of casualties were primarily from the Twelfth, so they went to their own clinics. Don¡¯t worry, though. Things will pick up later tonight, I¡¯m sure, not that we¡¯ll be helping with that,¡± Isea replied sourly as he opened a sliding door off to the side of the waiting room. The room beyond was small, no larger than my childhood bedroom back on Proxis, just big enough to walk in, take a couple steps in any direction, turn around, and walk out again, but that was only because of how full it was. Massive stacks of junk were piled against the walls. Sagging plastic bins of varying sizes sat atop one another in an uneven pyramid that looked one wayward sneeze from coming down. Only one of the sinks was open and available for use, as the other one was full of junk. Broken cots like mine took up the left wall, stacked precariously to the point I thought I saw them wobble as Isea and I disturbed the still air in the room. I whistled as Isea grabbed a wobbly stool and sat down to rub his face with his good hand. Then he gestured at all the assorted junk that dominated the rest of the room. ¡°Welcome to my office. It¡¯s humble, but you¡¯re never lacking for something to do. The machinist comes by every month or so and takes some stuff to fix, but we break things often enough that it¡¯s always like this,¡± Isea said. ¡°He not taking large orders or something?¡± I asked. ¡°She,¡± Isea corrected. ¡°And no. Sort of. I mean, she could probably do it all if she had the parts for the more complicated stuff and the time, but she doesn¡¯t. Life in space, ya know? Make do with what you have.¡± I spun in a slow circle, eyeing the worst of it in an effort at triage. Space. They''re running out of space. The thing that took up the most space in the room was the broken cots, and they were all made of aluminum. I could do something with that. With that in mind, I sat on the floor and crossed my legs. ¡°What are you doing?¡± Isea asked. ¡°Making magic,¡± I replied. To punctuate things, I summoned a branch of mendau wood and Consumed it. The bright orange sparks burst into the air before being sucked into the palm of my metal hand. Immediately after, I felt like I was on the edge of Mana Overflow, the feeling not quite as bad, since I knew it was going to be short lived. Isea sniffed at the air and waved his hands at where the sparks used to be, but I didn¡¯t let him distract me. Cots. Can¡¯t do much with the fabric, but the metal I can fix. They look old. Lots of patches. Same shape, though. Good. I reached out and felt the diameter of the metal on one of the cots, shooting a little mana inside to confirm my assumptions as well. Looks manufactured or close to it. Uniform diameter on the supports. Some patches. Corrosion. I can work with this. But I wasn¡¯t about to just fix a broken bed. I was a problem solver. The problem wasn¡¯t broken beds, per se. It was the inability to fix them. It was the space they took. The time they would take to refurbish. I needed to solve those problems, or Doc would be right back at square one a few months from now. And who knew? Maybe they¡¯d knock a little off my bill for doing a good job. The first thing I did was summon a chunk of brass from my Spatial Storage and saturate it, feeling it out, weaving between the molecules, then letting the mana settle and discover its purpose. I smoothed the brass out, flattened it, removed the tarnish, then gave the surface a bit of a bend. I liked that. The bend seemed right. I kept bending it until the end formed a hook, one that could hang comfortably from a number of round things. Next I added Triggers, Automated the inner part of the hook to allow for binary ¡°Yes/No¡± detection. Then, I summoned a separate piece of metal, deep lead from Ralqir, wafer thin like the ones I¡¯d used in my turrets since their inception. This would be the brain of my new tool. Concentrating, I formed a picture of a functioning and whole cot in my mind, minus the fabric of course. When you are activated, Shape all metal currently in contact with the inner edge of your attachment hook until it is like this. If the metal in contact with the inner edge is already- As the instructions went on, my mana absolutely poured out of me, first in a stream, then a rushing river, even faster than than Engine was capable of refreshing. Back on Ralqir I¡¯d taken an upgrade for Automate that made simple instructions much more affordable while making the complex stuff less so. I supposed I could mitigate the whole thing by giving my new thingamabob multiple ¡®brains¡¯ for handling different stuff, but for that I needed more time and space for planning. Ten minutes later, I was done, 200 MP poorer (not counting what Engine had been feeding me this whole time), but I¡¯d gotten results. The finished product was a dull hook welded to a ball that was just big enough to fit in my hand comfortably. You have created: Automated Repair Tool: Cot. The System was on board with what I was doing, at least. No experience, not that I¡¯d been expecting any. However¡­ I reached over and slipped the hook around one of the legs of my wrecked bed. While I¡¯d been working, Isea had been doing the same. At some point, he¡¯d slipped on a cut resistant glove and begun washing instruments in the sink. When he heard me stir, he glanced behind him, looking from me to the metal doohicky dangling next to me. He didn¡¯t do a good job of hiding his disappointment. ¡°That an uh- Made that did you? What is it?¡± He said, pointing at my new construct with his chin. ¡°Prototype. Your cots were too big for a casting bowl, so I¡¯m trying something new.¡± I grinned tiredly. My mana just topped itself off before the burning feeling from Crystalized Channels could get debilitating, but the pain still took it out of me. Isea¡¯s eyebrows furrowed. I could tell he wanted to ask, but he didn¡¯t. ¡°So, what else you got?¡± I asked. ¡°If you think you¡¯re -uh¡­ done over there,¡± Isea grumbled, obviously not impressed with my work so far. I wobbled my head from side to side. ¡°It¡¯s a process.¡± He pointed to a machine with which I was actually familiar: a grinder though smaller scale than I usually worked with. Then he handed me a tray of instruments. ¡°Gotta sharpen all these- holy shit!¡± He stood, knocking over his stool, practically climbing onto the counter to get away from what he was seeing. His eyes were the size of dinner plates behind his glasses, and his mouth was open in disbelief. ¡°Oh. Nice,¡± I laughed. ¡°It¡¯s working.¡± Indeed, my repair tool was working. It was working fast too, faster than I¡¯d seen any of my machines work before. I¡¯d juiced it hard, but I¡¯d had longevity in mind when I did so, not this. As we watched, the creases in the bent metal frame were smoothing themselves out, straightening lines and repairing cracks. The metal was shinier, smoother. No blemishes could be seen on its surface, all of the foreign materials and corrosion being drawn toward the center of the frame and deposited on the inside of the tubes where it could be flushed out chemically. Stolen novel; please report. All that, and it was happening fast enough to be visible with the naked eye. Hot damn. I guessed having my mana channels turned to glass had some benefits after all. You have created Aluminum Cot Frame. Experience rate: 20/min It stopped changing entirely after another five minutes. Afterward, I collected my Automated Repair Module and gave it a once over with Shape. Hmmm. Pretty much out of juice. That might be a problem. ¡°Is it¡­ safe?¡± Isea asked quietly. He was still backed up against the counter and staring at the now intact bed. ¡°To what? Lay on it? I don¡¯t know, dude. The fabric¡¯s seen better days.¡± ¡°To touch,¡± Isea clarified. ¡°There¡¯s no.. magic or anything?¡± I blinked, readjusting my assumptions again. ¡°Oh. Yeah. Totally safe. It won¡¯t bite you or anything.¡± He reached out and put a hand on the repaired cot and gave it a jiggle. Then he picked up the end and checked underneath. ¡°Wow. It looks new, like fresh from the fabricator. Mindi would have it in her shop for a week and not have it looking like this,¡± he said, smiling and nodding with satisfaction. ¡°Doc¡¯s going to be impressed. So, you¡¯re like a magic artisan or something? I thought you got banged up fighting.¡± ¡°Story of my life,¡± I mumbled. ¡°What?¡± ¡°Oh, nothing. It¡¯s just that I¡¯m really not a Combat Ex-¡± Isea almost shot me a look, but I remembered not to use the E word before he could get bent out of shape. ¡°Uh. Not a fighter. That fact doesn¡¯t seem to matter to the rest of the multiverse, though.¡± Isea winced sympathetically. ¡°I hear that.¡± He wiggled the frame again, his look of wonder slowly morphing into bafflement. ¡°Uh. Mr. Smith- Sir. Question: Isn¡¯t it supposed to fold? Like, if we want to get it through a door?¡± Something heavy plopped down in my stomach like I¡¯d swallowed a ball of lead. Then I sighed and did my own inspection of the cot. Yep, I was looking down at the strongest, most pristine, yet useless cot in existence. It was, indeed, all one piece. No hinges, no joints, just one solid mess of aluminum, just how I¡¯d pictured it. Oh, balls. ¡ª-------------------------------------------------- I closed my eyes and let my mana flow into the metal like a glacial stream until the material could take no more. My mana, those strange blue-gray blobs that I¡¯d become more and more familiar with, especially after my ordeal as a demon, obeyed my will without the slightest hesitation. They wove around the molecules, infused them, became them. My control was nearly absolute, more extensions of myself than an external force I¡¯d just now begun to see. A good thing too, since this was such a departure from how I normally used them. There was some degradation in at least two of the connections, and another of the tiny lines appeared to terminate prematurely in a frayed end. About two centimeters from the first row of capacitors, someone had accidentally soldered a short into the circuit. There were some signs of heat damage and oxidation too. This was the second circuit board I¡¯d dragged out and put my hands on. Circuit boards were fine work, and by that, I meant very small. Any circuit board of sufficient complexity was a mess of tiny, tiny lines and connections that you needed a magnifying glass and a very steady hand to even have a chance at repairing. In my previous life, I wouldn¡¯t have even tried. I wasn¡¯t that kind of mechanic. Boards could be sent to the pros while I put my hands on the stuff that spun or pumped. Shape, however, turned out to be the perfect tool to mess with such delicate work. It took almost zero mana to saturate a whole section of the board, and the perfect knowledge the Ability granted me told me exactly what was good and what was busted. That was the theory, at least. So far, I¡¯d only gotten up the courage to observe and report, not ¡°fix.¡± This particular board wasn¡¯t particularly complicated, at least, just a power regulator, something that monitored and redirected power as the rest of the machine needed. I really hoped this was the source of the problem as opposed to the big rack of boards and chips I would need to check next. I really wasn¡¯t looking forward to poking around in a chip with my mana. The mere thought gave me a headache. ¡°Isea, how old is this thing?¡± I asked, curious. ¡°Hm,¡± Isea pondered that one for a moment. The smooth humming of the blade sharpener he was running barely audible above the sound of the ventilation anymore. That machine was the second thing I¡¯d fixed, which had brought Isea fully on board with allowing a magical craftsman to mess with his junk. When it had come time to sharpen, he¡¯d come in our little room with a pair of protective headphones for the two of us, but when I¡¯d fixed the noise problem in addition to several (actually collapsable now) cots, he¡¯d lost a lot of his misgivings about me and what I could do. Once I¡¯d made my casting bowl for sharpening the tinier blades, he was fully on board with magic in the workplace. You have created: Scalpel Blade. You have created: Scalpel Blade. Experience rate: 31/min. After a long moment of contented sharpening, Isea finally ventured a guess. ¡°Older than me, I¡¯d say. The machine, I mean. Kind of a Ship of Thesius situation, though. No idea which parts came from the factory and which are recycled. Why?¡± I blinked, leaning back to get another good look at the whole thing. It was essentially a steel filing cabinet with various electronic bits in the drawers instead of paper. There were lots of dents and stains and patches of fresh paint that told a story of years of use and abuse. Lots of repairs too. ¡°No reason, I guess. Just that there¡¯s several problems here, and I doubt they all happened at once,¡± I explained. ¡°Oh, for sure. Everything¡¯s old around here. That imager¡¯s got bits inside from all over Sabium, some of them straight from the surface, I¡¯d reckon. Doc always says everything around here has a story to tell. People. Things. Especially the broken ones.¡± ¡°From the surface. Like, from Sabium proper.¡± ¡°Right.¡± ¡°That means it¡¯s probably from before the¡­ uh-¡± ¡°Collapse.¡± The Collapse was the local name for when their planet fell to the scourge. Apparently, Sabium had once been home to a thriving civilization much older than ours on Proxis, since they¡¯d already made landfall while our people were still in cryo. In fact, they were awake for when the System chose its first Exotics. It was this fact that led to their troubles. Misuse of their jump point and careless reliance on A.I. in those early days led to the scourge gaining a foothold on their planet. Now, the planet itself was entirely scourge, and there was no hope of ever retaking it. Inspector Nett had called Sabium the lion¡¯s den, said I¡¯d turn as soon as I entered the system. I wondered if he¡¯d be relieved to see I was doing just fine, or if he¡¯d just find another reason to be suspicious. Probably the latter. ¡°So, this thing is a hundred years old. I¡¯d say it¡¯s holding up well, considering. Probably a testament to your craftsmen.¡± I said. Most of Sabium¡¯s electronics were scavenged and refurbished things. Folks that lived in space tended to be that way. No waste. ¡°One hundred and thirty, but I imagine it was made some time before the Collapse. That would add a few years. Then it might have sat on the surface collecting dust for however long before some lucky diver brought it into orbit. So, you think you can do something for it with your magic superpowers?¡± ¡°If this is the only failure point, probably.¡± I shrugged. I could repair the damage with a thought. The problem would be understanding exactly how the board worked and making damned sure I wasn¡¯t ¡®reconnecting¡¯ things that should have never been connected in the first place. ¡°I generally don¡¯t work with delicate circuitry. Also, they¡¯re not superpowers.¡± ¡°Okay, Magneto.¡± ¡°He was a mutant. Not a wizard. Promise my thing is one hundred percent magic, as weird as that is.¡± I sighed. ¡°Actually, I had the chance to become Magneto, but I chose to make metal caterpillars instead.¡± Isea blew an amused raspberry through his lips. ¡°Really? If I were a metal magician, I¡¯d be all over that superhero thing.¡± ¡°Magneto wasn¡¯t a hero either.¡± ¡°Metal bugs are still lame.¡± ¡°You¡¯re lame.¡± ¡°Because of you,¡± he argued, raising his cast so that we could both see. Touche, Isea. As I mentioned, Isea got a lot more talkative after I started doing what I did, first with the cots, then the sharpener. Once I¡¯d made a sizeable dent in the clinic¡¯s junk closet, the guy¡¯s animosity was almost entirely gone. He didn¡¯t even mind being around my System juju anymore. I guessed even long held prejudices could be put aside in the face of free labor. Isea seemed to almost be excited about how things were going. He was breezing through the scalpels and¡­ knives? He was sharpening all sorts of blades that I was sure were used in surgery or something, but I didn¡¯t know the proper names for them. He was going so fast, I wasn¡¯t sure if he was even doing it properly. I put a probing finger on one of the smaller blades to confirm my suspicion. ¡°Isea?¡± ¡°Yes, Mr. Smith?¡± ¡°Are we in a hurry?¡± I held up a finished blade and ran my thumb along it, lingering on the chip that had been left on the edge. A little Shape mojo evened it out. Isea suddenly found the floor very interesting. ¡°Ah. Well, maybe. I mean, if my hand¡¯s out of commission and things are getting done around here so fast, I just figured there was no need to¡­ you know.¡± ¡°Hey, buddy. I¡¯m not judging. I¡¯m just curious,¡± I said, hands raised. He shrugged, finally finding the courage to meet my eyes. ¡°I figured if we got things done around here in time, I might hit the holos¡± He trailed off, ashamedly looking at the floor again. ¡°What? Like a show or something?¡± I asked. My work buddy shrugged. I tilted my head, disbelieving. ¡°What kind of Net doesn¡¯t record that stuff for playback?¡± ¡°It¡¯s a live broadcast,¡± Isea mumbled. ¡°For what?¡± The man sucked in air through his teeth then seemed to summon his courage. ¡°It¡¯s¡­ Fights¡­ Exotic¡­ fights.¡± My mouth opened and closed a couple times as my brain fired on all cylinders. The words started to spill out of him like a dam had burst. ¡°Brightside is having some big to do right now. The Academy is putting all their Exotics through the wringer, like challenges, tournaments, and the like for some reason and broadcasting it for everyone to see. It¡¯s insane. First round of big fights are tonight from some of the senior students. It¡¯s pretty much all people are talking about outside of work.¡± ¡°Uh. Isea?¡± ¡°Yes?¡± Isea winced. ¡°Why would I care if you like watching Exotics fight?¡± ¡°I don¡¯t know. Those are your people, right? I figured you¡¯d, like, not be okay with how we¡­ I don¡¯t know. We¡¯re not like Brightside.¡± That was interesting. Brightside, I¡¯d learned through context, was the local name for the other half of the station, the nice half where the Exotics did their thing in their Academy. So, there was some big thing happening over there, and fights were involved. The security guard in the hangar bay had mentioned some kind of audit the Academy was going through too. Was this related? Whatever the reason, I wanted to know. I needed to know. The Academy was the solution to a bunch of my immediate problems. Once I got in, no one was taking me back to my cell, and I could at least pretend to be safe for a while. Isea took my silence as something it wasn¡¯t. ¡°Okay. Fine. There¡¯s a girl too,¡± he admitted like I¡¯d dragged it out of him. ¡°Her shift should start soon.¡± Well, that was just too much. The man wanted to go see his girlfriend? I was fully on board now. ¡°What are we waiting for then?¡± I asked, rising from my chair and reinserting the circuit board into the imager. I flipped the power switch on the back and listened intently to the machine whine as it powered up. The terminal blinked, the screen stable and waiting for commands, and I tried not to let my relief show. Thank Constance I hadn¡¯t broken it further. ¡°You¡¯re not serious,¡± Isea gasped. ¡°You can¡¯t go out there. They¡¯re looking for you. Security, I mean.¡± ¡°Doc says nobody¡¯s cooperating with them.¡± ¡°Sure, but it¡¯s one thing to be hidden away and no one is going out of their way to find you. It¡¯s another if you¡¯re just out there wandering around where anyone can get a couple credits for an anonymous tip.¡± I waggled my eyebrows at him. ¡°I can be very sneaky.¡± Isea looked me up and down, letting his disbelieving gaze linger on my metal arm. ¡°I¡¯ll wear sleeves,¡± I declared. ¡°Get me somewhere I can see the holos, and I¡¯ll get lost long enough for you to shoot your shot with the girl.¡± With that, Isea¡¯s youthful impulsiveness went to war with his better sense, while I watched. If he decided to sit this one out, I¡¯d still probably go on my own, but I would much rather have had a guide that I knew. ¡°Mmmm. Okay,¡± he relented finally. ¡°But you need to keep a low profile. You get caught and we don¡¯t know each other. And you need pants.¡± ¡°Is the ¡®scorched and bloody¡¯ look not trendy here?¡± ¡°You missed that one by a few decades.¡± Chapter 12 Chapter 12 We said goodbye to Doc before we left, but he either didn¡¯t hear us or the patient he was with was taking all his attention. On the way out, Isea made sure his replacement was behind the front desk, a serious woman who introduced herself as ¡°Jene¡± and appeared to be only nominally awake. My nose detected the faint scent of something heavenly. Jene was drinking coffee. My mouth watered so intensely, I was barely able to mutter a few pleasantries before we got to the door. Ryan¡­ we¡¯re home. We¡¯re not home home, but we¡¯re home. I cleared my throat and fought the urge to cry. ¡°You okay?