"Holy shit, what am I getting myself into?" he asked, shocked at the fact that the initial enemies were listed and numbered in the thousands.
Scott quickly checked the new options under force response authorization, but they were greyed out. He had not met other champions, yet, and did not have a companion area set up.
He walked over to the status area and spent a few of his saved points. He was saving them for the recreation area. However, that was not important anymore. If he succeeded in his goal, he would have a large influx of EXP coming his way. If he failed, he would be dead.
Scott maxed out the level of his storage container then filled it with food and water. He then filled his backpack as well. He could access his storage from any similar sized type of container in any world. It was quite a nice thing to have, and he was sure that a mall would have at least one foot locker or something similar floating around.
Afterward he had four hundred seventy two EXP left. He purchased the leather vest he had thought about for quite some time then maxed out its level after seeing that it would provide a substantial hit point boost. "Two hundred sixty-two left..."
Scott rubbed his chin for a moment. He nodded then decided that more dexterity would be good. When he attempted to increase it, a warning buzzer sounded and he was confronted by a strange and unwelcome sight. "The hell do you mean the stat is maximized?"
He'd been told that he could increase his stats without limit. Yet, now the system claimed that he had reached the maximum limit for a human. He read further then groaned.
[Bloodlines and Lifestyles]
You seem to have come to an impasse. You want to be more powerful, but your pathetic mortal frame just isn't good enough. Standard humans are a bit underwhelming, aren't they?
If you wish to advance your attributes beyond the biological maximum, you must become non-standard. Unlock a lifestyle or bloodline that will allow you to continue to develop your stats by becoming more than an ordinary man.
[—]
"Shit..." muttered Scott. The bastards didn't really lie to him before. They only neglected to tell him the full truth. He could increase his stats as high as he wanted, if he were more than a normal human.
It was a problematic discovery to say the least. The only bloodline that he managed to unlock so far was the one for zombies. There was no way in hell that he would choose that one. It was basically suicide.
"Damn..." said Scott. He was forced to undergo the mission with the capacity of a high-end, but normal, human being.
In the end, he opted to buy a health restorative potion for fifty EXP. He also noticed a new item in the lists, something that he would have purchased in bulk if he had the points. It was a cleansing pill to remove status effects. He bought one for eighty EXP, and then he tossed ninety points into strength.
After he purchased the healing items he was able to see what they did. His eyes widened slightly. The restorative increased the rate of cellular regeneration by a minimum factor of ten, and restored up to thirty hit points. The cleanser could cure any disease, and one of the examples cited was the zombie virus. Each item had three doses.
"Is it because of the story mission...?" Scott frowned slightly. No, that was not it. If he wagered a guess, it was the difficulty. If that were the case then testing the difficulty settings later would be useful.
The forty-two remaining points seemed useless for a moment till he remembered that there was no point in holding back. He put forty more points into strength, which raised his strength to [2.40] and the last two points into concentration which raised it to [1.50]. He looked over his status one last time before heading out, not that he could do much about it now.
[Status]
[Name: Scott Davidson]
[Age: 20]
[Race: Earthling]
[Level: 2][413/1000]
[EXP: 0.00]
[Life Span: 7 Day(s)]
[Hit Points: 8[128]
[ATTRIBUTES]
[Strength: 2.40][Resilience: 4.00]
[Vitality: 4.00][Dexterity: 4.00]
[Concentration: 1.5][Charisma: 1.00]
[FEATS]
[Improved Regeneration I]
[Improved Hit Points I]
[Improved Coordination I]
[POWERS]
[None]
[—]
Scott toyed with the idea of increasing all of his stats to four before developing any of them further, but now it seemed like it was no longer just a thought. Until he could find a bloodline or lifestyle worth having, he would have to rely on peak human stats and feats and whatever equipment he could scrounge up. Of course, that was only if he succeeded in this mission.
"All in... Time to win," he said in a half-hearted rhyme. There was no room for failure in this mission. He doubted that they would get any easier in the future. Something had to break now, or he would be stuck in several more weeks of grinding low-end missions. That would not be a terrible life to live, but it would completely derail his plans.
He walked over to the door then took a deep breath before finishing the mission acceptance process. He was as ready as he was going to be.
The door opened before him and revealed that his starting position was a shallow wooded area near a large parking lot. Just in front of him was a chain link fence covered in old vines. The screams and howls of the undead in the distance reached him easily. For a brief moment a lump rose in his throat. He could not smell them yet, he was not through the door. Still, there were far more zombies than he'd ever seen before in a mission. He could even see that there were a number of special zombies in the massive crowd.
Scott nodded his head then made two fists. "I can do this. I've trained, and I'm ready."
He psyched himself up as best he could within the time allowed before the mission would be forfeited. Twenty seconds left on the door timer, he stepped through the door. Immediately, he searched the area nearby to see if any zombies were lying in wait for him. As was typical, there were none behind him. They all seemed to be in the parking lot near the mall.
