Path of Transcendence 1: Ultimatum of the Nameless God

by Brian McGoldrick

  “Special Agent Jones.”

  Both Wendell and Clarence look in my direction, but only Wendell comes over to us. Clarence turns back to his monitor, poking at a keyboard in a rather rapid two-finger typing style.

  “We're leaving. I hope you don't intend to interfere.”

  A complicated series of emotions seems to flow across Wendell's face, before his normal mask is back in place. “I have no intention of dying, especially in a futile effort. You and Mr. Urehara both fled through that portal thing in the confusion. No one is going to dispute that.”

  “Have you confirmed how many died?” Urehara-sensei's voice is soft.

  Wendell sighs. “This mess makes the first incident look like a child's prank. At last count, the FBI had accounted for over three million dead, only one-tenth of those Taereun players. According to these computers, the total number of dead Taereun players is just over 1.2 million. I very much doubt that will prove to be inaccurate. Mr. McGuinness, I would ask only one thing. Please, terminate that god with extreme prejudice.”

  I cannot keep from grinning. “Special Agent, I damn well intend to try.”

  Wendell's smile reaches his eyes for the first time that I have seen. “Good bye, Mr. McGuinness. Good bye, Mr. Urehara.”

  The alcove with the portal has a number of strange devices that resemble those in the Chamber of Transition. This portal must be a similar type of magical technology. Looking at the the portal itself, there is an arch, almost identical to the teleport stations scattered around the Labyrinth of Yggr. Filling the arch is the normal faintly shimmering silver energy field.

  Glancing at Urehara-sensei, I step through the portal.

  *** Four Bones Goblin Lair - Battleground of the Damned ***

  Return - Day 1

  I step into an alcove, curtained off with half-rotting hides. Looking behind me, I see an idol on a pedestal that looks familiar. I am sure I should recognize it, but I just cannot place it. The alcove is dim, with the flickering light coming from the other side of the curtain.

  Less than ten seconds pass, Urehara-sensei steps out of the portal. He looks around for a moment, until his face twists into an expression of sheer horror.

  “AAARRRR!” As his scream echoes, Urehara-sensei grabs his head, and his eyes roll up, so only the whites are visible. His knees buckle, and I catch him, lowering him to the ground.

  What the fuck is happening to him?

  “Wha' dat?”

  I just barely hear the voice over Urehara-sensei's continuing screams. The words are in the goblin tongue. I learned a bit of the goblin tongue when I acquired Talon's memories.

  Urehara-sensei's condition reminds me of our arrival in the Chamber or Transition. Could Urehara-sensei be dealing external memories? He had a “character” in Taereun; could The Nameless have force fed those memories into Urehara-sensei's body?

  When the light grows brighter, I look over my shoulder. The hide curtains are being held apart by an ugly wizened creature. Its broad monkey-like face is framed by two huge ears, and its fanged lower jaw, with a hefty underbite, is hanging open. Its mottled brownish-grey skin has an oily sheen and the texture of the pigskin cover on a football. The somewhat bulbous body, with bandy arms and legs, resembles an orangutan. At 4'6” tall, it is one damn big goblin.

  “Da fuck? 'Uman?”

  As I spin, my swords ring, while clearing their sheathes. The first blade slices open the goblin's throat, and a fraction of second later, the second removes its head.

  The goblin's corpse falls backward, spasmodically grabbing the rotting hide curtain. Blue blood sprays outward into the room behind the goblin, as the curtain falls down on its body. The stench of goblin shit, worse than a latrine trench in the middle of summer, fills the air.

  The floor of the cave is uneven, and an empty throne, crudely made, sits near the alcove. More than thirty goblins are scattered around the cave. They stare at me, with a mixture of expression's, confusion predominant.

  “Da fuck?”

  “Tur'grod dead?”

  “Kill 'uman!”

  In ones and twos, they begin to charge toward my alcove, drawing a variety of weapons as they advance. Dirty, notched, and blood crusted, their weapons are certain to leave infected wounds on most living things.

  While they are not exceptionally dextrous or agile, pound for pound, goblins are many times stronger than humans. Their strength and mine should be about equal, so I channel some ki through my body and heighten my reaction speed.

