Respawn: 18 and Up (Respawn LitRPG series Book 3)

by Arthur Stone

  He should have avoided stables altogether. They got to him so quickly...

  No, I have to escape. Now. Before we arrive. Fleeing did not seem possible at the moment, but there would be other moments.

  The Continent was a very unstable place. The System’s remark that there were no safe locations in this entire world had been spot on. Their situation could change at any instant.

  Cheater did not particularly hope for an attack by a squad of bots or elites. But anything, even just a single trampler or a machine gun burst from the bushes, might be enough. Something would happen if he waited long enough.

  Something that would distract his kidnappers.

  * * *

  Going by his internal clock, he waited a long time. After counting to a thousand eight times over, Cheater finally heard an interesting change in the tedium of the journey.

  A large-caliber machine gun pounded out a few rounds, and automatic rifles soon joined the chorus. People began to shout incoherently, loudly, urgently, vulgarly. There were no shots in reply, so the target was most likely one or more infecteds, but Cheater doubted it was a teenage trampler. The squad was being too generous with its ammunition, and no one in this world wasted ammunition without good cause.

  At that moment, something struck the vehicle with such brute force that Cheater was rattled along with the support of his chain, which was fastened to the affected wall. The assailant was clearly no bullet, no grenade, no missile—it was a large ghoul that had tried to jump through the wall. The machine gun roared again, in an extended volley. Cheater had realized by this point that he was in a reinforced truck, the right side of which held the chain holding his wrists. It wasn’t a serious enough vehicle to withstand an elite or a manmincer, or even a trampler or biter.

  This is my moment. He doubted he would get a better chance. Everyone would be watching the creature, not their fettered and apparently helpless captive.

  But his kidnappers were unlikely to be naive whelps. They were thugs who had managed to steal a person from the most protected area of a serious stable. They wouldn’t have just used a rusty nail to fasten him to a rotting board. His chain would be firmly fixed to the wall, unable to be rent quickly or unthinkingly from its place. Only luck could help him.

  A lot of luck.

  With an unvoiced sigh, Cheater accepted the fact that his most unpredictable yet most powerful trump card would be leaving him for nearly a full day. He activated Smile of Fortune as he pushed off from the floor with all his might. He jumped, then fell, trying to break his restraints with his falling weight.

  That very moment, the creature attacked again, and the truck shuddered. Cheater was thrown into the floor. Something sharp cut into the fabric around and the flesh of his face. Light flooded in, and the bag began to tear.

  His body reached the lowest point then. His wrists felt like they were about to be torn off, but then something above him snapped, and he felt the pull of the chain go slack. With an awkward surge, Cheater grabbed the bag with both hands and pulled it to both sides, tearing it enough to get a full view.

  A view of a man’s back. The man was wide shouldered and wore a vest holding grenades. His face was unseen, for he was leaning intently to the loophole from which his gun was firing at something.

  Without a moment’s hesitation, Cheater grabbed one of the pins from a grenade and pulled it hard. It worked. Of course the machine gunner noticed this, and he cursed at the top of his lungs and pushed back from the loophole. But Cheater grabbed his arm and pushed. This knocked the opponent back, which was the key. All he needed was to take the enemy out of the game for a few seconds, while he leaped towards the rear door.

  He somehow kept his feet under him as the beast crashed into the truck again, and with one fluid motion he pulled the handle and rammed the door with his shoulder. The light of the setting sun flooded the vehicle, and suddenly Cheater was on the dusty, beaten surface of the road. But the landing was far from soft. Like a ball he bounced down the road, clothes and skin ripping as he continued several yards over the asphalt then into the stunted grass of the shoulder. The truck sped away.

  The door he had taken writhed in its open state, and bullets were pouring from the loopholes in its sides, but it was still moving at a surprisingly high speed for such a terrible roadway. The beast, which was nearly an elite in development, rushed alongside on the vehicle’s left. Thankfully it was so keen on its pursuit that it had not noticed the easy prey rolling into the grass. Not even the sounds of Cheater’s slide had encouraged it to turn back for a look. Perhaps the shooting had covered for him.

