by Tao Wong
“Heal him!” Mel on the radio. I wonder which him he is.
“ENACTING PROTOCOL 148.2.8. SECONDARY ASSISTANCE PROVIDED TO OWNER. TARGETING ALL ATTACKERS.”
A soothing warmth rushes over me and my body moves a little better. Ali swoops down, brows furrowed for a second, then he shifts, coming into this world fully. A second later, he glows as beams of light stab at my closest attackers.
An explosion tears at me, flesh burning, nerves screaming. I pick up a giant black marble creature that attempts to wrestle me away and toss it at the Psychic’s shield, throwing my sword a moment later to pin the monster to it. A quick step and I plunge a second blade into the body, punching a hole through the shield.
“Control, boy-o. Control! The Skill should leave you a little more control than this,” Ali screams into my mind, concern in his voice.
I don’t have time to deal with his concerns. After all, the Psychic is still alive and retreating. A hop and skip away, just a little more. But that damn Blood Warrior is there now, blocking my way with his pair of clones.
We dance, me ducking and cutting, attacking with each motion. Sacrificing skill and my body for the opportunities they offer me to hurt, to kill him. In the corner of my eyes, I see Mikito caught in her own dance, fighting that Assassin who nearly speared me while Lana and her pets corral the remaining Sect members, containing those trying to come near me. Sam’s drones are floating above, providing a minor distraction as they hammer at the Psychic’s shield while it continually attempts to reform.
“You will fall!”
A psychic bomb, lashing out at everyone, hits us again. People stagger, pain overwhelming their senses as their minds are assaulted once more. I spin away from a cut and watch as the Sect Assassin slams a blade directly into Mikito’s thigh, impaling it entirely. My sword blocks another cut, disappearing from my hand a second later as I convert my momentum into a lunge. The clone gurgles and explodes, its blood stinging like acid as it coats me. Another wave of soothing light washes over me even as I recover my backfoot, catching a cut high before I drive the blade to the ground and open up my attacker’s defense.
I swing, a Blade Strike hissing from my hands to cut the Blood Warrior while his fingers dance. A moment later, the blood that leaks from me floats, connecting to the Blood Warrior before me. It’s not only my blood though, but the blood all around us is attaching itself in floating red tendrils.
“Regeneration Skill. The more blood there is, the more he’ll heal. You can’t let him keep that up too long,” Ali says, no longer glowing but floating beside me, immaterial once more and looking exhausted.
Laughter bubbles up within me. The Blood Warrior’s fingers freeze for a second, the strands of blood freezing with him as he hears me. A brief hesitation before he continues while I wade forward, my blade seeking his life. If he wants to block me, I’ll take his life too. Another psychic spike attacks me even as the last remaining blood clone blocks my way.
A few slashes and a Blade Strike that makes my head pound later, my Mana dips precariously low as my regeneration is nerfed by the Frenzy. But it doesn’t matter, because the clone is dead and I’m pushing through to the Warrior. A flicker of fingers and the blood around him drops as swords appear in his hands.
“You will not survive this. So I vow on the blood and hearts of my friends,” the Warrior says, sliding back and blocking each of my cuts.
I don’t waste my breath, the Warrior but a speedbump to the Psychic. After so many attacks, the Psychic’s Mana must be drained, much like mine. But still, he was dangerous. Smart usage of the psychic bomb had done a ton of damage to our troops.
No more Mana means no more spells. All I have left to rely on is a little bit of technology and the skills drilled into me by Mikito and Roxley. That, and the rage within my chest. A cut aimed to take out my feet. I take it, letting the blade sink into my calf, which gives way. But it means I have a brief opening. I grab the Blood Warrior’s arm and yank him forward onto my weapon. My sword plunges upward, cutting into his body as I wiggle it around, searching for his heart. A moment’s struggle, the blade in my leg jerked out, but strong as he is, I’m stronger. We jerk and twist, repeated spells of healing landing on me and him, but finally, finally he stops.
Then I’m there, the Blood Warrior’s corpse discarded as I barrel into the Telekinetic Shield. It flashes, seeming to compress like a bubble under my assault before snapping back. In that moment, bullets strike the Psychic, piercing the shield and bloodying him as Sam’s drones target the man.