  The alcove entry I am blocking is narrow, and only two goblins can attack me at a time, without getting in each other's way. Blocking the simplistic attacks of the two, I toe-kick the one on the right in the groin, one testicle ruptures and the muscles tear. The goblin falls to the ground, squealing in agony. As my right foot touches the ground, my right blade cleaves the skull of the other goblin.

  Kicking the corpse into the goblin behind it, I stab my left hand blade through that goblin's eye and step forward to avoid the hack from the goblin to the right. Slicing my right hand blade along the right side goblins throat, I open up its jugular and cartoid artery. Blood spurting like a fountain from its neck, the goblin spins and tries to run, tangling up the goblins behind. Three more times my swords strike and, three more goblins fall to the ground, their brains spilling form the rents in their skulls.

  Goblins are vicious, sadistic, hateful, vengeful, conniving, tribal beasts, but first and foremost, goblins are cowards. Seeing six of their brethren dead in as many seconds, the charging goblins turn to flee.

  “Run!”

  “Monster!”

  “Demon!”

  As the goblins bite, claw and scratch at one another, trying to be first to escape into the exit tunnel, I tear into their backs. Seventeen more fall dead, before the rest manage scramble down the tunnel. The only things left are goblin corpses, blue blood and the reek of goblin shit.

  Urehara-sensei is unconscious. Sweating, twitching and moaning in his sleep, he is as pale as a ghost. If I am right, and The Nameless has inserted his character's memories into his mind, he is have a hard time with them. Dragging Urehara-sensei away from the alcove, I leave him by a wall away from both the alcove and the tunnel.

  This is the Four Bones Goblin Lair. I did not recognize it at first, but now I am certain. I farmed it once, early on when I played Taereun. Factoring in my time playing Taereun as a game and my time in the Lands of Despair, it would have been more than thirty years ago. No wonder I could not remember it, I have over fifty subjective years of memories, most of my memories of my early days in Taereun have become dim, just like most of my childhood memories.

  Searching the goblins, I empty their belt pouches. Every one of them has a handful of uncut gemstones. These gems are the main reason that players used to farm someplace as out of the way as this lair.

  Including this room, there are four “throne rooms” like this scattered in these caves. Each throne room, has an idol, like the one in the alcove. The players used to call them the spawn idols,, since the goblins would “spawn” around the idols. but apparently, they are terminus points, connected to gates outside of the Labyrinth of Yggr.

  This is a tiny zone, and without an external supply of goblins, its population would have been entirely wiped out early on. There are another sixteen or seventeen zones like this that I have encountered. On the other hand, most of the zones in the Labyrinth are much larger, and there is no apparent external supply of inhabitants. Knowing that this is really not a game, I wonder what the purpose of these small zones with the gate termini are?

  I sit near Urehara-sensei, in the lotus position, and enter a light trance. My ki mixes with the psi, which feels like barely more than a trace amount, in my mind. Flowing outward, my awareness fills an area nearly seventy yards in diameter. Unless it is shielded against psi, nothing can enter this circle without my being aware of it.

  “What is that horrid stench?”

  It has been less than half an hour, but i
t is not a moment too soon. The goblins are starting to gather in the tunnel. They are not close enough for me to sense them, but I can hear them shuffling around and cursing at each other.

  “Goblin shit.”

  “Is this a goblin latrine?”

  “No. If it was, you would be projectile vomiting. This doesn't even come close to the reek of a goblin latrine.”

  “You sound like you have smelled one before.”

  “Unfortunately.” I cannot help but laugh. “What happened to you, Sensei?”

  Urehara-sensei frowns. “Enough with the Sensei, Mark. Urehara Ryouske is no more. I am Jinmu, and Jinmu is not your sensei.”

  I nod, with a slight smile. “Okay, Jinmu. From now on, call me Brand. Mark McGuinness and Talon are both dead. Brand is a good enough name for me.”

  Jinmu frowns. “That Nameless God called you that, right before he disappeared. How did he know?”

  “I don't know. Did he give you the memories of your character?”

  Jinmu has a startled expression on his face. “How did you know?”

