by Tao Wong
You are Quantum Locked. Teleportation and dimensional shifting is restricted.
It’s a trap. Of course it’s a trap. I duck low as spells impact, and I drop the grenade from my hand. The obfuscation grenade throws up smoke, metal particles, and chaos Mana in equal order to disrupt senses. A moment later, the chaos grenades I dropped on my way in explode.
Luck. It’s on my side this time. A howl echoes through the battleground as a tornado of sound and wind appears where one grenade dropped, incapacitating the nearest merc and driving all of us to the ground. Even through my resistances, the pain is enough to shake me for a few precious seconds. Extremely dangerous as the second chaos grenade had formed a ball of chaos energy. It constantly spits out a stream of random energy and material. I see a single shot tear apart a Fighter’s arm like wet paper while a second blast completely heals another Mage. Another merc gets hit with a stream of what looks like soda water while the ground turns into Jell-O around another energy burst.
Fortunately, I don’t get hit. In the few seconds of peace I’ve been given, I begin the next steps, calling down the Beacon of Angels while my other hand forms my sword, trailing weapons appearing behind it. I step forward and lunge at the defensive shields the Mercenary Commander’s bodyguards have put up.
“You’re trapped, Redeemer. Give up or else we’ll tear this city down, brick by brick,” the Mercenary Commander says, having recovered nearly as well as I have. I can’t even tell what sex it is—if it has a sex—as it uses a voice synthesizer and, like anyone with a pair of brain cells to rub together, it has a full-face helmet with visor. It looks roughly human, even if its arms have webbed wings beneath them.
“I haven’t even started,” I say, watching as the recovering mercs target me. My swords have punched through the portable shield the Soldier was using, but the Guardian has switched places with the Soldier with a weird push-pull swap Skill. It’s not quite teleportation, but it’s so smooth it might as well be. That’s okay, because the attack was mostly a distraction.
“Say hello to the rain, baby!” Ali crows, making himself visible as he punctuates his words with a thump of a drum.
Those who look up get a chance to see the incoming beam, but everyone else just gets hit. Power pours onto us, my Soul Shield absorbing and displacing the damage before it cracks and breaks. My Hardened and Elastic Skin Skills provide little benefit right now, the damage being direct Mana damage; they only protect me from secondary effects. But Shields and skills are insufficient, especially since I call a second Beacon immediately. A portion of my mind splits enough to toss up a Soul Shield while I stab a Minor Healing Potion into my thigh, recovering my health.
The Beacon is pure Mana, a rip in the plane of existence itself. It overloads the environment’s ability to handle the Mana within seconds, setting fire to the air and searing the earth, the asphalt melting beneath our feet and the earth itself smoking. Buildings which have lasted through the apocalypse itself and the battle for settlements become naught but torn ruins, brick and cement vaporizing or shattering under the force of the winds.
Once the Beacon falls—and my Shield along with it—I throw out another Spell—Firestorm. The flames from the attack erupt around me, eating into flesh and bones, searing skin and crisping hair. Choked off screams ring all around me as throats are burned raw, lungs robbed of oxygen.
When I’m done, only the Advanced Classers are left. Almost all the Basic Classers are but crispy corpses, their health insufficient to handle the damage I have laid out. But there’s a price for a flashy attack like this— between the Skills, my Blink Steps, and my buffs, my Mana is down by half. At least my health is mostly there, the small amount taken from my own spell recovering.
“They were good men…” the Mercenary Commander snarls as he levers himself upward. The helmet is shattered, the armor cooked away, the skin-wings under his arms gone. For all his talking, I notice the Commander’s hands moving at his belt, probably throwing out commands and Skills. A second later, the helmet drops off his neck entirely, separating and revealing a double-snouted face with tiny beady eyes, a face that is busy consuming a weird red globule. A health potion variant for sure, since the Commander’s skin heals right before my eyes.
“Shouldn’t have messed with the best,” Ali crows from above.
The Spirit twists away as a surviving Soldier opens up with a beam rifle hooked up directly into its arm, sending a spray of electric darts even as the Spirit accesses my storage. Within seconds, more obfuscating grenades are tossed out as the Spirit flies around, dueling the Soldier. I don’t have time focus on him as I call back my swords and tear into the pair of bodyguards who are still standing.