“Probably a Mana-linked Shield. Impossible to break fully until he runs out of Mana,” Ali says, eyeing the shield that continues to flicker.
A wordless snarl is all I have as an answer for Ali as I pull backward and lunge with both hands on the blade now. It pushes against the soap bubble of a shield, bowing it.
No more bravado, no more taunting. All I see in the Psychic’s eyes is fear as he attempts to back away.
“Why won’t you die?” the Psychic screams.
His hands move, pulling out Mana potions, smoke bombs, and grenades, even a pair of drones and a summoned flying sword. None of those matter, not to me. They’re just distractions that burn and shoot and cut my body while I push forward in a frenzy of rage and pain. Occasional washes of blue and white light hit my body, regenerating and fixing the damage, while Sam’s drones attack the summoned items for me.
It doesn’t matter, because in the end, it’s a battle between my health regeneration and stamina against his Mana regeneration. And unlike him, I have help. The shield pops and my sword driven by enhanced attributes plunges forward, spearing the Psychic in the chest. He coughs up blood, eyes wide with disbelief before he slumps over. Damn glass cannons. I extract my sword the hard way, ripping it out of his prone body, before glaring around me.
His death was satisfying, correct even. But I’m not done, not at all. They dared to attack my city, to hurt my friends. If they want to die, I’ll be happy to fulfill their wishes. A savage grin spreads across my face before I dart forward into battle.
Chapter 21
The only thing sadder than a battle won is a battle lost. Staring at the blood-soaked fields, the corpses of allies and enemies all around me, I find those words ringing through my mind, a minor sense of gratitude that we won floating through me. The smell of burnt flesh mixes with the sharp, acrid sting of melted plastic and corroded metal. Low voices—some filled with pain, others with loss—wash over me, accompanied by a low ringing as my abused hearing recovers. Blood drips from my wounds, skin and muscle restitching themselves, and bones shift and grate within my body, finding their true positions.
Control and clarity returned in dribs and drabs as my enemies fell. Standing alone on a hilltop, my body slowly healing, I wonder for a moment if that’s a good thing. Brief, because for all the usefulness of the Frenzy Skill, losing myself to it like I had was frightening.
Except… could you say I had lost myself to the Skill? Would it not be more correct to say that it had made me more myself? Is a person in a rage no less that person? If they are, then is someone in love considered different? Or are we just sliders on a scale, who we are and what we are changing from breath to breath? In the distance, the sun is briefly occluded by a cloud, darkening the scene before me.
“That Skill, you said it doesn’t do that normally?” I send to Ali as I search for something concrete, something real.
“Exactly. Anger yes, but not that much. It’s probably because you didn’t buy it or gain it from a Class but actually earned it yourself,” Ali says, rubbing his chin as he floats cross-legged beside me. “Add on your usual… hmmm… emotional state, and voila.”
“Voila indeed.” I sigh, rubbing my face. At least I had been more in control, more present than the last time I had triggered that state. Back then, I’d basically had a breakdown. Here, I just didn’t give a damn if I was going to die. All that mattered was their death.
“John…?” Lana says, limpin
g toward me. I look over, staring at the torn and bloodied redhead blankly before I smile tiredly. She returns it, her eyes searching my face before relief comes. “Better. Much better.”
“You don’t like crazy, enraged John?” I say, trying for a light tone that I don’t feel.
“I’m not Betty Ross,” Lana says. At my puzzled look, she sighs. “Bruce Banner’s girlfriend. The Hulk?”
“Oh. Right.” I nod firmly. I was a programmer; of course I knew who Bruce Banner was. The question was, why did Lana?
“I like Liv Tyler and Edward Norton,” Lana says as way of explanation.
“How many did we lose?” I say, breaking the strained lightness as my need-to-know pushes its way to the front.
“Too many,” Lana says, giving me a hug. She winces, pushing away as she wrinkles her nose after catching a whiff of me. “Amelia is badly hurt. Vir promises that Roxley can fix her with the Shop, but she’s in a coma right now. We also lost half of the hunters in Kamloops and a quarter of the Hakarta. And Mel.”
