by Tao Wong
They’re cutting it close with the way they’re pushing. Taking risks, being aggressive. Trying to impress me? Or are they just competitive?
Magine is in the front of the group, dancing past the swarm of monsters coming at him. They got lucky in the previous dungeon, finding a low-level swarm spawn, creatures that looked like mobile tadpoles. Low-level, large numbers. They pulled out their grenades and high explosives, using area effect attacks to clear their way through. Easy.
Now, Magine is facing larger, canine-like monsters with stinger-like tails and eyebeam eyes. Their attacks dig up the ground, tear at his Soul Shield as he swings his swords and rips apart skin and fur, lops off limbs. He’s in the middle of the pack, forcing them to choose to shoot and hit their own friends or face him in melee.
But these are monsters. And self-preservation and care for their own kind is low on their list of concerns. They attack their own friends, Magine, and the rest of the team with abandon, filling the air with the bright flare of their eyebeam attacks.
Anayton forges in behind, dancing around the group with her own weapon. She wields a chain and blade weapon combination, sending the burning, Mana Infused chain to wrap around, punch through, and rend apart monsters, all the while blocking attacks with the blade portion. Unlike Magine, she stays close, playing bodyguard to Gheisnan, buffing him with Two are One and intercepting attackers.
Gheisnan’s the one guiding the group, the reason they’re on number five. He’s found the way to the nearest dungeons quickly. Worked out the weaknesses and routes to the monsters with his Skills and coordinated the pair. He’s an amazing addition to any team, but in return, he’s a liability.
A damage counter floats next to each head, showing the percentage of damage taken. And Gheisnan’s hogging nearly sixty percent of damage of that statistic. Soul Shields, Two are One, resistances, all of it deployed to keep him alive. Small, mobile force screen drones hover around him, blocking attacks. And still, he is bleeding, injured, his regeneration barely able to keep up. His Mana hovering at the last fifth.
“Think they’ll make it?” I ask Mikito and Harry.
Harry shrugs, content to not guess. Mikito holds up a hand, waggling it side to side.
“Yeah, me too,” I acknowledge her hesitation. There’s too much variability. Too much chance. It depends on the Alpha, on what they face. But… “Magine’s doing well.”
“He’s leaving his friends behind,” Mikito says disapprovingly. “Not working as a team.”
“Only this dungeon.”
“Only needs to be once,” Mikito says.
“Once what?” Ali asks.
“To die, baka.”
Ali crosses his arms, glaring at Mikito from where he twirls around. “Rude. John’s the baka.”
“You both are.” She points at Magine’s image on the screen. “Just like him.”
I grunt and fish out a piece of chocolate to ease the pain of truth. It’s from a chocolatery that restarted in Nepal of all places. However, it’s really, really good and my current go-to chocolatier. Something the Yeti craftsmen do make it all the better. “Why do you think he’s doing it?”
“Pride,” Bolo chimes in. “I know his type. If we can temper it, he’ll be a good Paladin.”
“And if we can’t?”
“Then he’ll be a good target.”
I snort but watch the fight below. Time continues to run out, with Anayton finally making the executive decision to pull back. She triggers a series of explosions in the nearby drones, clearing space for herself and Gheisnan to retreat. Leaving Magine as he continues his journey toward the Alpha, disobeying orders, even as time ticks down.
A minute and a half before Magine’s out of time, the dungeon boss makes its presence known. The canine-creature is the size of a rhinoceros, its skin thick and plated with a reinforced dermis, dotted with multiple eyes. The good news is that those eyebeams only fire five at a time. The bad news is that there doesn’t seem to be a rhyme or reason for their activation other than need.
Magine rushes forward, only to be targeted by three of the beams and thrown backward. His Soul Shield shatters, his health plunges. And I twist my hand sideways, creating the Portal so that he flies through it and onto our hovering platform. He lands and rolls, coming up to his knees, body smoking, blood dripping and making a mess. He rushes toward the Portal, intent on entering it, only to face the broad back of Bolo. The Dragon Lord is slow too, for Mikito’s already through the Portal. I snap the Portal shut behind the Dragon Lord the moment he’s through.
