by Tao Wong
“Redeemer?”
I sigh at Pinky. “Let’s go. We got more killing to do.”
“Good. I’m nearly at the next Level,” Monocle says as he hefts his rifle.
I snort, mind still on the Librarian. I force my thoughts away as I turn around, heading back into the station. Time to go do what we do best then.
Chapter 21
To no one’s surprise, we lose the third ring. Not even in fire and flame but in a whimper of retreating rebels and malcontents once we lose the station cores. All the defenses, all the tricks we built to turn against our enemies are returned to us, and the best we can do is make sure we’re well out of the way. Most of us make it, but not everyone. Still, there are advantages to losing the ring and being forced into the larger second ring stations. Like meeting old friends again.
“Good to see you,” I say to the Samurai.
This time around, space is a lot more scarce as the refugees from the first three rings are packed in with the second ring residents too. Rather stay in the already overcrowded barracks, I’ve chosen to use the quarters they assigned me. Which is where Mikito finds me seated on a chair and eating a snack. I let my gaze slide upward, taking in her details, and find myself smiling slightly. She’s gone up in Level again.
Mikito Sato, Spear of Humanity, Blood Warden, Junior Arena Champion of Irvina, Arena Champion—Orion IV, Xumis,…; True Bound Honor (Upper Samurai Level 17) (M)
HP: 3339/3339*
MP: 2402/2402*
Conditions: Isoide, Jin, Rei, Meiyo, Ishiki, Ryoyo, Feudal Bond, True Bound
Galactic Reputation: 178
Galactic Fame: 147,084
A lot of her experience gain has to do with the second tier Skill True Bound. It’s the next step from Feudal Bond, replacing attributes with experience. I pull up the information again, shaking my head slightly as I read over the Skill information. It’s not something I’d have chosen, but ever since she gained the Skill, her experience gains have taken a step up.
True Bound (Level 1)
True Bound ties a Samurai ever closer to the fate of her Lord. In exchange for her Skill, honor, and sword, the Master exchanges a portion of his experience. This Skill is only in effect so long as the feudal status is in effect between the involved parties. If the feudal status is revoked, True Bound experience will be lost with Levels, attributes, and Class Skills locked until experience is regained. Mana Regeneration reduced by 5 permanently.
Effect: User gains 10% of target Master’s experience gains. This experience gain is cumulative with own experience gain.
Add Mikito doubling down on Feudal Bond and the young lady is hell on wheels in a way that doesn’t show on her basic Status readout. She’s got more Strength, Agility, and Perception than I do, and spending all the time in the arena means that she knows how to adjust them to her full benefit. If it weren’t for the fact that we’re constantly moving, she’d have a lot more championships to her name. The people at her Level just can’t keep up with the prestige Classed Samurai.
“And you”—Mikito drops down to sit beside me, lowering her voice—“didn’t Level?”
“I’m close,” I say, shaking my head. Why am I telling her that? She should know. But I guess sometimes inane conversation is what the doctor ordered. “All those System experience results are pretty good. And the fights.”
“Dragon’s blood, but that’s true. But what is this I hear that you haven’t fought a Master Class?” Bolo says, stomping over and crossing his arms. “I’ve fought two. And killed one. Even your friend has dealt with one herself.”
“That where the Level is from?” I ask Mikito, who nods.
I knew she was inching up, though with the sheer amount of experience a real Master Classer needs, inching is exactly the right term. Having me feed her experience helps a lot, along with her own Titles and desire to fight. Funnily enough, some Master Class kills aren’t as experience heavy as others. There’s a long series of tests that show that, along with an even longer list of wordy explanation. Most of it boils down to the simple fact that experience from Support Classers doesn’t translate well to experience for Combat Classers who kill them. It’s one reason why occasional massacres of Support Classers don’t happen.
“Huh. Lucky. And why’d they send two against you?” I ask.
“Obviously, because I’m awesome.” Bolo sniffs. “I still won. No matter what the Analysts say, battle is a matter of heart. Not numbers.”
