Respawn: Nightmare Mode (Respawn LitRPG series Book 4)

by Arthur Stone

  A minute or two later, Cheater would be back in action.

  He just needed a minute or two.

  Replacing his canteen, rational thoughts began breaking through the muddled porridge in his head. Their influence caused him to reach over his shoulder and feel the reassuring presence of his bow. He glanced at Button as she busied herself over the bodies of Tat, Roach, and Clown. Whether they had died immediately or with Janitor’s help was unclear, but all three of them required the services of a priest, not a surgeon or a healer.

  Turning his head, he tried to figure out what the wheel he was leaning up against belonged to. The artillery truck was a little further off, its cab partly buried in the shopping center wall, and the other truck was behind him, on its side. There was no way a vehicle could be positioned behind him, thanks to the slope alongside the road.

  He stretched around. It was just a wheel. A lone wheel, lying by itself. It seemed like it came from the artillery truck. Somehow it was still standing. A large piece of the chassis must have come off with it. They had stuck into the slope, preventing the wheel from falling backwards.

  A shell must have hit the truck a split second before it was behind cover. Neither vehicle was about to go anywhere.

  A shadow came across his face. Cheater was not surprised to look up and see an armored personnel carrier rolling up. This one moved along the edge of the embankment, machine gun barrels protruding from the holes in its side.

  Idiots. Even in his stunned state, Cheater understood that their position was a stupid one. From its place on the slope, the APC’s tower weapon could not point down at them. The soldiers looking out the holes could not even see them. They were simply too low to the ground in relation. Janitor moved with inhuman, almost arachnid, agility onto the artillery truck’s platform, got behind the cannon and turned it, and opened fire until he was out.

  There was no sense to conserving ammo. The truck was not going another foot further, and even the quasi wasn’t about to carry an artillery gun with him.

  The APC took dozens of shells, turned in one direction and then the other, and then rolled down the embankment, somehow without turning over. It crashed into the artillery truck. Janitor had to leap clear to avoid being crushed in the resulting metal mashup, being flattened by the APC, or at least suffering numerous fractures.

  March carelessly tossed a grenade into one of the smoking vehicle’s peepholes, then sat down beside Cheater and patted him on the cheek. “Cheat, we need you.

  Remember Kitty. If we stay here, you’ll have to start over. Come on, get up, we need your rifle.”

  * * *

  After a half hour, or maybe an hour, spent on foot pushing their way through hordes of soldiers and cops, March spat out blood, drew a can of beer from some inscrutable personal storage space, cracked it open, and sipped it. “I think that’s it.

  We’re out, at last.”

  Cheater counted the ammo he had remaining. The shells had stopped long ago, when Janitor had taken out the remaining armored car, removing it from play with a disposable grenade launcher. But the machine gunners had expressed no desire to leave the party alone. Military and police alike pursued them, using their knowledge of the area to set ambushes along their way. Even March’s and Tat’s talents had not always noticed the threats in time.

  Roach had lost another life in one such ambush. In another, Fatso had died, for the first time in the whole campaign. Tat had her ear nearly shot off, and Cheater took some grenade shrapnel to the neck, somehow escaping a hit to a vital artery. His neck had required tight bandaging, which now made breathing difficult. No one had escaped without a wound of some sort. Even Button, so carefully protected by them all, was stained with blood.

  Why had the shooting fallen silent now? March said the enemies were gone, so they were gone. This area was one of those that did not block his gift. The party had moved a third of a mile through a field of corn at the end. Corn which covered both them and their enemies from head to toe. The enemy had not been sparing with their ammunition prior to that, and in the field, it was no different.

  March took another sip from his beer can. “The cluster border is a couple of hundred meters away. I doubt there’s fresh beer waiting for us there, but we need to push on.”

  “A couple hundred?” Roach moaned, exhausted. “You used to know the number with much more precision.”

  “I lie a lot. And I’m really tired, so my math is bad,” March replied. “Let’s talk later, now’s the time to walk. Digis don’t usually like to leave their cluster. They find borders confusing, so they hate them.”

  Cheater made no response. He just kept going. Beyond the field of corn, a hilly ridge rose gradually. According to March, a new cluster lay just beyond.

  Cheater remember the first steps he had taken here, on the Continent. The very first border he had crossed. It had been where a bridge was sliced in half by the reset. The digis had made no effort to cross—simply gathered in a huge crowd and wondered at the inexplicable sight.

  So March was probably right. Digis were all alike, for the most part. They were in no hurry to cross the border leading outside of their little worlds. Perhaps none of them were still alive to try. How many had Cheater managed to kill? Six, at least. Maybe seven. Or eight, perhaps nine. He wondered if they had been as confused as he was now. Sometimes, he had shot blindly. At a sound. At a glimmer in the brush. At a trembling branch. Perhaps some of those had been threats, and some of those had been hits.

  His Accuracy could shoot flies clean out of the air.

  Dammit, I’m in bad shape. It would have just been easier to die, along with Tat and Roach. Or to die later, when they had moved through the shopping area, shooting everything around them that moved. A few infecteds had even come after the noise, as the vanguard of the impending mass invasion of the city. That had helped them, in fact, as it had confused the locals. And they had been no threat. The serious infecteds had not arrived yet.

