Respawn: The Last Crossing (Respawn LitRPG series Book 6)

by Arthur Stone

  A nuclear mushroom cloud. Or, a cloud from an ordinary explosion—just one that was absurdly powerful. An amateur could confuse that with a nuclear blast, which would be a forgivable mistake.

  “The devil was that!” Beetle gasped. “Did you see that? All our people are over there! What was that?”

  The tankman was already treating the party like his own—despite March’s stern promises to deal with Cheater later for accepting some “random guy” into the party in the midst of a complicated crossing.

  “You’re right, they are,” Cheater affirmed.

  “So what was that?”

  “I don’t know. But I bet Nut knows.”

  “Nut?” Beetle blinked.

  “Our sapper. Our partly insane sapper. Or perhaps certifiably.”

  “What does a crossing party need a psycho sapper for?”

  Cheater shrugged. “You’ll have to get used to strange things happening around here sometimes. It wasn’t my decision. I didn’t know what was going on. He was accepted into the party because he’s a sapper. And because he’s crazy. I’d bet anything that this was his work. Soon, he’ll tell us more about it. With every single irrelevant detail. And probably some fictitious side quest involving a girl and some drugs. He is our biggest blabbermouth too.”

  “He won’t be chatting anytime soon,” the healer announced.

  “Why not?” Cheater asked.

  “He’s dead.”

  “Damn. I didn’t notice that.”

  “Keeping a perpetual eye on the party icons is part of my profession,” Maple explained. “Treatment sometimes has to be administered immediately. Within seconds. Otherwise, only a priest can help the dead.”

  “So what the hell happened?” Beetle pressed.

  Cheater understood the man’s worry. Nut’s icon wasn’t the only one that had gone out. Button’s and Fatso’s had, too—meaning that the squad was now suffering irreversible losses. They were three players down, and no one could be brought back, since one of the dead was the priestess.

  Cheater tried sending a chat message but received no answer. He could only speculate by looking at the position of the living and dead icons. The Janitor’s icon was blinking madly, too.

  “Look, there’s something else,” Beetle announced, pointing roughly in the direction of the explosion.

  Cheater paused his contemplation of the icons and chat windows to look. South of the place where Nut had most likely arranged the blast, another column of smoke rose to the heavens. It was not too thick at first, but then it gained strength. The color of it was unnaturally dark. This was clearly no forest on fire, no dry steppe grass set ablaze. It looked more like the smoke from a massive tire fire.

  “I’ve seen something like that before, when an oil depot burned,” Beetle said. “And my map shows an oil depot somewhere in that direction. I bet that’s what’s smoking.”

  Cheater silently pulled the party chat back up.

  The hell is happening? Someone answer!

  This time, it worked.

  March:

  It’s a veritable disaster here! The beer is nearly gone. I myself barely understand how this happened.

  Cheater:

  That’s a shame. What else?

  March:

  Well, things didn’t work out as planned.

  Clown:

  Cheater, we’re in so much shit here that if we type it all out in chat it’ll bring the System down. We’re also all basically deaf. But you know what? It was quite a show.

  March:

  Cheat, do you have any beer over there on that island?

  Cheater:

  ...Yeah, sure. Come and get it.

  March:

  I don’t know if we’ll be able to get out of here alive, after all. We’ll try. Is there anything there which is high up and solid? Something that, say, a heavy bulldozer would be unable to immediately level?

  Cheater glanced around the ruins.

  There’s a tall structure that’s something like an obelisk. It looks solid enough—but I doubt it would take many bulldozer hits.

  March:

  Then wait. We’re coming.

  Beetle was following the chat. “What the hell does that mean?”

  Cheater shrugged. “You know as much as I do. We’ll have to wait and find out.”

  * * *

  They did not have to wait for long. A suspicious flash appeared across the water, directed towards their island. It approached at speed.

  Cheater watched it through his scope. It was a hovercraft, a fairly large one, too. He could not see the passengers through the glass, but they were certainly pushing the craft as hard as it could go. On the map, the three players’ icons were closing in on them.

  The boat circled the island, crawled up through a reedy shallow, and stopped on a narrow strip of beach. Before the propellers had even spun down, March and Clown were out, carrying the Janitor’s machinegun. The quasi followed last and was in bad shape. He was covered in blood like he had bathed in it, almost missing an ear, and his cheek was stripped down so deep that his molars could be seen with his mouth closed. Both legs had a limp, and his face was beaten up. Obviously he was in a bad state.

  Clown waved Cheater over and gave him a grimace like that of a cat receiving sour cream. “The things I’ve seen... You’ll never believe it.”

  “Tell me,” Cheater insisted.

  “Stories can wait until later,” March commanded.

  “There won’t be a later unless I get treatment now!” the quasi roared. “Where’s that beautiful first aid kit of ours? Bring her here!”