¡± Isea asked, but I could only nod and gesture for him to lead on. I felt silly. Why was this affecting me so? The door to the clinic slid to the side and let us out onto a multilevel concourse about the size of a city block. People clumped and ambled everywhere, either walking up one of the four sets of stairs that took them to other levels or hanging around near popup vendors that sold food or drink from steamy wells behind the counter. I wondered what a cup of joe might cost. Doc¡¯s clinic was one of four separate businesses along our little part of the wall along with a boot maker, a tattoo parlour, and an ¡°all services¡± business of which Isea wasn¡¯t comfortable divulging the details. Big tattered flags hung from the ceiling far overhead in ochre and white, displaying collections of symbols I didn¡¯t have the context for, though the half-circle/star motif was featured in every third one or so, either in the background or dominating the whole thing. Strange, waxy vines crisscrossed the support beams on the ceiling as well and hung down between the fabric banners. The great central pillar that seemed to hold the ceiling aloft was painted with some kind of mural or maybe, more accurately, graffiti from floor to ceiling. The people were a mix of working folks going to and from their jobs in some kind of uniform like Isea¡¯s clean wear, older folks in loose fitting robe-type coverings, or rowdy sets of revelers in loud colors and visibly dangerous articles of clothing such as spiked cuffs, dangling metal balls on leather cords, or out and out knuckle dusters. Stranger still, no one seemed to bat and eye when the crowds intermixed. They all called to one another like neighbors, friendly and not. ¡°Hey,¡± Isea called to me, slapping me on the shoulder. ¡°Stop gawking. You¡¯re acting like a tourist.¡± I tore my eyes away from the scene with the lingering thought that though I was back among my species, I was still a foreigner and an unwelcome one at that. ¡°Sorry. I- uh- I didn¡¯t know what to expect.¡± Isea slipped a jacket over his scrubs and rolled his neck before he adopted a hunched posture with his hands in his pockets. Then he tilted his head and stared at me until I did the same. Once I was sufficiently ¡°discreet,¡± my companion nodded. ¡°Just like that. Hands hidden so no one knows what you have.¡± ¡°Rough place?¡± I asked, not quite believing it based on what I was seeing. I didn¡¯t mind having my hands out of sight. The blue fabric of my borrowed pants wouldn¡¯t quite hide the occasional flash of magic like my burnt and bloody work ones would have, but I¡¯d still be able to do it without attracting too much attention. Dad¡¯s jacket was a good backup if I had to summon a weapon or something out of nowhere too. It was a little scorched, but otherwise okay. ¡°No. Not really, but it¡¯s¡­ I don¡¯t know. People can get touchy. Just blend in and don¡¯t mention any weird stuff.¡± ¡°No magic metal shenanigans?¡± ¡°Just act human, alright?¡± ¡°Isea, I was born human. This is my human face.¡± My companion didn¡¯t look like he believed me. However, it seemed to be too late to argue. We took off into the crowd, slipping in among them and heading for the nearest set of stairs. The station decks seemed to be built like pies, sliced in several pieces to create districts that all had some kind of purpose. Where we were, a service district according to Doc, was just that, where tradesfolk tended to their business and saw customers. That included everything from hospitals, to legal representation, to restaurants. Other types of districts would be a quick horizontal trip to another slice while travelling vertically would generally lead us to more service class locations. The crowd thickened with every deck we passed. The general mood was boisterous if not particularly friendly. People were talking loudly among others they knew, jostling to go faster up the stairs, and yelling at folks that got in their way. No one paid either Isea or me much mind. Whether I had Stealth, Gray Man or luck to thank for that, I didn¡¯t know. Whoever did notice me, at least, would have an easier time forgetting me if my Skills were holding out. Eventually, several long flights of stairs later, we came out on a deck where the elevated lighting and wide open spaces of the previous levels were gone, replaced by a strange, dim closeness. No more than three steps in, and the place got downright claustrophobic, with walls closing in on all sides while the ceiling was somewhere far overhead, out of sight except for the odd red emergency strobe. Our path narrowed until we were elbow to elbow. There were running lights along the walkways and, just above head height, glowing signs of all shapes and sizes that screamed for your attention while obscuring everything around them. A vague haze in the air like fog gave everything a dreamlike appearance. The buildings and signs encroached further and further on pedestrian space until we were shuffling like cattle through the narrow streets of a little city, only whoever had designed this place took the urban planning manual and thrown it in the garbage. Isea led me through the press of bodies and past neon signs that advertised all sorts of drinks, music, and entertainment. Names of people I¡¯d never met and places I¡¯d never go flashed and buzzed as we passed along. The whole deck was a twisting warren of lights and people, nary a right angle to be found anywhere, much less a proper grid pattern. Once in a while, we¡¯d come against a wall of people¡¯s backs, waiting to get into a particular entrance of an establishment, but Isea pushed through and pulled me along. Stealth is now level 18. The deeper we went, the more I wondered what danger Isea thought I was in. In all of this, I had no idea how anyone was supposed to recognize me. Hell, we couldn¡¯t even hear each other anymore. Never did I see the same combination of glowing colors twice and never did I see a street sign or any sort of navigational assistant. However the locals were getting around in this maze, it was by some method I couldn¡¯t see. It was when we came to a particular three-way intersection that Isea stopped us and leaned against the wall of a ¡°protein grill.¡± The restaurant wasn¡¯t our destination, however. Isea¡¯s attention was on a pair of black doors across the way. The doors were to a bar, a large one by this place¡¯s standards, spanning tens of meters in either direction and two stories high with lots of flashing lights visible through the fogged windows. The sign above the door read ¡°Devil¡¯s Due¡± in big red script. ¡°We waiting for somebody else?¡± I asked Isea. ¡°What? No. Kind of,¡± Isea said distractedly as he stood on his tiptoes to see above the crowd. Whatever he was looking for, he found it, gesturing with his head to move again, past the front door and around the side. This place had its own alley instead of butting up against the other businesses directly, which was exceptional. ¡°What was that about?¡± I asked. Isea grimaced, his face visibly flushing even under the red lights. ¡°They have Mel on the door tonight. He doesn¡¯t like me.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I replied, drawing out the last syllable. ¡°Is there anything I should know here?¡± ¡°No.¡± There was definitely something I should know. Isea led me to a back door, past a pile of moldering bins and a sparkling minefield of broken glass. The man that answered our knock frowned at the two of us through the narrow opening then went back inside without a word, but when someone returned to the door again, the alley exploded in sunny yellow. ¡°Zee! Oh my God, you¡¯re here. I thought you were working! It¡¯s crazy in there right now. Wait, what happened to your hand? Ooh, who¡¯s your friend? Oh, wow, those eyes. That¡¯s shiny. Love that.¡± An absolutely incandescent ball of bright and bubbly blew into the alleyway, a girl about Isea¡¯s and my age with bright yellow curls that went down to her waist and were so voluminous they took up as much space as the girl herself did. Her work uniform was black but shiny, like it was covered in gems, but the most outstanding thing of all was her smile; honest, open, and probably her main source of tips¡­ if that was a thing here. Isea tried to answer all the questions at once. ¡°Hey, Chell. Got hurt at work and decided to drop by with- Uh-¡± ¡°You didn¡¯t cut yourself again did you? Wait, forget how it happened. Doc sent you home didn¡¯t he? I¡¯m so sorry. That has to hurt. I wish there was something I could do for you right now but-¡± She wrapped her finger around one of her golden curls and rose on her tiptoes to get closer to Isea¡¯s face as she took Isea¡¯s hurt hand and caressed the non-casted parts gently. Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions. ¡°It¡¯s fine. Seriously, Chell¡± he squeaked. ¡°You needed those hours, though,¡± Chell argued. ¡°You said so.¡± ¡°It¡¯s not as bad as it could be. Chell, do you think we could get inside?¡± Isea asked, blushing. Chell¡¯s demeanor changed, and she seemed to grow more unsure of herself. ¡°Ah. I don¡¯t know.¡± ¡°I saw Mel. He¡¯s working the door, so our paths should never cross, right?¡± Isea pleaded. ¡°I dunno, Zee. It¡¯s a big money night, and I don¡¯t wanna see you get hurt.¡± ¡°C¡¯mon, Chell. We¡¯ll be out of the way, and I won¡¯t make waves.¡± Isea beamed, grinning in what I¡¯m sure he believed was a confident smile. And here I thought I was a bad liar. Chell sighed, shook her head, but quickly caved. She opened the back door again. ¡°You¡¯ve got a real problem, Zee. I swear if Mel or any of the others catch you, you better run. Don¡¯t try to talk your way out of it. And no betting.¡± ¡°On my honor, I won¡¯t even try to talk Mel down. Seriously, if he even gets a whiff of me, I¡¯m gone,¡± Isea swore with a raised hand. Chell frowned up at him but eventually relented with a sigh. ¡°Fine. Follow me in and be careful.¡± Then she turned to me. ¡°You¡¯ll at least keep him out of trouble right?¡± I shrugged. I didn¡¯t want to be put in the middle of this, but Chell was also adorable. I found myself unable to simply evade the question. ¡°¡®More I hear you guys talk, the more that sounds like a full time job,¡± I said. ¡°You have no idea,¡± she said with a roll of her eyes before letting out an exasperated breath. Then she opened the door and held it for us. ¡°After you, gentlemen.¡± Chell didn¡¯t follow us. ¡°What was that about?¡± I asked Isea, grabbing his elbow and bringing him up short. ¡°Seriously, Isea. I¡¯m not stupid. We¡¯re not here for Chell are we?¡± ¡°We are,¡± Isea responded a little too quickly. ¡°Didn¡¯t I just say I¡¯m not stupid?¡± I repeated, but Isea¡¯s attention was already somewhere else, the doorway in front of us and the bustle of a cheering crowd. He yanked his elbow away, hard enough I didn¡¯t want to hold on for fear of hurting him. ¡°Worry about you, and I¡¯ll worry about me, Smith,¡± he said. Balls. We entered the club from behind the bar, through the staff entrance. The neon light motif carried through to the interior of the place. There were tables everywhere with boisterous people yelling and cheering as a holo played in the center of the room from a huge projector, its edges distorted by all the smoke and other particulates in the air. On the broadcast, two men were squared off in a big, empty room. The floor was littered with scorch marks and gouges with the occasional smattering of blood. Both men were winded, their chests rising and falling as if they¡¯d run a marathon. Suddenly, one of the men, the one in black robes and a blue belt, sprang forward, too fast for the holo to follow, and he seemed to blink across the space to connect a flaming fist with his opponent¡¯s jaw. The club erupted in cheers. Palms slapped the surfaces of tables as the downed man in a red belt laid there on the ground. The tenor of the cheers changed, however, because as the blue belted fighter pulled away from his punch, he clutched at his stomach, staggering. A triumphant grin blossomed on the red belted fighter¡¯s face, even as he laid on the ground. Slowly, he pulled a tiny knife from his sleeve, wet with the other man¡¯s blood. Blue¡¯s eyes widened, and he rushed forward to attack again only¡­ well, the holo didn¡¯t pick it up well, but I was pretty sure all of his blood that was supposed to be on the inside was suddenly on the outside, and it clung to him like plastic wrap. He clutched at the liquid, clawed at his own face and neck like it was suffocating him. His efforts did him no good, though. His fingers could find no purchase on the surface of his new prison. He fell to his knees then down to the floor. Again, the club exploded. People whooped, shouted, slapped each other on the backs, and ordered more drinks. I turned to elbow Isea to ask him a question, but he was gone. I guessed I really was on my own. Quietly urging Stealth and Gray Man to keep doing their thing, I slipped through the crowd to have a seat at a table in the corner, one of the tall ones with stools. I arrived just as others were vacating, only I wasn¡¯t alone. ¡°Mind?¡± a visibly drunk man with cropped hair asked as he pulled out a stool and sat down before I could respond. ¡°Not at all,¡± I replied, taking my own seat. Instinctually I picked up a half empty glass and held it close to my face to obscure it and blend in with the other revellers. The tiny bit of liquid that sloshed in the bottom smelled sweet but strong. The guy at my table cringed visibly at the holo. ¡°Bad luck, that one.¡± ¡°Pardon?¡± I asked. ¡°Bad luck. Filius¡­ not a good match for him. Once that Teth kid draws blood, it¡¯s just over.¡± ¡°Oh. Yeah. Bad luck, I guess.¡± I replied, thinking for a moment. Had I lucked into a talkative drunk? Something occurred to me. ¡°So, the fire fist guy. He not up to this whole thing?¡± My table buddy nodded. ¡°Filius. Yeah. No. He¡¯s pretty good, actually. Got them moves. Good training,¡± he said, miming some kung fu punches and spilling a little of his drink. ¡°Bad matchup is all. He¡¯d do great ¡®gainst somebody slower, maybe armored or whatever.¡± The holo shifted scenes to a table of four serious looking people in black robes. The woman in the center, an imperious lady with gray at her temples but no other visible signs of age, conferred with the men at her flanks then raised her hand to speak. ¡°Tidus of Teth is the victor. You are most welcome at this Academy and will enjoy full rights and privileges until your graduation. Filius of the Marshal Family, you have been defeated. Best of luck in your next match. Lose once more and you will be asked to withdraw.¡± Filius, the drowned man on the floor, I gathered, didn¡¯t answer. He was currently being dragged from the ring by a team of medics in clean wear. The imperious woman turned to the fourth party at the table with the tiniest of smirks. ¡°Was this test to your satisfaction?¡± she asked. The fourth man angrily stared back at her, grinding his teeth and making his goatee appear crooked in the process. His thick eyebrows gave the impression of a man that was constantly angry. ¡°Is this satisfactory, Mr. Marshal?¡± the woman asked again in a tone that said there would not be a third chance to answer. ¡°I- uh- didn¡¯t know the Marshals had people in the school. I thought they were just¡­ you know.¡± I bluffed. I spared a glance around the room for Isea, spotting him next to a booth where money was changing hands. He was currently in an animated discussion with someone I couldn¡¯t see. ¡°Cops? Nope! Moving up in the world, or at least that¡¯s what I hear. Ol¡¯ Filius there and his brother been making their names ¡®round here, but not so much with matchups like that.¡± That was two separate threads to pull on. So, I abstained from the decision and let my talkative friend choose. I raised an eyebrow and leaned in close. ¡°Kind of makes you wonder doesn¡¯t it?¡± ¡°Ah! It does, indeed, sir! Glad I¡¯m not the only one thinking it. Conspiracy.¡± I grinned and pointed to my head. ¡°We¡¯re only thinking about it because we¡¯re sane, right?¡± ¡°Hah! Damned right. Suspicious stuff, putting Filius up against the blood mage. Punishing the kids for the shit the Family pulled.¡± ¡°What his Family did?¡± ¡°Oh, that¡¯s one of the puzzle pieces. Marshals called this whole thing! Just up and one day said the Academy wasn¡¯t so grand no more! Guess they¡¯re not small time anymore like the old days, but damn¡­ The other Families aren¡¯t taking it well. Filius drowned in his on blood just now because of it. Not that I¡¯m complaining. Been a good show.¡± The pieces clicked together in my head. ¡°They call for this Audit a couple days ago?¡± More shouts from the rest of the club as two more contestants were put on the stage. ¡°Probably. Not sure when exactly. Just remember the school going nuts, lots of construction. I work up in Brightside most days, and I haven¡¯t been home to see my kids for more than a few minutes.¡± So, the Marshals called for the Audit, and it involved the students fighting for¡­ something. They were fighting for the right to stay at the school. The guy at the judges table didn¡¯t seem pleased, and the kid that just got turned inside out probably didn¡¯t feel great about the situation either. ¡°I am satisfied with this match,¡± the goateed man finally said in a clipped tone that said he was anything but. ¡°Very good,¡± the imperious woman said, nodding and gesturing to someone off camera. ¡°Bring the next two!¡± The Marshals were paying a heavy social cost for this, and they were already a smaller Family compared to the powerhouses of humanity. What did this gain them? The timing matched up precisely with my release from prison, a prison they really didn¡¯t want to see me leave. If I assumed they sent one runner to the CA to get authority to keep me in captivity and then a separate runner to come here and start the Audit, I had to assume they were both plays to keep me vulnerable. Would they even allow me to enroll in this Academy as long as they were doing this tournament thing? I had to assume not. Otherwise the events didn¡¯t make sense, and the Marshals were losing political capital for nothing. While I¡¯d been thinking, another match had begun on the holos. This time, it was a tall, amazonian woman with a sword and shield against some kind of duelist with two swords. Already, blows were being exchanged, the woman a clear victor in most of them. She gave no ground and wherever her sword swung, the other guy couldn¡¯t contest her power. The match, though one sided, kept going for quite some time, however. The tall swordswoman couldn¡¯t seem to pin the duelist down. I wasn¡¯t paying much attention, though. I was lost in thought. The image of the judge woman with the gray temples was burned into my mind. The way she talked, how she seemed at odds with the Marshals. She was shaping up to be my best bet if I wanted a sympathetic ear and a shot at the Academy. The problem was going to be getting to her¡­ Another round of cheers erupted when the duelist took a cut on his thigh. My tablemate groaned and put a hand up to his forehead. ¡°Dang. I had thirty riding on him,¡± he lamented. He punctuated the sentence by gulping the rest of his drink. Something made me look around again and take my eyes off the match. Something was wrong. Something had changed, though I couldn¡¯t put my finger on it. I did another sweep of the place, standing up from my seat to get a better vantage. No Isea. Chell, however, was behind the bar, tearful and being comforted by several other wait staff. In her hands she held a pair of glasses that belonged on her boyfriend. Ah. Shit. ¡°Got to go, buddy. Take care of yourself,¡± I told my new friend as I slipped from behind the table. ¡°Sure. Sure,¡± I heard him reply. I was already halfway across the room, though. I made a beeline for the door, hardly bothering to go around tables. Chell was hyperventilating in front of it and leaning on the frame, but she caught me as I made to open the door. ¡°Don¡¯t. You¡¯ll just make things worse,¡± she pleaded. ¡°Doorman Mel?¡± I asked her the obvious question. She bit her lip and sniffed, but I could see that the answer was ¡®yes.