  They would be here soon.

  A machine gun sounded out behind them. It was fired in a continuous stream, without any interruption. Either the shooter was inexperienced or so terrified that his finger had cramped.

  Perhaps the pursuit had not given up. Perhaps they were just stopped by infecteds who figured it would be easier to deal with digis than with players. That should stop any more soldiers coming after them.

  Hopefully.

  Walking became harder once they left the field and the elevation began to rise. No tall grass nor decent bushes offered them cover. He felt naked. If their pursuers were close, even moderately close, and they had a good sniper—

  No. No sense worrying about that. Some things were best not to think about.

  “Mother of—they have got to be joking!” Roach said, much too loudly.

  The Janitor cursed and hastily set up position on the slope, aiming his machine gun up as if he was going duck hunting, and the flock was mid-migration.

  Cheater followed Roach’s gaze and saw the dark dot growing rapidly bigger overhead. He had seen that before.

  A helicopter was flying directly at the party.

  He had been stunned worse than he thought. The engine was, as far as he was concerned, completely silent. All he heard was March’s hasty orders. The boss was prepared to meet this new threat with a massive volley. He assured them that it was not a military copter, and that it had laughable firepower—just a lone machine gunner leaning out of its side.

  Cheater had hit a shot like that before. He remembered how accurately the gunner’s bullets had sailed down from the sky. How much mana could Button have left? How much had she raised? He had lost count.

  No, they could not risk this flying firing point getting into range.

  Cheater raised his rifle, fired, loaded the next round, fired again, and prepared a third round.

  He did not shoot again. Why should he, when the helicopter was plummeting? It was no maneuver, either—it was crashing to the earth. Nose pointed straight down as
it wiggled from side to side.

  For some reason, the gunner fired a volley at the corn field. This was probably not out of boredom—he was scared.

  After an impossible pirouette, the bird crashed into the ground tail first and flew to pieces. Nearly an acre of crops were devastated by the crash, and plant fibers flew into the air.

  Then, an explosion illuminated them all.

  Cheater admired his performance, reloaded, turned around, and walked past his companions. They stood with their mouths open at the sight. He did not look back, but walked on until the climb was finished.

  Reaching the top of the ridge, he at last saw what lay beyond.

  Cheater closed his eyes. He reopened them.

  Nothing changed—it was the same scene as before.

  A phenomenally unexpected sight.

  March reached the top second, evaluated the scene, and tossed an empty can to the ground. “We don’t have nearly enough beer for this.”

  Cheater was forced, for once, to agree. “You can say that again.”

  Chapter 18

  Life Eight. Geographical Boundaries

  Clusters come in all different types. Steppes, mountains, forests, rivers, lakes, and swamps. All kinds of landscapes fly in, but usually regions of the Continent tend to include clusters with certain climate and geographic characteristics. If you enter a taiga cluster, you’ll probably be in taiga for quite some time. There is only a negligible chance of stepping out from a canopy of cedars right onto a tropical coast covered in palm trees.

  It was an unwritten law of the Continent.

  But all laws have their exceptions. The closer you approached a region boundary, the greater your chances of running into one of these.

  For the last hour and a half, the party had been dealing with an exception. Only eight party members remained, excluding Kitty.

  It was hard going. Cheater had wandered the Continent a good deal, but he had seen nothing like this.

  First, the heat was incredible. Despite the fact that the sun had dropped nearly below the horizon, sweat streamed down his face in at least three places. Second, the terrain was very uneven. Up and up, then down and down some more, with no flat areas.

  Third, it was a desert. A hell-hot desert. Some piece of the Sahara. And the most lifeless piece, to boot. Nothing lived here but fine sand that got in his shoes, his clothes, his eyes, and his nose. His teeth creaked when he ground them, and he was perpetually blinded by the rays of the setting sun bouncing off of the dunes.

  Something about this desert was very wrong. How could it be situated right next to the city? It was a struggle getting his mind to believe it. And why was it so hot? They were getting baked. Of course, that would not be a surprise for a day or two after the desert reset.

  Cheater took another heavy, hot, sandy breath and started up another dune.

  The dry sand crumbled and sent his feet slipping. Every two steps became four. Half of the progress, and at double the strength, thanks to how much his feet sank into the sand.

  Button was having a hard time in her lovely body armor and helmet. “Can we take a breather? Five minutes, at least.”

  March, who had been persistently reminding them all that they had to keep moving, sighed at her. “Fine. Three minutes. Then we keep crawling on. We don’t have enough time for five minutes.”

  Cheater doubted that three minutes would be enough rest for the fragile girl. Not that five minutes would be enough, either, after such a non-horizontal forced march. She should ditch her heavy equipment—that armor had to weigh over forty pounds. It was real body armor, able to protect her from rifle rounds as long as they were not shot at point-blank range and were not too large or armor piercing.

  Of course, a powerful enough blow might do a number on her innards regardless of how effective the armor was. He wondered how much a well-leveled player would be affected. Even if she was crippled, that would not be critical. As long as she survived. The party would drag their priest along until the very last, at any and all cost.

