"Neither do we, but he cured you." said Jed.
The older man's eyes began to mist over. "My prayers.... God really does still hear prayers even in this world." He lifted his hands to his face and stopped trying to fight the tears.
Scott looked away from the man's face. It was no shame to cry after such a surprising recovery, especially after the world had gone to hell. He just did not want to look at it. "Glad I could help. But we don't really have time to grieve the fact that we're all alive."
"Yeah, you said something about three days? What happens then?" asked Jed.
Father Harrison answered before Scott could. "We will be killed by the infected if we aren't out of here by the dawn of the fourth day."
Scott glanced at him then nodded. He was not certain about that, personally, as he had been told nothing more than the most basic of information. "I have a little under seventy hours to get your people to a location that has been pre-selected for survivability."
"Yes, you want to help use create a safe zone hub," said the good father.
"You know all of that?" asked Scott, surprised.
Father Harrison sighed heavily. "Yes, since I was a small boy God has allowed me insight, sometimes even visions and portents of things to come. That gift has only grown since the plague. When I sleep, I sometimes see strange things."
"Like what?" asked Scott, curiously.
"Well, apparently I recently gained a level, though admittedly I do not know what that means. While my body was racked with the disease, god taught me how to use a new gift even though it is still a small thing."
"God gave you a gift?" asked Balding-George. "Father Harrison, what is it?"
The good father lifted one hand then placed it to his chest. "Oh divine power that dwells within the heavens, bolster the courage of the faithful and drive back the wicked."
A brilliant white light flared from the old priest and raced across the room. Everyone within thirty feet suddenly felt an increase in their overall well-being.
A little blue window appeared in front of Scott. While people began to ask what had happened, he already knew.
[Status Effect]
[Protection from Evil]
You have been blessed by a true priest. For a short period of time no creature born of wickedness, or corrupted by darkness, can approach you closer than a distance of ten feet.
Duration: 2 minutes, 36 seconds
Effect(s):
- Blocks possession of the warded target.
- Blocks direct attacks from evil creatures.
- Prevents corruption from infernal diseases, spells, and toxins.
- Will causes wicked creatures to recoil upon touching the warding field.
- Attacking another creature while under this blessing will cancel the effect.
- A creature with a spell-resistance greater than the faith of the caster will be able to ignore this protection. Though, the defense against possession and corruption by poisons, spells, and toxins will remain in effect.
Range: 10 feet
[--]
"Whoa, not bad. Protection from evil..." said Scott. It was certainly unexpected that a random priest would be granted a spell in a survival horror world, but whatever. He was using an unlimited ammunition handgun that fired plasma rounds and could tank a shotgun blast to the face if he timed it right. Who was he to judge realism?
"You can discern the nature of this gift?" asked Father Harrison curiously.
"Yeah, it generates a ten foot sphere of protection around the people that you cast it upon. The zombies outside won't be able to touch us if we don't attack them, and it will prevent infection even if we find a zombie strong enough to overcome your faith." He leaned his head to the side. "Looks like it lasts about two and a half minutes or so."
"The duration depends on how many people receive the blessing at once. If there are few people it will last longer," said the Father.
"Seriously? Is this some Dungeons and Dragons bullshit now?" asked Smug Guy.
"Let's hope so. Maybe he'll level-up again and gain a Mass Turn Undead or something. Maybe even cure disease, or resurrection. That would be badass," said Scott.
Father Harrison blinked at Scott then cracked a smile. "You seem to know about these gifts."
The various people in the room babbled and asked questions, but were mostly ignored while Scott and the good father spoke. "Something like that. I've not gained anything like it, yet. Most of my gifts come in the form of being able to take damage or deal it."
Scott's eyes widened slightly after saying that, and then he looked to Father Harrison. "Now I see why you were deemed so important in this mission. If we can get you to the safe zone, it's much more likely that people could survive the plague long term."
Suddenly, the situation became clear. Father Harrison was the reason why the local survivors might be able to struggle back from the brink of extinction. This world was currently hell, or at least hell adjacent. However, after an introduction of magic that can destroy the undead, or protect from infection, it might eventually turn into some other kind of reality. It would be a genre change that brought about a hopefully better life for those who were forced to continue living in this nightmare world.
It made a certain sort of sense. How long could a zombie apocalypse last anyway? It was the sort of story concept that could only last for a decade or so at most. Even if rot was slowed, or stopped, the zombies were mostly stupid. They might continue on for a while, but eventually civilization would rise from the ashes.
In a sick way, it was an inspired method to restructure the world. Kill almost everyone off with a super plague then recreate the world according to the new paradigm.
The old priest was the one most suited to help people in the long run. If he could be safe-guarded, he would be able to offer protection from the zombie virus. That would remain true even if he never gained another ability.
"How often can you grant that blessing?" asked Scott.
Father Harrison smiled beatifically. "Three times per day, with the gift renewing at sunrise each day after a sincere morning prayer."
