There were two problems with that. The first was neither Clara nor I could cast Teleport yet. I received access to it at level 12. It only cost a single point. But I suspected I needed it at a higher level to move whole groups of people around.
The second problem was in order to repair the gazebo, we had to find and retrieve the town’s quantum mechanic. She was an elderly worm surgeon named Bernadette. It also turned out, because of game logic, she was my long-lost aunt.
Bernadette lived inside of the Shrill.
We’d broken out of one kaiju only to find ourselves having to hunt down and break inside of another. But this time, I suspected I’d have to fully heal the thing first, and we weren’t anywhere close to being ready for that.
Luckily with my map I could see where all the kaiju were, and the Shrill was usually about five to seven kilometers away, deep inside the bombed-out city. Sometimes at night we heard a distant high-pitched wail, terrible and heart wrenching, carrying on the wind. The worm surgeons would all look up at the sound and make a motion with their hands, similar to the Christian sign of the cross.
The sound of the Shrill made my skin crawl. Bast was terrifying. The Shrill was different. Just the sound of the creature filled me with dread. I didn’t even know what it looked like. I remembered the shadowy outline of the creature from the character creation process, but that was it. It was massive, bigger than Bast, a slathering pile of body parts and eyeballs on stalks and tentacles and mouths. A creature from a nightmare. The description had said it was a former king of hell, a turncoat. The humans who had been tasked with giving it battlefield care had evolved into the worm surgeons, something not quite dead but no longer alive. I shuddered when I thought of it.
Before we even attempted approaching the thing, we needed to level up more. And I needed to reset our regeneration spots. We needed to find a flesh modder. Charnel didn’t have one. I remembered the gremlin guy in Medina had offered to brand me with the Medina brand for a fee.
And just as importantly, I had to get Banksy branded. His respawn was still my stomach. I had to find him something, and fast. I needed to get a pet carrier, so he’d always teleport to my location if we got separated. But it quickly became clear that using the carrier itself as a regeneration spot wasn’t going to work. I suspected he’d soon be as big as the train-sized parasites inside of Bast. Once he hit level 25, his only available respawn would be the Shrill or some open area outside.
“You need to find the groundling village,” a withered, old female worm surgeon told me as we sat by the fire that first night after we’d arrived. Her name was Fiona, and she was the mayor of the small town. We’d spent the day talking to all the NPCs of the village, gathering up information and a few small quests. All the NPCs had their names and levels floating over their heads in black letters. Only a few of the NPCs had occupations also listed. Generally that meant I could talk to these about a wider range of things.
“You will need this,” Fiona said, handing me a round chunk of metal. “As a worm surgeon, one of these is your birthright.” She glared at Clara. “If she wants one, she’ll have to earn it.”
I immediately recognized what the fist-sized hunk of metal was, even before the description popped up.
Branding Iron
Village of Charnel
“Be warned, however,” Mayor Fiona said. “When the other races voted to allow our people back into Medina, groundlings were one of the races who voted ‘no.’ They are not our blood enemies like the radiants, but they do not like our kind.”
I nodded. I knew a little of the story. Worm surgeons were a banished race, not allowed to live amongst the others until just before the game began. “Who else voted against us?”
She smiled sadly. “It was the radiants, of course. The groundlings, the night barbers, the caduceus.” She turned to look at Clara. “And the fae.”
“All the users of celestial magic,” Clara said, unfazed by the mayor’s dark stare.
Fiona nodded. “The adherents of the chained gods fear those who can wield the resurrection magics. Our only true ally of the adherents are the viceroys, who worship both resurrection and celestial powers.”
“What about humans?” I asked. “How do they stand?”
Clara answered. “Human players can use magic from any of the schools, but the spells are always weaker. They usually aren’t associated too closely with any of the magic groups. They’re mostly non-entities in the game’s storylines. Anatoly said that’s part of the reason why it’s so hard for him to alter the game to make all players human.”
I looked at the branding iron in my hand. Once we found a flesh modder, I could use it on all three of us, and we’d have a new regeneration option.
The groundling settlement was an underground village about twenty miles away, on the other side of the forest that surrounded Medina. The town was called Kinnegad. These distances were never meant to be traveled by foot. I’d hoped to level Banksy up one more level, making him a mount before we left, but it looked like it wasn’t going to happen. Apparently we needed to find some shop or stables or something so he could get outfitted before we could ride him anyway.
This game had multiple fast-travel options from mounts to ground vehicles to airships, none of which we could currently use. The village had what appeared to be a small, derelict tank parked just inside the gate. The tracked vehicle was the size of a short school bus and was covered with multiple gun turrets and antennas. But Renault said the ancient vehicle no longer ran. Maybe my aunt Bernadette could fix it once we brought her back from inside the Shrill.
I was confident as long as we stuck mostly to the woods, we’d get to the groundling village okay, even on foot. The only issue was the last couple of miles required travel over flat, open lands.
In the middle of those open lands, halfway between the edge of the woods and our destination of Kinnegad was another village called Bibic, though it appeared as if it had been destroyed by the demons. It once was associated with the lycans—the werewolf-like players. Their associated kaiju was a two-headed monstrosity called Orthrus, and this kaiju currently stalked that area between the groundlings and us.