  An explosion rocked the inside of the vehicle, and now fire of both kinds poured out, along with smoke. The engine gave out, and the creature reached into the cabin and mounted it with a grumbly roar as it began to hurriedly tear the steel plating and sheets off. The truck teetered, and Cheater realized it was about to go into a skid or even topple over. Yet something it stayed on the road, rushing behind a forest as it dragged its deadly stowaway along. One of the rifles come to life again.

  Cheater got up and made sure his injuries weren’t serious. Torn clothes and scores of abrasions, cuts, and bruises covered him, but it seemed nothing was broken or sprained. Nothing needed immediate attention besides his location right next to the road. He ran for the forest. His current turf was the unplowed soil of some steppe, and he tried to step on rocky outcrops more than on the soft grass.

  After all, if his kidnappers somehow managed to deal with the beast, they would probably come looking for him. No sense leaving them a clear trail.

  Personal victory: immune Snapper destroyed. Level 34, Humanity: moderately negative. Personal victory: immune Honduras destroyed. Level 33, Humanity: low positive. +19 progress points to Speed. +8 progress points to Endurance. +76 progress points to Willpower. +14 progress points to Reaction. +62 progress points to Luck.

  Hah! He had earned some experience from the bastards. Sadly, only two of them had perished to the grenade. Not that he had seen more than two, but he was sure there had been more in the cab than in the back with him.

  * * *

  About one hour later, Cheater finally allowed himself to rest. He had spent the time running or walking at the greatest speeds the terrain allowed. Some penalties started accruing to his stats due to his Stamina scale, which had been emptied from all the agony and toil he had endured. He had to take a breather.

  The existence of this forest had been a work of Fortune. This whole region was flat and relatively empty, with few areas of green. Had he jumped out anywhere else, he might have been noticed by the beast from a mile away. It was the perfect forest, too. The trees were thick enough to block out unwanted eyes, but far from impassable. He could even run through most of it, or at least walk briskly. But the sky ahead was beginning to grow brighter. Even though twilight was gathering, he could tell an open space was approaching. Any change in the landscape meant a risk of running into some unpleasant novelty, and such things were always best encountered when you were fresh.

  He caught his breath and pulled up his menu. March’s chat window was filled with puzzled messages. Where had he gone, why wasn’t he answering, that sort of thing. Worst of all, his nickname was gray. No connection. Usually that meant there were dead clusters between the two parties, rendering communication impossible.

  Cheater must have been on some kind of powerful drug. A blow to the head wouldn’t have rendered him unconscious for a whole day. Nor would he have been able to jump with all his might like that upon awakening. During that time, they had taken him hell only knew how far. The distance was great enough to sever his connection with Pyramid.

  He opened his Map next. No help. Maps had to be bought from players with a skill that allowed them to remember things they saw as they explored. The transfer process expended a lot of Spirit of STYX (mana), so obtaining maps cost a lot of money. Cheater hadn’t been rich enough to buy the whole region and had restricted his purchases to the areas he was intending
to visit.

  This area had not been one of those. On his map, it was a solid white blot. He had no idea which direction they had taken him, even.

  Alert: Your bound item has changed locations. You may collect it from your personal cache in the nearest stable cluster.

  At last, some good news. His bow was no longer easy to lose. It would always return to its owner. Usually the move took several hours, but not if the item was in a special storage facility. The people who worked there had an Itemkeep ability that they used on objects. This kept the item on the shelf for anywhere up to a couple of days, despite its binding. But if the owner of the item ended up too far away, the time period was usually shortened.

  Cheater had placed the bow in storage yesterday, since that had been the rule of the stable, after getting it bound to him. The bow’s early move was further evidence that he was far from Pyramid.