Instead of charging in like a screaming asshole, his typical method, he decided to use a little common sense. He performed a perimeter check of the area. As he moved, he tried to be as silent and stealthy as possible. He needed information, not violent gunplay. For the better part of one of his precious irreplaceable hours, he circled the area. Zombies passed by his position more than once. The noise of their kindred had their full attention, and his lack of noise prevented them from noticing him.
Scott came to a conclusion, every few minutes two or three zombies staggered into the area. It was a slow trickle, but a steady one.
There was no way to get to the roof of the mall without going through the horde. It was surrounded on all sides. If he ran into the mob, he would have to hope that they remained slow and stupid on the higher difficulty level.
If he went in guns blazing, he was certain that even more zombies would join the fray. The question was, could he kill more of them than the number that appeared due to his increase in noise.
A plan slowly formed. Nothing had changed, really. His best friends in a zombie apocalypse were elevation, speed, and unlimited ammunition. There were only a dozen cars in the parking lot. That meant that the store had probably been closed during the time that the plague swept the area. Only security and after hours staff would have been there at most, initially.
Due to the limited number of vehicles, he could not use the parking lot to his advantage. Not against such a large horde. However, he spied something far more useful. On the far side of the parking lot, there was what he considered to be a perfect opportunity to draw the bastards away.
He took several deep breaths, immediately wished that he had not done so due to the stench, and then walked out of his hiding spot behind a metal rail. Scott put his newfound strength to work alongside his dexterity and vitality. He raced forward in a flat-out run that would have made an Olympic sprinter take notice. He was not quite a world reco
rd breaker, yet. But he was damned fast and could run far longer than any other runner that Earth had ever produced on its own. Maximum vitality was fun that way.
The zombies took notice after the second minute of hard running. He was one-third of the way to his goal by the time several zombies staggered out of the crowd and began to give chase. Not long after that, a few of those zombies began to perform a steady jog of their own. They were not running zombies, but they were definitely faster than he had seen to date.
Scott tore through the parking lot, his heart pumping hard, and his chest heaving. If he had judged the distance and the height of the structure wrongly, he would be in trouble.
Zombies jogged hungrily after him. Occasionally, one flailed its arms in a desperate bid to reach his sweet meats faster, but only managed to lose its balance and fall over.
He was halfway to his destination when something happened that made the situation go from bad to worse. A screech went up followed by what sounded like a garbled shout. "Howsha Faddergh?"
Suddenly, a zombie came from around the corner of the mall and made a bee-line toward him at a high rate of speed. Scott shouted, "Shit!" and continued to run. He was faster, or so he hoped, but that damnable thing could sprint and it didn't seem interested in slowing down.
Another screech echoed across the parking lot. "Mamagh lovsh Yoo!" Another running zombie gave chase. Scott did not have time to admire its undead appearance, but he could have sworn that she had been a pregnant woman at one point.
Three more screams rose up as Scott approached his destination. It was the gas station across the street. It offered him two things that he felt could be useful, a steady raised platform to stand on, and a means to get up there.
Just as he reached his destination an extreme scream resonated through the area followed by what could only be an undead battle cry. The roaring cry grew steadily louder as the sound of pounding feet echoed behind him. Scott managed to jump up onto the hood of the eighteen-wheeler that he intended to use as a means of reaching his gun platform. He glanced back to see what was coming then wished that he had not.
The zombie screeched once more and seemed to pick up even more speed. It ran far faster than anything a human could have generated and did so with great dexterity.
"God dammit!" shouted Scott as she clambered onto the roof of the truck then jumped up and latched onto the overhead concrete awning that protected the fuel pumps. He pulled himself up just in time to see the zombie speedster leap straight onto the hood of the truck.
Scott fired at the overly amped up critter. It actually dodged one of his shots, though its movement seemed more like luck than actual skill. Another shot grazed its shoulder. It paced like a rabid dog atop the hood, then jumped from side-to-side.
It made a hungry leap toward its desired treat, but that proved to be its mistake. Scott managed to hit it center mass. A large hole was blown in its putrid chest and it fell back from the force of the shot. The zombie hit the hood then rolled off. After slapping down onto the ground Scott fired at it again. The next shot hit it in the shoulder since it was writhing around.
"No, noh! Pleashe!" cried the zombie while covering its head. Scott blinked then his eyes widened. "Shit, are you alive?"
The other slower, but still abnormally fast, zombies started to arrive. Scott took his eyes off the oddball zombie long enough to spare the others a glance. The fallen zombie took the chance to rise back to its feet, throw its arms back, and scream like a maniac.
Quick as a flash it was back on the hood and already preparing to make another jump. It was too damaged from the fall to dodge as easily this time, however. Scott's next shot took it in the side of the head. Thankfully, the nature of plasma rounds caused them to act as a sort of miniaturized explosive once the damage stats reached the point that his pistol possessed.