“No! That was my kill,” Magine says.
“No chance,” I say, shaking my head. “You don’t have the Mana to pull off an Army of One,” I say. “And you don’t have the time to wear it down, even if you could.”
And the last part is important, because I watch as Mikito eats fire from the eyebeams of the creature as she attempts to weave her way in. Of course, when Bolo makes his first big attack, the boss fully turns its attention to him. That big hammer of Bolo’s, and its high damage output, is a clear indicator of who is the greater threat.
“Why are you letting them fight?” Freif asks, frowning.
“Might as well finish the dungeon,” I say with a shrug. “And while we debrief, they can pick up a few hundred thousand more experience.”
A large explosion trickles up from below the platform, echoed in the monitors of the ground below. I frown, anger trickling in. A gesture makes the monitors go dark and another makes a second Portal open, allowing the remainder of his team to stagger in.
“So what was that?” I ask.
“Four dungeons and a nearly complete fifth. We would have completed the fifth. If someone had backed me up.” Magine’s lips curl in disgust as he turns around and glares at Anayton and Gheisnan. “I told you not to retreat.”
“And you were not in operational command,” Anayton says. “Gheisnan was. You didn’t listen to orders.”
“As the Paladin has pointed out, we’re not training to be good little soldiers anymore,” Magine sneers. “We’re Paladins. And running from a little danger is ill-befitting a Cha—Paladin.” I frown as Magine corrects himself. “I expected cowardice from the Pooskeen, but from you? I’m disappointed. With your standing—”
“My standing has nothing to do with what was a reasonable and logical choice,” Anayton says. “There was no advantage to us pushing ahead. Receiving significant damage—or losing one of us—for a project that could be done with more safety and care made no sense.”
“You’re thinking of gains and losses like a guard. Like this was an army mission,” Magine says. “But the Paladin is here to train us. We’re here to show what we, as Paladins, can do.” He spins and stares directly at me. “Isn’t that right?”
I don’t answer him, instead locking my gaze on the quiet third of the group. The one who has been key to their success. And yet has kept silent thus far. “And you? What do you think?”
“This one has naught to say,” Gheisnan says, bowing his head to me. “We train at your pleasure.”
I don’t miss the slight mocking tone or structure of his reply. But my own reply is waylaid by the party chat request from below. I open my hands and twist, pulling open the Portal to retrieve my friends from below. They tramp out, covered in blood and guts and smoking a little. I don’t bother waiting, reopening a new Portal moments after I shut the previous one, dumping them in front of the next dungeon. Harry hurries after them, preferring to join the pair and earn a little experience that way than stay up here and watch the drama unfold.
Once my friends are gone and our platform begins its slower journey over, I reply at last to the impatient trio. I raise my voice to include the others. “These training exercises are for me to understand who you are. So, yes. Do what you think is right, like Magine. Or Anayton. Or bitch me out like Ropo and still do your job. Because the gods know, you’ll not have a chance again after you’re a Paladin.” I shake my head. “But you’re also showing me w
ho you are.”
“Think you said that already, boy-o.”
“Shut up.”
At Magine’s frown, I continue. “If you’re so intent on leaving your friends behind, I’m not entirely sure I’d trust you as a Paladin. Maybe, sometimes, that’s necessary. To sacrifice everything for the mission. But you do that when it’s necessary. Not for a stupid test by a guy who you barely know.”
I point at Magine. “Fail.”
Anayton. “Pass.”
“Fail.” Gheisnan doesn’t seem surprised.
Ropo is next. “Fail.” That makes the dwarf frown.
Kino straightens when my finger passes in front of him. “Pass. Barely.”
Freif looks stressed as I point at him last. I let the silence linger, watching the sniper twitch before I speak. “Fail.”
There’s a long silence when everyone takes in my words, then they all talk at the same time.