  “No sense spending the healer’s mana on a corpse,” March barked.

  The quasi grunted and cursed him indignantly.

  March turned to Cheater. “Cheat, where’s that place you mentioned? The one that could hold up under the bulldozer and so on?”

  “How about you explain what’s happening?” Cheater nearly yelled, desperate to convince his comrade to divulge anything at all.

  “What’s happening?” March replied calmly. “Nothing at all. But something is about to happen, very soon. The Trinity is heading this way. It will not take them long. Time to finish our last beers and get down to business.”

  Chapter 33

  Life Nine. The Unholy Trinity

  “Nut isn’t half bad as a sapper,” March admitted as he finished off his second can. “He’s good. Too good, perhaps. And even more crazy than I needed. I never counted on him being such a good sapper. This affected the result negatively. He built a bomb out of six railway cars. I understood roughly what to expect. But I did not understand him well enough to convey my idea to him clearly. He tried to show off. That was my mistake. Quite a big mistake.”

  “What about all of those sacks I dragged for miles?” Clown said. “What was the point?”

  “There was plenty of fertilizer in those sacks, but things didn’t go according to plan. The tanks exploded on a delay. The first set was supposed to break through their defenses, and then the second set was meant to stun them, or even kill them. Their flock was utterly destroyed. No exceptions. But those three resisted. They were hit, but not really hurt. The explosions were too strong. He had maxed the blasts out. It knocked them away. The first explosion was too strong and so tossed them into a large pit, giving them cover from the second. Everything after the first was in vain. Damned Nut. Too good for his job. How could I have known?”

  “I agree,” Clown nodded. “The man nearly managed to fashion an atomic bomb out of shit, fertilizer, oil, and diesel. In the space of a few hours, he made that just from whatever was on hand. Nothing used was on his person, except for detonators and wires and so on. Damned chemist found everything on site.”

  “It was a rich site. Too rich, even. Lots of tanks filled with all kinds of goodies. The man I bought this information from was correct. But I never expected that first blast to be so strong. That was my mistake. And thanks to that, the ghouls will arrive soon.”

  “S
o why did you land at all?” Cheater said. “We could all fit in that boat. Then, we go to the eastern edge of the reservoir. The Second Steppe starts somewhere near there. We drop down into it, and we’re done. The Trinity might lose our trail—the water doesn’t show footprints. Plus, they say that the group almost never goes down on the western side.”

  “This young romantic lacks understanding,” the Janitor croaked, grinning and frowning at once.

  March licked his lips after another sip. His voice was condescending, but also nervous. “It’s Cheater. We forgive foolishness from Cheater. Look at the Janitor, Cheater. What do you see?”

  “I see a person suffering. We have a healer here, but you have ordered her to do nothing.”

  “Few players would call a quasi a person,” March noted.

  “To hell with racism,” Cheater muttered. “What’s the point of the question?”

  “No, I just wanted to be sure you saw. Here’s some more food for thought. You saw me give the Janitor a very valuable item. Did you think he won a beauty contest or something? Why did I give that to him?”

  “Oh come on,” the quasi grumbled, “I’ve seen pigs prettier than me.”

  “Exactly,” the boss agreed. “But let’s hear what Cheater thinks. Well?”

  The player squinted in the direction of the pillars of smoke. One had grown ten times in size by now, and the other had shrunk to nearly nothing. “I think the Janitor has some kind of ability. A very useful ability which has something to do with infecteds. During the first crossing and the first part of this one, we had more problems with humans, atomites, and bots than ghouls. Beetle told me it’s hard to last an hour up here on the First Steppe. We’ve been here for more than a day. I’m guessing this is thanks to the Janitor. But I don’t know how.”

  “My hat is off to you,” March gestured. “Your thinking is improving. Still weak, but making progress. Soon you’ll qualify for kindergarten. Alright, well, there’s no time to make fun of you. Let me sum things up: The Janitor is my counterpart.”

  “He hunts Unnamed Ones?”

  “No, I’m probably the only one on the Continent who does that. But we were destined to meet and cooperate, so we try our best to get along. Don’t expect too much from him. He, shall we say, has minor partial control over infecteds. He cannot control them like puppets, but there is a lot that he can do. For example, he excels at luring them. Not directly, and not by being loud. And there are certain conditions to meet. But it works especially well with the lead beasts of powerful flocks. Once you see the Trinity, you’ll understand how valuable this ability is. Where the leaders go, the little ones follow. When packs like this one control several clusters, you may not find any infecteds anywhere but under their tutelage. You wonder why it’s so calm here. Well, it’s because the flock went where we directed it too. The Janitor used his illusions to bring them to the explosion site we had prepared. It was a good plan, but it failed. Time for Plan B.”

  “You knew from the start that this bullshit would fail,” the quasi hissed. “You didn’t bring Cheater along. You were keeping him safe. Away from the party. He believes everything you say, and you controlled him like I control a flock of ghouls. Saving his Luck for your ‘Plan B.’”