“But odds tell you probability,” Mikito says, opening her hand sideways. “You only won because you made their underlying calculation unworkable. Aura Focus will be a problem for many and not one they expected you to have.”
I raise an eyebrow in query.
Bolo almost preens. “Aura Focus lets me narrow my aura to a single individual.”
I cough, thinking how Dragon Fear can knock around even the most mentally stable individual. Even I can feel it pressing against my mind when it’s on. Focused, with Bolo’s high Charisma, it’d be a deadly weapon. I’m almost tempted to see what it would do to my own Aura.
“Let me guess. Draco here slapped them with Aura Focus, froze one of his opponents, and went to town on them before they got a chance to recover. Spammed and killed most of his Mana, then had a long, drawn-out fight with the other Master Classer,” Ali says, shaking his head. “And that’s why they had to retreat, because Bolo ran out of Mana.”
“I did not run out,” Bolo says with a sniff. “I chose to conserve the amount I had left for a potential retaliation.”
“And the rest of the Master Classers?” I say.
For obvious reasons, there aren’t a lot of us who are ground pounding Master Classers. The majority of the Master Classers on our side are Captains, Quartermasters, or Navigators, individuals who run powerful ships or Support Classes. They took part in the initial battle before retreating, waiting for when the navy would be forced to commit their ships once more. Or a chance to run. As for us ground-pounding Combat Classers—outside of the Inner Crew, who have yet to take action—we have six others. Unfortunately, most of them are low Levels, just like Mikito.
“We lost Malavi.” At my puzzled look, Mikito sighed. “The one that looked like a rooster.”
“Oh, Birdman!” I wince as I hear myself. Sometimes, my level of insouciance with names and death can come off even harsher than I mean it to. Like now. “Sorry. How?”
“Advanced Class team. Baited him in, locked him down, then just kept hammering at his defenses. They kept pulling him deeper and deeper so that he couldn’t escape,” Ali says, shaking his head. “They used a bunch of nanoswarm grenades and Mana flow control spells to ensure he couldn’t use most of his big Skills.”
“And he was a mage.”
“Rune Caster. But yes.”
I sigh, rubbing my face. That means there are eight of us Master Classers left. With… “How many confirmed on their side?”
“Master Classers? Eleven that we know of.”
I grunt, grateful that it’s not more. Like us, a number of their Master Classers are stuck on their ships. It still doesn’t make things right.
Bolo doesn’t stop. “But we’re certain there are a half dozen more waiting for the Inner Crew.”
“Of course there are.” I exhale in frustration. Then I open my eyes as I remind myself that what is, is. “Now what?”
“We consolidate and hold. The Poet has used another Skill, buying us time,” Ali says, letting his gaze drift to the exit. “It won’t last long—but with more of her plot points finished, she can take a little more action.”
“And we’re still going to force them to hit us?”
“Maybe.” Bolo shrugs. “That is being decided now.”
I grunt. I hate being kept out of the decision making, but it’s not as if I have a better idea. Or an ability to make them listen to me. We’re still caught, waiting for them to finish this. But even I know the end is near. We’re getting ragged, tired from the fighting. Even if the System fixes our bodie
s, our minds are taking a beating.
“Chocolate?” I say, holding up the wrapped goodness.
There are a few snorts from my friends before they reach forward, taking portions of liquid gold and having a seat. For now, we can just wait.
***
Two days. That’s what we’ve been given as the Poet uses another Skill, enforcing a break in the entire narrative of our demise. Two days to rest, relax, reequip. To build tension. Two days to buy what new Skills or spells we need to change the dynamics of the war. Except our opponents are doing the same. While I could go to the Shop to borrow their time distortion, it’s not only rude but a way to get myself kicked out and banned if I abuse it. On top of that, what would a few extra days do? I can’t fight anyone and poking through my brain is a marathon, not a sprint. I have to admit, I’m not the best at theory crafting a better build, not when compared to so many others out there.