"Priestly magic indeed," said Scott. It was a gift in the truest sense of the word. Unlike a wizard or sorcerer, the good father's power was a divine grant. He would be heavily restricted in how he could use it, but there was definite hope for the people attempting to survive in this part of the world now.
Chapter 9: Go Team Devil
The shopping mall, symbol of capitalist power and influence, was alive with the spirit of communism. After Father Harrison was pulled back from the brink of death, the people in the mall became far more compliant. Their willingness to listen to the mysterious stranger who came into their lives increased several fold. Hope was a strange little Easter egg to find in any survival horror game scenario. In this lovely little scene, it was the hope for a better future that drove the formerly hopeless survivors forward.
Currently, the people in the mall were busy raiding every nook and cranny for useful items. Scott spent his time on the roof clearing out zombies. Their numbers did not increase significantly while he discussed the situation with Mr. Mustache and crew earlier.
Mostly slow, and stupid, they staggered around in short bursts of movement and moaned every time they heard a noise. Of course, this meant that they produced a constant chorus of moans due to the fact that none of the rotten bastards would be silent long enough for the rest to calm down.
In some ways it reminded him of roosters crowing and dogs barking in the night. Once one neighborhood animal started crowing or howling, that shit went on all night as the local critters called back and forth.
Scott looked at the handful of large special zombies and frowned. Why hadn't they beaten the doors in, yet? They were no doubt strong enough to do so. Some parts of this supposed game world simply made no logical sense.
His weapon's cool down period ended, and he began firing once more. At this point it was ridiculously simple to kill off nine or ten zombies before he needed to
reload. Every time he fired, they moaned at him and reached up for that sweet man candy that they desired so much.
Every now and then he would shoot one of the big bastards in the head to make them go crazy. Dozens of zombies were killed whenever that happened. Scott even received experience points for the kills that were made in the process.
It was the best way to spend the next few hours as far as he was concerned. Only a handful of zombies trickled in at a time. There were thousands of the hungry bastards in the parking lot, but none of them could get inside the building or up onto the roof. In short, he had been served experience points on a platter. All he had to do was enjoy his meal.
In some ways it was the perfect scenario, one that any zombie movie character would have killed to see happen. A guy with an infinite ammo cheat could literally kill off every zombie in town if there was no time limit. A single gun could save the world as long as there was a high enough platform to stand on for each combat operation.
Most of the rotting creatures were slaughtered within the first half hour. In fact, he would be surprised if more than one hundred of them still staggered around in the parking lot. At that point he began to take lengthy breaks, while he waited for the zombies to come to him. They would keep coming as long as there was food and noise in the area.
Mr. Mustache came to see him after a few hours had passed. "Why's it so quiet?"
Scott waved him over and pointed down at the carnage below. Jed blinked slowly as his eyes swept over the hellish scene. Corpses littered the area as far as the eye could see. A handful of zombies in the distance staggered toward the mall, but all else was quiet.
"You did all this?" asked Jed, shocked by the scene.
Scott nodded then shot a zombie straggler that came within range. "Killing time until your people are packed and ready. Figured, I'd clear out most of them before I went to find proper transport."
"Transport, right. We damn sure can't walk," said Jed. His eyes lingered on the scene of carnage below for quite some time. Whoever this Scott was supposed to be, it was obvious that he was not a normal person.
The slightly bored zombie-slayer frowned as another zombie staggered into range. A plasma round shot out and neatly burst the monster's head apart like a piñata.
"Damn, you make it look easy..." said Jed in a low, slow, whistle, "That had to be a few hundred yards away..."
"Not a big deal for someone like me," said Scott without a hint of hubris in his tone. It was a matter-of-fact statement made by a man with maximized human eye-hand coordination and a weapon that could simply hit one part of the skull and still tear a rotting head apart.
Jed nodded his head slowly. "I see."
He looked to Scott then asked, "How long you been doing this...?"
Scott laughed a little then sighed. "If I count the actual days, not long at all. It feels like years, though."
"Same here. All this, it's only been going on for a few months but it seems like it was all a lifetime ago," said Jed.
"I'm sorry that this happened to your people," said Scott softly, while he gazed out at the approaching stragglers.
Jed did not answer for a moment. There was a lot to process. When he did speak again, it was to ask, "Is there anything you can do?"
"If I've given you the idea that I'm in charge of anything, I apologize," said Scott.
He looked over to Jed. "At the moment, the only thing I can do for your people is what I'm doing now."
Jed looked to the corpses littering the parking lot. He could not argue with results, even if he hoped for a chance to regain the old world.
"At the moment...?" asked Jed, as he realized more of what Scott actually said.
Scott nodded. "Have to see how things go."
Silence reigned for a time as the men watched the continuing struggles of the zombies straggling into the area. They never gave up in their attempt to find that sweet, sweet, meat. The survivors would need to become the same in their desire to remain alive and human.
"You said a few things before you helped Father Harrison," said Jed.
"Saying things is sort of what I do," said Scott with a tired laugh.
Jed scratched his cheek briefly while he eyed the sea of corpses down below. "Aliens, I mean..."