  Cheater used his Bound Items menu to create a marker leading him to his personal cache.

  That placed a curly green arrow in his vision. It told him nothing of the distance between him and his bow, but he doubted it was very far. He might try to reclaim it right away. After all, there was nothing worse than wandering around the Continent without a weapon. The sooner he got it back, the better.

  But there was a catch. The bow was a weapon that required certain movements. And he doubted the greatest archer in the world could shoot well with shackled hands.

  The cuffs were still on his wrists, after all, limiting their movement. He could deal with a pistol in these cuffs, but not a bow.

  So I’ll head towards this cache and keep an eye out for something to free myself with. Or at least to break this chain with.

  There was no time to waste. Cheater sneaked to the edge of the forest. Darkness had not quite fallen yet, so he could get a good look around. Hopefully something was nearby that could rid him of his unwanted accessory.

  * * *

  Two hours later, Cheater had to stop moving. The sky had grown densely overcast, unpenetrated by moon and stars alike. So deep was the dark that closing his eyes did nothing to hurt his perception of his surroundings. He had fallen a few times, and this time, it had nearly been off a cliff of unknown height. The water he thought he saw at the bottom was likely his imagination, and he had no doubt a tumble would break some bones if he hit a rock of any size.

  So he carefully left the edge of the cliff, slipped between some bushes, and tried to sleep. At first, despite his bottomed-out Stamina meter, he had difficulty. But after rolling around for an hour, trying not to rattle his chain, he managed to slip into slumber.

  He awoke in total darkness, so he must not have slept long. Yet the clouds had begun to break up, and the stars and a narrow sickle Moon brought their revelations to the landscape. It wasn’t enough to move at any good speed, but the result would be safer than midnight cliff diving. Cheater was freezing in his rags, shivering from the morning cold and damp, and so there was no returning to sleep.

  He had been wrong about the light, as he nearly took a dive once again. The faint glimmer of the stars in the water had saved him. As he tried to skirt around the hole, he encountered a tall mound that seemed manmade. Heights were not his friend right now, so he decided to try to go around this obstacle, as well. But there were too many rocks, and he tripped and stumbled, sometimes painfully.

  As he was extricating himself from the other side of the rock pile, Cheater at last notice the sky beginning to lighten. Within a few minutes, he saw some mysterious angular shapes rather close by, to his left. Nature hated regular polygons, so he guessed the objects to be manmade. Which was exactly what he needed. Civilization meant there might be tools which could set his hands free.

  But the only way to the city was back the way he came. With a sigh, he prepared himself to re-negotiate the slough of stones.

  * * *

  Dawn had not yet come, but he was starting to get a feel for the place. The terrain was similar to that of Pyramid. It wasn’t a village—in fact, he failed to see a single residential building. The “lake” he had almost collapsed into twice now was a quarry. The mysterious mound had been made of slag, and the angular structures were the various buildings of the quarry site. Perhaps a processing plant of some kind.

  The glass in its windows was intact, and Cheater saw a couple of passenger vehicles in the parking lot, besides loaders and dump trucks. The place had still been active before it was brought in at the last reset. Meaning he could probably find all kinds of tools here.

  Yet he wasn’t about to skip over to the site. He found more bushes, instead, and watched for a good quarter of an hour. This was more than just his usual caution, though; he had noticed something upsetting. Crows sitting on the powerlines. Experience told him that the dark feathery omens demanded he stop and watch.

  Why were the birds sleeping here, and not in their nests? Perhaps the nests had disappeared in the reboot, and all of the new nesting sites in the area already had avian occupants. But still, why would they pick this exact spot?

  The answer was visible down below. Rags and human remains were scattered around the ground in an unpleasant but familiar pattern. Perhaps a powerful beast had arranged a pogrom right after reboot but had failed to finish off these remains. Or perhaps an insane worker had blown himself up with explosives intended for use in the quarry and taken several of his coworkers with him.