¡¯ I looked from her to the doorway, considering but only briefly. ¡°Well, I¡¯ve always wanted to meet a Mel. Think I¡¯ll go say ¡®hi,¡¯¡± I assured her with a self-effacing smile. ¡°I¡¯ll at least try not to make things worse¡± It would be a drastic departure from how I normally handled things, but maybe today was the day to break that streak. Chell¡¯s wet and bleary eyes seemed to search my face for any hint of a lie, but either she didn¡¯t find one or her concern for Isea outweighed any other considerations. ¡°Be careful,¡± she whispered. Then I took off down the dark hallway and out into the red lit alley. Chapter 13 Chapter 13 I burst through the door and out into the artificial night to find four dark figures gathered around a fifth that laid curled on the ground. Isea clutched at his ribs and groaned as one of the figures spat on him and brought his hand back for another hard punch. Broken glass under Isea¡¯s body crunched as he tried to shy away from the source of his pain unsuccessfully. One of the people beating Isea was a little more aware than the others, turning my way upon hearing the back door to the club slam open. Once he spotted me, he swatted the man next to him, the one currently punching Isea. When the other man didn¡¯t react, the observant guy swatted him again. ¡°Stop that! What? What the hell do you want?¡± The swatted man bellowed. ¡°You slap me one more time, I''ll feed you your own fingers.¡± ¡°Somebody¡¯s here,¡± the observant guy said. The entire party turned around at that, excluding Isea, of course. He was too busy being curled up in the fetal position. The angry guy, the one in charge I sensed, only turned away from Isea for a second. He was larger than I was, more around the middle than in height, but he had the figure of a man that stayed strong and was accustomed to violence. He looked at me only long enough to say: ¡°Piss off and mind your business.¡± Then the punching began again. Well if a witness wasn¡¯t going to stop them, it had to be something else. I guessed it was incumbent on me to say something now. ¡°So, uh- This isn¡¯t where I parked my car,¡± I said. That got a few confused shrugs from the standing guys, but the guy in charge got me. ¡°You¡¯re right. Maybe check the lot across the street or just about anywhere else. Piss. Off. Now. Next time, I¡¯m not asking.¡± The glass crunched under my feet as I stepped forward, off the raised threshold of the doorway and onto ¡®ground level,¡¯ whatever that meant on a space station, and just out of grabbing distance from the thugs. If I was being honest with myself, I didn¡¯t really know how to proceed. I¡¯d never been the aggressor in a fight before, not against people at least. Thank Constance, one of the goons showed initiative. He charged forward with one meaty paw grabbing for my jacket and another reared back to deliver a right hook. He might as well have been doing it in slow motion, though. Again, it felt so incredibly wrong to be stronger and faster than the things trying to do me harm. I just wasn¡¯t used to it. This had to be done, though, despite my misgivings. I used Mr. Grippy to twist the thug¡¯s lead hand and pull it aside then followed up with an open palmed slap against his nose. It was all I could think to do. I was afraid to actually punch the guy, since I hadn¡¯t really had cause to fight someone that wasn¡¯t a magically juiced superhuman before. What if my 60 points in Body made everything but love taps a killing blow? I didn¡¯t want this guy¡¯s death on my conscience. ¡°Ah! F- BLARGPHTH!!!¡± The results were messy. The dude inhaled sharply as the bones in his hand ground together under my fingers, but whatever colorful profanity he had on deck were lost in the fountain of blood my slap forced from his ruined nose and mouth. The cartilage in the goon¡¯s face shifted and broke, the skin on his lips split, and warm blood spewed out between my fingers like I¡¯d just smashed a ketchup packet. After that, he went down gurgling. The still standing thugs and I shared horrified, disbelieving looks, me because I just slapped a guy so hard he was bleeding, them because I¡¯d just slapped a guy so hard he was bleeding and I¡¯d done it in a blink. That also got the leader¡¯s attention again. This time, he paused his work on Isea and faced me. We were almost touching noses, but what really encroached on my personal space was his protruding belly. Again, I felt like it was my turn to talk. ¡°I lied. I don¡¯t own a car,¡± I said. The guy with the broken nose at our feet groaned. The husky leader worked his jaw back and forth, no hint of fear or hesitation in his expression. ¡°Alright. Put him down,¡± he said, like he was ordering the special at a dinner. They tried to put me down. Only I was way ahead of them, or, at least, Detect Iron was. The knife that was being drawn from one of the thug¡¯s pockets was suddenly in my hand, along with the thug¡¯s hand (still attached but broken in several places). He was very keen to have it back, alternating between squirming under my iron grip and trying to kick me in the legs. ¡°Mel. Mel, don¡¯t,¡± Isea breathed from on the ground. He sounded bad. There was a wheezing undertone to his breathing, and his words were slurred. I wasn¡¯t even sure if he knew I was there. ¡°I can get the money. Please.¡± Talor Jons hits you for 3 damage (bludgeoning). Sav Dexrol hits you for 12 damage (bludgeoning). I turned toward the other goon, wincing at the pain in my temple. ¡°Stop that,¡± I growled between clenched teeth at the guy that had just hit me, the one on my right. He¡¯d done the smart thing and not tried to knife me, so he was getting his one warning. Mel, for his part, had paused mid swing, his brass (iron) knuckles he¡¯d produced from his pocket gleaming in the red light and a thoughtful look on his face. ¡°Alright. What do you want?¡± he asked. ¡°I¡¯m here for him,¡± I replied, gesturing down at Isea with my head. I still had the knife guy¡¯s hand pinned next to my chest. Mel shook his head slowly, a disbelieving smile appearing on his face. ¡°Nah. I don¡¯t think you are. Guys like him don¡¯t inspire that kind of loyalty. You¡¯re here for Chell, aren¡¯t you? What our sweet, innocent girl sees in Zee here, I¡¯ll never know.¡± ¡°She asked me not to do this, actually,¡± I said, leaning forward a bit more into his space. ¡°But I insisted.¡± ¡°Well, Mister, now that you¡¯ve graced us with your presence, let me tell you how this goes,¡± Mel said, not intimidated by me in the slightest. ¡°You¡¯re strong. You think this makes you something, and you think you can throw your weight around. I can see why that might make you think you¡¯ve got the upper hand here. You can kick my guys¡¯ asses, break some heads, maybe even put me down, but you¡¯re only here because you don¡¯t have the full picture.¡± ¡°Not sure about that,¡± I said. ¡°The point is: I know Isea. Know where he lives. I don¡¯t know you,¡± he said. Then he inched forward and put a finger in my gut. ¡°But I will. You ever want to sleep soundly again, you need to rethink what you¡¯re doing here.¡± If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. I raised an eyebrow at him. ¡°Threatening me now?¡± ¡°It¡¯s not a threat. I¡¯m teaching you about consequences. Hey. Maybe you¡¯re invincible. Good for you. He¡¯s not,¡± Mel pointed down at Isea. ¡°He¡¯s weak. Vulnerable. Bet most people you know are that way. You don¡¯t walk away right now, I¡¯ll- GHAHG!¡± My metal hand was in his mouth before he had a chance to say any more. The knife wielding thug I¡¯d been holding onto a blink before was now on the ground clutching his ruined hand. ¡°See,¡± I began, pulling Mel closer to my face, my grip on his jaw quite compelling. ¡°I was hoping we could just talk. I mean, sure, I expected a little resistance, but after that I was hoping to move past stuff like this. I would have tolerated threats to myself and maybe to Isea. We were past that point, you know? Tempers were hot, and they weren¡¯t going to cool down before everyone had their say. But now you¡¯re pulling in third parties. I don¡¯t like that.¡± ¡°Mfffgrb,¡± Mel said, his eyes wide. The man was angry and afraid and angry that he was afraid. I saw murder in his eyes. I sighed, trying to stay calm, at least on the outside. The icy lake at my core threatened to assert itself once more. He¡¯d threatened people I knew¡­ I didn¡¯t actually know anyone on this station other than Doc and Isea, really, but it was the concept of it. ¡°It shows an incompatibility between you and I. Our morality is fundamentally different, see? I¡¯m not sure we¡¯ll ever overcome it, Mel.¡± He growled around my fingers. I was sure that if I¡¯d used my real hand, he¡¯d have tried to bite his way out of this by now. As it was, though, I was one Devouring Grasp away from gaining knowledge of human bone and Mel eating his meals through a tube. One, two deep breaths, and I got that urge under control. I turned to the only remaining intact thug. ¡°How much does he owe?¡± The guy didn¡¯t answer. He looked to Mel and back to me then back to Mel again. ¡°I- I don¡¯t know.¡± I sighed once more. Now I had to hear Mel speak again. So, I gave the big man a good shove and removed my metal hand from his mouth. Mel rubbed his jaw and ran his tongue over his teeth to check for missing ones. ¡°How much does he owe, Mel?¡± I asked. ¡°Try threatening us again, and I¡¯ll get upset.¡± Mel spat a tooth on the ground along with a good bit of blood. Oops. ¡°Not threatening,¡± Mel growled. ¡°Good.¡± Now we were making progress. ¡°No. You¡¯re not threatening,¡± Mel explained. ¡°You¡¯re not the killing type.¡± ¡°Want to bet money on that?¡± I asked. He shook his head and stepped back into my reach, almost daring me to hurt him some more. ¡°Betting¡¯s my business, Mister. You¡¯re not that guy. I can see it, right there.¡± He pointed a stubby finger directly at my right eye. ¡°Fine.¡± I took a breath, preparing to dive back in, but Mel backed off and raised his hands. ¡°Woah. Woah. Doesn¡¯t mean I want to lose another tooth. Calm down. Anyway, Isea owes us a large sum with interest. I let him off for a month out of love for Chell, but then he came around here again looking to put money on the fights. As far as I¡¯m concerned, until he¡¯s paid up, he was trying to gamble with my money. He¡¯s a liar and a thief.¡± Bartering is now level 2. Very funny, System. I cast a pitying glance down at Isea then at the bleeding men on the ground that I¡¯d hurt. I suddenly felt very tired. Why was I here? What was I doing? I reached into my jacket pocket and made one of the hexagonal coins I¡¯d received from Philipe appear. The flash was just barely visible from the mouth of the pocket. Once I had it between my fingers, I pulled it out and flipped it to Mel. ¡°Will this cover it?¡± The thug to my right gasped, leaning forward and squinting. The others were more or less distracted with their injuries. Mel, however, just stared down at the coin in his hand, his mouth turned down in a thoughtful frown. ¡°Does that cover it?¡± I asked again, trying to gain the man¡¯s attention. Mel face went slack, his entire being pulled into his inspection of the coin, but the moment didn¡¯t last forever. He seemed to remember I existed again, looking up at me as his hand closed around the coin tightly. ¡°Well?¡± ¡°Yeah. Yeah, this covers it,¡± Mel mumbled. The way he was staring at me made me feel uncomfortable, so I took the opportunity to bend down and scoop up Isea, eliciting another groan from the young man, but after the initial difficulty of straightening himself, he largely stood on his own. I shuffled the two of us toward the mouth of the alleyway, pausing momentarily beside Mel so that I could lean over and ask quietly: ¡°Am I going to have to come back here, Mel?¡±. He shook his head slowly. Well, at least that was done. I got Isea moving again, one painful step at a time. We were almost out, nearly out of the shadowy alley and into the main flow of foot traffic when Mel called to us again. ¡°You look familiar, Mister.¡± I didn¡¯t turn back to acknowledge him. I didn¡¯t have a retort. I simply kept the two of us moving, out of the alley and into the flow of the rest of humanity. Isea was walking on his own by the time we got to the stairway. It had largely been a quiet trip, neither of us wanting to begin while we were out in public. Internally, however, I was fuming. I was cursing up a storm with words I didn¡¯t even realize I¡¯d heard. What was I doing? What the fuck was wrong with me? Why was I like this? Why couldn¡¯t I just leave things alone? Why did I have to rush into things when my entire schtick was to think, plan, and build? I¡¯d come out with Isea to gather intel for my next move, and in the process I¡¯d put myself one move from being checkmated. The general vibe must have come across pretty well, because Isea¡¯s eyes almost never left the ground. Still cursing myself and everyone on the station, I reached a breaking point, and I grabbed Isea by the arm, dragging him into a tiny, fenced area with sheer privacy curtains and artificial candles flickering on the tables. I imagined the little patio was supposed to look romantic with all the flowing bits and ¡®candle light.¡¯ No one was in there. I¡¯d checked it with Detect before we¡¯d come in. I leaned in close to Isea so no one else could hear what was going to be said. ¡°What?¡± Isea asked, still rubbing his ribs. ¡°So you¡¯re a gambler,¡± I said. ¡°No,¡± Isea replied defensively. ¡°Well, I do from time to t-¡± ¡°Shut up. Of course you¡¯re a gambler. You like it so much you risked your life to do it again.¡± ¡°Well, I wasn¡¯t going to get the money by working for Doc! You took care of that!¡± Isea rasped, holding up his splinted hand. ¡°You know that¡¯s not fair. You brought me out here to- Nevermind. I came because I wanted to. I just- Fuck! Isea! I just pissed off organized crime around here, didn¡¯t I?¡± ¡°They''re not¡­ well, they''re not criminals per se. They do some illegal stuff, but no one¡¯s telling them no, you know?¡± ¡°Fuck!¡± I shouted, loud enough for a few passersby to glance sideways at the curtains we were hiding behind. Isea¡¯s gaze fell once again, shamed. ¡±I¡¯m sorry. I¡¯m really sorry I brought you into all this, but you-¡± ¡°We have to keep moving,¡± I interrupted him. Then I grabbed him by the arm and practically flung the both of us out into the flow of traffic again. Isea wasn¡¯t done, however. ¡°Alright. I¡¯m just sorry, okay? Thank you for helping me. You didn¡¯t have to help me, but you did.¡± ¡°Thank me after tonight,¡± I said. Isea squinted at me, confused, concerned¡­ also¡­. It occurred to me, then, that we¡¯d forgotten his glasses back at the club. ¡°May I ask¡¯ why after tonight?¡¯¡± he asked. ¡°How long is that tournament thing going to last tonight?¡± Isea blinked, having a hard time pivoting to a new subject and one from left field as it was. ¡°Uh. They have about ten matches scheduled. Depends on how long they last.¡± ¡°Take me there. Right now.¡±. ¡°Right now?¡± Isea squeaked. ¡°Constance, help me. Yes, right now, Isea. Mel recognized me. I just pissed away my only shot at doing this the smart way on my own time,¡± I spat. I was furious at myself. ¡°What?¡± ¡°I have to get this done tonight, or your buddy Mel is going to sick the Marshals on me. Either that or he¡¯s going to try to shake me down with the threat of reporting me to security. Either way, the only way out of this is an immediate ass hauling directly to the objective.¡± ¡°I don¡¯t understand. We need to go to the Academy? That¡¯s in Brightside. What am I supposed to-¡± ¡°I need to talk to the Exotic lady with the gray hair.¡± ¡°Dean Yisu?¡± Isea said the name with a kind of fear and reverence reserved for vengeful deities. ¡°Sure.¡± ¡°Get you next to Dean Yisu. I don¡¯t- How?¡± ¡°Figure it out, Isea. Which way to Brightside?¡± Leadership is now level 3. Chapter 14 Chapter 14 Down. Brightside was down. Not technically. Space made concepts like up and down iffy things, all relative and meaningless from the right perspective. Where Brightside really was, was past the artificial gravity well the station used to help everyone walk around and keep the majority of their bone mass. That meant wherever you went in the station, the other side of it was down. That made the trip to the bottom easier at least, not that Isea thought so. He was having a hard time with his bruised ribs and now swollen face, but, despite his initial misgivings, he soldiered on with me, much more easily once we were done with stairs and we joined a flat-ish pedestrian passage. There weren¡¯t many people here, now that we were out of the service districts, and those we did see were dressed in uniforms such as maintenance techs, janitorial staff, and the like. Windows to the outside became much less frequent until they disappeared altogether, and the floor gained a gentle slope, just this side of curved but so incredibly subtle, you barely noticed. We came upon our first security checkpoint shortly thereafter, a row of steel and reinforced glass booths with door frame-type structures on either side of them, though they were in severe disrepair. Multiple dings, dents, and downright structural damage could be seen even from far away, and, up close, I saw that the electronics had been ripped out and the metal stripped from most of them. Mounts where I guessed security cameras were supposed to be were just hollow holes with mangled metal mounts where someone had forcibly ripped the important bits off. ¡°Where¡¯s security?¡± I asked Isea. ¡°Not on this side of the bridge. They haven¡¯t used this one in years,¡± he replied as he slipped inside the bent door frame and into the open on the other side. ¡°Doc mentioned that they aren¡¯t really popular over here,¡± I remembered. ¡°That¡¯s an understatement. They generally leave us to fend for ourselves, which suits us just fine.¡± ¡°Catch your own bad guys, do you?¡± I asked. ¡°We police our own pretty well. Have to, considering how limited we are where space is concerned.¡± I swallowed, not knowing if my next question was going to be taken very well. ¡°Anyone ever going to police Mel? He seems like he needs a visit from some kind of authority.¡± Isea¡¯s look soured further than it already was. Then, he shook his head. ¡°No. Nobody¡¯s coming for Mel. Believe it or not, Mel and his crew do a lot of things that keep things running around here. You just don¡¯t want to cross them.¡± ¡°Like you.¡± ¡°Like me.¡± He coughed and clutched at his ribs again. ¡°But I guess that¡¯s over now, isn¡¯t it? Thank you, by the way. When you whipped out all that money, I think you short circuited his brain.¡± ¡°Was what I gave him a lot?¡± Isea¡¯s mouth dropped open and he grabbed my arm as he came to an abrupt halt. ¡°You don¡¯t know?¡± ¡°I already told you I wasn¡¯t born like this, right?¡± I shrugged and spread my arms. ¡°I¡¯m just a kid from nowhere. Pretty sure I¡¯m still in my origin story.¡± Isea shook his head, disbelieving. ¡°Insane. Let¡¯s just say Mel¡¯s going to have to find a way to break that thing into credits. You can¡¯t just slap those things down somewhere to pay your tab. Only a handful of folks on our side of the station have probably even seen one of those coins. Brightside¡¯s right over the bridge, but it''s a million miles away too, ya know?¡± The ¡®bridge,¡¯ which we were on, was a walkway of sorts, shaped like a wide rectangular box, except the whole thing was bent slightly so that everything had a slight curve going down, giving the land an artificial horizon both in front and behind. It was wide enough to probably drive several rovers from back home side by side comfortably and tall enough that it never felt ¡®close¡¯ in that way caves or catacombs felt. There was also a constant breeze in our faces, which did a lot to keep the windowless hall from feeling claustrophobic. According to Isea, we were currently walking around the gravity well in a way that would keep our feet firmly on the ground and our lunch in our stomachs. It had to have been precisely designed, because my Climbing skill never once was in danger of activating itself. The walk was considered a smooth hike in a singular direction by the System. Every once in a while, the floor under our feet vibrated as an unseen vehicle passed on a track underneath our feet. We saw our first pair of guards a few minutes in, walking casually side by side, hands on their belts where they kept their weapons. I kept Isea between them and me, so as not to show my face, trusting Stealth to do the rest. I was the guy that could hide in plain sight, apparently, but if I could keep from testing it until the very last minute, that would be swell. The real test came at the checkpoint, much like the abandoned one we¡¯d already passed back at the beginning of the bridge. This one was active with uniformed but unarmored personnel in the booths, cameras mounted up high, and a bustling but business-like atmosphere, queues of people heading through and coming back. They all shuffled through the doorway openings slowly, with their hands out and chin up to appear as open as possible, so that meant they were probably scanners of some kind. Meanwhile, the guards in the booths waved people on through while keeping their eyes scanning from faces to the data pads they held in their hands. Two pairs of guards in full riot gear stood off to the side ready to assist with problems but generally looking bored, despite their eyes being hidden behind tinted visors. Isea and I shuffled into the crowd and chose a lane to pass through. For my part, I focused hard on ¡®hiding in plain sight¡¯ as Gray Man phrased it and keeping my head down. I was just one of the crowd, one of them. One of the humans. I could remember how to do that, right? I was human like six months ago. I couldn¡¯t have forgotten how to be normal in that time, right? It occurred to me that I was probably never ¡®normal, even less so now that I had a metal arm and weird blue eyes and magical superpowers. Damnit. I couldn¡¯t take the risk. I was going to be discovered. There were too many eyes and surveillance, and their job was to focus on me specifically as I passed through. No way my Stealth skill was up to that. That meant I¡¯d need to improvise. I hated improvising. My mind raced, and it only came up with one plan¡­ half a plan. Reaching into my jacket pocket, I summoned another one of Philipe¡¯s stupidly valuable coins. Then I bumped Isea with my elbow. ¡°Hide this,¡± I whispered, pressing the coin into his palm. In the most obviously suspicious gesture he could have made, he looked down at what I¡¯d given him and turned extremely pale. ¡°What? No. Why?