"Ah, those assholes," said Scott. He snorted loudly then threw up one hand. "I honestly don't know what to tell you about them."
"You don't know what they're like?" asked Jed. "I mean, at all?"
Scott looked to the man briefly then asked, "Have you ever seen the show Star Trek?"
"Yeah, I've seen a few episodes," replied Jed.
"Well, in the Next Generation series there is an alien known as Q," said Scott. He tilted his head and asked, "Ever hear of him?"
Jed frowned a little then closed his eyes slightly like he was trying to remember something. "Q? I think I do. One of the episodes had something to do with an alien judging that bald captain guy's crew."
"Yeah, that was the first episode of the series. I sort of think of the alien asshats that came to my world as being like that guy," said Scott. He gestured toward the zombies with his gun. "He can literally create entire worlds populated with all manner of bullshit, and does it solely to fuck with a bunch of interstellar primates just for shits and giggles."
"Interstellar primates?" asked Jed.
"Yeah, the bald captain guy you mentioned," said Scott. He then eyed Jed carefully, "His name's Jean Luc Picard, by the way. Was played by Patrick Stewart, and probably the best captain ever to put on a Star Fleet uniform."
"Ah, I see," said Jed. He edged slightly away from Scott. The growing intensity in the man's eyes was a little disturbing.
*****
The sights and sounds of city life were a comfort for many people. Humanity, in all its circus sideshow glory and inherent insanity, would stroll through the well-structured streets. Largely hairless apes that skittered through the shadows of their own monolithic creations, they never knew that they were being watched by beings of far greater power and even more diverse forms of insanity.
Viewing screens, flat panels that operated like television sets, floated in the air before a being who looked much like a man. On most of the screens, he viewed the Earth that was currently in dispute. On the few remaining panels many different sets of statistics flowed across the screen in a constant stream of data.
After a moment, the silver haired man placed a finger to his chin then directed the latest data set to reverse course. His eyes widened slightly, followed by a thin smile. "So, one of them has managed to achieve more than one hundred followers. He even has thirty-five citations of favorite status."
Most of the new crop of champions had not garnered the interest of the masses. Humans from a standard world were not particularly powerful protagonists. Yet, after only one week there was at least one champion who managed to achieve a small following. He was not alone of course. Several thousand other champions were approaching the milestone of one hundred followers.
He tapped a button on his command console and an image of the man in question came into view. "So, what about you has garnered interest from the viewership?"
Little happened for a while. The man on screen, a Scott Davidson, sat in the bushes across from a retail establishment. "This is human entertainment worthy of following? I see neither breasts nor explosions," said the watcher.
The obvious Michael Bay fan continued to eye-fuck Scott for a time. He sized him up carefully. His stats were nearly maxed out for a human. He managed to unlock a few things, and seemed willing to at least do the job he agreed to perform.
After nearly half an hour of watching Scott tip-toe around the edge of a mall parking lot like a poor man's Solid Snake, the silver haired being sighed. "Seriously? I don't have time for this."
"Daedra!" called the watcher. A brilliant column of light rose up from the floor in front of his ordinary office desk. Within the confines of that light a beautiful girl with the wings of a bat and a long slender tail app
eared.
The gorgeous creature knelt down then placed one hand atop her knee and lowered her eyes. "I have come to serve you, Grand Emissary."
The Grand Emissary blinked at the kneeling girl then sighed. "Seriously? You're still on that whole Milord thing?"
"I am but your humble vassal. I exist to be used as you desire," said Daedra impassively.
"You're my little sister, and you're creeping me the fuck out with this brocon stuff. Get a boyfriend already," said the Emissary with another sigh.
"As the Grand Emissary wishes..." said Daedra before she began to disrobe.
"Not me!" He waved his hands spastically in the air. "Seriously... What's wrong with you?"
"I'm a succubus. We do naughty things," she said reasonably.
"Since when are you a succubus?" he asked curiously.
Finally, she broke character and sighed loudly. "Come on... Can't you just play along a little?"
"I'm busy running an interdimensional gaming empire." He eyed her for a moment. "Something you should be helping me with instead of distracting me from."
Daedra pouted at him slightly then pushed her hot pink hair out of her face. "Am I not helping? I do run around checking on champion status and the like. I do a lot in the public relations department as well."
"Yes, I know that you are quite popular in the public relations department," said the Grand Emissary in a sour tone of voice.
"Why... Is my Grand Emissary-poo jealous?" asked Daedra.
"No," he said flatly. "Annoyed is more like it. Our family has a reputation to uphold! If we want to keep those self-righteous idiots in the Divine City from having a monopoly on the gaming industry, we'll need to step up our own game."
Daedra groaned. "Yeah, no kidding. All they do is go on and on about their prime directive of not harming humanity in its natural state."
"Exactly. They would rather watch humanity suffer endlessly or die off rather than interfere," said the Grand Emissary.
They chatted amiably for a moment, mostly about how much cooler they were than the feebs in the Divine City, before the Emissary got back to business. "Daedra. I want you to follow this guy around and see what's so interesting about him."
Galactic Fist of Legend Page 14