The latest fight showcased my deficiencies—I still had trouble controlling a battlefield. I have no real control spells. Even if I have tangler grenades and wall spells, they could be dispersed or discarded by others. My taunt aura is now blocked by the Aura Suppression ability. And even if I do taunt, I’m beginning to hit the maximum of my survivability with my current healing and damage reduction loadouts, especially in these big fights. I could upgrade my Soul Shield again, which would increase my survival rates, but it doesn’t really help with dealing with large groups of individuals.
I can see two ways of fixing that problem. The easiest is to increase my survivability, increase my ability to move on the field and then increase my damage. That’s kind of the build I’ve been going for. It doesn’t matter how many they have—if I can get to them and take them down fast, I can win. My other option, with Beacon of Angels, is pulling large groups to me and blasting them all away. That’s particularly useful against Basic Classes or back line fighters, but against Advanced Class players, the wide area effect damage is often muted by their armor and resistances.
“Another Level in Beacon?” I mutter. It works, after all. And if I don’t do enough damage now, I could just up it. The damage math with Penetration worked in my favor. If I did two thousand points of damage now, going up to two thousand five hundred in base damage would be a five hundred point increase in base damage. Assuming someone had a forty percent defense, then I’d be looking at a thousand two hundred points of damage initially, but a thousand five hundred after their resistances normally. However, Penetration actually deducted eighty percent of the forty percent defense, leaving it with an actual damage reduction of eight percent. In that sense, we’re looking at a thousand eight hundred and forty percent base damage, or two thousand three hundred after the increase. That’s four hundred and sixty points of damage increased. Of course, forty percent resistances are low these days compared to most of my opponent, but the idea holds true.
“If you want, but don’t destroy any more walkways. The Poet’s Skill’s backlash gets worse the more times you bump up against it,” Ali warns. “You don’t want to see what it does if you keep testing her.”
I wince and nod. That’s the thing about Heroic Skills—unlike the simple description given by the System, they often have a bunch of hidden side effects. “Fine. You got any suggestions?” Ali shrugs, and I narrow my eyes. “What?”
“What what?” Ali replies.
“You always have an opinion. Now you don’t?”
Ali snorts. “As if you listen. You’re stubborn and pig-headed and don’t even listen to the experts you pay for advice. So why should I talk?”
“Still sore about that?” I say sarcastically then shrug. “Fine. Don’t worry about it. But don’t ever say I never asked.”
Silence lingers between us for a long time before Ali growls out, as if every word is like a tooth being pulled from his mouth, “In a war like this, you need a health stealer Skill. It’ll make you last longer, especially since you’re already specced for Mana Regen. Large number of idiots, high amount of health to drain.
“If you’re worried about controlling the battlefield, you’re going to have to either increase your Aura Skill enough that it can’t be ignored—which will have the side benefit of boosting everyone on your side—or you’re going to have work on environmental or individual control Skills.” Ali gestures as he speaks, making little notification windows appear, showcasing a variety of Skills. A Ground Stomp that knocks people around, making it hard to move. A Bog Skill that creates mud. Shadow vines that grip and tear at individuals. A hurricane Skill that throws up gale-force winds. A fog spell that hinders vision. And another that grips and pulls a figure to them. “Personally, I’d go for an individual control Skill. Spells take too long, especially the way you fight.”
That, I can unreservedly agree with. The chant and casting time of spells doesn’t work with the pace of fights that I’m involved in. If I was a real Mage, I could control distance and timing, work with golems or tanks to slow down people charging me. But I’m the tank, so that doesn’t really stand up.
“You aren’t going to be able to beat their control over your Aura or bump through dimensions anymore. They’re going to shut you down hard now that their trap didn’t work. Keep you stuck in one location and hammer at you till you fall. Unless they bring in a Master Classer.”
Ali flashes me datasets of the ones I can expect. Quite a few long-range specialists, individuals who are happy to sit behind tanks and pick away at their opponents. There are a couple of front-liners that I have to worry about, with a few more Support-type Master Classers who will be sending their creations after us. Most disturbing of all, a Master Composer. Who creates creatures of musical notes.