¡± ¡°And go in front of me.¡± ¡°What am I- I can¡¯t take that,¡± Isea protested, trying and failing to back away from me, since I had him by the good wrist. ¡°Put it in your splint. Insist it¡¯s not yours.¡± ¡°Because it¡¯s not!¡± He whispered harshly. ¡°Hey! Smith!¡± I wasn¡¯t listening anymore. I was on to phase two. My next maneuver was to pretend to tie my shoes, but instead of actually doing that, I touched the floor and gave it a good push with my mana. I was close enough to the booths now that I could detect the wiring in the floor and the circuitry in the booths. Shape 10 mp/s. Shape 30 mp/s. Shape 40 mp/s. If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it. I wasn¡¯t shy about pouring on the mana. I had to assimilate quite a bit of metal to get a real feeling for what I was dealing with here. Apparently, the floor was a series of interlocking panels, probably designed in such a way to accommodate for temperature changes and gravitational fluctuations, which was bad for me since I could only Shape one of them at a time. That sucked. It was still my only option, so I started to Shape. As I¡¯d done in my cell, I set about joining the disparate parts together, taking one molecule and intertwining it with another on the next piece of the floor, essentially Shape welding them until they were considered one piece by the System or my magic or whatever governed these types of things. I did it once, twice, thrice, each time having to back out when it was my time to shuffle forward in the queue. Then I would have to get back down and resaturate things. It was hell on my mana, and I wasn¡¯t in a position to Consume anything. Too much attention would be drawn by something like that. Already, I could feel my body in the beginnings of a full on Crystalized Channels shit fit. Every time I got down and fed more mana into the floor, it was harder to get back up again, such was the pain in my gut and the firestorm in my veins. The first part of my little plan went off while I was currently in the middle of Shape welding the panel under the booth. The alarm on the scanner blared, and lights strobed briefly overhead. Security was there in a flash. ¡°Sir, could you empty your pockets please? All of them. Where did you get this? Of course it¡¯s not illegal. We¡¯re just asking questions. Are you sweating, sir? Perhaps you should come with us.¡± I didn¡¯t look up to see what was happening with Isea. I was too busy emptying my soul into a trick I really shouldn¡¯t have attempted. My breathing was up, and I was sweating in my jacket. The world swam as my inner ear decided to get in on the action too. My original goal was the wiring in the floor that I¡¯d assumed to be the power supply, but no matter what I did, I couldn¡¯t get to it. The shielding around the cabling was proving to be too much to penetrate in the little time I had, so I switched tactics. Forget cutting the power. Just disable the scanner. The circuitry was going to have to be my consolation prize, and it was going to only be in one booth. I only had mana for that much. One last push bottomed me out, and I saturated my floor panels, the outer shielding of the booth, the chassis for the electronics, and then about fifty separate microscopic connections on the circuit boards. With a flick of my will I reshaped said microscopic tracks, nudging them together until they merged into one, glorious, messy short circuit. I nearly passed out from the effort it took. MP 0/314 Instead of passing out, however, I rose, wobbling, to my feet and rejoined everyone in the line. What I¡¯d done produced almost immediate results. Thick smoke billowed up from the floor of the booth, thick enough to obscure the guard inside with the exception of rapidly flailing limbs. The door in back of the booth burst open, spilling its occupant out into the open, coughing and waving her hands in front of her face. Relieved but exhausted, I leaned on the frame of the scanner that I hoped I¡¯d just disabled. I was tapped out, only barely able to pretend I could stand up straight. The fire in my channels had grown angry, volcanic. I needed to Consume something. Right now. I¡¯d never gotten this low on MP with Crystalized Channels before, and I felt like it was killing me. A quick check of my HP told me I was full, but it was only a small comfort. The pain was that bad. ¡°What happened?¡± One of the riot gear clad guards asked. He had Isea pinned up against the side of the booth, not physically but very clearly detaining to poor kid. The booth guard gagged and held up her hand while her airway cleared, but she was okay after a few deep breaths. ¡°I don¡¯t know *cough.* Something¡¯s fried in there.¡± ¡°You okay?¡± I asked the woman I¡¯d smoke bombed. I wobbled forward with at least a little genuine concern. She waved me away. ¡°Yeah. Yeah. It just¡­ ugh. Nasty stuff.¡± ¡°Well, okay. If you¡¯re sure. Less work for you, I guess.¡± The pain I was in gave my voice a choked, raspy quality. I waved my hand in front of my face as if the smoke had gotten to me too. ¡°If only,¡± she laughed, though not a genuine one. Good. I¡¯d been shooting for ¡®likeable but forgettable.¡¯ She grimaced at her smoking booth then looked me up and down appraisingly. Whatever she saw, she seemed to dismiss. ¡°You go on through, sir. Have a safe night.¡± ¡°You too,¡± I said, waving and committing to the monumentally difficult feat of pretending to walk casually while my body immolated itself from the inside. As I wobbled drunkenly away from the checkpoint, I could still hear snippets of Isea getting the third degree. I really hoped the coin wouldn¡¯t get him arrested. It wasn¡¯t technically illegal to have, right? They¡¯d said as much. I left the checkpoint behind and strolled (agonizingly) slowly further over the bridge until I was over the artificial horizon from the checkpoint and through the exit into what I assumed was the Brightside part of the station. The bridge spilled me out through a set of heavy security doors and into a truly enormous space. I was in a cylindrical room, if one could call something so big a room. It had to be as big as a stadium, only hundreds of times taller. The roof was no longer there, replaced, instead, by open air that stretched up and up into the sky. Along the outer part of the cylinder, multiple tiers of walkways, balconies, gardens, and platforms stretched on into infinity, or at least until the humidity in the air made things too hazy to see. The first thing I did was find a quiet corner where I could have a seat, bringing my legs up to my chest and resting my head on my knees, somewhere out of the way, somewhere I could recover. In this case it was behind a garbage bin in front of a maintenance door. Sitting down didn¡¯t feel any better. At least I wasn¡¯t in danger of falling down anymore. Then I set about summoning a log of mendau wood, my last good sized one, and Consumed it. I did the deed inside the flap of Dad¡¯s jacket. It burned, but I didn¡¯t mind. I was already burning. Something about that made me giggle. Was this what being delirious felt like? Instantly, I started to feel¡­ different. Not 100% better but less on the edge of death. I still felt like hammered shit and ready for a long nap besides. That wouldn¡¯t be so bad, right? Status gained: Engine [8 MP/sec for 30 min.] My Mendau affinity was high enough that the buff would have me topped off in a minute or so. All I had to do was wait, while sweat ran down my face, and my body shivered. I concentrated on deep breathing and thoughts of peace and eventual relief. It wouldn¡¯t be so bad to fall asleep. I could barely keep my eyes open anyway. ¡°Hey! You! Wake up!¡± An annoyingly hard object tapped on the back of my head. I lifted my head to find two security personnel standing over me. These were the armed type, patrolmen or some version of it, I guessed, with light armor that clacked together at the joints as they pressed closer to me. One had his baton out and above my head, while the other crouched down so he could look into my eyes. ¡°Have a rough night, big guy?¡± he asked, but he didn¡¯t wait for an answer, instead, giving me orders. ¡°Hold still.¡± ¡°Not feeling well,¡± I mumbled. He leaned in close and grabbed a fist full of my hair to keep me from flinching away. He reached up to touch a spot on the side of his helmet, but his hand paused just before making contact. Belle had a button on that side of her goggles too, didn¡¯t she? Yes. She did. A slight tremble in the guard¡¯s fingers and the tiniest stretching at the corner of his mouth were his only tells, but they were enough to set off my paranoia. Oh, no. I¡¯d failed. I was caught already. I was barely in the neighborhood of my goal, and I was caught. ¡°Tell you what? Let¡¯s get you to a doctor, and then maybe we¡¯ll get you a ride home, eh?¡± The guard asked as he pulled me up by the collar of my jacket. MP 314/314 ¡°You were about to run my face through some kind of database, weren¡¯t you?¡± I asked. The guard shared a cryptic look with his partner. Their tinted visors didn¡¯t give me a whole lot to work with, but the silence told me something. ¡°But you didn¡¯t,¡± I said. ¡°I think I know why.¡± *TWANG* The guard¡¯s baton extended its length by half, and the end buzzed with electricity. ¡°Hey! Excuse me! Hello?¡± Isea¡¯s voice called from behind the two guards. The two of them turned the slightest bit in the direction of the intrusion. That was all the chance I was going to get. A SpewerTM appeared in my hand, and I rammed it into the side of the unarmed guard¡¯s head. *BOOF* The little shotgun barked, the concussive force of the propellant cube rocking the Marshal Exotic¡¯s (at least I hoped he was an Exotic) head to the side so violently it rebounded back and forth limply like his neck was made of rubber. Then, before the other guard even registered he was in a fight, I whipped the Spewer to the side with as much force as I could muster, clubbing him directly in his visored face. He staggered, but the single blow wasn¡¯t enough to bring him down, another tell that these two were Exotics. I reached forward and grabbed the stunned man by the chin strap with my prosthetic¡­ Iron Grip [0.1 MP/sec] ¡­and slammed him into his friend. The two heads cracked together, the plastic material making deceptively light *clack* sounds as the helmets collided. They both dropped, bonelessly to the floor shortly thereafter. Unarmed Combat is now level 9. You have defeated Petre Walshman. You have been awarded 0 experience points. [50 capped for non-lethal, -40 non-combat class, -50 class restrictions] You have defeated Maximo Cartriem. You have been awarded 0 experience points. [50 capped for non-lethal, -40 non-combat class, -50 class restrictions] I panted and wiped sweat from my brow. That short burst of activity had exhausted my scant reserves, not my MP but my body¡¯s. I really would have liked a chance to recover. (Thanks Crystalize Channels.) Even so, I silently thanked Constance that these guys were Exotics, and I hadn¡¯t just murdered a regular human using my full strength. ¡°Get the door, will you?¡± I requested of Isea, whose mouth was open in shock and disgust. Then I bent down and took hold of the Marshals¡¯ ankles and began to drag them. ¡°What the hell, Smith?¡± Isea gasped. ¡°I thought you were gonna make a break for it or something! Are they-¡± ¡°They¡¯re both fine. The gun wasn¡¯t loaded. His helmet took the worst of it. Now, come on. We need to get as far as we can before they sound the alarm.¡± Because, after that happened, I had no idea what I was going to do. Chapter 15 Chapter 15 Tonight was not turning out to be my night. I¡¯d started out with a desire to get some intelligence on where I needed to go and who I could talk to, maybe get the lay of the land and a feel for the people. I was going to take things slowly, do the cautious thing. However, the multiverse insisted on putting me in situations where ¡°cautious¡± wasn¡¯t an option. Once again, I¡¯d been put in the unenviable position of having to balance speed with stealth, and those were both things I was terrible at. At least I¡¯d avoided a full police crackdown on Brightside, for now. I touched the edge of the sliding door where we¡¯d stashed the unconscious guards and saturated the appropriate parts. Then I gave it a good Shape weld until the door would be almost impossible to open without a blow torch or heavy machinery. Engine was keeping me topped off well enough, not quite keeping up with my output but quickly getting my MP back up to maximum before Crystalized Channels could really become a problem again, which was good because I was still recovering from the last time. ¡°That¡¯ll do for now,¡± I said, taking my hand away and checking on my not so silent partner. My lookout was busy peering around the corridor, straining his eyes for the barest hint of company, a task I knew he was incapable of doing. We really should have stopped to get Isea¡¯s glasses before we left the Devil¡¯s Due. ¡°What will do?¡± Isea asked. I slapped the jammed door. ¡°That should hold them for a little bit.¡± ¡°You sure? They¡¯re Exotics right? Can¡¯t they just break out?¡± I shrugged. That was a distinct possibility. I had no idea what their stats were, and I¡¯d not let them use any Abilities before it was lights out time. Not much I could do about it, though. We still had a crossroads in front of us, and the way I wanted to go, I couldn¡¯t let Isea follow. ¡°I think it¡¯s time we went our separate ways,¡± I declared. ¡°Yeah. Yeah,¡± Isea replied, nodding a little too vigorously for my taste. I squinted at him suspiciously. ¡°Not like that, Isea. I mean we need to split up. The Marshals want me, and I¡¯m afraid you¡¯ll get hurt if you stick around.¡± ¡°Oh,¡± he said, blinking rapidly as he jumped from one track to another. ¡°Yeah that makes sense. Sorry. I¡¯m not a coward, I promise. I just thought it would be better to get out while they¡¯re still¡­ you know. They¡¯re gonna be upset when they wake up, and they aren¡¯t above finishing what Mel started or worse. Bunch of corrupt scum.¡± ¡°You¡¯re still sore about them keeping the coin,¡± I admonished. ¡°That was my coin,¡± he whined. ¡°It really wasn¡¯t.¡± ¡°Yeah. I know that, but they didn¡¯t know that. Still feels like they stole from me.¡± He let out a long, remorseful sigh. ¡°And I doubt it¡¯ll ever get reported,¡± I said. ¡°It¡¯s kind of a blessing in disguise, actually. It makes you our most important piece on the board.¡± ¡°I¡¯m sorry, what?¡± Isea asked incredulously. ¡°How? I¡¯m not one of you, and I can barely even see. Not to mention, they¡¯re gonna review the footage from the checkpoint and have my face and your face together soon enough.¡± ¡°Yeah. I figured that. Whatever happens tonight, they¡¯re going to link us together. They¡¯re going to know you helped me and that we know each other.¡± ¡°So, why aren¡¯t we disappearing back into the Bottoms and starting a new life with your vast sums of wealth?¡± Isea asked. ¡°Because whatever consequences come from tonight, it¡¯s going to be later¡­ for you, at least. Right now, you are the most ignored man on this half of the station. Hell, they might have even deleted your footage from the holos by now.¡± Isea scratched the top of his head. ¡°Because they stole from me. They took it and maybe don¡¯t want other people to know what they did?¡± I nodded. I also hoped against hope that I wasn¡¯t just speculating here. ¡°So, what good does that do me? Us?¡± Isea added as an afterthought after a slight pause. With a little flex of will, the canister of liquid phase medium appeared in my hand. The contents inside sloshed as I shifted the thing¡¯s weight and gently set it down on the ground. ¡°You¡¯re going to deliver a message,¡± I said. ¡°One that will get us both out of this.¡± Isea¡¯s frown was dubious. ¡°A message? And what are you going to do?¡± ¡°Deliver a different message.¡± ¡ª------------------------- Half an hour later, after I¡¯d given Isea a nice head start, I found myself, once again stepping into the open on the bottom deck of Brightside. The great, green tube that went up into infinity far above my head along with the daylight tinted illumination they used here gave me the impression of being outside. Functionally, it might have even been the same. The deck lighting probably even contained some mild U.V. light to keep the live plants happy and give everyone a bit of vitamin D. I¡¯d made a few preparations. For one, I now sported one of the downed guards¡¯ breastplates and arm guards, stripped of functioning electronics and whatever enchantments my metal palm could find. The helmet, however, was a no-go. The visor didn¡¯t activate for me when I put it on, and it was ridiculously tinted so that I couldn¡¯t see a damned thing when I tried to peer through. My sword that I¡¯d made on Ralqir was on my hip, and I¡¯d also taken the time to replace the barrel on my machine pistol in case things got really bad. The gun I kept tucked away in my Spatial Storage. I wanted attention, not a laser through the eye. Just as Isea had said, in the center of Brightside¡¯s cylindrical design was a column of eight glass tubes. They were the main lift system that took folks from down where we were to the top and back, mostly for cargo. These would be the most surveilled part of the station. As I approached, one of the spacious cars at the bottom of the tube slid its doors open with a soft chime. *Ding* I didn¡¯t get on the lift. I wasn¡¯t stupid. No way was I getting in a glass box that could deliver me, gift wrapped, to the Marshals if they were paying attention. What I did, instead, was wave to one of the tens of cameras above the doors. ¡°Hi, there,¡± I said. ¡°I hope this thing has audio, because I¡¯m gonna look stupid if I¡¯m just talking to a straight holo feed. Maybe you have lip readers up there or something, or the System helps us lip read with the right skills¡­ I don¡¯t know. Seems like something a security contractor would have covered. Anyway, to you guys that are watching this, the Marshals: My name is Ryan Kotes. I¡¯m going to the Academy. I know you don¡¯t want me there, and that¡¯s why you¡¯re looking for me. I¡¯m going anyway. What I don¡¯t want is for any of you to get hurt. Don¡¯t try to stop me. This will be your only warning.