I wince slightly, considering her words. “No one else?”
“No,” Lana says softly, shaking her head. “We were lucky. I doubt they expected our reinforcements. If you hadn’t kept the Psychic busy, it would have been a lot worse.”
“I remember Mikito…” I say softly, recalling the stab.
“The Assassin got away,” Lana says softly, shaking her head. “Ran off when they realized things weren’t going their way. Only reason she’s still alive, I think.”
Exhaling in relief, I let my eyes roam the battlefield again. A corner of my mind, the part that pokes and prods at wounds, notes that Lana failed to mention the actual numbers. Or any civilian casualties. Though I’m hoping, considering we kept the fighting to the outskirts, that there are none. A part of me knows that the details of our fight, the long list of losses still waits for me. But for a moment, for this period of time, I can at least revel in the fact that none of my close friends are dead.
Just for a second.
“What’s our move?” Mike asks, stomping up to me. He’s injured, but like most of us, his body is already healing. Between Spells and Skills and the System’s healing, injuries never last long. At least, not the physical ones.
Among the hunters, Mikito moves quietly, casting her Minor Healing spell while helping others up or, in some cases, aiding in the looting of the corpses.
“They must have pulled everyone they could to hit us before we hit them. My Portal Skill must have frightened them,” I say, mind already having traveled down the likely paths of reasoning. It wouldn’t have taken a military genius to realize how we could concentrate our forces and hit them harder with more safety than they could. And so, they hit us first.
“You want to take over their cities,” Lana says softly, worry evident on her face. “I don’t think our people…”
“I’m in,” Mike says, nodding firmly.
“We will accompany you. Our fee was dependent upon the number of cities conquered, after all,” Capstan says as he walks over with Nelia, enhanced hearing obviously useful for more than picking up enemies on the battlefield.
“Our defenses…” Lana objects.
“SHIELD IS AT 38% CHARGE. ALL SENTINELS ARE CURRENTLY DESTROYED. ELEVEN BEAM TURRETS ARE CURRENTLY ACTIVE. PERSONNEL HAVE BEEN DISPATCHED TO BEGIN REPAIRS OF SALVAGEABLE TURRETS,” Kim flashes for us all.
“We won’t bring everyone. Once my Mana is back, just a few of us. We’ll pop in to Merritt, verify it’s clear, then drive to Kelowna. If we’re right, it’s just a bunch of Basic Classes left. If that’s true, we’ll pop open a Portal here and wipe them,” I say.
“A solid plan,” Capstan agrees softly as he unstraps his axe and places it on the ground, head first. Hands on the shaft, he nods at Mike and Nelia.
Pursing her lips, Lana stares at us before speaking. “Fine. But take Roland. He can keep up with your bikes…” At the look on my face, she stops. “What?”
“Sabre doesn’t work,” I say. “She’ll be weeks before she’s useable again. So I was hoping…”
“To use the puppies?” Lana says, her eyes narrowing with disapproval.
“Well…”
“If they don’t come back, you better not either,” Lana says threateningly. Some might consider that an idle threat, but I know it’s not.
“Of course.”
“We would not dream of it. Beast Tamer.”
“I’ll prioritize their healing.”
A short hop later, we found ourselves in Vernon. This time around, it took us only a few minutes to confirm that the city was really abandoned, without a single soul—hidden or not. Once we confirm that there’s no enemy to fight in Vernon, we head to Kelowna. Not before taking the city of course.
Holding Howard’s body as the puppy runs, his movements eating up ground with ease, I have nothing to do but wonder and worry. Rather than Kelowna, we could have gone straight to Vancouver, but a part of me wants to ensure we take care of the much closer location first. Cover our flanks before we take on the real challenge.
Kelowna is, strangely enough, empty of Sect members. Not of humans though, many of whom are standing around discussing matters in extremely puzzled tones. The group scatters slightly as we approach, concern and tension ratcheting up as they spot our disparate, partly alien team. As the crowd pulls back, I find myself staring at an older gentleman who stands his ground confidently.