The three of us dance, my superior Skills chipping away at their armor and weapons. Unfortunately, both of them are actually more skilled than I am—decades of experience fighting humanoids compared to my half-decade of fighting anything that moves. The two of them are able to dodge a good chunk of my attacks while chipping away at my own health.
The Commander is relaxing a little, seeing as they seem to be on the winning end after my initial display. At which point, I decide to pull the rug out from under him, having sucked my Mana Bracer dry while dueling the pair.
Vanguard of the Apocalypse kicks in with an exertion of will as I throw a sweeping cut boosted with Cleave. The explosion in attribute and speed catches the Guardian by surprise, his hasty block pushed aside and my blade disemboweling him. Another exertion of will and mental energy and a Mud Walls forms behind the pair, pushing them toward me. The Soldier doesn’t budge an inch as his Skill Hold your Ground counteracts my spell. The Guardian, on the other hand, isn’t as lucky and is pushed forward, right into the Thousand Blades which are still moving.
“Suppressive Fire,” the Soldier snarls, triggering a new Skill.
I end up throwing myself sideways, feeling beams burn my calf and ankles as I move a touch too slow. Truth be told, the additional wounds are nothing—our flesh is already cooked from the melted asphalt. I’m just grateful the Soldier feels the need to scream his Skill usage.
As I recover from my roll, pain held at bay by discipline and my resistances, I find my beam pistol in my hand. I’ve already dropped the Vanguard Skill, the momentary boost having done its job. Instead, I rely on the beam pistol as I move in the obscuring smoke and dust, firing at the Soldier and the Mercenary Commander who has pulled out his own bulky assault weapon. With my last sword passing through the corpse of the Guardian, I dismiss them rather than wasting further Mana, flicking my Soul Shield back on. It’s going to be a long fight and these guys are just the appetizers.
The attack comes from nowhere. I sense the movement a fraction of a second before the blades are about to plunge into me. Insufficient time to dodge, insufficient time to block. I try anyway.
Rather than searing pain and repeated notifications of poisoning, my senses process the distinctive ring of blades. Twisting to the side as I move backward, I spot the Master Class assassin in desperate battle with Ingrid even as the bait disappears further into the obscuring smoke.
“About time,” I gasp in relief and drop behind a crumpled corpse.
I’d shoot the damn assassin, but the pair are fighting so close and fast I’m as likely to hit my friend. Still, I have to grin as our trap finally worked. I’m even happier to see that the assassin is bleeding and fighting with only a single arm remaining. Part of the reason we spent so much time plotting my route and taking a couple of detours was to ensure our assassin could get in place in time.
“Incoming,” Ali snaps, and I stare at the minimap. It’s fuzzy and jumpy but slowly getting better as the interference from the massive Mana dumps and the chaos energy disperse. Thankfully, since those are our grenades, we’ve got their Mana signature stored, giving us a slight advantage in clearing our screens.
I cast the Improved Invisibility spell and scramble upward, putting away the beam pistol. I stalk the Soldier as he comes across Ingrid and the assas
sin, visibly hesitating to take a shot like I did. The hesitation costs him, for I take his arm then his head with my swords.
“Need help?” I send to Ali.
He sends a mental confirmation, then almost immediately updates me with a new minimap. I growl, realizing the Mercenary Commander has decided to run for it. I do the math and realize I won’t reach him before he hits the reinforcements.
“Ingrid, reinforcements soon,” I growl and turn back to the dueling pair. Or at least, where they were. I frown, realizing they’ve disappeared. “Damn it!”
Without any other target, I run toward Ali while trying to figure out my next steps. I needed the quantum lock down, but with the Commander still around and free, it doesn’t seem as though it’s going to happen. Killing him and his reinforcements should be possible, unless he runs again. The problem is, doing so will drain more of my Mana and the time I’ve allocated to this.
When I get to Ali, the Spirit is looking much the worse for wear. He’s got a floating electric shield around him, which is taking the repeated blasts from the Soldier attacking him, but cracks show up all around. Still, I manage to make my way close enough to shove all four of my swords into the Soldier’s back then twist them out, dropping him.