Just the mention of Orthrus sent Clara into a strange funk. Over the past few days, she’d been mostly quiet, only talking to discuss tactics. Her changing demeanors had settled on one of serious determination. The joke-cracking, sarcastic manner she first displayed was mostly gone. During the day she often sat, staring into nowhere, sometimes curling up with Banksy to take a nap. The game allowed her to sleep for up to three hours at a time. Being unable to sleep at all, I was jealous of her ability to escape from the game, even if it was just for a moment.
Once I suggested we make the journey to the groundling village, and we saw we had to skirt our way past the two-headed kaiju, Clara changed once again. She withdrew further into herself, disappearing for hours at a time into one of the bombed-out hovels of the village. I found her once curled into a ball, her arms hugging her legs, making herself as small as possible, muttering to herself, rocking back and forth.
She oddly reminded me of my own mother when she did that. I had a quick memory, of coming into my mom’s room when I was a kid, asking her if she was going to make dinner tonight. It was something that happened a lot, especially in those last few years before she died when I was 11. I’d find her cuddled up, wrapped into herself on top of her perfectly-made bed, rocking back and forth, muttering to herself just like this. She usually wouldn’t answer me, unless I stood there for a long time, still, like a statue. I used to imagine it was like entering the lair of a monster, my mom’s room. And only if I stood perfectly straight, perfectly still would I be safe.
I tried it with Clara, not moving, just standing there, waiting.
Finally, after what seemed like an hour, she spoke.
“He could still be in there. He’ll know I’m nearby. He’ll get me. He’ll get you.”
“Who?” I asked. “What are you talking about?”
“Jenk?” I asked. “Who the hell is that?”
“The Canadian. He’s a lycan. He lives inside of Guardian Orthrus. That’s where his base is.”
I shook my head. “We’re the only ones here. All the other players are gone. They’ve all been arrested or they’ve run for the hills. We would’ve seen something by now if people were still here.”
“No,” she said. “Not him. He’s too smart to get caught. He’s different than the others.”
I put my hand on her shoulder. She remained huddled in a tight ball. Banksy sat piled up next to her, a giant coil of rope. He raised his head, looking at her. Clara trembled.
“Even if he is there,” I said. “We’re giving that thing a wide berth. We’re not going inside of it. He won’t even know we’re there. We have to do this.”
She didn’t answer. I left her there.
I’d received three attribute points since we’d sought shelter in Charnel. I put all three into durability, raising it to 15. I also had 16 skill points, and once we’d passed level 10, I had dozens of new skills to choose from.
I spent one on the Risk Assessment skill, which ranked mobs with a green, yellow, or red marker over their heads, comparing their level to mine. Higher levels of the skill gave more detailed information, but for now that was all I needed. Every mob I’d seen since I added the skill had the red mark of danger floating over it.
I also added Wicked Meat for three points. I’d gone back and forth for a while about whether or not to spend precious points on the skill, but it was recommended in order to properly utilize my Upcycle spell. The description was nebulous:
Wicked Meat is a multi-faceted skill with multiple uses and is either a requirement or a strong recommendation for several high-tier spells and skills. Allows the user to assess the compatibility of an enemy’s flesh with other associated spells and skills. In addition, it marks compatible flesh for already-obtained skills and spells such as Upcycle and Golem, allowing a user to both identify targets and avoid dealing damage to areas of interest. Also warns against false positives and incompatibilities that might not otherwise be apparent.
So basically the skill told me when a mob had a body part that I could swap out with one of my own using the Upcycle spell.
After I obtained the skill, a menu popped up when I focused on Clara, letting me know she had a 50% chance of dropping a compatible left arm if I killed her. But it also warned there was a 70% chance my body would reject the arm after attachment.
Christ. I’m glad I didn’t try doing the Upcycle earlier. I didn’t know if I’d be able to put my old arm back on after something was “rejected.” I didn’t really want to find out.
Every worm surgeon in town had the same notification, though with them, I could swap out every part of their body from individual fingers, to hands, to whole arms, to pretty much everything else on their bodies, all with a 0% chance of rejection. I could even swap out facial features, from my eyes to my ears and even parts of my brain.
Doing so would have a major effect on my attributes and skills, mostly negative. Some of the higher-level worm surgeons, like Renault, did give a big boost to my strength and durability if I switched out major body parts. But I’d have to kill them first, which I didn’t want to do.
The entire town turned into a mess of floating notification boxes wherever I looked.
Thankfully, I found a tick box in the menu which allowed me to switch off the skill. I did so, and everything turned back to normal.
Clara added a wind spell called Cone of Silence, which would allow us to walk without making noise. She added a second wind spell called Well-Fed that reset her hunger counter. It would keep her from starving to death, but it wouldn’t refill her mana meter for her celestial power. She also gave herself a skill called Friend, which had a calming effect on some non-demon mobs.
Banksy added a few skills of his own. One was called Disorient, which caused an enemy to lose half his acumen and one called Concentration-Loss, which made it so a magic caster’s next spell would fail. Both of them he could utilize once an hour.