“Afternoon, son,” the old-timer greets me, grey eyes flicking over me with casual ease as he leans on the cane in his hand. A Cleanse spell and a new set of clothing ensured that most of us look presentable. At least, on casual inspection. I check his Status bar, amused to see he’s a Level 18 Vintner. “Name’s Kyle Reimer.”
“John Lee,” I say, hopping off Howard and strolling over to shake his hand. Kyle returns the handshake before my gaze returns to the cane.
“An old habit. Bad hip before the change,” Kyle says easily. “Mind telling me what your intentions are? Seems like you’ve got a beef with the Sect.”
“War notification that you were invading went off when you crossed the boundary,” Ali sends to me as an explanation.
“The Sect wasn’t particularly pleased with us taking Kamloops. I’m intending to do the same with Kelowna. Where are they?” I say, eyeing the curiously empty minimap in the corner of my eyes. Not that it’s empty empty, just empty of any hostiles.
“Left in a real hurry about an hour ago.” There’s a low drawl to Kyle’s voice, a wheezy sound that older people have, but there’s still a lot of strength left in there. “Other than grabbing a few of their favored Serfs, they didn’t stop for much. Last we saw, they were headed east.”
“Ah…” I run a map of the province through my mind. East really doesn’t bring them to Vancouver, but considering they have shown the ability to use airplanes, it might just be the most convenient location to gather. “Great. Want a job?”
“Pardon?” Kyle says, startled for the first time since we have started talking.
“I’m about to take the city, but we’re going to be moving soon after. Going to need an overseer of sorts. So, interested?” I say with an encouraging smile.
“And what makes you think you can trust me?” Kyle says, his eyes narrowed. I note that he isn’t actually declining the offer.
“A few things. First, you didn’t jump at the job, so you’ve got some brains. Second, you’re willing to talk so you’ve got some b—courage,” I change what I say, feeling somewhat uncomfortable swearing in front of the older man. “And thirdly, if you do screw around, I’ll just come back and kick your ass.” The last sentence is, of course, chosen with purpose.
“You probably could,” Kyle says, but there’s no hint of fear at his words. “And I’ll let you know that I won’t stand for this Serf nonsense. Or any of these new System laws. We’re still in Canada here, and we’ll still follow our principles. Peace. Order. Good government. And if not, you can send me on to meet my Maker.”
/> I smile slightly at the older man. Got to admire his balls. Then I turn sideways to point at Mike. “That man’s a friend. He’s also an ex-constable. If I was going to do something other than that, he’d be more than willing to put a stop to it.”
“That true, boy?” Kyle calls to Mike, who nods, his face serious. After a moment of consideration, Kyle nods and offers me his hand. “Then you have a deal.”
“Good. Be back in a sec,” I say before turning to get back on Howard to go to the city center. On the way, I can’t help but ask, “Why hasn’t the Sect sold the city and their buildings?”
“No point. When they declared War on you, it limited their options for sale. Stops either side from selling off all their assets if they think they’re about to lose and forcing the other to purchase it from the System. If you were to do that now, the other side would get it for free and all the Credits would be taken directly out,” Ali says.
“Wait. I can’t sell the town now?” I say, frowning.
“Oh, you can, but if the Sect were to take over the place before peace was declared, they’d just get it free,” Ali replies. I open my mouth, about to protest that doesn’t make sense, before I sense a long sigh. “I’m simplifying the legal process for you. Just trust me, it’d make no sense wasting time selling off assets. And no one smart is going to buy it.”
I could dig into this and I probably will, but right now is not the time. Placing my hand on the floating sphere that makes up this city’s core, I flick through the notifications with practiced ease. Yes, I want to take control. Yes, I’ll hold and wait while you inform the Sect that I’m attempting to grab their property. Yes, I’ll be on tenterhooks while awaiting a potential attack. And finally, yes, I’ll assign rights to someone.
After that, porting to just outside of the Lower Mainland is a simple matter. The Sect abandoning Kelowna wasn’t completely unexpected, but I was caught off guard when all the small towns we passed as we journeyed toward Vancouver itself were devoid of the Sect. Even the normal population was mostly hiding, the constant System notifications and the grapevine alerting all but the most desperate to stay off the streets.