When the shots from his maxed pistol connected, the ammunition expanded outward and made large holes. Until he'd taken the coordination improvement feat, he'd still missed frequently. However, he rarely failed to kill zombies within one or two shots now. Even a grazing shot to the head might prove deadly with such ammunition and a little luck. A clean center shot to the head was always best, however. Anything else would leave the result to chance.
He earned five EXP for that one zombie, proving that it was meant to be a high-grade threat in this mission. It was worth more than twice the points of a riot zombie, and more than sixteen times that of a normal one.
The runners were upon him now. Just like the screaming demon before them, they climbed onto the truck and tried to reach him by jumping. They had neither the speed, nor the coordination, to make it work. Only one of them managed to reach the platform. All it did was cling uselessly to the side and provided an opening for an easy headshot.
"Mama lovsh you, baby," cried the pregnant zombie as she rose to her knees. Her shin bones stuck out through her skin, now. She would not be running anymore. Scott mercifully ended her undead existence.
By the time he finished with the runners, he was forced to reload. The joggers were close now. Scott took a deep breath then waited out the cool down timer before switching the safety off once more.
A combination of his improved coordination and maximum human dexterity made it easier to shoot the oncoming creatures. Even at the current distance, he still only needed one or two shots to take them in the head. He fired till empty then waited through the reload process.
The horde lumbered toward him as he waited. They came in the thousands, some large and powerful, some a little faster than the others. All wanted one thing, his sweet man candy.
He picked off as many of them as he could from his current position, before he had to make his decision. He needed to leave that platform and get to the mall before he was surrounded by a sea of the dead. There were enough of them that they could climb atop the piled up bodies to reach him before he could finish his grisly task. So far, he had not seen any more runners after he had finished the first group. Whether there were any waiting in hiding was another story.
Scott scanned the area, his hand shading his eyes. A plan formed then he nodded. "No one promised I would live through this."
He emptied his pistol once more by taking down a few of the faster shamblers then set his weapon to reload while he made good on his plan. He hopped down from the platform and landed on the hood of the truck. It was a good drop, but nothing dangerous for him.
The supposed champion of mankind jumped to the ground then ran behind the gas station toward a residential street beyond. A series of fences would obscure his movements from the horde and allow a relatively clear path back to the mall parking lot.
His stamina had completely returned to him in the short time that he had spent on the platform, so he was up for another hard run. Scott trotted quickly along the side-street, his gun at the ready in case another berserker zombie popped up.
A few shamblers staggered toward him from various nearby houses, but they offered no true danger to his health. That is, there was no danger until he rounded the corner and ran right into a pack of six zombies.
A hellish screech erupted from the throat of the zombie in the center. Its chest starting to heave rapidly. Scott wasted no time in opening fire on the bastard. He tore several holes in its chest and knocked it down in the process, but he was unable to finish it off before the other five were on him. They were not berserkers, but they could jog.
Scott hopped back and fired at them as best he could. He managed to kill two of them before he was forced to flee.
The berserker regained his feet and turned toward him with a feral snarl. "Come back, daddy!"
Scott did not like how clear and resonant the thing's voice sounded. It was not only faster, it was probably at least a little smarter than the others.
It shrieked then gave chase. Scott hurled himself over a low chain link fence then whipped around to face it. The creature leapt up to clear the obstacle as well, but met two quick shots to the chest instead. It was
knocked back a bit. The forward momentum of its leap was cut short and it landed hard atop the fence in a straddled position. Scott winced in sympathetic pain as any living man would have been devastated by such a fall.
The berserker did not care about his former manhood, however. It flailed its arms spastically in a bid to reach him, but only fell backward as a result. Scott took the chance to finish it off. Two more zombies met a similar fate before he was forced to reload.
The final jogging zombie clambered over the fence then turned toward Scott, but his agile meal ticket had already hopped over to the other side. The zombie followed suit in an attempt to get at him. However, by the time that it had made it over the top, a plasma round penetrated its putrid brain and sent bits of its thoughts splattering about the area. Scott had bought enough time to reload.
"Get some!" shouted Scott while he made a fist pumping gesture with his right hand and thrust his left one forward. Stealth had gone out the window the moment he had been forced to fight. His gun was not silent on the matter of zombie slaying most of the time.
"Note to self, get true unlimited ammo weapon in the future." Scott finished off the zombies nearby in order to have the chance to reload his weapon once more. He wanted to know exactly how many shots he had left when he ran through the parking lot.
Normal mode story missions proved to him the fact that his twelve shot pistol might be strong enough, but it did not have the ammo capacity that he actually needed. It was fine for killing off weak zombies on easy missions, but he needed to upgrade again soon.
He took a deep breath then frowned. "Damn, you bastards smell like rotten eggs." He was so done with zombies. Fuck zombies, the rotten bastards.
With a gleam of determination in his eyes, he white knuckled his pistol. It was time to make his play. Scott ran into the parking lot and raced past the sea of shambling horrors. They had slowly moved toward his position while he dealt with the last six and were a little close for his comfort.
Galactic Fist of Legend Page 12
