Kaiju- Battlefield Surgeon

by Matt Dinniman

  “I don’t need to,” Count Fronz said.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How long ago did you use that program to access this bay?”

  “I don’t know,” I said. “It was about five minutes before I pulled you out.”

  The caterpillar nodded. “I don’t suppose you got a flying spell?”

  “No,” I said. “I have a good falling one, though.”

  “You should probably stick me back in your bag, go outside, and get ready to use it.”

  “Why?” I asked.

  “Well, lad. Because in about two minutes, Epsilon here is going to come down with a very nasty cold.”

  Chapter 48

  The jets started sputtering mere seconds after I went back outside. I didn’t wait. The moment the blue flames directly below me went off, I jumped. A blast of heat threatened to crisp me as it spat back on moments after I passed. But I made it.

  As I predicted, I spent a few chaotic seconds falling through wet, gray clouds, and then I emerged over the hinterland. I was still pretty damn high. I was thousands of feet in the air. I’d played enough games that involved skydiving that I knew how to position my arms and body.

  At this height, I could see a few guardians spread out in the distance. I could see Tem the beetle kaiju of the alienists. It breathed fire at a black horde of something that attacked it on the battlefield. Further west was the Shrill, its tentacles swirling about angrily.

  North and a little east and much closer floated multiple, beige-colored balloons. I knew this was the top of Colo Colo, the half slug, half rat kaiju of the shade gremlins. The corpulent guardian was held alight by the balloons, but they didn’t actually grant the creature flight. They were more of a method of keeping the monstrosity’s weight from crushing itself. I steered away from the swamps the best I could.

  To the south, the rift itself glowed a deep orange. It was a jagged crack in the world. Paskunji circled above it, the flaming phoenix screaming something at the void. In seconds, the bird kaiju was higher than I was.

  The last thing I wanted was to be directly below the area of Little Cibola. I angled west the best I could, aiming for the hills that represented Banksy’s regeneration area. The ground there was a grassy plain with sparse trees to the west. I still wouldn’t be safe there. I’d have to hit the ground running.

  I cast Hinder when I guessed I was mere seconds from slamming the ground.

  Whoosh. I coughed as I slowed to a parachute-like descent.

  I’d slowed down too early. You idiot. Being three seconds from splattering over the hillside did not translate to three seconds of gentle fall. This spell was not meant for use at such a height.

  I cringed as the time ran out while I was still a good thirty feet off the ground. Much too high. I yanked the menu back open and cast Invulnerable, my backup spell.

  Crack. I screamed as both my legs shattered on landing. More durability. I needed more durability.

  I bounced, then rolled, scrambling for my Reconstitute spell. The pain knocked the air out of me. My health stayed at the top thanks to my invulnerability, but I still needed to heal the physical damage. I’d forgotten. I’d forgotten the pain. Fuck this Invulnerable spell. I didn’t have enough soul points left. I pulled a healing potion and downed it. It worked much more slowly than Reconstitute.

  Dozens of green and yellow-tagged weasel things popped out of the ground, inspecting me as I gasped for breath. I looked up into the sky. Nothing yet. But any second now…

  The weasel creatures started chattering, but they didn’t attack. I didn’t have time to wait and see what would happen next. I turned toward the woods, and I ran.

  Above, an explosion echoed across the sky. Epsilon had succumbed to Count Fronz and Bernadette’s virus. The guardian had fallen offline, and he now tumbled toward the surface.

  Along with the entire city of Little Cibola.

  That’s right, assholes.

  I still had ten seconds of Invulnerable left. I had wanted to save it for when Epsilon hit the ground. It would run out before that happened.

  The weasels decided at that moment to attack. I pulled my rifle and shot one point-blank. It screamed, flying back. It did not die. Each furry monster was about two feet long and was a fast, long tube of angry teeth. I focused my fire on the yellow-tagged ones as I ran. They eased back, but they continued to chase me at a distance.