  “After the Great Fuck Over, we all went through what you did, but your experience looked mild compared to ours.”

  “I do not know what it was like for you, but for me it felt like someone was drilling a hole in my skull. Other than that, it was disorienting, trying to come to terms with two sets of memories.”

  “Sounds a lot easier than what I went through.”

  Jinmu looks around the room. “You have been busy.”

  “Not really, but we better get a move on. The survivors are getting ready to try again.”

  Jinmu smiles ironically. “Do you have any idea where we are?”

  “I know almost exactly where are. Four Bones Goblin Lair, but I'm not sure which of the sub-chiefs' caves this is, not that I matters. Goblins are trash, we'll just kill our way out.”

  Jinmu draws his katana. “I like the sound of that.”

  *** North Dakota - Earth ***

  December 27, 2077

  After Mark McGuinness and Ryouske Urehara disappeared through the gate, Wendell Jones turned around to find Clarence Jones behind him.

  “You sure this won't be a problem?”

  Wendell Jones shrugged slightly. “Did you really want to try and stop Mark McGuinness?”

  They both started walking back to the computer room.

  Clarence Jones shudders slightly, with a hint of something in his eyes that he was unaccustomed to. “No. That fucking prick was so fast I couldn't even follow his movements. Nothing human should be that fast or that strong. Shit, he picked up and threw Smith with one hand. That's just not . . .”

  Clarence Jones' words trailed off, when he felt a presence behind him. Clarence Jones was a born killer, one of the few left in America. In the service of his government, he had hunted and killed thousands of men, women, and children, all around the world. His instincts were second to none, when it came to danger.

  Wendell Jones looked his partner, who was looking over his shoulder, before turning around. In the alcove where the gate was, a bearded man in a brown robe stood. In his hand, he carried a staff taller than himself, with a blood red crystal in the top. This man was the leader of the priests that the FBI has massacred earlier.

  Behind him were arrayed six tall, inordinately slender men in black chainmail, with helmets that revealed only their eyes. Those eyes were so cold, that even the murderous Clarence Jones fell a chill down his spine looking into them. Each of the men had a glaive in his hands.

  Floating over them was the translucent form The Nameless God, a slight smile on his lips. “Cha vertruth sen'da coll, hast va coll.”

  “What the fuck?” Clarence Jones softy muttered his words, the presence of The Nameless God nearly paralyzing him.

  “The DokkAlfar do not speak English. I told them to give you a painful death.”

  “FUCK YOU, ASSHOLE!” Clarence Jones roared, anger somewhat dispelling his fear. He pulled up the muzzle of his AA-12 combat shotgun and pulled the trigger.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The 12 gauge slugs flattened against an invisible barrier and fell to the ground.

  The bearded man smiled, nastily. “Mark McGuinness is a toad that can be useful, but you are just toads that are in the way. If not for his presence, I would have exterminated you earlier.”

  The other member of the FBI assault team came running from the computer room, M-16A5 assault rifles in hand. Forming a firing line next to the Joneses, the waited for orders.

  A single DokkAlfar stepped forward, and the invisible shield did not impede it.

  “FIRE!” Clarence Jones pulled the trigger on his AA-12 at the same time he yelled.

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Brrraaappp!

  Brrraaappp!

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Brrraaappp!

  The heavy 12 gauge slugs once again fell to the ground, after impacting the invisible shield, and Clarence Jones' face turned into a mask of rage. He shifted his aim to the DokkAlfar.

  The DokkAlfar seemed to dance forward, swaying and weaving as the hundreds of 5.56mm rounds flew harmlessly past. He seemed to be moving slowly, but in the blink of an eye, he was in striking range of the FBI agents. His glaive turned into a blur, and three agents fell to the ground, with blood spurting from ruined knees and shoulder.

  Screams of agony mixed with the roar of gunfire, and Wendell Jones' mask broke, his face twisting with hate and rage. Reaching inside his jacket, he pulled out a thumb-sized cylinder and threw it at the DokkAlfar's feet.

  “Flashbang!”

  The FBI turned their heads and covered their ears. The DokkAlfar tilted its head, staring curiously at the smoking cylinder on the ground.