¡± With that, I drew my sword, flexed my mana, and stabbed the camera directly in its lens, using Willing Edge to make sure the point went through the hard, protective shell. A little dramatic, but who says drama can¡¯t be useful? Then it was time to haul ass back through the winding path between the planters, stalls, and abstract sculptures the architects had stuck everywhere on this deck. Then, back inside the maintenance tunnels again, I ran down the long hallway that wrapped around the entire deck. There were multiple ways up to other decks from here, not foot traffic routes but small hatches that led into the bulkheads, vents, plumbing, and conduit spaces for the decks above. Detect Iron showed me a short range picture of how things were put together. As far as I could tell, the place with the most space available for a lone Exotic to crawl through were the ventilation ducts with a close second being the gaps in the floors left for conduits and cabling. Those would be a trickier climb, given how much larger in the shoulders I was now, but it was still an option. For now, though, I chose the ductwork. I¡¯d already Shaped the vent grate off before I went and gave my ultimatum to the Marshals, and all I had to do was walk in. I reattached the grate behind me. After that, it was time to get moving. My duct traveled horizontally for about ten feet before making a right angle and shooting straight up into the dark. Time for the moment of truth. With a quick breath, I bent my legs and jumped, aiming for the T junction a few feet above my head. Once my metal fingers touched the ledge, my Climbing skill went into action, sending an immediate and intense wave of queasiness through my stomach. I¡¯d been ready for it, but it still wasn¡¯t my favorite sensation. Thankfully, I hadn¡¯t eaten in a while. I checked my Engine buff again. Two minutes left. ¡°Okay. Here we go,¡± I said to no one. This was going to suck. I took hold of the lip of the vent with two hands, brought my legs up as far as they¡¯d go, then kicked off, aiming up to the next T junction. The 30% effective decrease in weight from Anchor helped, but it wasn¡¯t quite enough to get me to the next deck. I just didn¡¯t have the leverage to jump properly to my full capacity. I¡¯d seen this coming, though. That¡¯s why I was ready to deploy the second part of this trick. Before my body could fully succumb to gravity, I activated Tension Step. We were in a strange relationship, Tension Step and me. I¡¯d only used it once or twice before, once when I was just trying it out back on Ralqir, again when I was trying to save my own and Trix¡¯s life from a rampaging roid-buffalo. Both times were just the worst, instantly bottoming me out on MP and sending a mana migraine crashing down on my head immediately after. After that, I¡¯d filed the Ability under the ¡®dud¡¯ category and tried to forget it existed, lest it tempt me to do something stupid. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report. However, this time, it was going to be different, I was climbing and lighter than I had any right to be thanks to Anchor, and I was more experienced now¡­ right? As before, I got that familiar feeling that the air congealed under my feet, but only just, like I was sticking my feet in gelatine. It didn¡¯t give me much to work with, but at this point, I was committed. Mana rushed out of me in a torrent so fast it felt like being punched in the gut. The System was making me pay an exorbitant cost for using the Ability this way. It got me some height, though. It got me just enough height to get my metal fingers onto the lip of the next deck¡¯s T junction. Immediately, I felt fire in my gut, the beginnings of another Crystalized Channels episode, and a quick check of my MP told me the tank was half-empty. That wasn¡¯t so bad. So, I hung there, panting, while Engine got me topped off. My limbs shook with overstimulation and overexertion, while my prosthetic did the lion¡¯s share of the work keeping me on the ledge. Hoo boy. I didn¡¯t enjoy that. The experiment was a success, though. In theory, I could probably monkey up the vents even further. Not now, though. I needed a minute for some prep. A quick crawl through the vent, and I came out in some kind of office full of desks equipped with deactivated holos and multiple racks of data pads lined up between. Detect Copper told me there was wiring in the room for a camera or a motion sensor on the ceiling, but they didn¡¯t have the buzzing, twitchy quality of active current. Good. I didn¡¯t trip any kind of alarm¡­ probably. I folded my legs and got into a comfortable position, bringing out my big, frankenstein casting bowl I¡¯d cobbled together near the end of my time on Ralqir, and I set about reprogramming it for a new purpose. The rough carpet on the floor paid the MP cost for me. Knowledge gained: Synthweave x 33/50 Status gained: Engine [3 MP/sec for 30 seconds] Using all available materials in the bowl, create a drone with these instructions. The drone will be shaped with a round body, eight legs, two pincers with twenty segments each. Triggers for movement will go here, connected to¡­. Essentially, I was doing the drone thing again, only this time they would serve two purposes in their lives. First, they would munch as much metal as possible in a thirty foot radius and dump the contents into the original casting bowl. Once they¡¯d gathered enough material to make another two of themselves, they would then report to the second casting bowl for reprogramming. Once you receive a full charge, come to me then loop the following instructions: Fire your cannon at any armored Exotic¡¯s legs within thirty feet of me. Retrieve your ammunition. Return to me. Oh, yes. Did I mention I gave them cannons? Just little ones, just a little bigger than my middle finger. The ammunition wasn¡¯t sophisticated either, just a ball that was Shaped inside the barrel when the drone was initially ¡®born,¡¯ but with the Volatility batteries I gave the drones and the generous mass I was giving the bullets, they¡¯d go through flesh and bone like butter, maybe even puncture armor with a straight shot. I didn¡¯t give them instructions to return to the bowl and recharge themselves once they went into bullet spider mode. I really didn¡¯t want to have a self-perpetuating metal spider problem once this was all done. If no one bothered to check this little office before it was all turned into ouchie machines, there could, theoretically, be hundreds of the little guys running around being a jerk to anyone with System access. No, I just wanted an escort for tonight¡¯s activities, and either I was going to get where I was going, or the people that stopped me were going to be sorry. Once my little min-ifactory was ready, I gave the first bowl a kick start with a heaping helping of scrap steel I tore off of one of the desks. Already, I could see the metal losing its original shape and melting into bulbous lumps, the nubs of the legs appearing before my eyes shortly after. My new flavor of mana was something else. Creating a drone back on Ralqir would have taken ten times as long. You have created Spider Cannon Drone. You receive 100 experience points. Experience/min: 100 Ooh, yeah. That¡¯s the good stuff. I really couldn¡¯t wait to do this on a bigger scale¡­ Soon. There was one final step that needed to be taken. To make the whole setup work, I had to release my aura. That was the magic ingredient that gave my semi-autonomous creations their eyes, ears, and brains. Without it, they had no capacity to understand the world or their purpose. WIth a deep breath and a prayer to Constance, I stopped circulating the mana through my channels and let my presence spread. If my message earlier didn¡¯t get anyone¡¯s attention, I was pretty sure this act would do the trick. Back into the vents I went, making sure to cut a big square of carpet from the floor to take with me before I left. Yummy. ¡ª------------------ My fingers took hold of my twentieth ledge of the night, the metal screeching as they struggled for purchase on the dusty surface but holding fast as they always did. I was actually getting better at this. That one only took about 60 mana. I still felt like shit, but it was starting to become a familiar flavor of shit, one I could tolerate if only because it was temporary. Engine was humming along thanks to my affinity for synthweave ticking over into D territory, giving it a more efficient and long lasting burn, and I¡¯d used that milestone to monkey up quite a few decks. I¡¯d shown my face a few levels down, just a quick peek out of the door of a perfume shop I¡¯d found myself in. I even forced the door open to trigger the alarm, just in case the Marshals weren¡¯t watching the cameras closely. As it turned out, I shouldn¡¯t have worried. I¡¯d expected quick action from the Marshals but not the scale and ferocity at which it had happened. As soon as the alarm had started blaring, a security team in full riot gear just swooped down from the level above¡­ like actually falling from the sky and landing with a little flex of their knees. That¡¯s how I got shot for the second time in my life. It wasn¡¯t bad, just a glancing burn on the chest plate, but I wasn¡¯t about to stick around for more. I ducked back into the shop and dove headfirst into the ductwork. More las-fire peppered the walls of the vent as I scrambled to get some distance between us. Once I was safe and up a few levels, I ran my metal hand over the char mark on my breastplate and discovered something interesting. Consume: Tracking Shot? Y/N I¡¯d been victim of the first spell of the night. A curse. I Consumed it and used the extra juice to push myself harder parkouring up the vents with Tension Step, which shot up to a whopping level of 4. Impressive considering how little I¡¯d used it up till now. The curse had been on me for too long, though. They knew what I was doing, and my little breezy highway was about to lose its exclusivity. *CLICK**CLICK**CLICK**CLICK* The three spider drones that had made it up to me so far skittered up the side of the vent a lot easier than I could, their hooked legs finding the grooves between bolts and gaps in the plated walls with ease. ¡°What do you think, guys? Time to get out in the open?¡± The drones didn¡¯t answer, they simply hung there, content to be next to their dad until he had enemies to perforate. More of them were still being made down below. This was a batch of four. ¡­ You have created Spider Cannon Drone. You receive 100 experience points. Experience/min: 300/min You have created Spider Cannon Drone. You receive 100 experience points. Experience/min: 400/min Several decks up, I slowly, carefully, crawled on my belly through the duct, which flattened out and split until it was a tight squeeze. Then I came upon the grate leading to a living area of some kind. I Shaped the grate off the vent and slipped into a little kitchen with a stove, cold storage, and the like. It was quiet, the gentle noise coming from the vent where I¡¯d just come from and my spider drones clicking at my side the only sounds I could detect. Unfortunately, my luck didn¡¯t last. Only three steps in and I immediately got a hit from Detect Iron of someone in the next room, sleeping. There was a wall between us, which made me feel safer but only a little. Better to slip out of here before I had any explaining to do to the room¡¯s occupant. With Stealth foremost in my mind, I bent down and picked up the drones so that their legs wouldn¡¯t make any more noise, putting the three of them in the crook of my arm so I had the other one free. Then I inched toward what I assumed was the front door, one of the sliding ones with a control panel on the side and a holo feed. I looked over my shoulder to see what kind of angle I was on to the bedroom door. Good. Whoever my roommate was, they wouldn¡¯t be able to see the light from the front door if I opened it. Also, it wouldn¡¯t hurt to take a peek outside before I committed. I resituated the drones once more then pressed the little button to activate the holo for the door, and a slightly distorted 3d model of the hall beyond flashed into existence. This door didn¡¯t go right to the walkway overlooking the big cylinder like the businesses did. The living quarters were built a bit more like the rest of the station, short, close, with doors on either side of the hallway. The only exits I could see were far down the way. Peering into the flickering light, I used my fingers to manipulate its positioning and focus until I was at the very edge of its scope. There. Five security personnel, fully armored and carrying las-rifles, were forcefully knocking on doors. No. Two of them were knocking on the doors. Two others were watching either side of the hallway with their rifles up and ready. The fifth¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure what he was doing. His rifle was dangling on his chest rig while his hands seemed to move in strange patterns¡­ like he was plucking invisible strings in the air. Then he slapped one of his partners on the back and pointed down the hall more toward where I was. Oh, I don¡¯t like the look of that. I let my focus drift into that realm where I could see my mana floating in the world around me, blue with a touch of gray and white. Something was happening there. They were moving strangely in a- *WHAM* Something hit me in the back of the head, hard. My vision flashed white, and my face smacked right into the surface of the metal door. You take 10 damage (bludgeoning). Status gained: Stunned. *WHAM* *WHAM* The follow-up attacks weren¡¯t much better. Very concussive. Very head focused. Brain all mushy. Someone screamed a high-pitched warcry, followed by another series of smacks to the top and sides of my head. *WHAM* *WHAM**WHAM* *WHAM* ¡°Ow! Hey! Hey! Wait!¡± I protested between bouts of head trauma. ¡°Who are you? What are you doing in my place?!¡± A woman screamed before hitting me twice more with the club she was wielding. Detect Iron didn¡¯t pick up on it, but from the sound it made, it was definitely some kind of dense wood¡­ maybe cored with something heavier. ¡°I don¡¯t want any trouble, miss,¡± I said, holding up my hands, while my other arm had all my drones, who were in the process of spilling out and skittering across the floor. The angry woman really didn¡¯t like that. ¡°Who- What the hell are those?! Get out! Go away!¡± I shook my head and finally was able to get a look at my assailant with my actual eyes. She was small and wiry with just enough muscle to give her limbs an athletic shape, while her face was incongruously rounded. Her curly black hair was in absolute disarray, sticking out every which way while almost doubling her size with how voluminous it was. She was also¡­ in a state of undress, just wearing a short, loose t-shirt and underwear that barely counted as clothing at all as little as they covered. What really got my attention, though, was the baseball bat clutched above her head and the wide, fearful look she was giving me and my robot buddies. My mouth was suddenly very dry. ¡°Uh- Sorry- I-¡± I grunted. The last remaining spider drone in my arm plopped to the carpet and skittered away to get a respectful distance from the two of us. ¡°Talk or walk, or the beatings will continue, creep!¡± the woman shouted. At exactly the wrong time, four more spider drones burst their way out of the ventilation system, slamming the grate down to the floor and clicking over to join us. The woman very, very much, didn¡¯t like that. *WHAM* She hit me again. I took the blow partially on my forearm this time, but she was pretty good at making the hits land. If felt the skin above my eyebrow split open. ¡°I¡¯m sorry! I¡¯m sorry!¡± I yelled. ¡°I was just-¡± ¡°You were just what, weirdo!?¡± A closed fist pounded on the apartment door, vibrating the hanging pictures on the walls. The woman¡¯s eyes darted to the door. ¡°In here! In here!¡± She cried, giving me a swift kick with her bare foot. A distorted voice blared intrusively over the holo¡¯s speaker. *Stand back, ma¡¯am. We¡¯re doing a manual override.* My eyes went from the woman with the bat, to the drones, to the door. My mouth dropped open in horror. ¡°No, wiat!¡± But I was too late. Behind me, the door slid open¡­ the door I was currently leaning against. Suddenly having nothing holding my battered body upright, I spilled out into the hallway and into a forest of plastic armored legs. Above me, the Marshals seemed as surprised as I was, looking down at me with open mouthed shock and fumbling to point their weapons in the proper direction. Then, all hell broke loose. Chapter 16 Chapter 16 Beyond the doorway to the woman¡¯s apartment, the hallway, every inch of it within an eight foot radius including the floor, the ceiling, the air all became the site of a miniature hurricane of flying metal balls, shattered polymer armor, blood, and bits of bone. My drones crouched so that their centers of gravity were nice and low then spewed clouds purple Volatility propulsion juice, launching their cannonballs at or close to the speed of sound. I¡¯d become pretty good at telling what my high velocity stuff looked like, and this, while not the fastest ammunition I¡¯d made, was definitely near the sound barrier, at least. The projectiles smashed into the guards thighs, shins, and knees at nearly point blank range. Their armor was tough. I¡¯ll give it that. Only the two guards that got hit with straight shots had their thigh pads fail them, but when they failed, they failed hard. The plates split into two and sort of unspooled with threads of polymer material shooting out from the kinetic energy they¡¯d tried and failed to absorb. The luckier guards got shot in the knees and shins, glancing blows but enough to knock them over or make them stumble. I shot to my feet before the pained screaming started. My sword left its sheath, and I slashed at the nearest, most intact guard¡¯s weapon with a good dose of Willing Edge. The atomically sharp cutting edge bit deep into the weapon¡¯s optics and even got half way through the metal tube at the center before its momentum was stopped. The guard wrenched the weapon away, either out of reflex at having a sword in close proximity or in an attempt to disarm me, but I had a better grip and much better footing. I pulled my sword, which in turn pulled the las-rifle, which in turn pulled the guard toward me and over one of his downed friends, tripping him. A quick left hook to the back of the head helped him fall a bit faster to the ground. *WHAM* His head bounced off the floor hard enough to shatter his faceplate. *BLAP* A laser ionized the air so close to my ear, I felt the tiny hair follicles in proximity to it curl up and die. Holy hell! These guys aren¡¯t messing around! We appeared to have different rules of engagement here. I¡¯d specifically tried not to kill these guys, and here they were going for headshots. Would my HP protect me if I took a laser to the face? I wasn¡¯t in a hurry to test it. I brought my sword around and swung at the guardswoman that had just almost killed me. *WHAM* The previous guard¡¯s laser rifle that was still stuck firmly to my blade collided butt first into the woman¡¯s upper chest like a warhammer. The force of the blow flipped her end over end, almost entirely, and she came down on the back of her head. More las-fire, fully automatic sprayed wildly from the ground, flashing in front of my face and burning black scorch marks in the ceiling as one of the maimed guards opened up with wild abandon. I jumped back only to stumble over the unconscious guard I¡¯d just flattened. The las-fire tracked me, right up until I ran, once again, into the woman with the baseball bat, my momentum making me slam into her. I grabbed her before she could fall down. ¡°Why are you still here? Run!¡± I screamed above the high pitched barks of the las-rifle. She stood there, frozen, eyes wide and limbs trembling, the baseball bat forgotten in her shaking hands. Burning, freezing, paralyzing pain raked up my lower back and up to my shoulder blade. I¡¯d been shot with a las-type weapon once before, when I was fully human. I remember feeling like this when it happened too, like something had just drilled a hole in me and sandpapered my insides before they left. The automatic laser fire lanced my back, and I stumbled forward into the woman, who I grabbed in a bear hug, cradling her so that my armor protected us both. Meanwhile, the damage notifications scrolled by. You take 18 damage. (fire, piercing) You take 21 damage. (fire, piercing) You take 21 damage. (fire, piercing) You take 15 damage. (fire, piercing) I had the presence of mind to activate Hardened Defense just at the nape of my neck where the breastplate couldn¡¯t cover, but the coverage was so small. The weapon or the guard must have run out of juice by that point, because the angry red beams, and the sparks that flew off of my stolen armor ceased just a few seconds in. The woman in my arms, now a little more cognizant, squirmed to get away, so I let her go, choosing, instead, to grab my side where my muscles were doing their best to tie themselves into knots post trauma. Suddenly, the air changed, taking on that weird, tense quality I¡¯d come to associate with Abilities. Oh, shit. Suddenly, I was flung upward, pulled by the back of my stolen breastplate, and my momentum carried me all the way to the ceiling. I hit hard, and the impact stole my breath. Below me, his hands glowing an oddly cheerful hue of pink, the weird guard that liked to pluck at the mana in the air, whom I¡¯d somehow missed during the chaos, grinned as his fingers curled into a fist, and the pull on my torso slammed me into the ceiling again, this time rocking my head into the metal violently enough to have me seeing stars. *WHAM**WHAM* Again. Again. Status gained: Stunned My sword dropped from my numb fingers. The guard¡¯s smug grin widened as he reached down for his rifle, keeping his other, spell wreathed hand extended. The muzzle of his rifle came around, aimed directly between my eyes. *PAF* *PAF**PAF* Three of the drones that had been able to retrieve their bullets unloaded on the backs of the guy¡¯s calves at point blank range, and the guard¡¯s smug grin turned into a look of horror as his legs turned to jelly. The spell he¡¯d been holding fizzled and died, and I came crashing down to the floor, once again losing all the air in my lungs. I coughed and rammed my fist into my stomach in an attempt to get my diaphragm working again, only just getting a partial pull of breath before I got to my hands and knees. Not done. Not down. Go. Now. Don¡¯t stop. I pounced, using what oxygen I had. I scrambled on top of the weird mage guy, yanked off his helmet and delivered a metal fist of justice directly into his face. Twice. It was only then that I got the defeat notification from the System. Unarmed Combat is now level 9. You have defeated Security Specialist. You have been awarded 10 experience points. (50 capped for non-lethal, -40 non-combat class) Experience rate 220/min. Then I moved on to the next one, the screaming one using his broken rifle as a club to fend off the drone that was trying to crawl over his body. By the time I got all five of them, I was huffing and puffing. It spiked my experience rate, but not enough to reach the level threshold. Experience rate 440/min. Killing them all at once might do the trick¡­ I shook my head. No. We were not going down that route. People were people, and if I was strong enough to do this without outright bloodshed, that¡¯s what I was going to do. ¡°What is happening? Who are you?