  “I had my doubts, I admit,” March said, “so I decided to have a backup plan. No, I’m not too reluctant to die, but you should always have an alternative. I had no idea how to cover such a large crowd with my ability. The damage radius is rather small, and the flock was as large as a line for government handouts. After all, if even a part of them survives, all is lost.”

  “It survived, alright,” the Janitor frowned.

  “Yes,” their leader agreed, “but that doesn’t matter anymore. The important thing is that the plan was partially successful—the flock lost all of their rank and file members. Only the core remains. The naked, unprotected Trinity. Now they’ll come to the island, and we’ll kill them. With Cheater’s Luck active. It should work. They’re stunned and their defensive abilities are on cooldown, and there’s no flock for us to worry about. As far as I can see, our chances are excellent. We have prepared a burial ground for the Trinity. The conditions are perfect,” March asserted.

  “How?” Cheater frowned. “If several tanker cars full of explosives weren’t enough to finish them off, what can we do?”

  “Not we. Me,” March corrected. “Along with Janitor. He will attract them. I will kill them. Simple.”

  “Your fatal skill has cooled down?”

  “Yes. It’s not that long a cooldown, actually. But all three of them must be in the same place. We have to hold out until they are. Then, hit them all. You’ve seen how this works. They will die. We’ll climb up high just so they can’t mow us down immediately. They will run towards Janitor. He lures them. If we get into trouble, we’ll use our weapons. These creatures are fast, and they work together. We won’t have long to wait. As soon as I say, use your Luck ability.”

  “You’ll die. Both of you.”

  March nodded. “Why did you think I was finishing off the beer? I can’t let any of it go to waste.”

  “Tell her to cure me,” the quasi barked. “I want to die healthy!”

  “A waste of valuable resources,” March shot back. “Our new friends are already close. All of you run to the other side of the island. Once I give the command, activate your Luck and a shard. The ability is complex, and if some unknown factor causes it to reach your area, well, we need you alive. You’ll gut the Trinity’s sporesacs then. Then, you can take the boat to the spot where Fatso, Nut, and Button died. There were many elites torn apart by the blast. It’s not pretty. Giblets everywhere. But maybe you’ll manage to find something. No need to worry about ghouls. We rigged the oil depot, and set it on fire after the first blast. Any remaining ghouls are rushing there now, like moths to a lighthouse. That smoke is visible for lightyears. Once you’ve collected everything of value, go east. I’ll give you a special map, and it’s got a route marked on it. The information is correct, but keep your guard up. Your only job will be to bring the loot to a place where the chat works. If anything goes amiss, we meet at the Fisherman’s Island stable. Decent people live there, and you can leave a message if you have to. Hopefully that won’t be necessary. That part of the region seems pretty straightforward. Why the long faces? Cheer up! If this works, we’ll all be rich.”

  Cheater shook his head. “I’m already rich. I just wanted to get to the other side. A border crossing was all I signed up for. Why the circus act again?”

  “Imagine a world without circuses, Cheat,” March said as he opened another can.

  “Okay,” Cheater nodded. “Since you don’t like being bored, can you figure out how I can use this?”

  He handed the leader the Elite Nold bracer.

  March turned it about thoughtfully. “It looks like you’re supposed to wear it on your arm.”

  “Come on.”

  “What do you want to do with it?”

  Cheater kept his eyes on the Predator-esque lines of the gauntlet. “Well... If we activate that, in theory, something more powerful than an Elite Nold will show up. Perhaps that creature will deal with the Trinity himself. Then, you try killing him with your ability. I know it’s crazy sounding—I doubt we have the time to prepare.”

  “It wouldn’t work. Not because there’s no time, but because no one would show up,” March explained as he returned the bracer.

  “No one would show?” Cheater furrowed his brow. “What do you mean?”

  “You’re not just a winner, you’re a unique winner. The System closed the matter of the Elite Nold. No continuation. Nothing further. You could have given your girlfriend the lives from this bracelet long ago, and nothing bad would have happened. That’s what you wanted to do, right?”

  “Of course,” Cheater admitted openly. “But that’s all? I could have activated this a long time ago?”

  March chuckled. “Just enter a player ID, and no one will come after you. Then add s
ome mods. But it’s probably better to wait—your excellent modding system takes a long time, as I remember.”

  “How can you be so sure? The System told me I was the first player to kill an Elite Nold. It gave me an achievement. So no player has had this bracer before.”

  “Ah, so the System condescended to write that to you?

  Don’t trust everything you see, Cheater. Don’t trust anyone. Don’t trust me. And most of all, don’t trust yourself. Welcome to the Continent. Abandon trust, all ye who enter. But never abandon beer! Let’s finish these cans up. No time for pointless conversations. Guzzle!”

  * * *