  “BOOM!”

  “Aaaarrrrrr!” The DokkAlfar's scream echoed in the pit. The other DokkAlfar and the priest yelled and covered their eyes.

  “Withdraw!”

  While their enemy flailed about waiting for their sight to recover, the FBI team grabbed their wounded and fled up the stairs.

  When his vision cleared, the lone DokkAlfar lightly ran to the stairs.

  “Stop.” The Nameless used the DokkAlfar tongue.

  “Lord?” The DokkAlfar's voice was soft and melodious, even when speaking the harshly inflected DokkAlfar language.

  “They will not escape. There are iron wolves outside.”

  “Lord!” The DokkAlfar knelt on one knee, bowing to The Nameless.

  The Nameless waved his hand, and the giant cube reappeared.

  “J'Rome, begin the next phase.”

  J'Rome, the bearded priest, bowed low. “Yes, My God!”

  Above, the FBI agents ran out of the building and stopped dead. In a huge semicircle three ranks deep, more than two hundred iron wolves silently waited.

  “This is very bad, Special Agent Jones.” Clarence Jones checked the number of rounds left in the drum magazine on his AA-12.

  “... Jones, do you copy?”

  “I copy, Agent McCormick.” Wendell Jones spoke into a mic attached to his larynx.”

  “Sir, I've been trying to warn you, but you weren't responding. About five minutes ago, dozens of those drones began closing on the complex. Then, they formed that circle and stopped moving.”

  “Clear a path to the south for us.”

  “Yes, sir!”

  RRRoooooaaaaaaarrrrrr! Brrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappppppppp!

  The Predator drone swooped in from the north, its chain-guns tearing apart the bodies of the iron wolves.

  The FBI agents began to run as fast as they could, but the iron wolves immediately charged after the fleeing FBI agents. Constructs cannot feel emotions or be surprised, there was no delay in the iron wolves response.

  Brrraaappp!

  “Aaaarrrrrr!”

  Brrraaappp!

  Brrraaappp!

  “Aaaarrrrrr!”

  Clarence Jones looked over his shoulder and saw Agent Carstein hauling one of the wounded. The rest were all d
ead.

  The Predator spun about hovering on jets of blue flame.

  Brrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappppppppp! Brrrrrrrrrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaappppppppp!

  More iron wolves were shredded by the chain-guns. Dozens were already destroyed, but over a hundred remained.

  “Carstein!”

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  Agent Carstein spun letting go of the wounded agent and raised his M16A5 to his shoulder.

  Brrraaappp! Brrraaappp!

  Boom! Boom! Boom!

  The iron wolf's front legs were blown off, but it pitched forward and tumbled wildly. Agent Carstein tried to dodge, but the spiked shoulder caught him in the side, sending him flying.

  “Aaaarrrrrr!” Slamming into the ground in a bloody heap, he did not move again.

  The remaining iron wolves scattered, weaving and make abrupt changes in speed. Agent McCormick began to have difficulty hitting the swift agile targets, even with the high rate of fire of the Predator's chain-guns.

  Wendell Jones checked the fallen agents, finding all of them dead. Appropriating an M16A5, he began to jog to the south, with Clarence Jones at his side. The had just reach the top of the ridge, when the Predator abruptly accelerated.

  RRRoooooaaaaaaarrrrrr! BOOM!

  The predator crashed into the ground, pieces of metal and plastic flying in all directions.

  The iron wolves, that were running around randomly, converged on the last two FBI agents, forming another semicircle between them and the facility.

  “Some bastards must have killed Agent McCormick. This has gone from very bad to we are completely fucked, Special Agent Jones.”

  Clarence Jones stared at the complex they just fled. The light of the dawning sun had painted the concrete building bloody red. “It's not all bad, that fucking bastard god has taken that fucking prick back to that Taereun wold. The first time in the hospital, when that prick McGuinness stared at me, I nearly drew and fired. I don't know why, but he's got the eyes of someone who's killed so many times that he's forgotten how not to kill. I've only seen a few men with eyes like that. Him or the god, at least one of them is gonna die.”