¡± the semi-naked woman asked. Her eyes were still wide as saucers, and her bat was held slightly above her head again. She cast manic glances from me to the unconscious guards and back. I straightened up, only to regret it immediately. ¡°Ow. I¡¯m really sorry, miss. I didn¡¯t mean for this to happen.¡± She focused on me, her face contorting into anger again now that she had a target to focus on instead of a whole bloody scene. ¡°You were in my apartment,¡± she accused. ¡°Yeah. I know,¡± I grunted, taking my hand away from my oozing side to check how bad the damage was. My HP was at 250/334, so it couldn¡¯t have been life threatening. ¡°Sorry,¡± I repeated. ¡°It was a mistake. I was trying to leave when you hit me.¡± ¡°Are you some kind of criminal?¡± she asked. I scratched my head at that. ¡°Probably?¡± I replied. ¡°At least on Proxis I am. I¡¯m new here. Listen, I feel bad for bringing this to your doorstep. Do you have a safe place to go? I kind of made a mess of things.¡± I gestured at the blood splattered doorway and the five bodies. The woman lowered the bat and peered at me intently. The air shifted again, and I felt a tingle on my skin. ¡°You¡¯re¡­ being genuine,¡± she breathed. ¡°And you saved my life.¡± She¡¯s an Exotic. I didn¡¯t get a curse notification or anything, though. Is she psychic? I wobbled my head back and forth. ¡°I kind of put it in danger in the first place, so let¡¯s put that aside.¡± Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings. ¡°But you did save me,¡± she repeated then and let her gaze drop to the bodies on the floor. ¡°And they¡¯re all still alive too.¡± ¡°Uh. Yeah. Sure. I guess. Again, I¡¯m really sorry. All this for a chance to go to school,¡± I winced, taking my hand off my wound to undo the melted armor plate on my torso. It made a wet, sucking sound as the blood seeping from my wounds let go of the smooth surface. Then I set about hunting for a replacement in my size from the guards on the floor. ¡°School? You¡¯re a student? Oh. Don¡¯t take the helmets,¡± the woman cautioned, her wide eyes now emanating more curiosity than fear. ¡°They have a rudimentary neural interface.¡± My mouth worked back and forth as I figured out what to say. ¡°Okay. I figured they had something like that. Lots of electronics inside. Listen, I have no idea what these guys¡¯ deal is or who they¡¯re willing to go after. Seriously, do you have a place to go? I¡¯d feel better if you were safe and tucked away until this is over.¡± She reached up and put a finger in her hair, twirling it around as she thought, and her features softened noticeably. ¡°Um. My mom lives down the hall, but I¡¯ll have to-¡± It was at that point she looked down at herself and seemed to realize how she was dressed. She gasped and suddenly felt compelled to cross her arms over her exposed stomach. For my part, I tried to focus on removing the breastplate from the biggest of the guards. ¡°Okay, then,¡± I said. ¡°Stay there tonight and don¡¯t come out for anyone. Hopefully, this will all blow over by morning.¡± ¡°What happens in the morning?¡± she asked, her eyebrows furrowing ever so slightly. *PAF* High pitched, panicked wailing came from one of the guards I thought I¡¯d knocked out as he took another round to the kneecap from close range. My drones did not have any sort of mercy programmed into them. The woman looked on in something like horror mixed with fascination. ¡°So like¡­ you¡¯re not controlling those things, except you are too.¡± she observed cryptically. I shook my head. ¡°No. I mean, yes, but not anymore. I made them to do a thing. Now they¡¯re doing the thing. Uh. I really need to get going or that¡¯s going to keep happening.¡± I pointed a thumb over at the drone as it used its pincers and hooked legs to¡­ dig into the guard¡¯s flesh to remove the bullet it had just put there. The wounds in my back protested as I slipped my new breastplate over my head and buckled it into place. Then I was moving. ¡°Again, I¡¯m really sorry,¡± I called over my shoulder. ¡°Mina,¡± the woman said. I stopped and turned, confused. ¡°My name is Mina,¡± she repeated. ¡°Sorry I- uh- beat you.¡± She shook the bat in her hand, still wet with my blood. ¡°No problem,¡± I told her with a quick wink. ¡°Most normal part of my night so far.¡± She actually almost laughed at that. I could tell. But, in the end, she only allowed herself a smirk while one of her fingers twirled a lock of her hair. Then I was off and down the hall toward the rest of Brightside. ¡ª------------------ If the object was to make it to the Academy however many levels it was higher in this Constance damned cylinder, I was doing a terrible job. It was slow going. The living quarters where I¡¯d met Mina were part of a big, multi-deck block of them with small lifts and stairwells that carried you between them all. Only I wasn¡¯t using those. No. The stairs I was using were completely exposed to laser fire, which my pursuers took advantage of at every opportunity, doing their best to pin me down and create opportunities for backup to arrive. The safety glass above my head and to my side was riddled with black, smoldering holes. The little shield I¡¯d constructed out of a stack of replacement panelling I¡¯d found and a garbage lid wasn¡¯t looking much better. It did more to hide where my vitals were than to stop las-fire. Unfortunately, I was simply unwilling to duck back inside the actual living quarters for cover. After what almost happened to Mina, I wasn¡¯t willing to put anyone else in a position to be hurt by my little stunt. There was also my drones to consider. Fourty-something spider drones were following me now, their little legs ticking on the metal stairs behind me, their shiny steel bodies forming a sea of skittering, bobbing weirdness that liked to crowd in around my feet when I stopped and didn¡¯t have the sense to get out of the way before they tripped me. They had their uses, though. They wouldn¡¯t return fire at the snipers anytime soon, but if anyone got within thirty feet of me wearing that plastic security armor, they were a collective battering ram¡­ right to the knees. And they just kept coming. The factory was producing them in batches of six now, sometimes eight, not that they all arrived in neat groups like that. They had a bit of a commute before they were on the job. I hadn¡¯t even had to fight the last group of security forces that tried to block my way. They¡¯d confronted me on the landing to a new deck with a firing line, batons, and a weird caster that made the whole world dark then tried to stab me. Unfortunately for them, I didn¡¯t need my eyes to see a guy with a dagger sneaking up behind me, and my drones certainly didn¡¯t use anything like eyes. The leg trauma from that little dustup was a thing to behold, and I didn¡¯t stick around for when the drones got busy trying to retrieve their bullets that didn¡¯t go all the way through flesh. I got a sweet new dagger from the encounter, still slick with a little of my blood, which silenced some of the guilty voices in my head. Most of them. The strange thing was, with the exception of Mina, I¡¯d not seen any civilians in Brightside, and I¡¯d had to invade the woman¡¯s apartment to catch a glimpse of her. No. No. Don¡¯t think about that right now. We¡¯re getting shot at. No glimpses. Still¡­ Where was everyone? The other side of the station was brimming with people, and I saw at least fifty folks going through the checkpoint to get here before this whole thing kicked off. Where were the janitors? The techs? The drunks? The people on their way to somewhere? It was weird, and it was starting to bug me. The Marshals were certainly enjoying their free, unobstructed shot at me. Maybe that was the answer. They locked the place down to get at me. A glancing hit from one of the rifles overhead singed my armor, bringing my mind back to the immediate issue. I peeked over my shield, now with another hole right between my prosthetic fingers, Then I took aim with my pistol, allowing Death Eye to highlight the important bits on my attacker¡¯s body. *BRRRRRRRT* The bars of the metal railing where the guard had braced his rifle splintered and broke, and he was forced to make a tactical dive down the stairs to his left. You hit Security Officer for 11 damage. (piercing)(10 mitigated) You hit Security Officer for 8 damage. (piercing) (15 mitigated) Security Officer is bleeding. Pistols is now level 9. Two more guards were there to take his place, pelting my stairwell with laser fire and forcing me to duck back behind my shield. Another direct hit burned a hole through the bottom of the plate and still had enough power to puncture the flesh on my thigh. ¡°Constance, damnit!¡± I bellowed. There were too many of them, and my HP wasn¡¯t going to last. They were wearing me down, and there wasn¡¯t much I could do about it. Okay. Can¡¯t stop here. Keep going and don¡¯t stop until you¡¯re stopped. My legs pumped, and my lungs worked like bellows. Up. Up the stairs. The las-fire tracked me with every step. One, two, three landings. My shield was swiss cheese, and my body wasn¡¯t doing much better. Then, like a switch had been flipped, the incoming fire stopped. I risked a peak around my shield again. Oh. Okay. This is different. I¡¯d come out on an open, circular platform that probably used to be a miniature park with small, flowering trees growing from big planters arranged in lines around benches and tables meant for people to lounge around. Now, though, there were guards, twelve of them, and the benches and tables that used to be scattered around the place were overturned and stacked together to form a miniature barricade. I threw my slagged shield to the side and silently thanked it for its service. You¡¯ll be remembered, garbage shield, if only as a glorified umbrella. Only one of the guards wasn¡¯t hunkered down behind the barricade and aiming a rifle barrel at me. He stood tall in front of the others, about as tall as I was, with a massive wooden tower shield in one hand and a silver spear in the other. ¡°Fugitive Ryan Kotes!¡± He called to me. ¡°You will come with us, or we will force you to comply.¡± The guy sounded young, and the exposed part of his face reinforced that impression. He didn¡¯t seem to fit in with the rest of them, not as uniform or¡­ I didn¡¯t know¡­ hard as the rest of them. Also: Talking. We were talking now. I was okay with that. ¡°None of your other guys asked me nicely,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ve been beaten, cursed, shot, stabbed, and blinded, but no one has bothered to talk to me.¡± ¡°You¡¯re wanted on our homeworld, Kotes, and the amount of violence you¡¯ve committed tonight should make you a fugitive from every colony in human space,¡± he replied. ¡°I gave as good as I got,¡± I argued with a shrug. ¡°What you ¡®got¡¯ was a bunch of people hurt, and all because you didn¡¯t want to face justice.¡± My rapidly growing pool of drones chose that moment to catch up to me and gather around my feet. I glanced down at them then rolled my shoulder in preparation for a fight. ¡°Your Family never had a right to hold me,¡± I said. ¡°And they still don¡¯t.¡± The man nodded and set his jaw. ¡°Fine. You had your chance.¡± He spun the spear in his hand until it was in an overhead position, resting on the top of the tower shield, his feet spread far apart and his chin tucked. The silvery metal of his weapon started to glow an incandescent white. Meanwhile, his posse tightened their trigger fingers on their las-rifles. ¡°Hey! Hey!¡± the spear guy called after me, flustered. I¡¯d already turned around and had a foot on the safety railing. Nope. I was not up to this particular encounter, and I wasn¡¯t too proud to admit it. I activated Tension Step. ¡°He¡¯s- Damnit! Open fire! Las-fire filled the air with angry red daggers. My foot made contact with the air just hard enough to give me the distance to put a single metal finger on the bottom of the support structure of the deck overhead. Anchor dutifully got back to work reducing gravity and all other forces acted upon my body by 30%. I had no time to feel nauseous, however. Iron Grip [0.1mp/sec] Iron Grip is now level 5. Upgrade paths available: ¡­ My back got the worst of it, laser fire stippling neat lines of heat over my skin. The armor took some of the bite out of it, but the unarmored parts of me were injected with burning hot fun. I did what I could to mitigate the damage, only it was a guessing game as to where I was going to be struck. I focused on as big a spot on my spine as I could, just below the breastplate. I strained to make the area Hardened Defense could cover as wide as possible. Hardened Defense is now level 3. Hardened Defense is now level 4. It wasn¡¯t enough. I came down from the ledge full of holes, my body slapping wetly onto the tiled floor, but I used the momentum my fall had given me to flop just a bit further, not toward the ledge but toward my attackers. Then, a brick wall slammed down on my torso. My armor cracked like an eggshell, and my breath left me. A glowing white speartip was suddenly in my face, almost in my eye. The heat from it was intense, like I was a nanometer from a blowtorch. ¡°Pointless,¡± the young man said with a shake of his head. ¡°And here I was hoping for a-¡± *PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF**PAF* The cavalry, following along behind me like good little drones, had finally caught up¡­ and had valid targets. My body was just inside the thirty foot activation radius I was only able to see the man¡¯s face contort briefly in pain and surprise before he was forcibly removed from my line of sight. Of course, there was the requisite screaming and the shouting and the cursing, but I couldn¡¯t bring myself to care. I¡¯d lost too much blood, and my MP was down. Crystalized Channels was ravaging my insides while Engine was fighting to catch up. Plus, I was just tired. I¡¯d done my best. I¡¯d shown that I wouldn¡¯t come quietly. I was just feeling comfortable enough to pass out when something slammed into my chest and rolled onto my face, brand hot and smoking. It was one of my drones, or part of one, sliced down the middle, the metal still red hot from whatever had done the deed. I grabbed the little guy and thanked him for his service too. He¡¯d done considerably better than my shield. The man with the spear strode into view again. He had a slight limp to his steps now, his tower shield grinding along on the floor rhythmically while his otherwise white armor was slick with his own blood. He gritted his teeth and stared balefully down at me. His glowing spear hovered close to my metal heart. ¡°Are you done?¡± He asked. He reached up and threw off his helmet to reveal a head of close cropped hair, an aquiline nose, and a wide mouth that put him just on the interesting-looking side of the interesting/attractive scale. I took a rasping breath, but all I could produce was a cough. He shook his head. ¡°You look done. Proxis will celebrate tonight.¡± I let the now Volatility charged drone husk gently roll out of my hand to come to a wobbling stop between the young man¡¯s feet. I allowed myself a victorious grin as his eyes widened in realization and the tip of his spear quivered ever so slightly. Well, that wasn¡¯t fair. I wasn¡¯t exactly victorious here. The explosion from this move had a solid chance of killing me. My HP was that low. Let¡¯s call it a consolation prize grin. The point was that if I didn¡¯t want to go back to Proxis, I wouldn''t. I wanted him to know that. ¡°For goodness sake, Matt. Just-¡± an angry but familiar voice scolded. Then something slammed into my temple, and the world went black. Chapter 17 Chapter 17 ¡°So, you¡¯re what all the fuss is about.¡± The man¡¯s words jammed themselves between the shutters of my conscious mind and pried me out of the comfortable pocket of nothing I¡¯d been revelling in since I¡¯d been¡­ convinced to sleep. My eyelids were slow to respond to my commands, mostly because I wasn¡¯t particularly keen on waking up just now, but also because I was awakening after massive generalized trauma. I vaguely remembered the laser blasts, the falls, the punches, getting clubbed over the head¡­ all that unpleasant stuff. Can¡¯t really blame a guy for wanting to have a longer break from that. I¡¯d been through this kind of thing before, and the day after was never a fun time, even with all my HP. ¡°You¡¯ve caused quite a stir around here the past few days, young man. Here I thought we¡¯d have to dig you out of the lower decks like a tick.¡± He spoke in clipped, precise words, unaccented but unequivocally more refined than what I was used to. He also wasn¡¯t shutting up long enough for me to go back to sleep. ¡°Now, now. Don¡¯t pretend. I want our relationship to be an honest one if not terribly pleasant,¡± he continued. I cracked one eyelid then the other, wincing as I allowed the harsh light to puncture whatever hopes I had of further rest. I was in a tiny room, no bigger than Isea¡¯s junk closet, illuminated by a singular bulb that seemed to swing and jiggle on the air current from the life support vents overhead. In front of me sitting on a folding chair was a man with a dark goatee and bushy eyebrows, a familiar man. ¡°Haven¡¯ I seen you on T.V.?¡± I slurred. My mouth was so dry, it was hard to speak. He flashed, a cruel, predatory facsimile of a smile. ¡°I suppose you have. The locals do so love their bloodsports. I imagine it¡¯s a veritable bacchanal down there as they watch their Chosen bleed each other. Miserable people are often eager for the company of their betters, don¡¯t you agree?¡± I shook my head but the motion made my vision swim, so I chose to use my words instead. ¡°I¡¯m kinda new here. What ¡®betters¡¯ are those?¡± If the tiny barb affected him, the man didn¡¯t let it show. Instead, he leaned forward until his hands were nearly touching my knee. ¡°Allow me to introduce myself. I am Instructor Thadeus Marshal, head of the Marshal Family in this part of human space, but you may know of me as Death¡¯s Touch.¡± His smile crossed into smug territory like I was meant to be afraid of the name or something. Death¡¯s Touch. I mean aside from what was readily gleaned from the name itself, it didn¡¯t ring a bell. Did I read about it on the Net? Maybe. Thadeus Marshal¡¯s smile withered. ¡°No? Hmm. Perhaps you are a bit young. Heroes tend to pass into legend a bit faster these days, I guess. It¡¯s annoying, though. I¡¯d hoped we could skip some of the titles and qualifications and get right to the useful part of our conversation,¡± he said sourly, but I didn¡¯t believe him in the slightest. He looked like just the kind of man that loved to spout off all of his accolades and trophies to his prisoners. Don¡¯t ask me how I knew that, but I did. Thadeus continued: ¡°Let¡¯s just suffice to say I am a man of great power and import, and you are Ryan Kotes, Outers boy and recaptured fugitive awaiting transport back to our home planet. Are you with me so far?¡± I summoned all the saliva I could to whet my tongue. I would have killed for some water just now. ¡°Uh. Sure, but I would object to some of those terms¡± I disputed. ¡°One: I¡¯m an adult, not a boy. Two: The word ¡®fugitive¡¯ implies that your Family has any reason to keep me locked up aside from being dicks.