  “Well then, can you tell us where we are going in such a hurry?” Fatso asked in a grim tone.

  “Where I say,” March explained, but then had the sense to provide more information. “One mile further, another cluster begins. It would be wonderful to reach it before dark.”

  Clown shook his head. “The last dune was the highest in the area. I took a good look around. There’s nothing interesting for miles ahead. Just sand. I don’t know how far it stretches, but more than a mile, for sure.”

  “I took a look too,” March nodded.

  “But the cluster we are heading for is not like the rest. The rest are sizable. Between thirty and sixty square miles in each. And all brought in from the desert. This cluster is different. It’s under half a square mile in area. Under a quarter square mile, even. A tiny, tiny cluster. Since it is so different in size, it may also be different in other ways.”

  Clown shook his head again. “I saw nothing like that. Just sand. Cliffs off to the right, but they seem very, very far away. Barely visible.”

  “Your vision limits you,” March said. “I can see the borders between territories. I see these borders very well. There’s a cluster there, and a good chance that it’s not a desert. With its tiny size, it could be hiding behind these dunes. A cluster that can only be discovered when you’re about to enter it. Unless you have a March in your squad, that is. And it just so happens you do. Come on, let’s get going, unless you want to spend the night in the desert.”

  Cheater didn’t see anything wrong with sleeping in the sand. What was wrong with that? Surely the sand itself was no threat.

  And shouldn’t the desert be one of the safest places around? There was nothing of value here, neither for players nor for their many diverse enemies.

  No food, no loot. Of course, that was a problem for the party. Their supplies remained in the truck. First priority had been to save their own skins, and then weapons and ammo. No time or carrying capacity had remained for the rest. One extra minute spent there would have been too great a risk, fighting in a place the enemy knew well and to which they had likely called reinforcements.

  So they had fled at all possible speed.

  The players could deal with a day without food and water. Especially since everyone had a little lifejuice on them, with which they could go double that time without much trouble. If the sands were safe, Cheater didn’t mind sleeping in them. Their wounds could heal and their energy recharge. At night, the temperature would drop. And perhaps it would the next day, since this heat was a clear violation of the laws of physics.

  But the System was unpredictable. It could send a glacier right at them if it wanted to.

  As he followed March, Cheater partly hoped that the unusually-sized cluster would be more desert.

  Sand sounded good enough for him.

  * * *

  March was right. It was a tiny cluster, sandwiched among the dunes, and it was different. Well, it wasn’t completely filled with sand, at least. But it could still be called desert. There was basically no soil, just piles of dust and rocks. Here and there, plump cacti grew.

  The whole cluster was visible from the top of the dune. It was about two hundred yards long, and less than a hundred across, even at its widest point. A two-lane ribbon of road nearly divided it in half. On its right sight at the far edge they saw a typical gas station. A place for fuel, washing up, and buying all sorts of things for the road.

  “Looks clear,” March decided.

  “Still glass in the windows, even. But I don’t like how quiet it is. We need to scout it out. Cheater, how are you feeling? Alive?”

  “A little.”

  “We need a volunteer, and I think you fit the bill. Go take a look around. Stay in plain sight. You’re low level, so if there are beasts here, they’ll see you. Why are you looking at me like that? It’s not a setup. It’s just how the numbers are. Look, Janitor’s getting his machine gun ready. If anyone threatens you, our fri
end will take it out with all speed.”

  Cheater gave a meaningful glare, then turned away and clumsily headed down the slope. Even a total noob would know he was being used as bait. March had even said he was being sent because he was a low-level player with poor Stealth. He was great bait.

  March was a sensor, too. But he had an oddly specific ability, which could not see everything, and not in every place. As far as Cheater understood, the party leader was unlikely to notice any enemies hiding behind the surrounding dunes. Or any enemies hiding in or behind the gas station building.

  A flock of monsters led by an elite could even be hanging around, and the party would have no idea. So why not send out the newbie? Then they could either fight off the enemies, whether Cheater survived or not—or, they could just sit quietly, if they determined that Janitor’s machine gun and final disposable grenade launcher were insufficient weapons against what he faced.

  Note: This is the first time in the history of the Continent that players have visited this cluster. Congratulations to you and your party members. Note: A new cluster has been discovered. Party discovery. This is the fourth cluster you have discovered! Bonus +275 distributable base stat points; +125 distributable auxiliary stat points. Cartography Level +1. Your Cartography has reached level 4. Explore territories unknown to other players. The more you discover, the more your Cartography will grow. As it levels up, you will unlock more opportunities.

  Note: The player Kitty is too far away from the party. She does not receive credit for the discovery.

  With each new open cluster, the reward grew larger. Of course players wanted to cross the borders. The rewards really were nice.

  Cheater stepped from sand onto stones held together by dust, clay, or dried mud. He didn’t know enough about soil to tell. Only the reddish tint of the cluster struck him as a notable observation. It seemed like it came from the Midwest of the United States, somewhere near the Mexican border. Where tumbleweed, coyotes, cacti, and drug wars ruled.