  I slung my rifle. I shot my hook, reaching a tall tree branch as I approached the woods. I tried a Spiderman move, retracting and swinging my way forward. It didn’t quite work how I hoped, but I knew with practice I could probably get decent at it.

  Still, the move gave me just enough momentum to pull away from the weasels.

  These woods were nothing like the thicker forest to the north. This was more like an apple orchard with widely disbursed trees.

  The whining shriek of incoming artillery pierced the air. I glanced over my shoulder to see the descending meteor plummet toward the earth.

  I stopped, then, seeing the size of the fireball.

  A wave of the weasel monsters poured at me. Hundreds of them. A few in the back of the crowd were red-tagged. It didn’t matter.

  They didn’t get to me before the shockwave did.

  Chapter 49

  You have died 15 times!

  Entering Charnel.

  You earned experience while you were offline.

  You are now level 39

  What the hell? Six levels? Additional experience notifications poured in and slowly trickled to a stop, but not before I hit level 40.

  I’d been given credit, or at least partial credit, for the meteor strike. I wasn’t sure how experience was calculated with this sort of thing, but I knew in other games you received a fraction of what you’d normally get if you’d killed something face-to-face. Still, based on the size of that fireball, I’d probably wiped out every living creature in a ten square mile radius, including the guardian Colo Colo.

  Renault approached as I stood, brushing myself off.

  “It has been some time,” he said. “Your fae friend has come looking for you several times, but even she has given up hope that you would return.”

  “How long has it been since you’ve last seen her?” I asked.

  “It has been a long while. Multiple weeks. Perhaps two months.”

  I nodded. I stood, looking about. The town appeared exactly the same as last time. I approached the campfire in the center of town where withered old Fiona always sat, warming her hands.

  “Did you manage to find Bernadette?” the mayor asked, looking up at me.

  “I did,” I said, bringing myself back to the now. “But she is dead.”

  “That is unfortunate,” Fiona said, looking up into the sky.

  At that moment, a distant, resounding boom washed over us. The walls shook. All along the forest, birds took flight.

  “I have heard that sound before,” Fiona said, looking south.

  I realized we’d just been hit with the shockwave from the Epsilon and Little Cibola crash. I mentally calculated. Two minutes and twenty seconds for the death sequence, and I hadn’t been back very long, maybe three minutes. So about five and a half to six minutes since impact, and the sound wave still traveled. That was one big-ass explosion.

  “That was the guardian Epsilon falling from the heavens,” I said.

  Fiona nodded. “Your aunt did not trust or like that guardian. She never told me why. It is fitting it shall fall on the day I learned of her death.” She threw a stick into the fire. “Without the transport gazebo, we are truly lost.”

  “Before she died, she passed on the knowledge I need to fix the gazebo,” I said.

  “Demons approach, more than ever before!” a voice called from the tower. “In the air and on the ground,”

  Damnit. Of course they’re going to attack now.

  “Okay,” I said, jumping up. “Fiona, get everyone lined up. I’m going to fix the gazebo.”

  The transpor
t pavilion was right there, ten feet away. I stepped in, and like last time, it asked if I wanted to load the program. Less than thirty seconds later, it was all lit up and ready to go.

  As it was loading, I finally spent the seven skill points to give me level 3 of the Teleport spell. I then quickly allocated my seven attribute points. I tossed one into durability, three into strength, and three into acumen.

  A quest notification chimed.

  Protect the escape of the citizens of Charnel.

  Fiona grabbed my hand as worm surgeons lined up at the gazebo. “I have something for you,” she said.

  Above, the guns started to clatter.

  She produced a small potion vial. Within was a miniature demon similar in size to the ones in the soul power potions. But this was nothing more than a tiny eyeball, the size of a button. Three tentacles swayed underneath the eye.

  I quickly examined the potion’s properties.

  Control Parasite for the Shrill.

  Infecting yourself with this parasite gives you permanent control and access to the Shrill’s cockpit and commands within the Guardian Control menu. Once consumed, this parasite can not be removed.