¡± For the first time, Thadeus¡¯ smile touched the corners of his eyes. ¡°Objections noted. My Family¡¯s ¡®dick¡¯ status aside, that does sound like something a criminal on the run might say. With how often the technique has been used, I¡¯m surprised you people still try.¡± I raised an eyebrow at him, the gesture knocking loose some dried blood, forcing me to blink rapidly. ¡°If saying I¡¯m innocent marks me as guilty, what, in your experience, would an innocent person do?¡± I asked. ¡°I have yet to meet such a person,¡± Thadeus Marshal smirked. ¡°Innocent, I mean. But, hypothetically, what an innocent man might do is put fewer good men and women in the hospital during their capture.¡± My throat tightened, and my mind shot through all of the people I¡¯d left broken and bloody. The man¡¯s smile blossomed into a wolfish grin. For his part, Thadeus didn¡¯t look in the least bit concerned with the toll I¡¯d taken on his guards. But he¡¯d slipped that one under my guard, and that pleased him, apparently. Exotics, Ryan. They¡¯re Exotics. They¡¯re probably feeling just like you are right now, except they¡¯re free and you need to stall. Thadeus reached out and patted my leg a single time. It wasn¡¯t comforting as the gesture might have been when done by someone else. My first instinct was to tense up and slap the unwanted contact away. However, I found both of my arms quite immovable at the moment. The rattle of cuffs sounded from behind my back. I flicked Detect Iron on and got a hit from the cuffs, but not as much as I hoped. A little probe with my mana confirmed that, though the cuffs had a metal core to them, I wasn¡¯t touching any of said metal. The rest of it was made of something else. I returned my attention to Thadeus, who was leaning back in his chair again and brushing something off the cuffs of his black robe. ¡°So, you have me. What happens now?¡± I asked. I was actually kind of curious how someone would force an Exotic through a jump point, considering they¡¯d normally have to accept a prompt, and the more explaining Thadeus did, the fewer questions I would have to answer. ¡°Right now? Nothing,¡± he said. ¡°You are well in hand, and some of my people need time to recover from what you did to them. That leaves time for you and me to talk.¡± A single bit of exposed skin on the back of my leg was touching my chair. I could shape that, but to what end? I could make a weapon, I guessed. Maybe I could fashion a pick for the cuffs if they had that kind of mechanical lock. I could Automate it into something helpful, perhaps, but that had bad odds of working. Thadeus here would probably take note if my chair started to slowly morph into a robot spider thing or a gun. Plus, I wouldn¡¯t be able to sit on a gun. My eyes darted around the room for more options. Detect Iron wasn¡¯t giving me much other than where the door was and more iron beyond. ¡°Sounds like you know all you need to know¡± I said, trying not to clench my jaw and show my frustration. ¡°Yes,¡± he replied, drawing out the word and taking on a pensive look. ¡°I suppose I do. You¡¯re wanted back on Proxis, and it is my duty to send you back. However, the official reports rarely capture the essence of the thing, do they? It¡¯s more of a plastic wrapper around the actual morsel of truth. What is your real story, Ryan Kotes? You say you¡¯re being unfairly persecuted. I would be happy to listen to why you believe that to be so.¡± I bit my lip and thought for a moment while Thadeus waited. The way he phrased things bothered me. It tickled a memory I had from just before I¡¯d been knocked out. ¡°The other guy didn¡¯t know,¡± I finally remembered. The light of realization beamed in my mind so bright, I couldn¡¯t help but crack a bloody smile. ¡°The spear guy. The one with the big shield. He went on about crimes and all that, but I got the impression he was just a stooge. Proxis didn¡¯t tell you anything about me, did they?¡± That seemed to insult Thadeus in a way my snipes about his ethics and his Family didn¡¯t. His lip curled into a silent snarl for a split second before he got his emotions back under control. I¡¯d found something there, a vulnerability, and I was feeling just angry enough, trapped in this little box and in these cuffs, that I wasn¡¯t above lashing out. ¡°That¡¯s it, isn¡¯t it? They didn¡¯t trust you with the ¡®why,¡¯ and you just have to blindly follow along with it like a stooge. I bet they sent you my name, my face, and a couple tidbits then told you to bring me in at whatever cost. That had to sting, especially for a man of ¡®great import¡¯ like yourself.¡± I cursed my cuffs for not letting me do air quotes around ¡°great import¡± and really twist the knife, but what are you gonna do? ¡°We¡¯re all doing our duty here,¡± Thadeus ground out between his teeth. ¡°To Family and species. That doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t want to know why. What makes you worth all of this trouble, Ryan Kotes?¡± ¡°I mean, since you¡¯re just doing your duty, it doesn¡¯t really matter, does it? You don¡¯t really need my story. So, when your betters told you to stick your finger in the other Families¡¯ collective eye and make all sorts of enemies with nothing more than a ¡®because I said so¡¯ as justification, how did that make you feel? Go ahead, Thadeus. This is a safe place.¡± The man took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and breathed out again. The air in the room grew very still. ¡°Do you feel that?¡± he asked. I looked around the room, down at my body, at Thadeus. ¡°Interesting,¡± he observed before switching gears again. ¡°Now. As you said, you have some notion as to what I gave up to capture you. Therefore, you know what is at stake for me and the sacrifice I made to have this meeting. I am nearly done being cordial. Start at the beginning.¡± A vicious cramp in the muscles of my leg begged for my attention, but Thadeus¡¯ face was suddenly right there, inches away, his gaze wide and still. I hadn¡¯t seen him move. ¡°Why, Kotes? Why did I have to eat so much shit on your account?¡± he purred. Then he reached out and put two fingers on my shoulder. Immediately, I could feel something was wrong. The muscles underneath the skin seemed to recoil, squirming, contracting, balling up into rock hard lumps. My leg was in the process of doing the same. Something was wrong. There was magic bullshit afoot. I knew it. I unfocused my eyes and went into mana sight, scanning, taking stock. There, in my shoulder, my knee too, there was some kind of¡­ build up¡­ No. more like slowdown in the flow of power through my body. It hurt, not anything I couldn¡¯t handle, but it was supremely uncomfortable. Both places were where Thadeus had touched me in my brief time awake. He sighed contentedly. ¡°Ah. There it is. Painful isn¡¯t it?¡± Death¡¯s Touch said as he reached out and put a finger on my other knee. ¡°The body gets so dependent on the spirit after a while. Having your mana turned against you must be a novel experience for one so new as yourself.¡± Status gained: Cursed [Mana Tap] Turned against me? I didn¡¯t feel anything like that. It was uncomfortable, sure, but I was doing okay, all things considered. In mana sight, the curse he¡¯d put on me was a fuzzy sort of ball like a sea anemone or one of those blown up holos of a microbe. It was big and intrusive compared to my little motes, and it seemed to expand, reaching out for the mana flowing in my channels, tangling them in sticky tendrils. My MP was still at max, meaning my mana wasn¡¯t being harmed like when I¡¯d been cursed in the past, but my captor seemed to be pleased with how things were going. For good measure, I cycled my mana from my aura into my body and boosted the amount flowing through the system. That helped a bit, jarring some of the captured motes out of their captivity and back into the stream. As far as curses went, these seemed manageable, though my experience was limited. ¡°Can¡¯t sustain that aura anymore either,¡± Thadeus cooed with mock pity. ¡°I was wondering when you¡¯d reach your limit. Three Taps is impressive. I¡¯ve seen hardened fighters go down after two. Perhaps we should start with your Level then. Tell me.¡± I breathed slowly as I concentrated on keeping my mana moving. It was hard, a constant mental flex, a lot like how it used to feel when I was just learning Mana Manipulation. Back then, one wrong move would make me lose control of the whole system, but that was before my increased control and all my time alone in my cell. Now, the drill was like an old friend. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. ¡°Too much?¡± came Thadeus¡¯ voice again. ¡°Let me help.¡± Suddenly, the world turned red, and a guttural scream tore its way out of my throat. I convulsed, collapsing forward on my chair until I was staring at a fresh pool of my blood spreading across the floor. A ragged flap of skin just below my knee leaked fluid down my leg as if something had torn its way out. ¡°Oh. I see. You are, indeed, exceptional. I expected you to pass out after that. That will save us some time,¡± Thadeus praised. I gasped for breath, my concentration in shambles after that little display, and I felt my aura billow out of me again. ¡°There it is. Let¡¯s keep this balance for just a moment. Your Level. What does my Family want with you? I will take an answer for either.¡± ¡°They didn¡¯t tell you?¡± I asked between clenched teeth. My voice was hoarse, and my concentration was gone. ¡°No. They didn¡¯t. They simply wanted you kept from the Academy and brought back to Proxis. No explanation. No details. Now, I think I am owed that explanation.¡± ¡°Buddy, I don¡¯t even know why they want me,¡± I insisted. ¡°I doubt that. Let¡¯s explore the topic together, and maybe we¡¯ll both come out of it with something we want.¡± ¡°You cursed me.¡± Death¡¯s Touch sat back with a sigh and revelled in my discomfort. ¡°And I can take them away. That is our relationship. Figure it out, Mr. Kotes. Let¡¯s try another question then. What is so special about you?¡± He touched me again, this time on my neck, just to the side of my Adam¡¯s apple. Again, I felt my mana begin to run into resistance. Desperation helped me gather myself. I¡¯d fought Kolash¡¯s curse by keeping the flow moving and eventually overwhelming his magical constructs. His were manifestations of maelstrom light that destroyed my mana, while these things I was contending with captured and kept. The more I failed to destroy them, the stronger they were. I was feeding them the longer they stayed in my channels. Split Mind is now level 12. Mana Manipulation is now level 5. Upgrade Paths available: Externalized Control Manifestation Body Infusion Mana Manipulation is now level 6. I howled as something rooted around in the wound on my knee. I could feel it scraping at my insides and tearing at my flesh. ¡°Eyes on me, Kotes,¡± Thadeus commanded angrily. ¡°Answers. Now.¡± I offered him something. ¡°They put me in prison after my tutorial.¡± ¡°Oh, is that all?¡± Thadeus sounded supremely unsatisfied. This time, he jammed his fingers into my forehead, fingers still slick with my blood. My head rocked back as if I¡¯d been hit by a club. With this one, the mana in my body reached a tipping point, and the flow ground to an almost immediate halt. I felt like someone had just put an iron clamp on my lungs. My breathing stopped, and my body¡¯s processes went still with the exception of my heart. Hurray for not having one of those. ¡°There we are! Finally!¡± Theadeus exclaimed. He got to his feet and stood over me with a victorious grin. With a flourish, he waved his hand in front of my face and beckoned me to stand. Suddenly, my limbs twitched, and my muscles painfully contracted on their own. I rose from my chair spasmodically then kneeled on the ground. A second later, I slammed my face directly into the seat of my chair. No hesitation. Face met chair. My nose broke. Blood gushed from it and my mouth. Then I did it again. Three times. Dazed, bloody, I got up and sat back down on the now dented and deformed seat. Thadeus took his seat again as well and leaned in close until we were nearly touching noses. I couldn¡¯t even force myself to look away. ¡°Five Taps. Very impressive. Exceptional, even to someone that sees the exceptional day in and out. Sadly, for you, Level still means something. I¡¯ll try guessing, and you let me know if I have it right. You obviously don¡¯t have any experience being a Chosen. A rogue, perhaps? Those are always unpredictable. Could have something to do with why my Family wants you. I¡¯ve never had to tap anyone five times before. A unique mana type? ¡± Death¡¯s Touch speculated. ¡°Am I close? Blink once for yes, twice for no.¡± I blinked rapidly in response. For one, I had no idea. Second, I still didn¡¯t want to give this asshole what he wanted. ¡°We¡¯ve already been through this, Ryan. If you want to be evasive, we¡¯ll have to start all over again.¡± he reached up and put his fingers on my forehead once more. I could feel the curse inside respond to his touch, pulling, ripping its way toward the surface of my skin. My body wouldn¡¯t let me take a breath, wouldn¡¯t let me scream. ¡°Such resistance,¡± he whispered. ¡°It feels like we¡¯ve let it go too far. Brace yourself.¡± The door behind Thadeus Marshal melted into a puddle of glowing orange goo. What electronics or insulating materials that had been used in its construction burst into flame, and the doorframe warped and spread like plastic under a blowtorch. Smoke billowed up toward the ceiling. It had happened so fast. Just, one second the door was solid metal, the next, it was a puddle on the floor, instant like I¡¯d used Shape Change. The room became a furnace, so hot my skin felt like it was going to peel away, and the heat distorted the air to the point I couldn¡¯t even see much more than a blob of color where Thadeus was. Death¡¯s Touch froze like a prey animal caught out in the open. The glowing pool of molten metal parted and flowed to the side until a path formed, allowing a woman to pass through. She wore a red, figure hugging dress in a flowing style that brought to mind flickering flames and melted candle wax. Her long, braided hair was the color of basalt, shiny and dense with the exception of her temples that seemed to be prematurely turning gray. I say prematurely because her face was the picture of youth but uncannily so, like her features were carved from stone instead of made of flesh. She carried herself like visiting royalty, her imperious face turned up so that she was always looking down on those in front of her, myself included. Hey. I saw her on T.V. too. ¡°Professor Marshal, how elucidating to see you again,¡± she said in a richly accented alto. Death¡¯s Touch was suddenly standing up straight and struggling with where to put his hands. He tried behind his back, clasped in front of his body, before finally settling on placing them at his sides. Thadeus¡¯ voice sounded choked, maybe because of the heat. I was certainly feeling a little dried out. ¡°Dean Yisu! I- good evening. I-¡± ¡°Yes, I know we rarely confer outside of work, but I hope I am not intruding too deeply this morning,¡± the Dean cut across Thadeus¡¯ greeting. ¡°Uh. No. Not all, ma¡¯am. This is just so unexpected. Could I get someone to bring you tea or maybe breakfast?¡± ¡°No, thank you. I will not trouble you for long. As for being unexpected, yes, one rarely expects company in their secret prison cell where they believe they are safe from oversight.¡± Thadeus cleared his throat and seemed to finally know what to do with his hands. He turned his chair and gestured for the Dean to sit. Mine was taken¡­ also bent to hell. The Dean nodded to her host and gracefully took her seat. When the fabric of her dress brushed against the metal, it sounded like sizzling on a griddle. She hadn¡¯t even spared me a glance, despite my open-mouthed, idle puppet pose. After a long, pregnant pause where the Dean simply pinned Thadeus in place with her uncaring stare, the man finally broke the stalemate. ¡°We- Uh- Use this place for¡­ dangerous¡­ sensitive¡­¡± ¡°Students?¡± The Dean interrupted again. ¡°No!¡± Thadeus choked out. ¡°Never, ma¡¯am. I would never dream-¡± This time, the Dean held up a hand to forestall further discussion. ¡°Before you finish that sentence, Thadeus, I would like to give you a chance to not become a liar. What, precisely, are you doing with this boy?¡± ¡°He¡¯s a fugitive from our homeworld, ma¡¯am. Proxis business.¡± Thadeus declared with a little regained authority. ¡°And what are you doing with him?¡± Dean Yisu repeated the question. Thadeus¡¯ eyes flicked over to me. ¡°Interrogation then extradition.¡± ¡°If he was already convicted of a crime, I imagine it is a bit late for an interrogation. He has been convicted of a crime, yes?¡± The Dean¡¯s question was the hot edge of a knife the way it cut. I laid there unmoving on my chair. I¡¯d not taken a breath in a minute, and I wasn¡¯t feeling very good about it. Even my involuntary processes had been hijacked. All I could do was cycle my mana through my body manually and try not to pass out. Even that was getting mixed results, and my vision was starting to feather at the edges as my lungs cried out for fresh air. The ¡®Taps¡¯ the asshole had put on me had grown, and they were blocking my channels more and more over time. I could feel them there, sticky, swollen. Blood clots. Maybe they''re like blood clots. Split Mind is now level 13. Mana Manipulation is now level 7. The voids I usually created to encourage my mana to flow in a particular direction weren¡¯t working effectively enough to keep it going. The force I could gather through the method just wasn¡¯t doing the job anymore. My mana channels were a stagnant pool while they should have been a rushing river. I concentrated on that metaphor. Movement meant energy. Energy meant force. With great effort, I tried pulling mana back from the Tap, gathering it up, and then letting it rush back into the vacuum of its own accord. I had limited space to work with, but I also had very good control of my personal mana type nowadays. The little motes responded to my intent readily, gathering into a tight cluster, building upon themselves and pressing closer to one another. When I let go, the mana slammed up against the curse barrier, but Thadeus¡¯ magic held fast. It was even able to snatch a few more motes out of the air to add to its mass. ¡°Yes. He is a criminal. What we are waiting for now is-¡± Dean Yisu interrupted once more with her soft but commanding tone. ¡°I received the strangest message this morning. Would you like to hear it?¡± ¡°I-¡± Thadeus Marshal opened and closed his mouth like a fish, hesitant but also unwilling to say no to the woman. ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am. I would if it pleases you.¡± The Dean crossed her legs and folded her hands in her lap. Her gaze went up to the ceiling like she was recalling a story that amused her. ¡°It was delivered by someone from the lower decks. He was waiting for us at the entrance to the Academy with a canister of liquid phase medium too heavy for him to even carry. The poor boy had dragged it all the way from the lower decks to our front door on a wheelbarrow. He also had quite a story to tell, which he did at length. Conspicuously absent were your security forces.¡± Again, I let my mana slam into the Tap in my neck. This time, I felt a tiny twitch as the curse shifted under the force. I redoubled my efforts, collecting mana from other parts of my body and bringing them together, rallying them inside the narrow confines of one spot. ¡°Y-yes, ma¡¯am. It took a lot to apprehend this one. Many hands.¡± The Marshal rubbed his hands together nervously. ¡°I¡¯m unsurprised it took many of your personnel, considering this boy is the first Chosen in decades to take the Colonial Authority¡¯s seat at our Academy.¡± She took on a conciliatory tone. ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t lose too many men subduing him, dear Thadeus.¡± Now. Go. My tightly compressed mana shot forward and slammed up against the Mana Tap. It moved. Again. I gathered everything I could, an entire quarter of my pool if I was estimating correctly, and squeezed it into a tight shape like a battering ram, even going so far as to sharpen the point of it. Then I shot it forward with as much mental mojo I could conjure. *CRACK* My mana ram tore a ragged hole in the center of the curse, ripping through the center and severing the tiny latices that seemed to make up its interior. Finally, there was space for my MP to flow, and flow it did. It flowed so forcefully, that the rest of the curse construct dissolved from the inside until there was nothing left. Mana Manipulation is now level 8. Mana Manipulation is now level 9. Thadeus¡¯ face twitched, and his fingers curled arthritically at his side. ¡°We¡­ I¡­ no. No one is dead. They performed admirably.