I snort and wave them down. “I’m not done.”
The group silences pretty fast at that point.
“You have a month. Group together. Work alone. I don’t care. You’re going to clear this planet.” I rub my nose. “We’re going to clear the planet.” I twitch my hand sideways, making a series of drones float over to the group. “These are the drones I’m gifting you. If they get destroyed, buy another. I recommend you buy a lot. I’ll watch what you do. How you do it. Now, you’re dismissed.”
I don’t wait for them to reply, instead jumping backward. A Portal opens up behind me, depositing me in front of the dungeon I’ve picked. From the group, I hear more than a few curses, but I can’t help but smile.
Time to see what they do.
Chapter 13
The specter tears at me, its razor-sharp fingers filled with ice bearing down on my armor. Hod’s Triple-Fused Armor is amazing for most things, and it peels portions of the Mana-generated cold away, but it does nothing to stop the insubstantial hands from passing through and scoring my skin. It and the dozens of others that float around me.
-14 Damage (90% resisted)
-17 Damage (90% resisted)
-3 Damage (90% resisted)
-16 Damage (90% resisted)
-9 Damage (90% resisted)
The damage notifications flicker up again, reminding me of how much my resistances help. I ignore them, absorbing the pain even as the Specters continue to tear into me. Because the biggest problem for the specters as they float around me is that they have to get close.
And my own swords have formed their bladed barricades around me. They spin and twist, lopping off ectoplasmic limbs and torso, tearing gaping holes that trail misty whiteness. Damage accumulates fast for these creatures before they die. But killing them isn’t the problem.
It’s keeping them dead.
If they weren’t mostly insubstantial and translucent, if I didn’t have as high as a Perception attribute and the ability to see across multiple wavelengths, I might not be able to see down the choked hallway. Even then, it’s like staring down a road on a foggy winter morning, on those occasions when the temperature dropped below -40C and the water vapor from the river kept rising, cloaking the grounds of Whitehorse. When it gets that cold, the world itself blurs.
And it is cold. The walls are frozen, the ground is slick with ice, and the creatures themselves are shards of angry frost. I plow through them, refreshing my Soul Shield once in a while when I get tired of eating damage, when I need a little relief from the pain.
I plow through them, one after the other, while Ali strolls along, full size for once, hands behind his back. The specters try to attack him, try to tear him apart. They should be able to do so—but the damn Spirit has pulled out another trick. And so their attacks pass through his body.
“You could help!” I snap at the Spirit as I throw my knives, letting them tear through the specters. I’d noticed my lack of use of them, of using their ability to return to me, in my previous altercations. And, I admit, watching the other Erethrans fight gave me inspiration. The last few weeks have seen me doing my best to integrate the throwing knives into my new fighting style, especially since I’ve got a new sword to deal with.
“And give away my actual position?” Ali snorts. “Unlike someone, I don’t like getting torn into bits. Also, most of my skills aren’t particularly useful against them.”
I know that for the lie it is, but I’m a little too busy to call him out on it. I catch one of my swords, switch its position as it cuts down, deflect another of my own swords with my forearm and send it on another trajectory while making a third sword disappear before it lops off my toe. In the meantime, one floats above my head, ending its trajectory by decapitating a specter. Another finishes dismembering another specter, and the last just floats at my back, fending off potential attacks.
“And I am helping.” Ali floats on as another portion of the wall highlights itself.
I cut upward, watching my swords shift direction again, and I duck low, releasing my soulbound sword and snatching a knife from its sheath. An underhand toss and it tumbles through a specter, cutting through the wall. Behind, the totem shatters and a half-dozen specters howl and disappear.
Experience rolls in, discounted as the monsters aren’t true monsters but dungeon creations. Specters, half-formed immaterial golems, are held and replicated by totems laid throughout the building. I’ve been grinding through this dungeon, the sixth largest in the damn planet, for the last three days. Plunging deeper and deeper each day, and all the while, a portion of my mind gets updates.