For my surgical talents, in addition to four I already had, I received Numb—the same one Clara already had—and something called Detoxify. I also received something called Reroute. My Cauterize and Incision skills both went up to level 3, and my Antiparasitic went up to 5.
As far as equipment went, the armory was only a little useful. The gear was free to those who helped defend the village, but there wasn’t too much available. They’d given me a simple, reinforced breast tunic designed especially for worm surgeons. It dampened a small amount of damage, but only to my chest area. The gray, sleeveless jerkin was a similar material to banded leather, but much lighter. It did increase the storage capacity for my pack by almost 50%. I also received a simple curved dagger, which I clipped to my belt.
They had a few guns, but none were nearly as good as my Epiviper. None of the armor fit Clara, but she did take a dagger and a gun. The medusa-like midwife creature who helped run the armory refused to help the fae, hissing at her every time she saw her. Thankfully the other attendant, an elderly shade gremlin, was happy to assist. Clara had to choose between a handgun and a laser blaster. The large handgun was the more powerful of the two, but it used ammo. The blaster had better accuracy and range, but it had about half the stopping power of the gun. However, it never needed to be reloaded. They wouldn’t let her take both, so she picked the blaster.
I watched Banksy return from the field where he’d just devoured the fallen gargoyle. The one Clara had killed remained where it’d fallen. It’d turn to bones then disappear over the next several minutes.
“There are teeth in the field,” Banksy said. His voice had gotten deeper with the most recent level up. “Lots of teeth. You should probably pick some of it up before the guards collect it all tonight.”
Clara and I looked at each other. Money hadn’t yet been an issue, but it would be soon. I hadn’t realized the gargoyles were dropping anything. It hadn’t even occurred to me. They didn’t carry weapons or any sort of armor. So all that dropped was themselves, and I hadn’t seen any indication yet that their bodies held any sort of useful material.
There was a skill that automatically highlighted dropped treasure, called All that Glitters, but I hadn’t thought it necessary. It was only a level 6 skill, and it cost two points. I added it on a whim.
The moment I did, the field before me started to glitter in dozens of spots. Some spots were brighter than others. Oh wow. It would take a half-hour for me to pick it all up.
“I don’t suppose you could pick it up for me?” I asked Banksy.
Banksy looked at me like I’d just asked him to lick the bottom of my boots. “Do I look like a packrat or one of those anteater familiars?”
I took that as a no. I sighed, stowing the mounted gun and descending the ladder. The next attack would come in about an hour, and our shift was just about done anyway. Renault waved us goodbye.
Clara joined me as we trekked through the field. Sure enough, teeth were everywhere. In most spots, they were single or doubles. The teeth looked just like regular, human teeth, bleached white. Luckily I just had to touch them with my hand, and they’d disappear and magically teleport to my pack. A minute later I learned I just had to step on them, and they’d come to my pack. My tooth counter started to slowly tick up, though there were only a couple hundred in the field. Brighter piles held at least five teeth, and in one instance, I found a single gold tooth, which was worth 25 teeth. In the end I picked up 244 teeth, and Clara had found about 40.
“You might want to grab this skill, too,” I said to Clara as we walked back to the entrance. It would be dark soon, and we’d decided that we’d say our goodbyes to Charnel at first light.
“I don’t have any skill points left,” she said.
I stopped dead. “Wait, what? I thought you had 12 left.”
&nbs
p; Clara had been less circumspect with her skills and spells since we’d set out, but the last she’d said, she’d been saving them all for the bionic upgrades once we found an upgrade center. She could add a pair of mechanical fairy wings that would allow her to fly for five skill points and probably a boatload of teeth. I knew her surgery menu was similar to mine and that she’d added a healing spell and that food spell, plus the silence spell and the Friend skill to keep the wildlife off our backs.
“What else did you add?”
She paused, and for a moment I didn’t think she was going to answer. Her look hardened. “If we have to travel past Orthrus, I need to make sure there’s no way he’ll be able to get to me. So I bought Recall, and I got an invisibility spell. Plus I bought an attack spell called Holy Flare.”
I sighed. Recall was a five-point, fast-travel spell that brought you back to your regen spot. It was a waste of skill points because the Teleport skill, which you gained access to a few levels later, did almost the same thing, but with the added benefit of allowing you to transfer to any other working fast travel node in the game. And Teleport only cost a single point.
The only real difference was that you could cast Recall from anywhere and Teleport required a travel node. I suspected Teleport did the same thing at a higher level, but I wasn’t sure.
It was a stupid, panic-induced waste of points. And as unpredictable as Clara was, I knew she wasn’t stupid. Not normally.
When Clara was with SmashSouth, the ogre had cut holes into her flesh. He’d done it over and over, abusing Clara’s almost-human body just to the edge of death, as close as he could. He’d spent hours cutting, teaching himself how deep, how wide. That was his thing.
She’d been with SmashSouth for months.
Yet, Clara wasn’t afraid of SmashSouth. She talked of him almost casually. It couldn’t possibly be true, but she seemed to regard the previous few months as boring, uneventful.
But before that, she’d been with the Canadian, this Jenk.
Kaiju- Battlefield Surgeon Page 14