  I didn’t need to think about it. I popped the cork and sucked the little bugger down.

  You’ve been infected with a parasite!

  I fell to my knees, pain wracking my head. But it quickly passed.

  Notifications scrolled by, telling me I now had control of the Shrill.

  Finally. I had assumed Bernadette would’ve had this thing, but it had been Mayor Fiona all along. It made sense. This was the finale of the worm surgeon-only quest, and the parasite was the prize.

  I tossed open the Guardian Control menu to make sure it was there. To my surprise, I had three guardian icons listed, not two. I had Moritasgus, the Shrill, and I also had Epsilon.

  What the hell? I clicked on Epsilon, and the normal menu popped up, but all the options were grayed out. All except one:

  Blow core.

  I couldn’t control the robot, and I didn’t have access to its cockpit. But by infecting the guardian with the virus, I’d gained permanent access to a single ability. “Blow Core.” Just like with the cop car. A self-destruct button.

  “You must cast Teleport,” Fiona said. “I shall lead the retreat while Renault guards us.”

  I nodded. I put my hand on the gazebo, and several options popped up. It selected Transport Group for me, and a bit less than half my soul points leeched away. For the location, it selected Medina (Main Square). There were a few other Medina locations on the list. The only other option was Necroshire. But for now, the quest auto-selected everything for me.

  The gazebo glowed, and the townspeople surged forward. I jumped out of the way and watched as my people fled their village.

  A defensive tower blew in a shower of brick and wood. It was the same tower Clara and I usually used. A rock ricocheted off my head, and I stumbled. Renault was above, firing the auto gun in another tower. He yelled something down at me.

  I stood, wavering for a moment. I had a thought. I popped open my familiar menu and clicked Summon to My Location. It was hard to scale distances, but I guessed Banksy was a good ten miles west of here. It’d take him some time to home in on me. But he would come.

  A single blood wyvern smashed into the middle of town, alighting on top of a pair of buildings. It faced us, screeching as the worm surgeons panicked, pushing forward toward the small portal.

  This was the biggest of the vulture demons I’d ever seen, easily three times larger than normal. Renault could not twist his gun to fire directly into town. As I pulled my gun, my eyes caught the tag and flaming crown. My Lemegeton skill activated. This was yet another boss monster, a member of the demonic court.

  Lord Murmur

  Rank 19 in the demonic hierarchy. A vassal of King Paimon.

  May be evoked for binding purposes only. Requires Evocation level 3.

  Has two forms: A large Blood Wyvern or as a stately Human.

  I fired two shots into his vulture-like head to see if it had any effect. It had an effect all right, but not one I wanted. Lord Murmur screamed in anger, turning his focus on me.

  My quest was to protect the escape of the worm surgeons, and at the moment I stood in the midst of the retreating villagers. I had to lead him away. I darted toward the back of town. The giant vulture thing screeched again, lifting off to pursue.

  I twisted back and cast Leaden at the flying monster. It was my first chance to use the spell I’d purchased long ago.

  Lord Murmur blasted against the ground as if a giant hand had grasped and slam-dunked him. Dirt and cobblestones showered. He leaped up from the crater, screaming even more loudly, apparently uninjured. He attempted to take back to the sky, but he couldn’t. The spell worked for .5 seconds per level of Strength—not Acumen—which meant the effect would last a total of 16.5 seconds.

  Above, Renault and a few other defenders continued to lash fire into the invading demons.

  The demon fell forward, crawling on the tips of his segmented wings. He moved terrifyingly fast. His vulture beak smashed into a hut, caving it in. I aimed and fired again. Again, it had no visible effect other than pissing him off further.

  The townspeople had all escaped except for Renault and three guards who continued to shoot at the invaders. Another defensive tower exploded.

  I reached the back wall of Charnel. Lord Murmur hissed in triumph, thinking he had me trapped. He approached more slowly, his head bobbing.

  As I prepared to shoot my grappling hook, which would take me over the wall, the vulture thing glowed, his form shrinking until he was that of a man wielding a thin, black sword. Obsidian droplets of oil floated in the air, rising off the blade.