Data streams in from drones, verbal communications, and the party chat. Even the occasional report. All of it flowing through the neural link, all of it mixing with the slew of knowledge that keeps bursting into my mind from the library. Tests on golems, System creations that the Questors try to make sapient, AIs driven mad by the prods of Questors and System-manipulation, destroyed in fire and flame. Long-winded diatribes.
And more updates. On how my friends are faring. How the initiates are managing.
Magine fighting in a team this week. Chopping apart a half-dozen flying monsters, literally hopping from one monster to the next before bouncing off the mountain walls to ascend higher. Freif, hiding in the distance, providing covering fire and picking off monsters. Even as Ropo continues to climb stealthily to the top. Where a giant egg resides, the prize and ending for their dungeon.
Kino is fighting by himself, plowing through a marshy dungeon. Water-logged, dragged down, and pounded into the ground, the Risen struggles to his feet time and again to tear at the wet, seaweed-like tentacles that attack him. He punches his way through, the Thousand Blades option on his gauntlet making them larger, allowing him to hit harder. Blade Strike becomes a power punch projection from his gauntlets, shooting Mana-infused attacks into the water and showering him with seaweed and gore. Always pushing ahead, never concerned about being drowned. Or being alone.
Gheisnan is by himself too. He’s been alone for the last half of the month, even as the other Paladins join together and split apart, tackling challenges in makeshift teams as necessary. Except for him. Where the Shaman used to rely on others, buff others, he’s in the midst of the fight now. Teeth bared, small daggers plunging in and out of the creatures he fights like a sewing needle. He’s savage, using teeth, claws on his feet, and his knives as he clears dungeon after dungeon. Trying to prove himself to me.
But I’ve noticed he never takes on one that’s over-leveled. He always knows when to pull back. When to retreat and recuperate. And come back later with even more savagery and determination.
As for Anayton, she’s working through the remnants of the fourteenth-strongest dungeon. She’s been there for the last week, even when the other members of her initial team split off, deciding to clear other areas first. She’s stubborn and persistent, constantly hunting the myriad monsters that have made the dungeon their home.
For the fourteenth-strongest dungeon is also the physically largest. Monsters of all kinds live in the re
mnants of the alien, skyscraper city. Forcing Anayton to travel up multiple floors, across creaking, worn floors and skywalks, to battle among crumbling remnants of civilization. Buildings fall, thunder rumbles, and monsters hunt her in a never-ending swarm. And still, she refuses to leave. Refuses to stop as she hunts for the boss. As she thins their numbers, all in preparation for the rest of us to help her.
Or end it herself.
There’s a staggering arrogance involved. I would have dropped a couple of nukes—or Beacons of the Angels—and called it a day. But she’s in no such luxury. Her Army of One Skill would drain her too much, take away her other options. She needs to grind them down. Step by step, kill by kill. And she does.
It’s impressive.
It’s idiotic.
It’s perfect.
***
“WHO DARES DISTURB MY REST!?!”
The voice rocks my world, thrumming through my flesh and blood, vibrating within my very bones. It’s dark and ominous, eerie in its pronunciation, more felt than heard. It cuts through Hod’s Armor with ease, throwing up damage notifications with each syllable.
Fear Effect Resisted
Aura of the Final Passage Resisted (94%)
Even through my mental resistances, the pressure of the creature’s aura, the terror it invokes with its words batters my mind, clutches at my soul. Reminds me of how mortal I am, that it is only a small step from life to death. When that eternal embrace will hold me, bringing me to my final end… just a small step, a closing of eyes, a blade in the gut.
“Yeah… creepy voice. Check.” I eyeball the creature floating before me. The boss monster is nearly a hundred feet tall, having emerged from the ground itself when it finally deigned to make itself known. “Faceless void for a face. Check.”
Black chains erupt from its body, crisscrossing the space between us. I jump and spin, dancing across the rattling chains, stepping on them, the air, and my own blades as I cross the distance to it.