“Fair enough. So individual crowd control, drag them close or stop them from running from me, then end it.” I nod. “Up my Soul Shield or personal defense, or potentially something to drain health.”
“Pretty much.” Ali opens his hands wide. “If you’ll take the advice.”
“It’s not bad.”
“But you’re not going to.” The Spirit huffs and throws himself back to float in the air, staring into space. “I’m done.”
I chuckle, having had enough fun teasing the Spirit. He’s not wrong, but the Spirit has forgotten one minor point. I don’t have the Credits necessary to buy all the Skills I need. Not alone. I shut my eyes, going over the data, going over the options, and find myself sighing.
Time to make a call. Time to end something that should have ended a long time ago.
***
“John? Is something wrong?” She’s as beautiful as ever. Red hair cascading down to frame her heart-shaped face. Ever-so-kissable lips and a bust that even her suit can’t hide.
I let my gaze rove over Lana, drinking in the view, enjoying it before I shut away old feelings. Putting them back where them belong—in the past.
“A man can’t call to say hi?” I say, cocking my head.
“A man can. You can’t.” Lana shakes her head, a smile dancing across her lips. “Also, Mikito hasn’t called me lately. She only does that when you guys are doing something dangerous. What can I do?”
I shake my head, wondering if I’m always that easy to read. Or if it’s just Lana. Then again, I never claimed to be socially adept. “My investments. The money…”
“You need Credits? I can pull a portion of the funds for a shareholder payout.” Lana frowns, gesturing to call up a new notification screen. She runs her gaze over it, muttering to herself about new projects as she works out how much she could pay.
“I was thinking I could just sell it to you,” I say, cutting her off before she gets too deep into the analysis.
“What? Why? I mean, I could buy you out, but on such short notice…” Lana shakes her head. “I can’t get you the real value.”
“That’s fine. In fact, if you and KIM could see into selling all my holdings over the next few days, that’d be perfect,” I say. “Faster the better, but it needs to be done in two days.”
Lana c
alls my name again, a hand extending as if to grasp me. “What’s going on?”
“Just in a bit of a fight. I need to pick up some new Skills.” I tell the truth, because there’s no way I’d be able to lie to her. “Up my game a little.”
“Then get a Credit loan!” Lana says. “Put the shares up as collateral.”
“Collateral for products in a Dungeon World?” I say, shaking my head. “You know how low they value products there. Add the fact that they’re going to discount it because it’s a rush, and I doubt I’d get a better deal. And you know I hate interest payments.”
“Leverage is not a bad word.”
“But debt is.”
Lana snorts. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed the change of subject.”
“Me?” I give her my best wide-eyed look.
That draws a laugh from the redhead. Even if I am wrong about how much I could get from the banks, getting a loan would still be a better long-term option. Especially considering how fast everything is growing. Problem is, if I die, I’d rather that everything I’ve earned go to someone who deserves it. To helping humanity, rather than some nameless Galactic corporation.
“Just do this favor for me. Please.”
Lana nods and twitches a hand. A Credit transfer offer appears, glowing before me. I eye the amount, raising an eyebrow.
“We’ve done well,” she says.
For a moment, I consider refusing the amount. We might have done well, but this is too much. But pride gives way to practicality, forcing me to accept the transfer.
“There’ll be more, probably in the next day or two,” Lana adds. “But that’s what I can get to you now.”
“Thank you.”
“Just… take care of yourself, will you?” Lana’s lips twist sideways. There’s a sadness in her gaze, but also a resignation. As if she understands everything that hasn’t been said.
“Of course. You too.” I nod goodbye before I kill the transmission and close my eyes. One last thread, cut off. It’s something that’s been coming, ever since I left Earth. And now, staring at my potential death, I realize I’m never going to see that blue orb again. Never walk the green forest of home. Never get my face eaten by a crazed squirrel.