“Feel like an assassin,” I growl.
“Kind of the point.” Since he isn’t in need of his full size, the Spirit is back to his foot and a half sizing. Unfortunately, this particular quantum lock type disallows the Spirit from fading back into the dimension he normally resides within to interact with me. For now, he’s as real as I am.
As we speak, reinforcements stream in and blindly fire into the fog. Rather than risk getting shot, we run toward the nearest settlement shield. It drops long enough to allow us in, chased by beam weaponry. A low whoop of happiness appears behind us, one which is cut off as the replacement shield flickers back online.
“Can’t do that too often, John. The original shield is now on recharge and refresh, so each section we take down is weakened.”
“I know. We just need to get away from the lock,” I answer the Spirit as we sprint forward. Hopefully they’ll drop the quantum lock once they realize I’m deep enough in the spiral they won’t ever catch up. Or perhaps I’ll get far enough away I can shatter it with my Class Skill.
Habit has me running in a zig-zag pattern as I attempt to get to the next shield as fast as I can. It’s all that saves me when a trio of spells lands where I would have been if I hadn’t zigged. Ice erupts from the ground, creating crystalline towers as the temperature drops and lightning discharges futilely.
“Out of the fire…” I growl, ducking into a nearby building to buy myself more time as I realize one flaw with my newest escape plan. I’m now right in the middle of the mercenary company’s vanguard.
“Mr. Lee! Where are you? The Master Class is nearly at our core.” The shrill, panicked voice of the Austronesian man rings out in my helmet as his priority message gets through. A small video image also pops up in the corner of my eyes, briefly obscuring the more important health and Mana bars.
“I’m quantum locked. The Mercenary Commander got away,” I say, gritting my teeth. “He had a lot more life-saving Skills and equipment than expected. We did take out four of the peak Advanced Classers though.”
“The Master Class is the issue! When will you be here?” the settlement owner snarls, almost panting with desperation. I see the fear in his wide eyes and I briefly wonder how the hell someone who panics so easily could have gotten and held the settlement. But…
“I’ll be there as soon as I can get out of the field,” I say then kill the connection. Thousand hells. “We’re going to have to run.”
“Yay. More running,” Ali says dryly. A flicker later, his entire clothing choice has changed to a familiar red-and-gold suit with lightning bolts along the side.
“Made it,” I say as I use Ali’s viewpoint to Blink Step into a peaceful scene. The guard room leading to the City Core is still in one piece, which is perfect, especially considering it took me nearly four minutes to break the quantum lock and get here. I’d been forced to use some of the Mana I’d regained to port to the nearest rooftop and then more precious time waiting for Ali to get in position, which means I’m cutting it too close for comfort. As it stands, my regeneration has only recovered me to sixty percent of my health and forty percent of my Mana.
“Finally!” the Malay man snarls from a monitor set up high on the wall.
He’s hunkered down in the room behind us, the last, last line of defense, with a giant beam cannon pointed at the doorway. Even from here, I can tell the weapon is meant more for taking out vehicles than people. Which might make it just about powerful enough to annoy the Juggernaut.
“Ali?” I call. I absently note the heads of the guards behind me turn toward each other, probably trading glances, but I don’t explain why I’m talking into thin air. We don’t have time. “Open the doors and let me out.”
The guards comply, the doors sliding upward to let me out. The moment the doors open, the noise of battle washes in. Screams, the tearing sounds of walls breaking, and the hiss of beams echo through the hallway before me. I duck out even as the settlement leader screams at them to shut it.
Gods, but I hate politics.
My thoughts are cut short as the wall ahead of me explodes, a fist emerging from it. As the clouds disperse, I’m forced to ask, “What is it with me and big creatures lately?”
I stare at the giant who walks in. The creature could best be described as a mixture of an ape crossed with a crocodile and given a pair of sparkling pink horns. Crouched low on all four of its limbs, its scaly Galactic shoulders still brush against the ceiling every time it moves, its horns tearing channels in the ceiling.