¡± The Dean shot the man a look that could skewer a Bray. ¡°Good. Then you can afford to lose the ones that tried to stop me from entering your little clubhouse. You really should train your people better. Threat assessment is almost as important as actual fighting prowess for those at their Level.¡± Thadeus¡¯ face went ghostly white despite the temperature, and I believed that if he had a collar, he would have tugged at it and asked if the heat was turned up too far in the station. ¡°Oh. Yes. Of course, ma¡¯am. They should never-¡± ¡°Have overstepped their authority?¡± the Dean cut him off again. ¡°Indeed. Had they known their place, they¡¯d still be alive.¡± ¡°Yes, ma¡¯am,¡± Thadeus squeaked. *CRACK* Another curse fell to my mana battering ram. With this one, my mana started to flow more naturally again, and my aching muscles started to relax. My body took a reflexive deep, greedy gulp of air. Oh good, my diaphragm had rejoined the party. This time, the Dean did look at me, a detached but curious sort of look. Then she gave me the slightest of nods as if I¡¯d done something she wasn¡¯t entirely unimpressed with. Her gaze fell back on Instructor Thadeus. ¡°Now, Professor Marshal, would you like to withdraw this farce of an Audit? I assume it involves this one, and with him finally out in the open, we can all go back to our lives.¡± My mana, now free from much restriction, swept through my body like a flood from a wrathful god. It swept away the rest of the curses, breaking them apart and restoring my body to what it should have been. I helped it along as much as I could, shaping the leading edge of the flood so that it could penetrate the constructs that tried to block it. Mana Manipulation is now level 10. Upgrade paths available: Advanced Manifestation Structure Sensitivity I bolted upright, breathing hard, my body finally back under my control. Then I spit the blood that had been pooling in my mouth onto the ground. Devouring Grasp [5mp/sec] You gain knowledge of material: Insulglass [1/10] You gain knowledge of material: Steel [60/1,250] I brought my hands around to the front of my body and rubbed at my wrists. They were still bound, though the cord that had kept them fastened together had a neat, seared line between them. Thadeus Marshal rubbed his hands together and shook them out like he was in pain. The look he shot me might have stopped my heart if I¡¯d had one, but it was brief. He had his boss to contend with. ¡°No, ma¡¯am. I don¡¯t think so. What I said was true. I still believe that this Academy has grown lax in its admission process and instruction and wish to evaluate all students one by one, existing and incoming. This is in accordance with the rights afforded in the Charter.¡± The Dean closed her eyes, weariness creeping onto her otherwise unblemished face, and her shoulders hunched slightly. ¡°Very well,¡± she sighed. ¡°The Academy values the rule of law and the charter. I hope you know what you¡¯re doing, Thadeus.¡± She punctuated her final words by uncrossing her legs and rising to her feet. The temperature in the room dropped significantly. ¡°Now,¡± the Dean continued. ¡°Release my student.¡± ¡°Respectfully, ma¡¯am. He¡¯s not a student yet,¡± Thadeus objected. ¡°I will not ask again, Thadeus.¡± Yisu¡¯s eyes flashed a vibrant orange, and Death¡¯s Touch visibly wilted before her, taking several steps in retreat until his back was against the wall before he bowed his head in contrition. ¡°You¡¯re dismissed,¡± Dean Yisu pronounced. Thadeus seemed to react to the command with confusion at first, turning this way and that. Then, with as much dignity as a man dismissed from his own place could keep, he marched out of the interrogation room. The Dean turned to me, all the wrath gone, cool and collected. ¡°Come with me now, Ryan Kotes. We need to talk.¡± Chapter 18 Chapter 18 The trip to the top of the station was much easier in a lift tube, I had to say, though it really impressed upon me the massive size of the station. I didn¡¯t recognize any of the levels we passed even though we¡¯d started from near the ¡®bottom¡¯ floor. The place had just been the scene of a firefight, and things looked pristine. Then, I realized why. We were in a different cylinder. Similar but different. The one I¡¯d been in had a layered greenhouse feel to it, while this one used a lot of moving water and stonework. I¡¯d never passed any of those while being shot at. I snuck a look at the other person in the lift, Dean Yisu. She was staring straight ahead, eyes scanning all she saw with her chin slightly raised like a queen surveying her domain. Her red dress was made out of the cleanest, most expensive looking material I¡¯d ever seen. I don¡¯t know exactly how I knew the material was expensive, but it just had that look, like it didn¡¯t belong in any places I¡¯d ever been. Meanwhile, I was a wreck. My clothes were shredded rags, fouled with blood and char marks from multiple heat type wounds. My hair was stiff and matted to my head, and I was missing a shoe. I didn¡¯t remember how I lost the shoe or when, but I¡¯d noticed the absence while we left the Marshals¡¯ little hideaway. Now, I was stuck between walking crookedly with just one shoe or taking off the other one¡­ I wasn¡¯t sure what made me look more out of place. I cleared my throat once, thinking about making conversation, but the Dean shook her head to signal that I should wait. We got out of the lift on a deck where I could see the ceiling, finally. In fact we were near the top, just about a dozen levels down. Dean Yisu bid me follow her and took me on a path that led between white stone sculptures of warrior type folks in various poses, some slaying monsters I¡¯d not encountered before, others fighting one another. Over all of them was a massive tapestry of stars, not the real ones just outside, but painted on the domed ceiling against a backdrop of dark blue. There was text there too, next to certain constellations, but it was too small for me to read. Then we swept into a grand office, a spacious room big enough to live in with towering ceilings and lots of waving flags and streamers hanging from the rafters. A single, ornate desk sat with its back to a panel of dayglow lights and a pastoral scene of rolling hills with a city just peaking over the horizon. The Dean took a seat in the high backed chair and swivelled to face me, bidding I do the same in one of the smaller chairs in front of the desk. I looked down at the chair and at myself. Just brushing up against the fabric of the cushion would probably cost some cleaning staff an afternoon. ¡°If it¡¯s all the same to you, I think I should stand,¡± I proposed. ¡°Very well,¡± the Dean replied, but then she said no more, choosing to stare at me enigmatically instead. I cleared my throat and did my best impression of a guy that wasn¡¯t entirely out of place. ¡°Uh- I want to thank you for saving me on such short notice,¡± I ventured. ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯re busy and all that.¡± ¡°Hm.¡± Yisu made a noncommittal noise. Splendid. I would have to carry this conversation myself. I was just great at that. ¡°My friend, Isea¡­ the man that brought you the message. Is he okay?¡± I pressed. The Dean leaned forward and put her elbows on her desk, fingers steepled in front of her nose. There was a long pause. ¡°Yes,¡± she finally answered. ¡°Once data deconfliction was complete, we gave your friend compensation commensurate with the task he performed, healers tended to his injuries, and then we escorted him back to the native side of the station. He seemed rather pleased with how things turned out.¡± ¡°Thank you,¡± I sighed, allowing myself to relax a bit more. ¡°Wait. So, his arm¡­ his¡­ everything? Fixed?¡± Yisu tilted her head ever so slightly and raised an eyebrow as if I¡¯d just said something mildly insulting. ¡°Pristine. We employ some of the finest healers to be found in this part of the multiverse. The boy left healthier than when he came in.¡± I nodded in gratitude. Isea was going to be okay, and not just from the beating he took at the Devil¡¯s Due. He was getting his arm back. ¡°Thanks again,¡± I said. ¡°No thanks are necessary. We do right by those that do us service, whether they be Chosen or not.¡± The mention of those in service of the Academy sparked a thought. ¡°Um. Sorry for all the questions, but¡­ What about the Marshals? The security guards I- uh- encountered. Are they-¡± ¡°They are recovering,¡± the Dean assured me. ¡°Right. Sorry. To clarify: I didn¡¯t- Uh-¡± The words stuck in my throat. ¡°Kill anyone?¡± The Dean asked. ¡°Yes. Right.¡± Thadeus Marshal had mentioned it before, but I wanted to make doubly sure. I¡¯d left quite a few of them in a bad way. ¡°Our records show that no one died by your hand, though a significant portion of deck eight is missing, and a non-trivial amount of MP was spent to relieve the worst of their injuries. Additionally, much of Silo 1 needs to be refurbished.¡± Deck eight. Missing. Well I wouldn¡¯t have said it was missing. More that it was turned into cannon spiders and made to cripple anyone that got in a certain Exotic¡¯s way. ¡°Sorry for the trouble.¡± Was all I could think to say. ¡°Stop apologizing.¡± ¡°Okay,¡± I said, still searching my feeble social skills for a lifeline. ¡°Uh- So, what happens now?¡± ¡°There it is,¡± the Dean sighed the words like she had been holding her breath. ¡°Finally, you touch on the subject of yourself. You started with me, attempting to cater to my ego. Then you asked about your friend, his health. Then you asked about those who tried to hurt you. Now, finally, we can talk about you. Most Chosen would have skipped directly to this subject, Ryan Kotes, because it is the most pressing.¡± ¡°Oh. Sor-¡± ¡°Don¡¯t.¡± I shut my mouth before I could apologize again. Maybe I did do it too much. ¡°It is not a bad thing,¡± the Dean continued. ¡°I am not chiding you, but I am, in a way, judging you. I like to know the character of the students I must accommodate at this Academy. The data packet that Mr. White sent to us contained some information about where you come from. Am I to assume that, because you are a Rogue Chosen, you are only familiar with our world based on what your benefactor has taught you?¡± ¡°Um. I wouldn¡¯t go that far. I¡¯m really not well-versed on anything as far as Exotic life. I haven¡¯t really had a chance to slow down and learn about that kind of thing yet.¡± She leaned back in her chair and favored me with a hint of a smile. ¡°A free lesson then: You are not an Exotic, not as long as you are here. You are Chosen. You were either Chosen by birth or you were Chosen by the System, but you are Chosen. Though both terms are used interchangeably in Colonial Space, your choice of words will single you out, and, believe me, Mr. Kotes, you do not want to be singled out at this school unless you are well and truly a cut above.¡± This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. She was right, though I was sure I had a few behavioral ticks that singled me out as a Rogue. Why that was a bad thing, I only had my brain half-way wrapped around. Probably some elitism paired with¡­ well, more elitism. ¡°I understand,¡± I said with a nod. ¡°Do you really?¡± She wondered, looking me up and down. ¡°Mr. Kotes, the students at this school have been training from birth to be allowed the privilege of attending. They have had all of the resources, all of the tutelage, all of the harsh lessons of the multiverse drilled into their heads and reinforced time and time again for years before they even stepped foot on this station. They live, breathe, and eat combat, not just because of their classes but because they have known nothing else. Needless to say, this does not produce the most agreeable of student bodies. If you show weakness among their number they will tear you apart.¡± I swallowed. ¡°Uh. So, would this be a bad time to tell you I have a non-combat class?¡± There was a slight furrowing of the Dean¡¯s eyebrows. ¡°I beg your pardon?¡± She whispered. ¡°I¡¯m not a combat class.¡± ¡°Did I read a different student¡¯s recommendation from Mr. White? He describes a formidable young man,¡± she demanded. I could only shrug. ¡°I had an interesting tutorial.¡± ¡°Level?¡± ¡°Three.¡± ¡°Three.¡± She repeated flatly. ¡°Three.¡± There was a long pause where the Dean simply stared at me, her sharp gaze making me feel very small and even less dressed than I currently was. There was curiosity there, anger, and a bit of concern, all warring for top position. Then she seemed to come to a decision, tension leaving her face and her shoulders as well. ¡°If not for the word of my friend and colleague, I might have had you spaced for wasting my time just now,¡± she confessed. I believed every word. ¡°Mr. White believes you belong here, and, though his means are sometimes questionable, his ends are always just. I must ask, though: Is there anything you¡¯d like to tell me that would allay some of my suspicions that this is an elaborate prank?¡± ¡°I¡¯m not sure how to answer that,¡± I answered honestly. I wasn¡¯t about to tell anyone that I spent some time as a demon or that I had a unique class, at least not until I knew I could trust them. Dean Yisu sighed again. ¡°Very well. I supposed that we will play White¡¯s game together, you and I. To that end, let us focus on keeping you alive. Normally, I would just admit you, and that would be that. Unfortunately, I was unable to convince Thadeus to call off his Audit.¡± ¡°I was wondering about that,¡± I said. ¡°I guessed that the Audit was a play, but what does it gain the Marshals?¡± ¡°I have been wondering the very same thing¡­ until I met you, that is. The Marshal Family has expended a great deal of their reputation trying to keep you from enrolling in this Academy. You have something they want, I take it.¡± ¡°I guess? They want to stick me in a cell and experiment on me.¡± ¡°And what is the reason for that?¡± ¡°I- I¡¯m not sure I should say. Mr. White himself told me that knowledge of it would get me into more trouble.¡± The Dean narrowed her eyes at me suspiciously. ¡°Something personal enough to keep from the only person on this station that can help you?¡± I weighed her words, unable to meet the woman¡¯s eyes as I did. Yisu was formidable and seemingly on my side¡­ or White¡¯s side, but White¡¯s words were something along the lines of ¡®feeding frenzy¡¯ when the Families found me out. If I told the Dean my secret now and made her my sole confidant on the entire station, that would give her power over me, maybe even tempt her to spirit me away and do exactly what the Marshals were trying to do too. ¡°My situation is unique,¡± I said carefully. ¡°I have good stats, weird mana, and some Abilities that made the Marshals willing to bend the law to keep me even against my will.¡± The Dean¡¯s lips formed a tight line, while her gaze was sharp enough to cut glass. ¡°Well, if you believe obfuscation is the best course for you¡­ I only hope you are more forthcoming to your instructors, so that they may help you. As for the Marshal Family, you must have something they want, and they are willing to risk their relatively new position of honor to get it, a position they have fought hard to acquire over a century. They¡¯ve always been an ambitious group, but I¡¯ve never seen them like this.¡± ¡°So, since the Audit is still on, what does that mean?¡± ¡°You have to fight for your place in our next class. Your recommendation from Mr. White might have gotten you in the door any other time, but Thadeus has bypassed that process in hopes of extraditing you back to your homeworld. For all the man¡¯s flaws, it was an excellent move if he really believed the prize to be worth the cost.¡± ¡°So, I have to fight like those poor guys on the holos?¡± I asked. ¡°Those are students, Mr. Kotes, and they are humanity¡¯s future champions,¡± the Dean corrected. ¡°Right. But I have to fight them,¡± I repeated ¡°Only other first years but yes.¡± ¡°With weapons?¡± I asked, a bit of optimism leaking into my tone. Dean Yisu nodded. ¡°Oh, good.¡± With that, I found myself grinning. I wouldn¡¯t say the weight that had been on my shoulders was gone, but I could now imagine a scenario where I could put it down for a while. ¡°You¡¯re taking this rather well for a non-combat class, Mr. Kotes,¡± Yisu observed. ¡°I¡¯m a problem solver, and this is a familiar problem.¡± Weapons and fighting I could do. It¡¯s all I¡¯d been able to do since I became an Exotic. The Dean paused again, drumming her fingers on her desk. ¡°Judging by how popular the healers were last night, perhaps you¡¯re capable of backing up those words. I don¡¯t know if I should feel relieved or if I should prepare to live in interesting times.¡± I smiled as complicated memories threatened to surface in my mind. ¡°Cursed to live in interesting times. That¡¯s the story of my life so far.¡± The Dean nodded then held up her hand with a few fingers raised. ¡°Three fights. Win those, and you will be one of us with all the privileges and protections I can afford. Lose, and it will come down to judgement from the faculty, of which Thadeus is a member. Luckily, the incoming class is slated to go last, at Thadeus¡¯ insistence, part of his ploy to isolate you. This may turn out to be a boon, however. It gives you some time to prepare for what I assure you will be a difficult climb. The problem is that I am not allowed to house you, train you, or provide you with resources. You are not a student here yet, and all materials given to us by the Families are to be used for the betterment of students.¡± I rubbed my chin as I set up the board with this new information. No help. No home. ¡°That¡¯s going to make preparing for anything harder. I¡¯m going to need space and privacy. That¡¯ll be rough on a space station especially when security is out to get me.¡± ¡°Indeed. The Marshals have put you in a difficult position, one you must overcome. First, the immediate. You need Levels Mr. Kotes, in your Class, your Abilities, and your Skills. No matter how capable you believe yourself now, you must assume your opponents will have surpassed that when they were still in grade school. A Level 10 that achieved their rank with years of slaying vermin is a far cry from one with personalized tutors and guides to prime achievements.¡± ¡°Right,¡± I agreed. ¡°I understand that. Quality over quantity.¡± So far, the achievements I¡¯d received were pretty much products of what happened to me at that level as opposed to something I reached for. If these people had all the money in the world and a whole Family backing them, I imagined they could double, even triple the stat gains and bonuses an everyday Exotic like myself could get from each level. The Dean took out a writing pad and a pen, actual paper and ink, the first I¡¯d seen in person anywhere outside of Ralqir. Then she started to scribble in the lines in surprisingly messy handwriting. ¡°I have a man in the lower decks you should talk to if you require combat experience. It¡¯s dangerous and difficult work, but it should put you in an environment with the greatest potential for gains in your combat adjacent Skills. Focus on defensive skills first but don¡¯t disregard the others. Make choices that give you more survivability and perhaps your¡­ unique aspects will carry you the rest of the way. Experience gain is entirely up to you.¡± ¡°Thank you, Dean,¡± I said before catching up to the rest. ¡°The lower decks? Like the other side of the station?¡± ¡°Yes, I thought it best you not stay here, since that would give the Marshals further opportunities to make your life more difficult. Then there is the price. I assume you do not have funds.¡± I shrugged. I did, sort of, but the Marshals were enough of a reason to not stay in Brightside. Dean Yisu waved her hand dismissively. ¡°Either way, the lower decks should provide some respite and privacy from the people that mean you the most harm. You can secure lodging down there easily enough with your pay.¡± I took the slip of paper from her outstretched hand and squinted at the characters, confused. The woman should have been a Doctor. ¡°My pay?¡± I asked. ¡°The name at the top is Lt. Colonel Machik. He coordinates the Diving teams.¡± ¡°I thought the locals weren¡¯t keen on¡­ Chosen,¡± I said, only hesitating slightly before using the Dean¡¯s preferred term. ¡°They¡¯re not, but Machik will find a place for you, regardless. I suggest you use your training time well, Mr. Kotes,¡± Yisu urged. ¡°Everyone else is already doing so. I will send word of your first fight soon.¡±