  In any case, food smeared across the pavement would smell strongly enough to bring the whole neighborhood running. So Cheater was in no hurry.

  Every sizable beast here that liked carrion always preferred fresh meat when it was available.

  It was best not to give them that choice.

  The ghouls gave themselves away at dawn. As soon as the first rays of sunlight slid over the gray concrete walls, two of them emerged from behind the largest of the buildings. One was still in full uniform: dark blue overalls and an orange helmet. The other had lost both his pants and his shoes, and his head was swelling unnaturally. The distance was too great for him to make out any details, but he could have sworn the latter’s head was also covered in dried blood.

  Once they entered the light, the pair stared at the rising sun, then turned in unison and assumed the standard position, rocking back and forth, from head to toe.

  Cheater relaxed. They were clearly just runners. Lonely and weak, and apparently not following any larger infected. Whenever weaklings like this behaved in this careless fashion, it meant the risk of running into something worse was relatively low. The world of the infecteds was a cruel place. The strong devoured the weak.

  Yet Cheater had to take the pair of them out. They were weak, and even a stone would do a good enough job, but his hands were shackled. So Cheater circled around to where the larger vehicles were parked. Finding a small crowbar was enough for him to no longer consider himself unarmed.

  And the runners caused no problem. They behaved stupidly and predictably, rushing at him too eagerly and getting tripped up in each other’s legs. It was much easier to kill a pair of ghouls when one of them got to you before the other.

  Cheater dragged their bodies into the nearest hole in the wall so that their freshly-slain look wouldn’t lure any other infecteds passing by. Then, he began his search. Soon he found a utility room, which had also been used as a workshop for making minor repairs. Files of all sorts hung on the wall.

  He could not file down the cuffs themselves, as it was very awkward to do so when he couldn’t even spread his hands wide. But the chain was less thick, so he started there.

  About a half hour later, he was cursing the designers of these insidious shackles and their pathologically sadistic curvature. He still wasn’t half way even though he had sawed until his fingers were numb. Deciding to give his hands a rest, he loosened the vice holding the chain and walked over to the wide-open window overlooking the lake filling the bottom of the quarry. Small fish were tracing circles in the shallows, which made Cheater think about breakfast. The metabolism of a pl
ayer was a savage beast. All of the extra healing and abilities required extra energy. His Hunger meter was at one-quarter, which made sense given that he hadn’t eaten anything for more than twenty-four hours.

  Cheater raised his gaze, then twitched. Two people were standing at the edge of the cliff. One of them had binoculars raised to his eyes and was looking through them intently. Looking straight at the window.

  Cheater resisted his impulse to drop to the floor, hoping that the man would move past the window, unable to see a motionless figure in the darkness of the building. Instead, both figures took off running along the cliff.

  Cheater had been noticed, and now the both of them were hurrying to circle the lake. There was no straighter path besides a steep climb down and a swim. He was almost certain that these were the pursuers he had lived in fear of all night. They were a pair of trackers who by some wonder of the Continent were able to pursue fugitives even in pure darkness, and they had found him.

  At their current pace, they would be on him in about ten minutes, at most. Yet removing the cuffs would take him thirty minutes or more. And despite the distance, he had seen their weapons. They needed Cheater alive, but he was sure they would gladly shoot him in the arms and legs. He couldn’t engage in hand-to-hand combat, either. Judging by the messages he had seen after the fight on the road, this was a team of thirty-plus players. A crowbar wielded by a level thirteen would be worthless.

  He could climb up onto the roof and jump down head-first into the pavement. That would throw them off his trail, as they tried to pinpoint which cluster he resurrected in.

  Or, he could try to survive.

  Cheater grabbed a primitive cleaver from a tool cabinet and rushed out of the workshop without so much as a glance behind him. He hoped his Luck and Stamina would hold out long enough for him to find what he was looking for. Otherwise, the cleaver was destined to cut his throat.