  The swarthy lord wore a lavish, purple surcoat over glittering silver armor. A small, silver crown adorned his head, sitting upon gleaming, black hair. A coat of arms adorned his jacket, depicting a horn crossed with a griffin.

  Behind, I watched as Renault and the remaining worm surgeons slipped off the towers and ran into the blinking transport gazebo. Behind them, zippers swarmed through the gates, hot on their tail. The demons screamed in frustration as their quarry evaded them. But they spied me and the lord. They screamed anew and charged.

  Quest Complete! Evacuate Charnel.

  The human form of Murmur grinned, revealing black, sharp teeth. “I am going to enjoy taking you apart, churl.”

  “What the fuck did you just call me?” I asked. “A churro?”

  He stopped, cocking his head. He suddenly looked more puzzled than angry. “No. I called you a…”

  If he finished the sentence, he did so within the mouth of Banksy.

  Chapter 50

  The behemoth burst from the ground, rising and rising. Banksy’s pink and segmented body swallowed the entirety of the town center, save the wall behind my back. He consumed the buildings. The transport gazebo. The zippers. Lord Murmur. In a few quick seconds they were all gone. Soul power surged into me.

  I pressed my back against the wall as Banksy slammed back to the earth. The remaining perimeter structures crumbled underneath the earthquake, and I was thrown off my feet. Behind him, the rest of the defensive wall that surrounded the former village of Charnel collapsed, leaving nothing but rubble. Only a small portion of the back wall of the town remained.

  My pet twisted several times, coiling himself so that he faced me.

  He hadn’t gotten much bigger between levels 25 and 47. In fact, he looked more like a giant version of the worm that had emerged out of me at level 5. The nubs that had been growing along his flank were gone. Just a pink, segmented, cone-headed monster. Only now his head was about as high as a three-story house. I thought it had said he’d get bigger with each level-up, but reading the description again, it said he’d get more “formidable.” I wasn’t sure what that meant. He was still much smaller than any of the guardians. But at this moment, it was hard to tell.

  “Duke,” Banksy said. E
ach of his teeth were as big as me. His words boomed. “Father. You have been gone for a long time. Where have you been?”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. “I was arrested and thrown in jail in the town of Little Cibola. I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t send word.”

  “What?” Banksy asked, rearing up. I scrambled back in fear. “I thought you had left these lands. Clara said you weren’t gone, but I couldn’t feel you. I thought you had left without saying goodbye.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said again. I took a tentative step forward, raising my hand toward Banksy. He lowered his head so his lower mouth flap touched my palm. He wasn’t nearly as squishy as before. His skin was as hard as concrete.

  “No, I am sorry, Father. I should have rescued you. I should have known. I did not see you.”

  “It’s okay,” I said. “I’m back now. I need to find Clara. Also, I was hoping to use that transport gazebo to get into Medina, but it looks like you ate it.”

  Banksy raised his head into the air, shook it twice and then hurled the slime-covered gazebo back onto the ground next to me. It landed on its side, crunching ominously. One of the arm supports was broken, but the gazebo still glowed.

  “I can not consume this,” Banksy said. “Or this.”

  He hacked the mangled and chewed-up body of Lord Murmur onto the ground. It landed with a splat. A regeneration countdown timer appeared over the demon’s body. The timer was at 17 minutes. As I stared at the body, a round symbol appeared in the air, similar to the one at the base of Count Fronz’s cage.

  Seal of Murmur added to library.

  It seemed that’s how one obtained demonic seals. You killed or defeated them in battle, and you learned their seal, allowing you to summon them.

  I eyed the gazebo. “I don’t suppose you can just bring that thing with you?”

  “No, father,” Banksy said. “It must stay here.”

  I sighed. I eyed the countdown timer over Murmur warily. “Do you have anything else locked away in there? In your stomach vault?”

  “I do,” Banksy said. “Clara said to give this to you. I think it’s a letter.”