Ooi Eea, Contracted Son, The Great Sinner (Juggernaut Level 29)
HP: 16894/17210
MP: 279/750
Conditions: Contracted, Health Drip, Greater Mana Regeneration, Spatial Lock
“Before you ask. It’s a sort of summoning Skill, except it shoves the summon inside his body. It’s partly why his health is so damn ridiculous. Good news, it only lasts as long as he can sustain the Mana cost. Bad news, he knows it,” Ali says. “You fight him direct. I’m going to disrupt the bond as much as I can, increase the cost.”
I can’t help but let out a low groan at the Spirit’s words, but Ooi has obviously done enough looking. Naked as it might be, the creature rushes me, barrelling down the long corridor. My hands move, pulling and tossing portable shield generators, remotely activating them the moment they land. Within seconds, I have four generators right in front of me. Even then, I add a Soul Shield to myself as the living wrecking ball picks up speed and grows purple with literal flames erupting from his body.
“Oh hell,” I breathe as the first three shields shatter while barely slowing down the Juggernaut.
In fact, as it breaches the third, the damn thing actually picks up speed as it triggers its titular Skill. Time slows as I run through my options and decide on the stupidest one as usual. I form my floating swords in front of me and hunker down low, bracing the original weapon against my body and the floor and casting Harden on myself.
Then, there’s no more time. The impact throws me backward, my Strength insufficient to hold it back, even with my new skill in manipulating it. I’m pancaked against the reinforced blast doors, my Soul Shield having shattered all around me. I feel a tiny trickle of health return from the damage as Elastic Skin activates even as the Juggernaut peels its body away from me, low grunts of pain erupting from its mouth. As Ooi moves away, I get a glimpse of the torn-up floor between where I made my stand and here.
Before Ooi can recover, I hitch my legs up, while supported by the blast doors, and kick forward, sending the surprised Juggernaut staggering backward. I push away from the doors the next moment, dropping lightly to the floor. Pain finally catches up, the cracked bones in my legs refusing to cooperate anymore.
“Fuck.”
&n
bsp; “Master Class. Weak,” Ooi says then pauses to spit to the side. The stream of greenish blood is disturbing to see, as are the numerous broken blades jutting out from the Galactic’s body. With a thought, I dismiss them all, allowing the wounds to bleed freely. Anything for a little advantage. “Tricks are fools.”
“Yeah, yeah. Be glad I didn’t drop you from the sky,” I growl back.
“Try,” Ooi says with a laugh.
“No can do, boy-o. The Spatial Lock Condition? That’s him locking himself down. A lot cheaper than locking down the entire area like you do.”
“Fine. Bluff called.” I stand as I regain control of my body. Each second lets my Skill and Greater Regeneration tick my health up, so I stall. “But tell me something, how much are you guys paid to lose?”
“Don’t care. Fight.” Ooi lurches forward, covering the ground in a single step and following it with a well-executed and fast jab. Ooi’s body is wreathed with lightning which flows from his horns, his body erupting with power and savagery.
If you’ve ever had to try to dodge a jab the size of a microwave, you realize how difficult it is. I get most of the way away before the jab hammers the edge of my shoulder. The jab carries with it a charge, frying flesh and seizing muscles slightly. But I’m not just standing around, my sword coming upward to cut at the joints at the elbow. One thing spending four years in a hell planet has taught me—if it’s got joints, it’s got tendons. Cut those, and you buy yourself time.
His arm droops slightly, but he’s already pulling it back as his other arm arcs toward me. And stops as reason overcomes instinct. My floating blades are following the motion of my initial attack, blocking his retaliation. He could push through, bash the swords aside, but he’d risk cutting himself apart. Even so, his retracted arm gets sliced up as it gets caught on the first of the attacking blades.
I don’t stop, but neither does he. He launches a low kick strong enough to shatter bones. I step sideways into the attack, feeling the edge of his foot brush against my thigh and leaving what will be a humongous bruise. Even as I step away, my arm is swinging down, the conjured blade falling right into my grip as I cut the exposed foot. It skitters along his scales, biting into the muscle and bone underneath and shaving off a few scales. Ignoring the futile cut, I snatch one of the falling blades with my other hand and swing it to disembowel him. My strike is battered aside by an elbow, a precursor to a rising uppercut.
